The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  The werewitch stood where she was, with Roland and Will flanking her and the other three South Cliffs hovering nearby.

  One man moved out in front to speak for the group. “My name is Roger Hathaway,” he opened, in a voice that was higher-pitched than Bailey would have guessed, although he was still well-spoken and formidable-looking. “My father’s the alpha of the Silver Star pack, and I’m in line to succeed him soon. We heard about what you been doing for Weres.”

  She nodded. Compliments like this were starting to become routine, and she had to work to stop them from going to her head. A real shaman didn’t get drunk on power or celebrity. “Thank you, Roger. Where are you guys from in Washington?”

  “Southern part of the state,” he elaborated. “Not too far northeast of Portland. The Venatori wiped out our neighbors, but somehow they missed us. Almost feels like we were too lucky…and half of us have been lying awake at night, thinking how we should have heard them coming and done something to save that other pack, the Merwin Lakes. We want to make up for it by helping you.”

  Nods from the other five guys; the mood among them was serious but friendly.

  “Okay,” said Bailey. “Glad to hear it. Right this moment, what I need help with is a series of trials in the Other—you ever been there?—but that’s asking a lot, so if you’re not up for that, I’d say head on down to Greenhearth, ask around with the other Weres, and see what they say you can do. Or talk to the sheriff. He knows me, and he’ll get you set up somewhere.”

  Roger huddled with his men, and they muttered among themselves. Bailey overheard enough to determine that they were trying to decide whether to accompany her into the alternate world.

  Fenris said nothing. Bailey wondered if he’d already explained to them what they might expect, and they were simply waiting for her to ask.

  After a minute or two, they split back into a loose cluster, and Roger took a deep breath. “We’ll accompany you into the trials,” he stated.

  Bailey smiled gently. “You’re brave, then. You didn’t tell me if you have any experience with the Other. It’s nothing to fuck around with.”

  “We’ve heard of it.” Roger’s jaw tightened. “The Merwin Lake pack died because we weren’t able to come to their aid in time. We can take the risk. We came here because we heard you were leading all the wolves in the region in our mutual defense. Lead, and we’ll follow.”

  It occurred to her that if she didn’t set a good example by bringing them along and trusting their courage and ability, they might take it as an insult and question her judgment.

  “Done,” she said. “I’m glad to have you guys since the crew I have here at present isn’t the biggest. Don’t beat yourselves up too much over what happened. It was Venatori’s fault, not yours, but I understand what you mean about feeling guilty. Just for volunteering, you’ve redeemed yourselves in my eyes.”

  It was hard to see, but it looked like the alpha’s son swelled with pride at that. “Our god told us,” he related, “that those who passed the trials would walk through the halls of our ancestors and the shamans from the past. We want to be known as the Weres who joined you for that.”

  Marcus stepped forth. “A dozen of you, then, and I make thirteen, although neither Roland nor I will be present for the trials. Now, then…”

  He turned to an empty patch between trees, chanted, and then raised his arms, deep in meditation. At a swipe of his hand, a gateway opened in midair like a pool of liquid amethyst layered over a well of midnight purple-black. Half the Silver Stars drew sharp, sudden breaths.

  Fenris glanced at the Weres and Roland. “Follow me.” He stepped through and was gone.

  Bailey had been about to lead the way, but Roger and his Weres beat her to it, as though impatient to prove themselves despite their surprise at seeing an interdimensional portal open for the first time. One by one, their burly forms vanished into the shimmering violet mass.

  Roland coughed. “Well, if by some chance they’re here to assassinate us on behalf of the Venatori, then at least Fenris can deal with them.”

  “They’re not,” Bailey insisted. “I know these are paranoid times, but have a little faith. I’ve heard of the Silver Star pack, although I never met them myself. Now, let’s get this show on the road.”

  She strode forth, Roland, Will, and the others behind her, and in a few steps, they no longer stood on the soil of Earth.

