Black Wolf (31 page)

Wynne stopped,
suddenly uncertain. "What's that?"

Patrick closed
the door. The lock snapped shut, and light coiled around the knob,
sealing it in place so it couldn't be turned. With a thought, he
ringed the entire room in light, soundproofing it—or rather,
creating an illusion of silence from within, which amounted to the
same thing.

"Let me tell
you about my cousin Irina, Wynne," he purred. "And about the new
friends I found after I left Falias."

25

Rebecca
settled herself more comfortably on the large cushion, while Avryl
and Moira fussed over preparations. She gazed distantly out the
window, where some time before the sun had set in a glory of colour
and only stars remained.

Within, the
only colour lay in the designs painted meticulously on a large
black square of pure silk, some five feet on a side. Avryl, Moira,
and Duayne had spent many hours and some expense on it, but Rebecca
had to admit that in any number of ways it was preferable to
coloured sand or chalk all over the wood-tiled floor. The entire
coven was, of course, in black. Karl, like Rebecca, was sitting out
of the way, though he looked indulgent rather than bored;
technically, there was nothing stopping a wolf from being involved
in this sort of magic, but neither had much interest in doing so.
Being present through it was, for the most part, tedious
enough.

Avryl set a
black candle in a clear glass holder at each point of the star,
while Moira busied herself with the incense. Rebecca wrinkled her
nose, but resigned herself to enduring it.

Personally,
she thought they spent much too much time worrying about finicky
little details; most magic was simply will and so-called "spells"
were merely to help focus will, so why should this be any
different? Duayne, however, insisted that there was power inherent
in the actual symbols and the ancient words in Sumerian or Arabic
or whatever it was.

If they wanted
to do all that extra work, well, why argue?

Hopefully
midnight would come before she fell asleep.

She amused
herself by thinking about the past few months. Kevin's black wolf
pet didn't seem to notice any fences or chains; perhaps, she mused,
this was to him freedom in contrast with what he'd known before.
The unspoken truce between Whitethorn and Sundark did make life a
little calmer, and it made matters peaceful between the members of
Whitethorn.

More
peaceful, at least; the demon-summoning games were becoming more
and more of an obsession with her non-wolf coven-mates. Karl made
it very clear that though he considered it a waste of time, he also
considered it their right to waste it that way if they so chose.
Calling demons had taken over from plans of so-called revenge as
the new issue of heated discussions within Whitethorn. Certainly it
was useful, and kept her coven happy and busy, but this was perhaps
being done too often for the reasonable safety of all concerned.
The many stories of the dangers involved were probably not all
exaggeration by frightened sheep.

Midnight,
finally.

Avryl and
Moira and Duayne spaced themselves evenly around the pentagram and
began the calling. Rebecca found it extremely difficult to
concentrate on words she could make no sense of, words that sounded
to her like they were mostly consonants, but she focused her gaze
on the nearest candle and disciplined her thoughts into the proper
quietness.

As the
invocation ended, the demon came, stepping out of air as though
through a door they couldn't see. It chose this time the form of a
tall blonde man with great golden wings for arms. It examined its
prison, determined that it could not escape, and turned its
attention to its captors.

"What do you
seek?" it demanded.

"There is a
book," Avryl said. "Written by Zayda and Isak Maridas. The
Transcendent Wisdom of the Elementals." Though her back was to
Rebecca, the wolf could envision easily enough the glow in her eyes
at the thought of yet another book to feed her hunger. "I want
it."

"There will be
a price, mistress."

There always
was, and usually it involved the death of some animal; it had
progressed, as the tasks grew more difficult, from mouse to chicken
to rabbit.

"What price do
you ask?" Moira said.

"There is one
who interests me, mistress, yet he is well protected and my
curiosity remains unsatisfied."

Rebecca
frowned to herself. One thing to turn over an animal or two,
already destined to be food, to a demon, but to hand over a person?
That seemed like a lot of risk and trouble over a book—and
cold-blooded murder was an uncomfortable thought.

"Who?" Avryl
asked calmly.

"I cannot
speak his name. He is that one about whom you have asked many
questions of me, mistress."

