Blood for Wolves

chapter 5

I made a noise of protest, but he’d already slipped from my grasp and sauntered up to the man, who was as least a foot taller than him.

“Good day to you, sir,” Wolf said with an elaborate bow. “My mistress wishes to see what you have to offer inside your fine tent.”

The Bouncer-Genie said nothing. He gazed from Wolf to me to Wolf again. I tried to look more regal and less worried out of my skin.

“We’ve nothing to sell.”

Damn it, I thought. But Wolf didn’t let up.

“A shame, for she has some lovely, amazing things to trade.”

“Does she now?”

“Oh indeed.” Behind his back he gestured for me to come up next to him.

I tossed my hair back. I’d acted once in eighth grade; I could come up with something. I walked up beside Wolf and gave the man the best impassive stare I could muster.

“Tell me sir, have you ever seen a stick that lights itself afire?”

If anything, Wolf sure was a smooth talker when it came to getting things his way.

“I have not. Is she a witch?”

“Only the finest you’ve ever seen.”

Bouncer-Genie eyed me. “Why have I not seen your face before?”

I sneered. I’m a witch, a powerful witch. And powerful witches don’t take shit from guys like him. “Do you think that I flaunt myself? That I want all my special secrets to be known to the entire Kingdom?”

I surprised myself with how bitchy I sounded, and just managed to catch myself before saying, “And who are you to judge so quickly?” because I really had no clue who the hell this guy actually was. Even Wolf looked surprised, gaping at me for a few seconds before recovering.

“Perhaps my lady would be good enough to give you a demonstration of her wares so you can see for yourself,” he told Bouncer-Genie, who still wasn’t impressed.

“Fine,” I said, acting pissed. I reached up to search through the top part of my daypack for the matches. “Though I see no reason why I should waste perfectly good magic on such nonsense. And out in the open too.”

I picked a match from the small plastic container and struck it against the side. Immediately it flared to life, burning steadily in front of us. The man’s eyes went wide and he bowed slightly.

“My apologies to you my lady. I did not realize. Your appearance is nothing like a witch.” He stepped aside and held open the tent flap for us.

“Yes, well,” I blew out the match, dropped it on the ground, and smashed it thoroughly into the dirt with my boot, “appearances can be deceiving. Keep that in mind next time.” I poked Wolf in the chest. “Remain here. I see if anything must be done, I must be the one to do it.”

I stared at him hard, trying to convey the concept that if Marianne saw him, she would just freak out again. He caught the hint.

“Indeed, my mistress.” He took up my hand, kissed it, and backed off a few steps.

I strode into the tent. I tried not to let my surprise show—the tent was bigger on the inside. A row of people ranging in age from perhaps six to thirty lined the edge of the tent. They each wore manacles on their hands, but weren’t chained individually. Instead, a single chain began on one side of the tent and wound its way through links on each manacle, chaining them all together without the need for dozens of keys. They were relatively clean and maybe even well fed. No one looked sick or malnourished.

At least they took good care of their livestock.

Then I spotted Marianne, her face streaked with dried tears, between a cocoa-skinned woman and a tired looking man. She looked up and saw me, her eyes growing wide. I gave her a hard look. Don’t get excited. Don’t act like you know me. Luckily Marianne was a smart girl. She bit her lip and tried to look elsewhere. But her feet were bare and her toes wiggled excitedly.

A man flanked by two others sat at a table, a sheet of paper and a fountain pen set before him. His belly bulged out over his pants in a rotund stomach covered with shining purple and green striped fabric. He looked like a melon, but a wealthy one. Rings set with sparkling jewels practically covered his fingers. His bald head gleamed in the dim light. I guessed the slave trade was good business. He smiled pleasantly, as if he weren’t surrounded by a line of depressed people in chains. Or maybe that was why he smiled so happily.

The two men around him were scarier, unsmiling and openly displaying wide scimitars at their waists. Both of them looked like the Bouncer-Genie.

“Good day to you. I am Joran, finest flesh trader you’ll ever buy from. I’m always so pleased to receive new customers,” he said, sounding genuinely delighted. “Barra was truly impressed with what you have to offer.”

Did he mean the guy at the front? How did he know that? The thought was unsettling.

“So.” Joran folded his hands. “What is it that you are interested in?”

I gazed around the row of faces, pretending to survey what he had in stock.

“Is this all you have?” I asked, as though slightly unimpressed with what I saw.

“For now, yes.”

“Mmm.” I strolled around the tent, wishing I could free all of them. They looked so tired and worn down. My heart sank for them, but I did what I could to keep it from showing. Finally I stopped in front of Marianne.

“Lovely young girl.” I toyed with her now limp curls. “Such golden hair.”

