Of Wolves and Wardens by Sylvia Mercedes

I lie in the crook of Dire’s arm, resting my head on his shoulder. My fingers trail along the lines of his chest, feeling the pattern of fur as it begins to return. I frown softly, regretting the loss of his bare skin under my hand. Our stolen dawn moments were just that—stolen.

Soon, we will both be monsters again.

I tilt my head, gazing up at his face. He lies in complete repose, his eyes closed, his head resting on his other arm. I never thought it possible, but his expression is almost serene. And happy. That thought gives me a flush of pleasure. I’ve made him happy. Perhaps only for a short while . . . but I’ve done it. Amid all the terror and turmoil that assaults us from every side, we gave each other something beautiful.

I close my eyes and nuzzle my face under his chin, bristling both with beard and incoming wolf fur. How much this last hour contained! All those new, tentative, joyful discoveries made in the light of the new day and the new love declared. If only we could go on like this, discovering more and more about each other, day after day. If only we had a lifetime ahead of us. Even a year. Even a few days . . .

A frown knots my brow, and my soaring heart suddenly sinks like lead. There’s no more if only for us. The last hour was a lovely dream. But it’s time to wake up and face the reality ahead.

Drawing a deep breath, I sit upright, pushing against his chest for support, then adjusting my body so that I need not touch him. I shove tangles of hair out of my face, and in doing so, am startled by the sensation of claws on the ends of my fingertips, raking through the long red strands. I’ll never get used to that.

“Dire,” I say. Already my voice sounds more animal than before. “Dire, are you awake?”

He cracks his eyes open and looks lazily up at me. At the sight of my face, however, his expression grows more serious. He props up onto his elbows and turns his head to one side in an unconsciously doglike manner. “What’s wrong? Tell me, Brielle. Should I not have—”

I quickly put out a hand, pressing two fingers against his lips. “No, it’s not that. Not at all. You were—you are—everything I want. I’m glad, so glad we could be together for a little while. I wish . . . I wish . . .”

I wish we could run away. Animal or human, it hardly matters to me. I wish we could simply find a place where we could exist. But the boundaries of Granny’s wardship are too small. We’re living on borrowed time as it is.

I bow my head, breaking his gaze. “There’s something I must do. I’m . . . I’m going back to Granny’s house.”

He sits upright then, taking hold of my hand and clutching it tight. For a long while, we are silent, sitting there in the morning light. I wonder what he’ll say, if he’ll say anything.

Finally, he reaches out and tilts my chin, lifting my gaze to his. His eyes are yellow again now. Wolf’s eyes. Not the gray, human eyes which had burned into mine so short a time ago.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, his voice a soft rumble.

“I’m going to kill her.” The words fall from my lips like stones. So heavy. Too heavy. “At least, I’m going to try.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. “And what if she reasserts her command over you? She’s done it before.”

“Yes, but . . .” I shrug. “Mother Ulla says she made a mistake when she cursed me. She weakened her hold on me rather than strengthening it. Mother Ulla believes I could break Granny’s control entirely now. I may have done so already.”

“Mother Ulla . . .” Dire’s voice trails off, and he gazes out over the cliffside again. For a long moment, silence stretches between us, underscored by the not-so-distant roar of the river. “I hoped Mother Ulla would talk you into running away.”

“Yes, well, I had different ideas.” I run a hand over my head, noting that my long hair is already noticeably shorter, blending in with the fur running down my back and spine. “I’m not asking you to come with me.”

“I know.”

“This is something I need to do. She’s my grandmother. And she’s been . . . the things she’s done . . .” I close my eyes, seeing again the images of those heads in the hall. Misery. Dreg. The empty plaque reserved for Dire. I also see the round-cheeked young girl held between the two looming werebeasts. “She must be stopped,” I finish firmly.

“I know that too.”

There’s something in his tone, something I don’t quite understand. Something to make me look up and catch his wolfish gaze again. But the expression in his eyes is not that of a wolf. I see nothing but very human love shining in those depths.

“You are by far the bravest creature I’ve ever known,” he says.

I flush and duck my head. “Well, you’re the hairiest creature I’ve ever known. So I suppose we’re even.”

He tosses back his head and barks a great laugh. Then, standing, he offers his hand. His awful, warped, fur-covered, claw-tipped hand. I take it and let him help me to my feet. “Come on then,” he says, flashing sharp fangs in something resembling a smile. “Let’s go witch hunting.”

We don’t take the holly paths back to Granny’s house. I suspect she’ll be watching them closely; we’ll walk into a trap if we try. Instead, Dire guides us through the Wood, navigating by nose. I’m surprised at how well my own animal senses pick out the intricacies of detail in the forest. I might even be able to make my way back to Granny’s house by smell alone if I had to. But I’m nowhere near as experienced as Dire, so I let him take the lead.