  The sensation was cold, tingling, and dizzying, but it only lasted a second. Then she stepped into the Other. She drew a breath as sharply as Roger’s boys had.

  Fenris had taken them to a part of the dimension she’d never seen before, and it was nothing like the rest. Most of the Other was a dark, chilly, desolate place composed mainly of swamp, rocks, and dead trees, with eerie silence under oppressive skies of deep purple and sheets of clouds the color of slate.

  This corner of the arcane world was another story. Lush, brighter, and full of life, it awed her with its beauty.

  Unending old-growth forest stretched in all directions across rolling ground carpeted with green grass and moss. These trees, unlike the ones Bailey had encountered before, were in full bloom, their roughly patterned limbs swaying under the weight of thousands of emerald leaves. Thick flowering vines wrapped around the trunks of one in every six or seven.

  There was also a brilliant silver light. Looking up, Bailey saw a full moon directly overhead, seemingly ten times larger than the moon of Earth. The sky behind it was a deep blue-black like that of a summer night, yet the radiance was so powerful as to make it nearly as bright as day. Stars blazed and twinkled with light that shifted from white to gold to azure.

  In the distance, wolves howled. There was a mysterious joy in them, totally different from the menace that people, even modern weres, associated with the sound.

  Finally, the breeze was cool without being cold. It reminded her of both the gentle winds of summer that gave relief from the heat and the slight chilling of the air months later that indicated the arrival of autumn. When the breeze faded, wisps of mist rose from the plants.

  Bailey was unable to move or speak for a moment. “This place is incredible. It’s like a paradise.”

  She recalled that it was the destination of the spirits of were-shamans, apparently where they dwelled in eternity. She was afraid to ask the next question, but she did regardless.

  “Is this…” She swallowed. “Is this our heaven? The werewolf afterlife?”

  Behind her, she heard the others fidget as their minds grappled with the notion.

  Marcus turned toward her, his face solemn. “I cannot reply to that directly, but I will say that the answer is more complex than a simple yes or no. For the moment, there are things we need to do. Come, but walk. Do not run. And walk on two legs.”

  The tall shaman led the way through the enchanting primeval forest, leaving his people to wonder if, as their god, he had created this realm or made it his own home.

  Roland broke the silence. “Why two legs, if I might ask?”

  A couple of Weres made low grumbling sounds at the impertinent inquiry, but Fenris didn’t seem bothered.

  “Here,” he explained, “no lycanthropes walk shifted through the woods until they reach the place where they must be. It is a rule, and not one we can break.”

  His matter-of-fact tone suggested that it would be useless to ask for further details. He’d stated a fact, comparable to the rising of the sun in the east back on Earth.

  The thirteen figures continued their march for what felt like hours—in the Other, the passage of time was distorted—yet they didn’t grow tired or feel any pangs of thirst or hunger.

  Bailey sensed they were going slightly uphill. The omnipresent trees were less numerous, and the soft ground had more outcroppings of rock, which gleamed with a faint silvery sheen.

  Furthermore, both trees and stones were inscribed with wolf faces, moons in various phases, and runes she didn’t recognize. The sigils seemed to be pointing toward so
mething.

  They passed through a screen of tall leafy weeds growing between two massive green oaks, and suddenly they were in a clearing on a small plateau.

  “That must be our destination. Right?” commented Will.

  Fenris stopped. “It is.”

  In the center of the clearing rose a massive stone structure like a pyramid of steps or a ziggurat, towering approximately as high as the enormous trees of the surrounding forest. At each of its four corners was a wolf-headed totem made of the same dark gray rock. Silver fog surrounded the building on all sides.

  Roland whistled. “Nice place. That’s not normal mist, though. I’m guessing you have a plan to get us through?”

  Marcus nodded. “Yes, but not you, Roland. You must remain here throughout the ordeal, no matter how much you might worry about Bailey. As a non-Were and a witch, your presence would disturb the sanctity of the place and raise the ire of the shamanic spirits who reside here. In their fury, they would attack anyone they saw, including Bailey. I cannot go, either. It’s something she and her Weres need to do alone.”

