by Andrew Dudek
I can move quietly when I need to. I’m not saying a woodsman, but I was trained by a man who’d done time in a backcountry survivalist militia. Long story. It took a lot of concentration for me to sneak up on Rainier without stepping on a twig or dislodging a pebble, but I managed it. I straightened up, gripping the rock loose in my right hand.
“Hey, Johnny Reb,” I said.
He spun around, bringing his rifle to bear with the deadly skill of a soldier. If I’d been even a few yards away, he’d have been able to put a shot through my throat before I could get close enough to spit on him. As it was, though, the noise of the battle had masked a lot of my noise—and I suspected that Rainier would be suffering from some tinnitus, from the noise of dozens of gunshots going off in close proximity to his ear drums. I was close enough that I could have planted a kiss on his lips.
I mean, I didn’t, but I could have.
Instead, I clocked him in the head with my rock. He groaned and slumped.
I kicked him hard in the ribs, making sure he was really unconscious. Nothing. He was out. I was about to move on to find April when I noticed a lump on the pocket of his fatigue pants. I hesitated, then crouched and went digging.
My fingers closed on something leather, with a metal interior. There was a static shock when I touched it, followed by a burst of dark energy. I pulled the object out and I grinned. I had a plan.
April stood in front of the cabin, waving her hands in several simultaneous, complicated gestures. Each time she’d bring a hand down, like a conductor at a symphony, a burst of fire would shoot out of the wall of flame and explode somewhere with a loud crash. Cerberus bounded in and out of the flames, looking like a giant dog playing in a park sprinkler, barking and roaring with delighted anger. If either of them noticed that Rainier had stopped providing supporting fire, they didn’t show it.
Green balls of fire were still coming through and over the walls, but they came more slowly. The good guys were slowing down and, soon enough, they wouldn’t be able to hold off Cerberus or April’s attacks.
Stealth wasn’t gonna work here. April’s senses were probably a good deal sharper than Rainier’s, and I knew that Cerberus’ were far better than either of them. Besides, I needed Cerberus to notice me. The whole plan depended on it.
I stood up and yelled, “Here, doggy! Come here! Who’s a good doggy? You are!”
Cerberus stepped back into the clearing through the firewall. All three heads were cocked to the side. April gazed at me, dispassionate as a big cat, for a moment. She looked a little surprised to see me, but she shook her head, gestured to the hellhound, and hurled another fireball at my friends on the other side of the wall.
The hellhound charged, baying like…well, like a hound. I had a sudden burst of empathy for foxes and rabbits, but I stood my ground, one hand behind my back, clutching something. I waited until the dog was close enough that I could smell the sulfur on its breath, and I brought my hand out from behind my back.
Edgar Bogart’s amulet, magically enhanced by Lou, the riesensohn Claimed One, flew from my fingers. It struck Cerberus in the center of the chest, and there was a flash of bright yellow light. The hellhound yelped, and crashed to the ground. It skidded across the ground, coming to a stop twenty feet away. For a moment, it struggled to get up, but then it fell. It stayed down.
Now I charged, stopping only long enough to snatch up the amulet as I ran. April turned—too slowly, way too slowly—to see what had happened to her new pet hellhound. Her eyes widened as I closed on her. She brought one hand up, and a ball of generic gray light began to glow in her palm. I roared a wordless challenge, and tackled her.
We went down, together, grappling like professional wrestlers. I knocked aside her hand and the energy blast flew off into the sky, burning off the top branches of a couple of nearby trees. Her tank-top had ridden up when I hit her, exposing the pale skin of her flat belly. I snarled, and jabbed the amulet into her torso. I held it there, forcing the charmed piece of leather to make contact with her skin.
Direct contact.
“No,” April said. “No. No. NO!”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry, April.”
And I punched her in the face. She blinked weakly for a moment, but she slumped into unconsciousness.
The firewall flickered, and disappeared. The only sign that it had ever been there was a perfect circle of scorched grass surrounding the cabin. One last green fireball sailed overhead, and then the sound of the battle faded to silence.