Joran raised an eyebrow. “Golden?”

Damn, did they not have gold here? “Hair that shines like the rays of the sun.”

“Ah, I see,” Joran said, toying with the fountain pen. “Yes, we acquired her just yesterday. She may be a bit wild though. Apparently she was traipsing through giant territory.”

Yeah, because of me. “Well, that’s no matter. I have very specific tastes.”

Joran chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone.”

“What would you have for this one?” Hot damn, I was doing a good job at this role.

“The young ones are always difficult to price,” Joran said, standing up and strolling over to her. His keys jingled on his belt. One of them was bigger than the rest.

I really hoped he wasn’t going to start haggling. I hated haggling. I didn’t even really like shopping all that much. I go in, buy what I want, and leave.

“How about twenty of those fire sticks you have?” Joran asked, settling his hand on Marianne’s head. She squirmed a little under his touch, but didn’t move away.

Yep. We were haggling. “No. I know you only paid those giants six cows. So my offer is six.”

Joran’s eyes went wide for a second before he recovered from my would-be all-knowing witch power. “Fifteen.”

“Nine.”

“Ten.”

“Deal.” I brought out the matches again and counted out ten of them while Joran bent to remove the manacles Marianne’s hands and feet. I paused for a moment as a strange sensation crept over me. I looked around. What was that?

Then Wolf burst into the tent, and all hell broke loose.

Marianne’s eyes went wide and she screamed, “Wolf!” while scrambling back into the side of the tent. Joran swung around, his face a mix of shock and anger.

“No, no,” I yelled, hoping to calm her down and waving Wolf away, but he grabbed my shoulder.

“Something is coming.”

“Wolf!” Marianne screamed.

“Kill him!” Joran yelled.

I gasped, almost more astonished by Joran’s belief in a slave rather than his intent to kill us.

The two bodyguards immediately advanced, their scimitars already out and pointed at Wolf. Behind us, Barra charged into the tent, his own sword drawn. Everything seemed to go by in a blur.

I surprised the men by swinging my daypack into one of the bodyguard’s faces, knocking him to the floor. Wolf took on the other one, snarling and dodging his blade. He knocked away the sword and charged the man, crashing into his chest and knocking him down. Barra lingered for a moment, unsure of who to attack, me or Wolf, before choosing Wolf and dashed over to find the perfect time to strike. The people in the tent screamed and cried, trying to clear out of the way of the fight as the two rolled over the floor.

I elbowed my bodyguard in the face, stunning him long enough to grab his sword. Wolf pushed away his opponent long enough to kick out Barra’s knee. Barra went down, shouting in pain. An idea hit me and I went after Joran, who forgot where his table was and fell over it, crashing to the ground. Immediately I stood over him, sword at his throat.

“Keys,” I yelled over Wolf’s snarls and the people’s shrieks. “Now!”

He unhooked them from his belt, and I snatched them up. I ran for the rock the chain was anchored to, but Barra grabbed my ankle. I twisted and fell, the keys skidding across the ground. He cut his sword down at me, but I scrambled out of the way, pushing myself up enough to jab back at him. We both stared at each other in surprise at the blade puncturing his chest. A dark red stain bloomed on his shirt and he slumped back, dead. I stared at him a few seconds more before scrabbling over the ground, grabbing up the keys, and reaching the rock.

I tried the biggest key, praying it was that size to distinguish it quickly from the others. I jammed it into the heavy lock and turned. But the lock was old—Joran must have spent more money on his rings than new locks. Behind me a man shouted—one of the bodyguards. I looked over my shoulder in time to see him swinging his scimitar down at me. Cornered, nowhere to go, I screamed. Suddenly Wolf was there. A splash of blood hit the dirt floor, and then Wolf and the bodyguard went at each other with blades.

“Hurry!” Wolf yelled to me.

I wrestled with the lock, and then it snapped open and the chain fell free.

“Go!” I shouted to the people. “Go. You’re free!”

The slaves pulled the chain through their manacles, one by one running out the front or back of the tent, wild and yelling. Another bizarre feeling yanked at me, demanding my attention. I spun around. Joran stood near the center of the tent, as still as a statue and a talisman in his hand glowing.

I didn’t know if that meant he was a wizard, or if he’d just been traded a magic trinket, but it couldn’t be good, whatever it was. I threw the keys at him, hitting him square in the face. Joran flailed in surprise before tripping over his own feet and falling on his back once more. Then the first bodyguard Wolf had tackled started to get up. I sat frozen for several seconds. I couldn’t kill anyone again, and the slaves weren’t interested in helping. We needed something to distract everyone enough to get out.

“Wolf—the tent pole!”

