Blood for Wolves

chapter 22

Sleeping four hours apiece proved unnecessary, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I wished fervently that I could spend just one night in the luxurious bed without being woken by Alex’s cold deer nose on my shoulder or face.

I faced myself in the mirror the next morning. Dark circles under my eyes revealed my exhaustion. I scowled. At least they made me look meaner when I did that.

I donned the black pants and then pondered what to wear above the waist. The dresser didn’t contain any shirts; just finely folded dresses. I eyed the knife I’d stolen at dinner.

Fine.

I pulled out a sapphire dress, as sleek and beautiful as the green one I’d worn the night before. It dipped down in a V-neck, with short sleeves that held only a whisper of a ruffle at their edges. I laid it flat on the ground and took the knife to it. Alex made a grumbling noise.

“Be quiet,” I muttered. “They didn’t give me any shirts and mine is gone.”

I sliced the dress in two, making a t-shirt from the top and slipping it over my head. I slid the knife in the waist of my pants and hid the handle with the hem of the shirt.

I ran the brush through my hair a few more times until it was straight and silky. I spun around in front of the mirror.

“What do you think?” I asked Alex.

He gave his head a brief toss. I slipped into Wolf’s coat. Outside it was spring, but inside the cold stones kept it chilly and I wanted to stay warm if I planned to wander all day.

“Never trust a guy to be a good judge of fashion.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

The door suddenly banged open and Sentries swarmed into the room. Alex reared, trumpeting in anger. I spun around, bringing back one fist, ready to strike. Several Sentries threw lassos around Alex’s neck to hold him down while the rest held their ground, their crossbows leveled at us. Then Martock swung into the room, his face stony.

“Where is she?”

“F*ck you.” It slipped out before I had a chance to think of what I really ought to say, but I didn’t regret it. I didn’t know what they wanted with Marianne, but I doubted it was anything good.

Martock sighed in a resigned way. “Come. The Steward wishes to see you.”

I sneered. “What? No breakfast first?”

Martock frowned and gestured for his men to bring us forward. They moved in, surrounding us and escorting us out of the room by the points of their arrows. I considered pulling the knife, but with so many men, it wouldn’t do any good. We’d be shot down before I could even draw blood.

We were ushered into the throne room where Dunstan sat. Only this time he wasn’t in his seat below the throne—he was on the throne. I laughed bitterly and shook my head. Why was I not surprised? Power. Plain, old fashioned power was the Steward’s motivation for wanting Marianne so badly. Get rid of the heir, and he could rule over the Kingdom until his death.

“Well,” I said once we stopped before him, “I guess I was right not to trust you, wasn’t I?”

He smiled, a slow, ugly smile that only made me hate him more for what he was. A greedy old man willing to kill a little girl just to hang onto a chunk of forest and a stone building.

“Where is Miss Marianne Gertrude Greta West Red?” he asked.

“Safe.”

He chuckled and a shiver of fear went through me. What would he do if I didn’t tell him? Get his Sentries to torture me? Hurt Alex? I set my jaw and tried to stand up straighter. I was her Guardian. That had to mean something. I couldn’t give her up without a fight.

Dunstan clasped his hands behind his back and slowly started down the steps toward me. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Where is she?”

I didn’t answer. Instead I let my gaze slide away from him to fix on a point in the wall across the room.

He stopped for a moment and laughed again. “I see. As her Guardian, you consider it your duty to see to her safety. But I’ve tried to be polite. I tried to assure you that she would be safe here. But I’m tired of asking nicely when there are so many easier ways of getting what I want.” He started walking again. “You say you were concerned about the werewolves and their Mistress. And you were so right, my dear, to be worried about them. But you were worried for all the wrong reasons.”

He halted in front of me and snapped his fingers. Alex let out a sudden bellow that reverberated through the room. He bucked and thrashed to try and hit the Sentries around him with his hooves or antlers. The Sentries fought to hold onto him. I moved to attack one of them men at the ropes, but Martock grabbed my arms and pinned them behind my back, holding me against his chest. Then I understood why Alex panicked.

From behind the throne, the Mistress appeared, smiling her icy smile, her long black hair trailing behind her. Other werewolves emerged from behind corners, stone pillars, surrounding us. Suddenly I realized the purpose of the magic I’d constantly felt. It protected the werewolves from us; Alex’s ability to smell them and my ability to feel out any magic the Mistress might be performing, including the use of the collars. The Sentries around us shifted slightly, keeping their weapons on us, but their faces revealed their fear and revulsion of what was happening around them.