April lay on the grass. Except for the rapidly forming bruise under her left eye, she could have been asleep. I imagined, for a moment, her as May. After all, there wasn’t that much difference between the two of them. April had felt neglected by her family, I guessed, and she had only been trying to achieve some kind of success. She’d certainly seemed to believe that she was doing what was right.
“Is she dead?”
I looked over my shoulder. Amy stood about ten feet away. She’d dropped the camouflage spell and she looked exhausted.
“No,” I said. “Unconscious.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
I rubbed my chin. “Do you mean that?”
She hesitated. “Yes.” Then: “No, I guess not. I just can’t believe there could be so much…cruelty in one person.”
I nodded. I knew the feeling. “The Round Table has a place where we keep people like her. She won’t hurt anyone again.” I smiled a bit as I remembered saying the exact same thing once, a long time ago, to another young witch. “Do me a favor, call Cerberus.”
“What?” she looked alarmed, which I got.
“I broke April’s connection to it,” I said. “You’re the only person alive that can control the Sentinel. Call it.”
She frowned, but she did as I said. “Cerberus! I summon you.”
We waited a moment. When it didn’t appear, I yelled, “You heard the lady. Get your three-headed ass over here.”
“Three-headed ass?” Amy asked.
“Shut up.”
Cerberus appeared in front of us. All three heads lowered submissively. There was a large hole in its chest, where the amulet had hit home. Orange blood coated the wound and it moved slowly.
“Now what?” Amy asked.
“Now, you tell it to do whatever you want.”
She paused. “Anything?”
I could imagine her thought process. Cerberus was a living weapon. Almost nothing on the planet could stand against it. If she wanted to, she could conquer the world with Cerberus under her command. I didn’t point any of that out, of course, just nodded and waited to see what she’d do.
“Sentinel,” she said, more forcefully. “Your purpose here is fulfilled. Be gone from this plane. Go home.”
The hellhound growled.
I held up a hand. “You heard her. You’re done. Be gone.”
All six eyes turned to focus on me. Their fire was dimming. I heard its three-part-harmony voice in my head one more time. “You and I have not seen the last of each other, David William Carver. We will meet again.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I have a feeling it’s gonna be awhile. Now get the hell off my planet.”
April’s connection was severed. The girls who’d been in the cemetery when Cerberus was raised were dead. Amy was the only one with any control over the hellhound. It snarled and gnashed its teeth, but there was nothing it could do. There was a puff of sulfurous smoke, and Cerberus was gone.
The hellhound was back where it belonged. The witch who’d orchestrated the murders of several innocent people was beaten. Amy was alive. Anyway you looked at it, this was a victory.
And yet, somehow I didn’t feel like celebrating. “Come on,” I said to Amy. “Let’s see who died.”
I spotted Earl first, standing under an old oak tree that had come through unscathed. The dark-skinned lieutenant, on the other hand, had gotten pretty well scathed. The sleeves of his T-shirt had been burned away and the skin on his arms was covered with b
ubbling burn scars. He nodded as I approached. “Captain. Good to see you, sir.”
“You, too.” I grabbed his hand. “You doing okay?”
He raised one arm and grimaced. “I’ll live, sir.”
“So this is the second time you pulled my ass out of a supernatural prison in the middle of the woods.” Earl had volunteered for the mission that May had led when I’d been held prisoner in Guyana. He didn’t like to talk about it. “It’s getting to be a habit for you, Lieutenant.”
He smiled a little and looked at the tree canopy. “Yes, sir.”
“Do we have casualties?”
Earl looked at the ground. “Yes, sir. We’ve all got some bumps and bruises, but… there was one fatality. The professor took a piece of shrapnel when one of those trees exploded—”
“Wait,” I said. “What? Professor Bogart?”
“Yes, sir. He refused to leave us alone on this one. He said he wanted to help. Handled himself pretty well for an old academic, I have to say. Did some kind of shielding spell which protected us from the worst of the black fire.”