Wolf pushed his opponent into the side of the tent where a pack of slaves pushed him again so he tripped in an almost comedic way and hit the ground. Wolf didn’t need to be told twice and ran at the pole, hitting it with all his might in his shoulder. For a few agonizing seconds nothing happened. Then it cracked loudly amidst the chaos of the tent, and then snapped.

Just before the fabric of the tent fell around us, I caught the astonished looks of the half-dozen people before me. I knew exactly what they meant.

A wolf had just obeyed a human.

Then the world went orange and yellow, billowing amidst the air pockets around us. I spotted a small figure in blue dart towards an opening.

“Marianne!”

Suddenly Wolf was at my side again, dragging me towards the opening. We emerged and almost ran smack into the jaws of a roaring beast. It stood on two legs that were bent like a dog’s and a sweeping tail bristled behind it. Its grasping hands were equipped with wicked claws and its entire body was covered in slate gray fur. But the roar came from the mouth of a wolf. Except it wasn’t a wolf. It was too big with ears far too long and pointed and teeth that were razor sharp. This was the creature from children’s nightmares. This was a true werewolf.

The strange sensation roiled through me again. I wasn’t just looking at the creature, I felt it. People yelled and ran in all directions like chickens with missing heads. Marianne fainted dead away. Before I could do a thing the werewolf scooped her up, shoved her into its mouth, and swallowed. It was then I realized the creature wasn’t real. I could see though it—I could see Marianne curled up inside of it, surrounded by a haze of gray. The nightmare wolf launched itself down the road, leaving a faint trail of gray smoke behind it.

“Marianne!” I screamed and ran after the thing. I pumped my legs hard, not knowing if Wolf was behind me or not, knowing I couldn’t catch up to the thing, whatever it was, but I had to try.

Finally the creature was too far down the path, and then disappeared altogether. I couldn’t run anymore. I slowed, eventually stopping and settling my hands on my head as I sucked in deep breaths of air. I turned. Wolf walked toward me, breathing hard as well, but not as hard as me.

“What the hell?” I managed to huff. One question that pretty much handled it all.

“I smelled it coming,” he said. “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was bad.”

So did I. The thought practically popped into my head. Except it was true. I kept getting strange feelings in this place, centered on… I hesitated at the thought. Magic. Something important was happening around here, and it all had to do with Marianne. People didn’t just send demonic beasts out to kidnap children. Especially not at such convenient times.

“Someone knew she was there,” I panted. “Someone really wants that kid.”

I stared directly at Wolf as I said it. It took a few moments for my implications to sink in.

“Oh no,” he said, frowning. “No, no. Wolves don’t dabble in magic. We react very badly to it.”

I went to lean against a tree, bending over to put my hands on my knees. Too much had happened. Too much to think about. My daypack was gone. We had no food or fresh water. The town had to be at least a mile behind us and in total confusion.

“Caroline,” Wolf started.

“We have to keep going,” I said, straightening. “We have to follow her. We have to do something.”

It was all I could say. The only thing I could think about doing. My brain was overloaded with this place, what had happened at the tent, everything.

“All right,” Wolf said softly as if he could sense I was on the verge of a breakdown. He jiggled his right ankle for a moment. “You stay here. I’ll go back and get your things.”

“What? No, wait.” I lurched forward and grabbed his arm. “You can’t go back there. It’s crazy. They’ll be looking for you and there are going to be people everywhere. One of those guys is dead!”

Because I killed him.

He looked at my hand on his arm. A slow smile came over his face. “Are you worried about me, sweet Caroline?”

Suddenly I felt flustered. So what if I was? “Well,” I stuttered, “I mean…I don’t want you to get caught. You said they kill half-wolves, right? You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything those slave traders should be the people in trouble, and—”

He took hold of my face with both hands and brought his face close to mine. At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but he only pressed his cheek to mine. A hug would have felt less intimate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “No one ever worries about me.”

He let go and once again I didn’t have anything to say.

“Slave traders in trouble don’t stick around long,” he said. “The news will soon spread elsewhere, but it’s that thing they’ll be looking for when it comes to the wolf.”

He turned and started to run off. A dark spot of blood stained his coat over his left shoulder.

“Wolf, wait. You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be all right,” he called back, and soon disappeared amidst the trees.

Then I was alone.

I wandered around in circles on the trail for a while. A thick cloud drifted over the sun, cooling the area and cutting out the rays of light. A deep shudder rippled through me. I could handle being alone in my forest. People knew how to find me there, even if they never looked. But here no one would look for me. No one would know. I gazed up at the trees, drinking in the fresh air in an attempt to calm down. I wished the sun would come back out. I closed my eyes. Alone in a fairy tale world. Far, far away from home. Would they miss me? Would anyone care? How long would it take them to forget me after they decided I was lost forever?