“These werewolves are under my control,” Dunstan said, tilting his head back in a superior way. “Why should I hunt down something so useful to me? Werewolves are the way they are by choice. They can still think, can they not? And if they aren’t interested in curing their present condition, who am I to stop them? Besides,” he reached out and lifted my chin with his finger, “that girl has no true power here. So she’s descended from the Red line; they haven’t ruled here in years, why should they take back their power now?”

From behind the Mistress, Wolf appeared. The moment he saw me, his eyes went gold. He frowned. For a brief second, my blood ran cold. Then it switched to blazing hot. I jerked my head away from Dunstan’s fingers.

“Because Red has always ruled here. Your house came in and usurped it by deception and murder. Your rule here is fake. You never deserved to sit in these halls!”

I had no idea how much of that was actually true, but I was too angry to care. I struggled against Martock. Then another thought struck me. I craned my head to look up at him.

“Why are you following him? He’s crazy and you know it! Your men know this is suicide. What makes him think he can control them? They want to lock Marianne away and make this land one for werewolves—all humans be damned!”

“Shut up!”

Dunstan swung his arm back and struck me across the face. Alex’s bellow echoed through the hall, his hooves striking and scraping at the stone floor. Dark little stars danced in my eyes. He grabbed my face with one hand, forcing me to look at him.

“These creatures are nothing but beasts,” he growled, “feed them the right motivation, and they’ll do anything.”

“You’re wrong,” I mumbled. My focus slid past him, settling on Wolf. His eyes burned red. I tried not to shout when pain lanced through my heart. Hold, dream bonds, hold, I prayed fervently.

The Steward sneered at me. “I wouldn’t expect the Guardian to understand. Now where is she?”

“She won’t tell you,” the Mistress said, coming down from the throne platform, Wolf right behind her.

He took a step back, a half smile appearing on his face. “Pity. Though I suppose I can find other uses for her.”

His hands roved over my body, lingering appreciatively on my breasts. I kicked out, but missed, causing him to laugh.

“You’ll do no such thing. We have to lock her up just as we have to lock up the child,” the Mistress said levelly.

Dunstan fixed her with an ugly look. “You have to find the Red girl first. That will allow me plenty of time with this one.”

She sighed as if this whole exchange were incredibly dull. “Wolf, will you please bring him to me?”

A savage growl escaped Wolf as he stalked toward Dunstan.

“What? What are you doing?” he stuttered, his eyes going wide in surprise and fear.

Wolf grabbed him by the neck, his eyes redder than I’d ever seen, and flung him over to the Mistress. He crashed into the ground, and the Sentries around us erupted in protest. But they quickly fell silent as the werewolves surrounding them snarled and howled, baring their teeth and claws in challenge. Dunstan scrambled to his feet, his face red with indignation. He adjusted his fur cape.

“What is the meaning of this you insolent bitch?” he yelled.

She rolled her eyes, bored. “This.”

Her hand flashed over his neck and chest and a spray of blood arched over her. Dunstan’s eyes went wide as he gurgled in shock, his hands flying to his open veins in a desperate attempt to staunch the flow of blood. The Mistress held up her hand, a grotesque mix of gray flesh and sharp claws. A werewolf paw. She grinned as she watched him fall to his knees and then slump over into a puddle of his own blood. She slowly turned to face the rest of us, a sharp smile on her face.

“Now, we can continue this. Properly.”

Alex snorted like a bull, pawing at the ground despite the fact that he was still trussed up. Martock still held my arms, but his grip had loosened considerably.

“I admit,” she continued, “this isn’t what I had planned, but no matter. We can easily shift it to our advantage.” She licked Dunstan’s blood from her fingertips. “I’d intended to take care of the little whelp first, but one should always be prepared to change plans when necessary.”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it earlier. If the House of Hood figured the wolves could take care of Marianne, then they couldn’t be implicated in it, and people would hate wolves even more. The werewolves would use the ruse as a cover, hiding out in the castle while the people and Sentries destroyed all the wolves that might oppose them. Then the werewolves would kill the Steward and his men from the inside and use all the newfound hatred to encourage wolves into joining them, even if they were werewolves. Then another thought hit me.

“The people,” I gasped. “The people in this castle. What did you do with them?”

