by Briar, Robin
It’s time. I squeeze his hand, take a deep breath, and walk up to the front door. Mason follows close behind.
Sylvia opens it before we even have a chance to knock. Her face is racked with guilt. She’s been crying.
“Mason. I’m so glad you’re all right. They told me what they did. I’m so sorry—”
Mason raises his hand. “You did what you thought you had to do. Now and sixteen years ago. What’s done is done. Let’s leave it at that for now.”
Sylvia nods demurely. That was surprising forgiving, but she is his twin. He really does have faith in his sister.
“Lead the way,” he tells her.
She does. I stay in front of Mason as Sylvia leads us through the house into the living room, a broad space that connects to the kitchen.
Trent is standing in the middle of the living room, red eyes ablaze with malice. Baldy and Cropped Hair are sitting on the couch, until they see Mason. Then they both leap to their feet.
“Back for more already?” Baldy snarls to Mason.
He wants to get a rise out of him, and it works. Mason growls behind me. I reach back and place my hand on his chest, but keep my eyes fixed on Trent.
“Can you keep your dog on his leash?” I ask him.
“Certainly. Your dog survived being crucified by silver spikes, after all,” Trent says, turning around to face Baldy. “Can you say the same?”
The bald werewolf scowls and looks away. Cropped Hair laughs at his partner. Sylvia walks over to Trent, head lowered, and stands a few steps behind him. Trent looks to Mason next.
“I’ve never been crucified by silver before,” he continues. “It’s comforting to know that a wolf of my bloodline can survive such an ordeal. Then again, I would never let myself be crucified in the first place.”
Trent shifts his crimson gaze back to me.
“Have you made a decision?”
“I’ll do the art, whatever it takes, just don’t hurt Mason again,” I say with only the slightest amount of desperation in my voice. I want him to think I’m putting on a brave face, but am otherwise obedient.
Trent smiles. He’s seen me stand up to him already and liked it, my brazen nature. I want it to seem like I’m willing to go along with his plan, but without completely surrendering. If his behavior toward Sylvia is any indication, he enjoys pluck more than subservience. Still, he should feel like he has me at a disadvantage.
“He means that much to you?” Trent asks.
“He does,” I answer quickly. “Mason is the only reason I’m willing to go along with your plan.”
Trent narrows his eyes.
“That’s all well and fine, but I need guarantees that you’re good for your word. People who work under duress, especially spirited people like yourself, tend to rebel. I can’t have that, so I’m going to need insurance.”
“You’ve implicated me in the forging of a painting. Isn’t that enough?” I ask him.
“No,” he says. “It’s not. If Mason is what you care about, then I need to keep him close by and within my reach. That way I know you’ll stay in line.”
Saffron and Candice anticipated as much. They thought Trent might leverage Mason to secure my loyalty.
“That wasn’t a part of the deal,” I say defiantly.
“It is now. This arrangement only works if Mason starts working with me, where I can kill him at any point if you try something stupid. His death is no imposition on me, but he may as well prove useful in the meanwhile. He needs to be shaped, after all. Turned into a shifter who can defend himself. A wolf worthy of my bloodline. Agree to this, and our deal will almost be sealed.”
I turn to Mason, who’s looking back and forth between all of the wolves in front of him. A deep growl rumbles out of his throat. I place a hand on his face and bring his gaze to me.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t ever want to see you get hurt like that again. I know this is asking a lot, but if we want to stay together, this is the only way. Will you do this for me? Will you work with Trent?”
Mason reaches for my hand on his face.
“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, but I won’t abandon you to them.”
“That’s not entirely true,” the werewolf with cropped hair says. “You can’t help her if you’re dead.”
“But don’t worry,” Baldy adds, “she’ll be kept alive for a while. No point in killing what you haven’t enjoyed first.”
He laughs and sticks out his tongue. Mason makes eye contact with both werewolves in turn and then looks back at me.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means working with these two chuckleheads. I’ll kill for Trent and obey his orders. I’ll even let them brand me with that star.”