“Come inside missy,” a voice rasped.

I broke from my thoughts and looked to my right where an old woman stood outside the door of a decrepit house. I could have sworn the house hadn’t been there before. The wood somehow seemed to be peeling away from itself and the shingles were broken, pieces of them littering the ground.

“Come inside. You must see,” the woman said. She leaned on a cane and beckoned to me with a long, disturbingly boney finger.

A strange sensation danced through my bones. A similar sensation I’d felt before Marianne had been kidnapped. “No, I don’t think I will, thanks.”

She smiled, her face full of amusement. “Not worried I’ll turn you into a toad, are you?”

“Er,” I fumbled for an answer. The weird thing was that she didn’t seem at all dangerous. She was scary-looking in that way-too-old-to-still-be-alive way, but didn’t feel threatening.

“Search yourself,” she said, as if she knew what I was thinking. “You will know whether or not I am to be trusted.”

Magic, a little voice in my head whispered. She has magic. But it’s safe. The deeper I delved into the feeling, the more relaxed I became. “How do I know you’re not doing that?”

“I don’t have that kind of power, dear. Now come inside.”

A deep calm came over me, and I did as she asked. I couldn’t explain it. Besides, how could she be dangerous? Townsfolk wouldn’t let an evil witch live so close to all their children, would they? I walked up the steps and followed her into the old house.

The place was packed from floor to ceiling with old junk: chairs on top of couches, the nooks and crannies filled with boxes, candles, dishes, bits of string, papers with scribbles, metal trinkets, small stuffed animals both real and the toy sort, dried flowers, and more. Junk lined the corridor and filled the rooms, leaving only enough space for a small table with a single globe-shaped candle in the center. It was like a hoarder’s house, yet miraculously clean and smelling like my grandmother’s house; beef stew on a Sunday afternoon.

The old woman sat down at a round table covered in a flowered cloth. Dozens of candles sat in the center, silently eating up wax as they burned. There was no chair for me, so I remained standing.

“Do you know why you are here?” she asked, settling her hands on her cane.

I looked around. “Uh, no.”

“You are here because you followed the girl.”

I waited.

“You are the Guardian, but an interesting mix. Interesting choice. You seek greatness. You wish to prove yourself strong and smart and brave. Yet you shrink away, swallowing your invisibility, always testing, always waiting in the dark to see who will come and find you.”

I shifted, tying not to look at her.

“Are you so insignificant? If you test those who love you for too long, you will dwell in the darkness and they will never find you. You will stop reaching for the stars and wait until the end of time and cry in the dark.” She leaned back and squinted, assessing. “Or perhaps the opposite will be true. You will reach for the stars. You will try so long and so hard, you will forget all those around you, and burn up once you touch them.”

She stood again. “The decision will be yours, child. But things will be much easier for you if you don’t tell the Wolf.” She eyed me for a long time before lifting a few things off a peg in the wall behind her. They glinted in the candlelight. She laid them out on the table. Three necklaces, each one in a different style with a unique charm dangling from the end.

“I will give you a choice,” she said. “Each of these contains power that can help you, but you must be careful,” she waggled a finger in front of my nose, “because to use one means allowing it to delve deep into your desires. You must keep the right desire at the forefront at all times.”

I stared at my three options. The first necklace was made with what looked like a band of leather. Hanging off the end was a small figurine that reminded me of a monkey, from its puckered little face to its curling tail. The chain of the second sparkled like silver, and attached to the chain was a pair of wings, spread out like angel’s wings, white and intricately detailed. The third necklace was a string of woven gold. Its charm was two shapes melded together—the sun and the moon as one.

I pointed to the wings. “That one.”

She plucked it off the table and hobbled over to me. “Then take it, child. And see if it doesn’t help keep you grounded.”

She slipped it over my head. I didn’t thank her. Somehow I knew I didn’t have to. Instead I turned and walked out of the house, gently touching the angelic wings resting on my skin. She followed me out, stopping in the same place she had when I first saw her.

Wolf was sitting on the ground, patient but uncomfortable, my pack on the ground beside him. One leg twitched while he made grumpy faces. He jumped to his feet when I reached him again and then looked to the old woman. She beckoned him up as well. He let out a tiny huff, but obeyed. She didn’t take him inside as she had me, but instead spoke to him on the stairs. He scowled and glared, then looked at me, frowning. His eyes glittered, but this time it wasn’t nice in the least. The woman finished whatever she had to say and stepped back, silent. Wolf huffed and then quickly came down the stairs and shoved my daypack at me.

“Here,” he grunted, then walked on into the forest.

I said nothing and followed.