She laughed. “Such a silly creature you are. We didn’t do anything to them. Yet. He on the other hand,” she gestured at the dead Steward, “decided it would be best to imprison all of them for the duration of our stay. Which is ridiculous since our stay was to be for quite some time. They simply would never be allowed out again.”

So that was the other reason for the magic. They were being held down there, somewhere beneath the castle, and if there were any sorcerers among them, magic would be needed to subdue them.

“Now then. I won’t ask you where the girl is. You simply won’t tell me, I know that. But seeing as she is no longer with you and your brother is no longer human, my guess is that she drank out of the same cursed stream as him, hmm?”

I stared at the ground, silent.

“Be as quiet as you like. It matters not in any case. Seeing as your brother is not a ferocious beast, nor is he a tree, I assume they drank from the third stream, in which case she’s a symbol of herself. That alone accomplishes that I’ve set out to do. Of course, if she’s become a bluebell, then that’s different, and I need to know.”

Wolf lurked behind her, his eyes fixed on me and his tongue out. She gave him an idle pat on the head.

“I’m not telling you anything,” I ground out.

She mock-pouted. “I could find out. Perhaps I’ll give you over to my little half-wolf here. I’m sure he would love extracting the information from you, especially since your blood doesn’t hurt him.”

“Be careful you don’t get too close to me,” I said, giving her a sadistic grin, “you remember what happened last time.”

Her cutesy face disappeared, instead transforming to an ugly twisted expression of pure anger. “If I didn’t fear your reemergence as Guardian, I would destroy you here and now.”

Martock’s grip was virtually nonexistent now. If I wanted to escape I could, but my instincts told me to wait. Wait just a little longer.

“Do whatever you want, you ugly bitch. I’m never telling you where Marianne is. You screwed up when you cursed her and my brother, so now you get to pay for it just like me.”

She bared her fangs and growled.

“I am the Guardian of the House of Red!” I yelled to the Sentries. “If you serve the rightful House, then you will destroy these cursed creatures!”

The Mistress threw her head back and laughed. “They are under my influence. They will do nothing until I tell them to.”

Alex suddenly bellowed and charged forward, knocking his antlers into her and tossing her back a half dozen feet. The ropes around his neck were severed. Nearby werewolves roared and sprang at him, but a group of Sentries immediately surrounded Alex, shooting them down.

The chamber exploded into action as Sentries and werewolves attacked one another. Martock released me, snatching his crossbow from his back and firing bolt after bolt with deadly accuracy. Werewolves dashed over the stone floor, their claws etching marks into the rock. Others sprang off pillars like acrobats. The Sentries worked in teams, back to back as they fired at the enemy. Some of them ran out of bolts and pulled out huge machete-like knives. They weren’t wolf hunters for nothing. Their speed and skill rivaled that of the werewolves’. They were trained to handle snapping jaws and wild movements. Alex kicked and reared, slashing at them with his sharp hooves and stabbing with his antlers.

The Mistress got to her feet, a stunned look on her face, which was quickly replaced with rage.

I pulled out my knife and after a quick decision, untied the key from my ankle and flung it onto the steps near the throne. Then I made for the Mistress.

I drew up short when a werewolf jumped in front of me, roaring. Saliva dripped from his jaws. I brandished my knife. It felt small and feeble compared to the werewolf’s power. Two bolts protruded from his back. His muscles bunched and his clawed fingers curled as he prepared to spring.

Wolf crashed into him, knocking him to the side. The two tumbled together, snarling and fighting. Through it all Wolf screamed to me, “Kill her! Kill her, Caroline!”

I faced the Mistress. She gazed back, her face wreathed in fury. I pressed the knife blade against my opposite hand and sliced into the flesh before doing it to my other hand as well. Now both of them dripped blood on the ground. Blood that would poison her. I wiped my hands on my face. My neck. All over Wolf’s coat.

“You wretch!” she snarled. “Humans deserve to die. We are persecuted because of a curse they put on us. They are the bane of this land and they deserve to be ruled over by us!”

“So you eat them in retaliation?” I yelled. “You want to perpetuate the very curse they murder you for? What you want to do will kill even more wolves!”

She bared her fangs, parts of her body twisting as they changed. Yet she seemed to have trouble, as though those same parts didn’t want to change. Wolves react very badly to magic…

I charged at her, not knowing what magic she might throw at me, but knowing that if she did and I were too close, she’d suffer the same effects. Before she had time to ready a spell, I tackled her around the waist and wrestled her to the ground. She screamed whenever my blood touched her and fought back tooth and claw, trying to kick me off her and cause damage without drawing more blood. The magic in her practically boiled over. She wanted to use it, but feared what it might do to her.