That strikes a note with Baldy.
“You have to earn this star, pup,” he says, pointing to the back of his neck. “Only lieutenants get imm—”
“Shut up, you idiot,” the Cropped Hair tells him.
Imm—? Imm— what? Imparted with their brand? No, that doesn’t sound right. Immediate something? I don’t know.
“Both of you shut up,” Trent tells them in a voice that demands compliance.
I turn around to face the glare of his ruby eyes.
“You have your answer,” I tell him, “but if anything happens to Mason—”
“If anything happens to Mason, that’s on him, not me,” Trent says. “You will be bound to me either way. If Mason wants to stay alive, then he better not die. That’s up to him. He certainly won’t get any help from these two.”
Baldy and Cropped Hair actually chuckle when they hear that, living up to the name Mason gave them.
“So what about my guarantees?” I throw at Trent with disdain.
“Your guarantees? I guarantee not to kill you so long as you remain useful to me. Any other guarantees are even harder to earn than these tattoos.”
“You’re not really giving me a choice,” I say with an undercurrent of resignation.
“No I’m not.”
I stare at Trent and stay nothing. He holds my gaze.
“Fine. I accept,” I say with a hint of petulance.
Trent smiles when he hears that. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
“Kneel,” he bellows. The fixtures in the room actually sway a little.
Mason and I go down to one knee.
“Good. I like how quickly you did that,” Trent says.
He walks over to us. His two minions follow close behind. Sylvia doesn’t move, but I can see that’s she’s crying.
“We’re almost done,” Trent adds. “There’s just one more detail. You’re my property now, Jess, and as such, I reserve the right to mark you. Turn around.”
That was unexpected.
“Turn around?” I ask.
“Yes,” Trent says matter-of-factly, “without so much as Mason lifting a finger against me. Once I mark you, our deal is struck, but if Mason moves, even a little bit, my lieutenants will kill him where he stands. You already know they can. If he doesn’t move, you can keep seeing each other under my watch.”
Trent looks over at Mason.
“Consider this your first test of loyalty.”
Well, this is certainly one way to keep them all distracted.
“I assume this isn’t up for negotiation either?” I ask.
Trent shakes his head. I can feel the hackles on Mason go up.
The red-eyed werewolf has been calm and collected this whole time, but I can sense his arousal through the controlled expression on his face.
Baldy and Cropped Hair are less subtle about their excitement, so much the better. I want all eyes on me. I don’t know how far I need to take this, but the more preoccupied everybody is kept, the better.
I’ve seduced egotistical marks before. If anything, entitled men like Trent are the easiest to fool. It’s not that difficult. Simply submit to their will, but without making it too easy for them.
This thing is, I’
ve never submitted to a man with a male audience before. It adds an entirely new component, which, oddly enough, I kind of don’t mind. Jess, you little tramp.
Well, there’s no going back now.
I turn around to face Mason. His face is flush with blood. His eyes are furious. The thought of Trent’s minions touching me was enough to almost make him run off on a vengeance-fueled rampage.
I can only imagine what he must be feeling now. This was unexpected for him too, after all. The only upside? His genuine rage makes our little pantomime that much more convincing.
“Take your shorts off,” Trent commands.
I reach for the waist of my shorts, undo the zipper slowly, and push them down to my ankles. No underwear.
“Now get on all fours,” Trent instructs me.
I silently mouth I love you to Mason and then fall to my hands and knees in full view of all three men behind me. Arching my back provocatively to bring my nethers up for their viewing.
“Gods, but you are a succulent creature,” Trent says, betraying his excitement for the first time.
I look back at him over my shoulder. “Don’t you have something to show me? Or is this going to be an admiration session?”
Trent doesn’t reply to my question, but undoes his belt, all the while maintaining eye contact with me. He’s undressing in front of everybody, but for him, we’re the only two people who exist right now.