As we proceed, we become more beastlike. By noon, we’re both completely animal . . . but that hour passes, and we slowly revert to humanity. I’m still not used to this transformation and find it uncomfortable. Like the stabbing pains I used to get as a child that Valera called “growing pains.” Only much worse.

The whole day feels surreal. Now and then I make myself stop and consider what it is I’m about to attempt, that I am on my way to commit a murder. Or at least, to attempt murder. Without weapons either—no bow, no arrows, no knife. Just my own strange new body, complete with powerful jaws and claws.

Will it be enough?

It’ll have to be.

Abruptly, Dire stops. I step up beside him, our shoulders almost brushing. “What is it?”

“Do you smell that?” He sniffs the air, his eyes flashing. “It’s . . . it’s not . . .”

I take a delicate sniff. My whiskers tingle, and my lips curl in a hiss. “Conrad!” I snarl.

It’s the Monster Hunter, all right. He’s here. Quite close. My blood runs cold. I’d assumed he was dead after that fall. Then again, part of me always knew that a mere fall and a little rushing water wouldn’t be enough to take down the mountainous man. He’s too much of a force of nature himself.

There’s another scent, however. Conrad is not alone. “The other two werebeasts. They’re here too,” I say.

Dire nods grimly. “She’s called in her defenses. She must know we’re close. We need to stay together and—”

“No!” I shake my head. “No, we split up. Separate our enemies, make them come after us.”

He looks worried. It’s late afternoon by now, and his human features are starting to come back. Even his eyes are human already. “I don’t want you to face Conrad on your own. Or the werebeasts for that matter. You’re still so . . . so new at this.”

“I’ll be fine,” I answer with more confidence than I feel. “I’m not afraid. When we split, we divide their attention. Once they’re taken care of, we meet again at the gates.”

For a moment, I fear he’s going to protest more. But he merely sighs and reaches out, cupping my cheek with his clawed hand. “Be careful,” he says. And in those words I hear the unspoken: I love you.

I smile back, showing my pointed teeth. “And you.”

I wish I could kiss him again but can’t imagine it would be pleasant with our mouths in their current shapes. Instead, I simply turn away and lumber into the trees, heading south. I think he watches me until I disappear into the greenery, but I don’t look back to be sure.

Moving as silently as I can on my warped cat feet, I draw closer to Granny’s house. This part of the Wood is familiar to me at least. I could navigate it even without my new cat senses. Soon enough I come within sight of the moss-grown stone wall. There’s no gate on this side, but I wonder if I might simply leap to the top of the wall and over into the gardens. It would be simpler, after all, to avoid meeting the Monster Hunter or werebeasts altogether, to cut straight through and face Granny head-on.

I’m still considering this possibility when movement on my right catches my eye. I turn my head seconds before a massive gray-and-black form surges from the foliage, roaring. We tumble into the dirt, and I have just enough awareness to get my hindlegs up and use the claws on my back feet to tear at his soft underbelly. A few good scrapes, and he pushes away from me. But he doesn’t allow me to get to my feet. As I try to rise, he cuffs me with one huge paw, knocking me flat on my back.

He’s on me again then, his twisted, half-human face revealing only a hint of the man he used to be. Slavering jaws snap in my face. I wrap my hands around his throat, holding him back by inches.

“I’m here to help you!” I shout, desperate to be heard over his snarling. “I’m here to kill Granny!”

That gets through to him. He pauses, his eyes widening, and draws back. His heavy hands are pressed into my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, but I can see the desire in him to let me go. For a few moments, he resists Granny’s compulsion.

But he can’t resist long.

With another vicious roar, he lunges at my face again. This time, I’m ready for him. My searching hand found a large rock, and I bring it up and crack him on the side of the head. It’s a very human maneuver, not at all what he expected from me in this current shape. He yipes and his eyes roll back. Then he slumps on his side.

I gasp for breath as the weight of his body falls from me. Perhaps there’s some advantage to being the newest of Granny’s creations . . . I’ve not yet grown so dependent on my animal senses and abilities. I pick myself up, glancing at the fallen creature. I hope he’s not dead. If I can succeed today, he and the other werebeast will be free of Granny’s curse. There may not be much hope for Dire or me, but at least—

Before I can finish the thought, something solid hits me from behind. Slender but strong arms, covered in red fur, wrap around my middle, and teeth tear into my ear. I yowl with pain, double over, and hurl my attacker over my head onto the ground in front of me. She lies stunned for a moment, giving me a chance to leap on top of her and catch her by the throat. Thank the gods, she’s neither as big nor as strong as the other one.

“Stand down!” I snarl into her face. “I’m here to help you!”

“There . . . is no help . . . for us!” she chokes out, her huge eyes bulging from her twisted face. Unlike the other beast, she seems to remember that she’s part human now. She sticks her free hand in my face, trying to drive her fingers into my eye. I turn away and keep on squeezing, squeezing, cutting off her breath.

“I’m going to kill Granny Dorrel,” I say, hoping she can hear me even as darkness closes in. “I’m going to save you. And I won’t let you stop me!”