I closed my eyes. “What happened to him?”
“As I was saying, sir, he took some shrapnel. Broke his arm and tore up his torso, but I think he’ll be okay.”
“And the fatality?”
Earl was interrupted by an enraged howl coming from a spot near the burning remnants of the cabin. We shared a brief, panicked glance, then broke into simultaneous sprints to run towards the sound.
A wolf was standing over the prone form of Tad Rainier. The big animal was snarling and advancing on the mercenary, who was coming to and trying to escape from the wolf. It snapped its teeth and put a huge paw on the man’s chest. This wolf wasn’t planning on letting Rainier walk away.
I cursed and lunged forward. Earl followed. Each of us grabbed the wolf by the thick scruff of fur around its neck and dragged it away. It was hard. The big werebeast was heavy. It snarled and snapped at us, but I hit it on the nose and said, “Shift back. Now.”
The wolf bared his teeth for a moment, but it obeyed my command. The wolf shifted and changed, until Harrison was standing in the field. He was naked and dirty and hairy. And he was crying.
“He killed Paul!” Harrison shouted. “He shot him like…like…like…”
“Like a dog?” Rainier supplied helpfully. Harrison let out a bark-sob and lunged at him. I put my hand on the kid’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
Earl kicked the mercenary in the ribs. “I’d shut up, if I were you.”
“Harrison,” I said. “Look at me. Please.”
After a long moment, when I was afraid he’d barrel right through me, the kid obeyed. There were tears in his eyes. “He killed him, Dave. He killed Paul. I need to kill him.”
I shook my head. “You can’t. I’m sorry about Paul, I really am, but I can’t let you kill this man.”
“Why not?”
I sighed. “Because he’s human. And you’re not. And, in this situation, I have to protect him over you. You’re a werewolf, kid, and that means you don’t get the luxury of revenge. Not when it comes to humans.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not. But it’s life. I put a hand on Harrison’s shoulder and turned him so that we were facing away from Rainier. “We’ll talk care of him. He’ll pay for what he did to Paul, I promise you.”
I’d hardly known Paul Ellis, but he was obviously a decent enough guy. He’d been willing to risk his life for a bunch of total strangers. He’d been willing to take a young, possibly dangerous kid under his wing. The man had paid for my life, and Amy’s with his own. I hadn’t known him, but I owed him something I could never repay.
“Earl,” I said. “Contact the Nomads. I want this piece of shit transported to the most secure black-site available.”
He nodded, a grim smile on his face. “Yes, sir.” Earl crouched, dragged Rainier none too gently by the shoulder, and frog-marched him off into the woods.
Harrison rubbed his hand over his eyes, then turned and walked away. I listened to him sob for a moment, then decided the kid deserved some privacy.
Amy and Dallas came out of the trees, followed by Rob and Krissy. I nodded at Dallas and Rob (who held up a nine-fingered hand and winked) and hugged Amy and Krissy. To Krissy, I said. “Everything good?”
She nodded. “Fine.”
“Do me a favor, go see what you can do about the fire. I’d rather we not burn down the whole forest.”
Krissy nodded and walked away. I looked at Amy and said, “You should head to the cars. If April wakes up and we can’t control her, you’re not gonna want to be around. Earl’s already on his way there.”
Amy smiled a little and said, “You’re right about that. Thanks, Dave. For everything.”
Dallas, Rob, and I headed towards the patch of grass where I’d left April. Rob and I had our swords drawn. Dallas had his hand out in front of him, green fire flickering on his fingernails. The cabin was a burned wreck of a skeleton now, smoke spiraling out of control into the sky. There was a lone wall standing—the one which had once housed the lone window—and a black sheet waved like a pirate flag.
The patch of grass was empty.
“Of course,” Dallas said. “‘Cause that would have been too easy.”
“Teleportation?” I asked.