Trent drops his trousers in front of us all, supremely confident in his endowment. I can see why after breaking eye contact with Trent to gawk at his member.
Trent springs out of his pants, curving upward to the ceiling, smooth and rigid. A well-machined pipe, mushroomed with blood, and pulsing with veins. He’s the size of Mason when he turns into a half-man, half-wolf, but Trent is still wholly human.
Dare I say it? His prick is magnificent, but that’s where this performance ends.
“Prohibere Motus Corporis.”
Stop Motion.
“What was that?” Trent asks.
“It’s a spell I learned just before coming here.”
“What? You’re a witch?” A malicious smile curls across his lips. “Well, isn’t that my good fortune. Not only are you a painter, but a spellcaster too. Your spells won’t work on me, witch.”
“Oh, I know. That spell wasn’t intended for you. This is.”
Trent is probably entitled enough to think I’m talking about my offered plumage for a split second… until all hells break loose.
Candice and Saffron have been tapped into the quicksilver pool this whole time. They can tell when I cast a spell. That was the signal we agreed on.
Their entrances don’t disappoint.
Saffron crashes through the ceiling of Sylvia’s breakfast room and hovers above the table. Candice barrels through the front door, splintering it into shards. Mason launches himself at the same time, a coiled spring, transforming into a half-man, half-wolf behind me. I can hear his clothing tear away.
Saffron is the first to act.
“Subvertat Cultris.”
Throw Knives.
Every single piece of edged cutlery from Sylvia’s kitchen flies out of the cupboards. They target Trent alone, but simultaneously. Most will be steel, but Mason assured us that Sylvia owns a collection of silverware too.
We were pretty sure that not even Saffron could cast spells at Trent directly, limiting her arsenal of magic, but indirect spells are no less lethal.
The knives stab into Trent, including his engorged cock.
Candice is dressed head to toe in boiled leather armor while wielding a sword and a spiked wooden club, all from her time as a shield maiden, but with one difference: she melted all the silverware in my apartment with a Heat Metal spell and coated both the edge of her sword and the spike on her shield.
She wastes no time bashing Cropped Hair with her shield, knocking him prone, and then slashing at him with her blade.
Candice and Saffron are also moving much faster than normal, boosted by a spell they both know called Celeritas Lupus. Speed of the Wolf. Definitely appropriate in this situation. It levels the playing field considerably.
I didn’t have time to learn that spell as well, but Mason makes up for it by throwing himself at Baldy with a silver spike in each claw, the same spikes that were used to crucify him. He collides into his opponent like a freight train, burying both spikes in his chest.
Suddenly everybody turns into a blur, except for Sylvia, paralyzed by the Stop Motion spell I cast earlier. Now she’s the lone pillar of stillness in a tumult of chaos. As suspected, she’s not immune to magic.
The plan was to make one decisive attack against each werewolf, and that plans seems to have been executed perfectly.
For all the good it did.
Near as I can tell, each of the offending werewolves managed to protect their vital organs by twisting at the last moment.
So much for ending the battle before it began.
No matter. We’re prepared for that as well. If the initial strike didn’t succeed, my next job is to help Mason wherever possible. Before I can be of any real use, however, I need to pull my shorts up.
Trent leaps at Saffron, changing into a half-man, half-wolf as he hurls himself through the air. His clothing tears off his body, revealing a robust frame beneath. The body I have only ever seen in my visions.
“Leva Ad,” Saffron utters.
A deceptively simple spell and quickly spoken, but powerful.
She points at the kitchen island and moves the entire counter with an extended finger, slamming it against Trent. She drives him against one of the freestanding support beams in Sylvia’s house, pinning him there.
Cropped Hair changes into a half-man, half-wolf as well, and kicks Candice off him. She’s thrown backward, but lands on her feet, sword and shield still in hand. He leaps to his feet, but Candice is already charging. She backhands him with her shield and slashes at him with her sword, hoping to eviscerate him.