Her swiping blows are weaker now, her arms trembling, shivering. Finally, they drop to the ground. Her goggling eyes half close. She lies still beneath me.

Hastily, I press my head to her chest. There’s a heartbeat there, I’m almost sure of it. I sit up again, stare down at her.

Something whistles past my ear.

I turn and see an arrow plant in the ground beyond me. Snarling, I whip about, following the path of the arrow back to its source. Conrad! He’s standing not twenty yards away. His one good eye burns beneath his heavy brow.

He’s already nocking another arrow.

I freeze. I know I need to lunge either left or right. The wall is behind me; I cannot retreat. But if I make a move too soon, it’ll be easy for him to follow and shoot. I force myself to remain where I’m crouched, to take a breath, to wait for the last possible instant.

My gaze locks with his. I feel the burn of predatory fire even from this distance. I smell the stink that emanates from every pore of the Monster Hunter, all the blood he’s shed over many years.

“Conrad!” I call out, his name snarling through my teeth. “Conrad Torosson, you don’t have to do this!”

He blinks, startled. For an instant, the fire in his eye flickers out. “How do you know my na—”

Before he can finish the question, Dire is upon him. Though more man than wolf by now, he hurtles into the Monster Hunter, knocking him into a tree so hard, he drops his bow and arrow. Conrad turns, throwing punches, but Dire eludes them and lands two hits of his own, one to Conrad’s jaw, another to his gut.

The big man doubles over, and Dire kicks him to the ground. Once there, however, the hunter grabs Dire by the ankles and pulls him off his feet. He lands hard on his back, the air knocked out of him. Conrad lunges, trying to get the upper hand, but Dire reacts too quickly, rolls out of reach, and comes up in a crouch. He snarls, his wolf teeth flecked with foam. With a ripple of muscle from his hind quarters, he throws himself at the Monster Hunter, snapping at his face, his throat.

I’m up and in motion by then. “Wait!” I cry and hurl myself into the fray. I catch hold of Dire, pulling him back. He tries to throw me off before realizing that it’s me. Then he calms under my touch, allowing me to yank him to his feet and push him a pace or two behind me.

I turn and face Conrad. “We’re not here for you.” I catch and hold his gaze. “We’re not monsters.”

The big man picks himself up off the ground. His hands are bleeding from where he gripped Dire’s jaw, trying to hold off the werewolf’s bites. When he shakes his head, his long hair flies about his face so that he looks almost animal himself. His eye flicks back and forth between me and Dire. At last his gaze lands on me and stays there for several silent moments.

Finally, he says, “I know you.”

I nod. “You do.”

“You’re . . . you’re that girl. The witch’s girl. The huntress.”

I nod again.

He blinks slowly, his expression mystified. “But . . . how?”

“I told you. We’re not monsters. None of us are. Granny made us like this.”

“She made you?” The horror in the big man’s voice is almost comical. He turns his gaze from us to the two unconscious werebeasts nearby. “She made you and then she . . . she ordered your deaths.”

I shudder. Even though I’ve known the truth for a while, hearing it spoken out loud still makes my skin crawl. “It’s Black Magic. Goes against the laws of the coven. She can’t hold any of us enthralled forever, but when she lets us go, she can’t risk us telling anyone what she’s up to here in her wardship.”

Conrad’s face is grim and hard. He looks again from me to Dire. Dire, whom he had so recently hunted. Just as he hunted Dreg.

At last, he bows his head. His dark hair hangs in a curtain, covering most of his brutal face. “I didn’t know.”

I sigh. “You’re not the only one.”

“I don’t hunt cursed folk,” he continues. “Only monsters. If I’d realized . . .”

If he’d realized, would Dreg still be alive? Probably not. Granny would have found someone else to do the deed for her. But it would be useless to try to say as much to Conrad. It wouldn’t comfort him.

“We’re going to put a stop to this,” I say instead, more boldly perhaps than I feel.

Conrad’s dark brow rises above his eyepatch. “I’m no witch-hunter. I cannot help you. But neither will I hinder your efforts.”

“Thank you.” It sounds lame, but I’m not sure what else to say under the circumstances. So I simply repeat, “Thank you.”

Conrad nods once. Then, limping a little, he gathers his scattered weapons and arrow. Without another word or look for either me or Dire, he puts his back to Granny’s house and marches into Whispering Wood, vanishing as silently as a wraith.

I let out a long sigh. Only then do I realize I’m holding Dire’s hand. I look down, noting how very human our fingers are now, entwined together. Which isn’t good. If we wait much longer, we’ll be confronting Granny as our naked human selves, helpless as babes.

“We’ve got to hurry,” I say, meeting Dire’s eye.

For a moment, I fear he’s going to try to talk me out of it. But he only nods. We turn together and hasten along the wall until we come to the iron gate. To my dismay, it opens silently at our approach. Welcoming us in.

It’s a trap. I know it is.

But we have no choice. We must walk straight in.