  The girl and the wolves all nodded, having noted that the reply was meant for them as well as the wizard.

  Fenris walked over to the glimmering mass of fog and placed his right hand on it as though it were a solid wall. Then he bowed his head, and in a deep, almost gurgling voice intoned a chant in what may have been old Norse or some language even more ancient. Bailey couldn’t understand any of it, but the strange words chilled her spine in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

  The fog thinned and faded but did not vanish.

  “Go,” said Fenris. “I can’t tell you what you’ll face, but be brave and be honest. Good luck. I believe in you, Bailey, and I believe in the courage of all you others who have volunteered to be at her side. Now, go!”

  Swallowing and breathing in through her nose, Bailey strode through the misty barrier, ten Weres filing through it behind her. The fog briefly slowed her and was shockingly cold, but the sensation passed instantly.

  They stood before the gaping black entrance to the temple.

  Bailey paused to address her followers, looking into their glinting eyes. “If we’re uncertain, I want you to advise me on what’s best. But if I’m certain, and I tell you what to do, you do it. Understand?”

  They all nodded.

  She walked straight into the darkness.

  At first, it seemed the ziggurat’s interior consisted of nothing but blackness, but after the first half-dozen footfalls, its interior took form. The structure was hollow, and soon they were descending a huge staircase of broad, shallow steps leading deep into the earth.

  When their heads were level with the floor, the stairs wound to the side before depositing them into an underground hall or gallery where the light increased.

  Torches produced a steady smokeless fire that gave off silvery-white light like stars. They were affixed to thick stone columns that rose from the smooth floor to a point far above their heads. The walls spread for at least a hundred feet in either direction and were carved with friezes showing lupine forms in various stages of hunting.

  The hall was filled with statues, each about twice the size of a human. Many had the forms of men, or occasionally women, dressed in flowing robes that were both primitive and formal. Others were in the shapes of wolves. It occurred to Bailey that the former probably represented important shamans, while the latter might have represented her people’s primordial kinship with the beasts of the wild.

  Everyone was silent as they filed slowly toward the center of the chamber. The place was like a tomb, and it seemed like noise would desecrate it.

  Bluish-silver light coalesced in front of them, bringing them to a sharp halt. A vaguely humanoid form, bright and featureless, stood before them.

  “Who are you?” it asked in a clear and echoing yet weirdly subdued voice. “What is your purpose here?”

  Steeling herself, Bailey stepped forward to answer. “Bailey Nordin, of Greenhearth, also known as Nova. I’m an apprentice shaman to Fenris, father of all werewolves. He requested that I come here to learn more about the path to becoming High Shaman. I’m here with Weres who’ve pledged loyalty to me, and anything you have to teach us, we’re willing to learn.”

  Silence, oppressive and total, hung in the air for a moment.

  Then the spirit responded, “Being apprenticed to Fenris will not save you if you are not ready, alert, and willing to do whatever must be done. We sense your sincerity and the truth of your words. But is your heart prepared for the first test?”

  Before she could answer, the glowing spirit shifted into the far more detailed form of an enormous blue spectral wolf with eyes like blood moons. Then it pounced.

  Bailey was already trying to react, somehow, and heard her followers cry out. The creature moved too fast even for her, and fear and confusion welled up as the ghostly form struck her in the chest, extinguishing the light and sending her reeling into total darkness.

  Chapter Four

  Jamie Gryphon and her friends Marcia and Elizabeth sat on a bench arranged near one of the lakes at the Nature Park in Newport News, Virginia. They talked.

  “Ugh,” Jamie opined. “At least they have like, civilization down here. Kinda.”

  Her friends laughed. “I know,” Marcia concurred. “Can you imagine if we’d broken down over there? I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “Horror movie shit, for sure,” said Elizabeth. “Wouldn’t have been so bad if we could have shared a car instead of having to drive separately.”