I aimed the knife down, trying to sink it into her flesh, but she hit me in the same spot the Steward had, momentarily throwing me off balance. She tried to push me off, but I dragged her back to me, slicing into her arm with the knife. She shrieked and howled, the sounds ringing in my ears as I sought to finish her off.

“Fine,” she suddenly yelled. “If you want to die for your little princess, then so be it!”

Burning white fire erupted all around us. The same white fire from before. My flesh charred, my blood sizzled, I tasted ash in my mouth. I was dying, dying, dying. I tilted my head back and screamed along with her as we both burned in her magic fire. Burn, burn, burn. I managed to open my eyes amidst the heat and the pain. She lay below me, turning the knife toward my chest through the flames. No! The fire was an illusion. Every part of my body screamed it was real, but I zeroed in on my still-whole hand around the knife handle and forced it to turn around. It pointed down now, and with all the strength I could muster, I drove it into her chest. Wet with my blood, the poison of my love for wolves in her corrupt body did its work. She gasped, screamed, clawed at me, and then fell back choking.

“Fond of knives?” she panted. “Then I hope you enjoy this!”

A string of strange words cascaded out of her bloody mouth. Before I could stop her, her curse catapulted me back several yards. I struck the ground hard, screaming as dozens, hundreds, thousands of blades sliced at my body. I writhed on the ground, crying out, tears of pain escaping my eyes. What had she done? Was she dead? Was Marianne safe? What the hell did she do to me?

I tried to drag myself away from her, unable to stop screaming. My body was torn to shreds. I’m dying, I’m dying—why won’t pain stop? Every few minutes a new wound opened on my skin as though slashed there by a knife. Finally I lay on my back, sucking in deep breaths of air, choking on cries of pain.

“Caroline! Oh, Caroline.”

Suddenly Wolf cradled me in his arms, his bloody, tear-streaked face hovering over mine. Was the battle over? Had we won? I screamed again and convulsed as a spot on my back sliced open.

“Caroline, what did she do?”

I grasped at the lapels of Wolf’s new coat. I hated him. I hated him for lying to me. Twice. I hated him for showing his true colors now that I was going to die.

“Caroline!”

Alex! He was back! I couldn’t see. The entire world was blurry. All I could make out was Wolf’s face. Killing her must have freed Alex.

A scream of horror confirmed my suspicious. Marianne was herself again, standing somewhere on the stairs where I’d thrown her. Invisible knives cut at my arms and legs, drawing more shrieks from me.

“Caroline?” Alex yelled. “Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with her? She’s soaked in blood!”

Final curse, a part of my mind thought. But I couldn’t talk. I could only cry and jerk in pain when more wounds opened. I was going to bleed to death. A slow, painful curse. I shivered involuntarily in Wolf’s arms, chills already coming on from the loss of blood.

“It hurts,” was all I managed, sobbing. “Oh God…” I writhed and screamed again. How many more? How many more? I don’t want to die.

“Caroline. Caroline,” Wolf sobbed. “Curse the moon, forgive me. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I had almost died by fire, and now, after so much…

“Wolf!” I gasped, then opened my mouth in a silent scream as an unseen knife slashed at my cheek. I panted for air. “Wolf. The jacket. There’s a vial.”

He immediately began searching the pockets in my blood soaked coat. He pulled out the vial of lavawort flower extract.

“Give it to me,” I said breathlessly, then convulsed again, tears spilling down the sides of my face.

He opened it and gave it to my shaking hands.

“What is it? Caroline—” His eyes widened as he caught the scent. “CAROLINE, DON’T!”

But he was too late. I downed the bottle and immediately went rigid in his arms as a new wave of pain washed over me. A searing heat burned me from the inside out, spreading through my veins, coupling with the agony of the wounds, wrapping tendrils of molten liquid around my heart. I couldn’t even scream. I was burning, burning just like the old witch had said. My mind went numb with the fire. I couldn’t breathe. I’d reached too far. Fought too long. In the haze of agony, I summoned my last remaining bit of strength, every scrap of resolve, and reached up to touch Wolf’s cheek. His hand immediately covered mine and held it there. Beautiful.

And then I died.