Baldy grabs the two spikes buried in his chest and tries to lift them out. He doesn’t have the strength at first, until he changes into a half-man, half-wolf. That’s when the tables turn. Mason pushes down on the spikes, but Baldy lifts them out of his body, slowly winning the contest of strength between them.
Sensing as much, Mason springs backward. Unfortunately, he only keeps his grip on one of the spikes. Baldy keeps the other one for himself.
That’s not good. I’m afraid Mason is outclassed by his opponent. His only edge right now is that he has me on his side—assuming I can accurately follow their movements.
Meanwhile, Trent pulls two silverware knives out of his body and brings both of his fists down on the kitchen island, getting everybody’s attention.
The counter sunders under his might, as he pulverizes the granite countertop and wooden frame in one combined blow. The power in his body is loud and frightening. There’s nothing left for Saffron to manipulate afterward.
Cropped Hair digs into the hardwood floor with his hind claws to secure himself, and clobbers Candice backward. She keeps her footing, but staggers with the blow.
Baldy leaps at Mason with the silver spike. Their arms collide, but Baldy pulls away first, angling the spike to cut across Mason’s arms. It’s a dirty trick, but effective.
Dammit, the werewolves keep healing. If only they were vulnerable to magic.
That’s when it dawns on me what Baldy almost said before he was cut off by Cropped Hair. Of course that’s what he meant.
I have to get Mason’s attention. I don’t know if that’s going to be possible without distracting him in the middle of his fight, but he needs to know. It’s the only way I can possibly help him in this battle.
7. When the Levee Breaks
Their tattoos protect them from magic. That’s what baldy almost said, pointing at the star design. Only lieutenants get immunity.
I’m nowhere near the level of witchcraft that Candice and Saffron can wield, but magical immunity? That’
s a whole other level. Definitely not the work of the Romanian witch who tattooed Mason and Sylvia. It must be another spellcaster, somebody powerful enough to create such a ward.
I can yell my discovery out loud, but that would only make the werewolves cautious. I’d rather keep the element of surprise.
For now I can only watch as my friends battle the three shifters. Saffron hurls anything not nailed down against Trent. Chairs, pedestals, the kitchen table, but he shatters them all. Then she hurls the wooden shards at him as well.
Trent just pulls them out, including the knives. Every time he rips silverware out of his body and tosses it aside, Saffron is quick to snatch it out of midair with her spell and throws it back again.
If nothing else, she’s keeping Trent on the defensive, but it feels like the two them are at a stalemate. All he needs to do is get his hands on Saffron and snap her neck. Knowing that, she stays calm and keeps him harried.
Candice, on the other hand, is unhinged, her face filled with rage. I’ve never seen this side of her before. She’s gone utterly berserk. Still, it seems to be working. She collides with Cropped Hair often, slamming the silver point on her shield into him each time.
They otherwise slash at each other with blade and claw, parrying attacks in turn. The two seem well matched, until Cropped Hair tries something new. He grabs the spike on Candice’s shield and rips it off.
It leaves him vulnerable for a second, allowing Candice to strike, eyes aflame with bloodlust. She draws her sword across his side. Cropped Hair howls. It’s a good blow, but not a finishing one.
Mason is faring less well. Baldy is armed with a silver spike as well now. It’s the only weapon that does any lasting damage to a shifter, and they both have one. Mason tries to keep his distance, jabbing at his opponent, but it doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s probably more used to fighting with his claws and teeth.
Baldy is more confident with his spike, holding it like a knife. Clearly he’s done this before, switching it back and forth between his clawed hands without looking. Mason doesn’t know where to look, and that’s when Baldy lunges. There’s barely enough time for him to dodge in time, but he does.
Baldy presses the advantage. Mason can’t get an attack in edgewise. It’s all he can do just to avoid being stabbed. Baldy is whittling him down, killing with a thousand tiny cuts. I get the feeling Mason needs to do what comes naturally. To get in close and really tear at his enemy. Yet even that tactic comes with pitfalls.