“Probably, yeah. Could be invisibility, but…” He stretched out his hand and closed his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t sense any trace of that kind of power. She’s gone. Teleportation.”
“Wonderful,” I snarled.
Rob laughed and kicked idly at a rock. “You think it’d sound weird if I said I bet we’ll see her again?”
A gust of wind came from the south, clearing a section of the night sky of smoke. I could see stars, thousands of them, twinkling. They reminded me faintly of Cerberus’ eyes.
“No,” I said, more to myself than anyone, “I don’t think that would sound weird at all.”
Chapter 33
When a werebeast dies in animal form, the body doesn’t shift back to human. A wereleopard mystic had once explained to me the reason for that: the animal is just as much a part of the whole as the person.
Paul Ellis had died as a wolf. He was still a wolf.
His body lay on his side in a pool of blood. Trees towered over him, making the huge animal seem tiny and inconsequential. I crouched next to him and ran a hand down the furred back. He was already cooling, almost cold, even in this extreme heat.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Thunder rumbled in the distance: a storm was coming. I could taste rain in the air. Hopefully it would break the humidity and things would finally cool down.
“What are we gonna do with him?” Harrison emerged from the woods, so quiet I’d never heard him. He was really growing into the werewolf identity. From somewhere, he’d scrounged up a pair of thin cotton pants and a T-shirt.
“Bury him, I guess.”
“Why didn’t you let me kill that man?”
I stood up, crossed the small clearing where Paul’s body lay, and looked Harrison in the eyes. They were the golden-brown eyes of a wolf.
“Because it wouldn’t have helped anybody. It wouldn’t have helped Paul. And it wouldn’t have helped you.”
Harrison ran his hands through his hair, tossed back his head, and let out a quiet howl. “I’m so angry,” he said. “I wanted to kill him.”
“I know,” I said. “I understand. You’re the wolf, Harrison. And the wolf is you.”
He smiled faintly. “You sound like Paul. Uh…I think his people…my people…have our own burial traditions. He should be with his pack. I think he’d like that.”
I nodded. “Makes sense.”
“I’ll take him up there.” Harrison pursed his lips and stared up at the night sky. Thunderheads were rolling in over the mountains, and as we watched, a bolt of lightning arced across the sky. When Harrison spoke again, it was with the faintest of smiles. “Besides,
I think…I think maybe I should get out of civilization for a while.”
Harrison had been dealt the wrong hand for normalcy in life. He’d never be normal, not in the way he’d spent his whole life defining it. But maybe, if Scar Chest would allow it, he’d be able to find a new standard. Maybe someday he’d find his father. Who was I to stand in the way with that?
“Well, good luck, kid…” I trailed off. “Sorry. Good luck, Harrison.”
He gave me a wide-mouthed, doggy grin. “Thanks, Dave.” He picked up the dead wolf—who must have weighed more than two hundred pounds—and carried him into the woods. Not long later, as I made my way back towards the bonfire in the meadow, I heard the long, drawn-out howl of a mourning wolf.
A bunch of people in bright-colored hiking gear had arrived at the meadow. They were dumping water and throwing big handfuls of dirt on any stray flames that threatened the trees. Earl and Rob were helping. I heard someone point out that the coming storm should put out the worst of the fire.
Professor Bogart waved when he spotted me, wincing as he raised his hand above his head. Krissy was talking to one of the hikers, who held a little notebook and was scribbling like a madman. Journalist, maybe. That might turn out to be a problem.
Dallas came up behind me. “Amy gonna be okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said. “She’s tough.”
“She sure is. Strong, too.” We watched the hikers—who, I’d learn were actually campers who’d smelled smoke and come to investigate—extinguish the fire. “For what it’s worth, I was wrong about you, Carver. You’re a good man. A good knight, as far as I can tell. I shouldn’t have suggested—”
I waved a hand. “Forget it.”
He grunted and we stood in silence for another minute or two. More thunder roared overhead, and something occurred to me. “Amy’s really powerful, as magicians go, right?”