  The three of them had taken a week off from their day jobs in Washington, DC, and spent the previous day scouting out lycanthrope settlements in West Virginia. It was the first time Jamie had set foot in the state, and her wingwomen had only driven through the wretched place.

  Being in coastal Virginia was an improvement, though still vastly inferior to DC. Their guests ought to be arriving any minute, then they could leave.

  They chatted for perhaps five more minutes before a rented bus pulled up on the nearby road, its brakes squeaking as it ground to a halt. After its doors opened, women dressed in nearly identical leather outfits stepped down one by one and crossed the grass toward the bench. There were a total of twenty-one of them.

  Once all the passengers had vacated the vehicle, the short, wide lady who seemed to be in charge waved a hand at the driver. He nodded vacantly and drove off.

  “Okay,” Jamie muttered, breathing deeply and standing up. Marcia and Elizabeth did likewise as she addressed the group. “Hello. I saw those getups in a fashion show. Are you here for something like that?”

  It was the agreed-upon code. The newcomers smiled and nodded, aside from the squat one, who pushed through the others to stand at the front.

  “Something like that, yes,” she replied in a slight French accent. “Do you girls know the best way to Lynchburg?”

  Jamie bristled but tried not to show it. Their Venatori contact was supposed to say, “ladies,” not “girls.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “We can show you.”

  “Good.” The short older woman smirked. “Let us go this way.”

  The entire crowd, two dozen strong, tramped across the green expanse to the out-of-the-way lot where Jamie, Marcia, and Elizabeth had parked their three vehicles, not to mention the extra three they’d rented. It was a motley assortment of sedans, SUVs, and minivans, but it would suffice to get them to West Virginia.

  Once they were certain no one was watching or listening, the squat lady sidled up to Jamie. “I am Madame Chauvin,” she stated, “and I am in command of this mission. You are Jamie Gryphon of the small coven we contacted from the District of Columbia?”

  “Yes, but it’s not that small. We have like, a full thirteen members now, but six of them are new and don’t know what they’re doing yet.”

  Chauvin nodded, walked past her without a word, and began directing her people to divide themselves into six groups—three trios and three
quartets. The smaller groups would be rounded out by the American witches.

  Jamie briefly reconvened with her friends. “This bitch clearly thinks we’re just here to escort her or something,” she growled. “Once the killing starts, I think she’s going to get a surprise.”

  They all smiled. Their contacts in Europe had hinted at the possibility of Venatori membership for anyone who aided them. That was the goal.

  After a brief discussion of who would be going to each settlement, they went their separate ways, two vehicles per target community. Jamie was unsurprised that Madame Chauvin divided the Americans up between the three groups and that she commandeered the other, a rented Ford SUV that would be accompanying Jamie’s Camry to the cluster of cabins near Watoga State Park.

  It was almost a five-hour drive. The idea was to arrive at or immediately after dark, but still, Jamie found herself wishing the werewolves lived closer to the coast or to places large enough to qualify as cities. But no, they had to live out in the boondocks.

  The European witches ignored Jamie for the most part, yammering in French and occasionally asking her banal questions while ignoring her inquiries.

  She had information, though. Stuff that had come down through the grapevine, whether the Venatori meant to leak it or not. Most notably, that the Order had sent troops all over the United States, Canada, and Mexico, aided by sympathetic locals, to begin a coordinated series of strikes against werewolves across the continent. They’d had no trouble recruiting. In general, witches hated werewolves, even though they might not know why anymore. They were happy to join the great effort to eradicate the packs.

  In the forests of New England and Quebec and the northern Great Lakes region, packs were being hunted down and destroyed. In the swamps of the Deep South, packs woke up to carnage, then never awoke again. On the windswept prairies of North Dakota and Saskatchewan, packs accustomed to freedom blundered into traps. In mountain hollows within the craggy deserts of West Texas and Chihuahua, packs looked up and saw death raining down on them.