This she liked
less. Break the truce between Whitethorn and Sundark?

"What exactly
do you want us to do about him?" Avryl sounded not at all disturbed
by the thought.

"Drive him
from this place, out where I can see him clearly. Drive him from
those who shield him. Swear this to me, mistress, and you shall
have what you ask."

"That's not
going to be easy," Moira said doubtfully.

Avryl made a
dismissive gesture. "Yes it will. It will, however, require a way
to neutralize wolf immunity to poisons without letting him
know."

"This I can
do." The demon looked just a little too eager to help. "There is a
way. I can fetch for you wine from... elsewhere, mistress. Wine
which will affect him as strong wine of your world reaches a human,
and reduce his resistance greatly while it remains within his
body."

"No wolfsbane
taste?"

"None, I
promise. The wine and the book, and you will drive him out of this
place, mistress?"

"Maybe we
should think about this," Moira cautioned. For the first time in a
while, Rebecca agreed completely with the mage.

Avryl, though,
was too caught up in the fire, the hunger for ever more knowledge.
"The wine and the book in return for our best effort to chase Jesse
out of Haven without his friends," she said. "Sworn."

Rebecca felt a
cold chill shiver along her spine. Breaking bargains with demons
was a distinctly unwise thing to do; Avryl had just bound them to
it.

Anger surged.
Just who led this coven, anyway? How dare Avryl make a commitment
like that for all of them? For
Rebecca
?

"May I go,
mistress? The wine will take a short time. The book may take longer
to find and bring to you."

Avryl nodded
curtly. "The wine tonight. The book as soon as you can."

The demon
bowed as best it could, and slipped away through its unseen
doorway.

Seething,
Rebecca held her tongue until Avryl and Moira and Duayne had
completed the ritual.

Then she rose
and advanced on Avryl. The witch spun around when Rebecca slapped a
hand down on her shoulder.

"How dare
you," Rebecca hissed. "
I
lead this coven, or have you
forgotten? Who gave you the power to make such a promise in the
name of all Whitethorn?"

Avryl blinked
at her in confusion. "It's only Jesse. You weren't terribly
concerned about his wellbeing when you tricked him into a circle
with us. I can take care of this, you won't need to do anything.
What's got your tail tied in a knot?"

Rebecca shoved
the witch hard enough that she stumbled and fell on the couch.
Fists clenched, Rebecca stood over her.

"Don't you
ever,
ever
, swear anything for all of us again, is that
clear? Or do you have a problem with that,
human
?"

Duayne laid a
hand pacifyingly on Rebecca's arm. "Come on, Becky, calm down. It's
not a big deal. There's no time in the middle of a ritual to stop
and hold a coven discussion."

Rebecca
whirled, and slapped him hard. Duayne retreated a few steps, one
hand flying to his abused cheek.

"It is a big
deal! This is
my
coven! I risk my damned life to keep you
safe, and I get no gratitude other than lip-service thanks! I stay
here in this cage instead of going farther north, somewhere I can
run free, and you try to add a leash as well as the cage!"

"You're making
an awful big fuss over Kevin's little pet," Karl said lazily. "You
wouldn't be going soft on us, would you?"

"This isn't
about him!
This time
, we will do as her royal highness Avryl
swore us to do. If anything like this ever happens again, I'll
stand back and let predators eat the whole lot of you. Unless,
Karl, you really think you stand a chance alone?" Silence. "Do
whatever you have planned, Avryl, just don't expect any help from
me. Then you'd better enjoy this book it brings you, because it
will be the
last
until I say otherwise. Is all of this
getting through?" She glowered at Avryl until her eyes dropped, did
the same with Duayne and Karl and Moira.

She strode to
the kitchen door, and flung it open, not caring that the January
wind swept into the house and the warm air made its escape while it
could; she shifted to wolf, and trotted out to the road. On its
cleared surface, she lengthened her strides to a run, then pushed
herself faster still, pouring all her fury into the smooth rhythm
of the exercise, her joy in her own body. She rounded a corner, and
a hare looked up in surprise, without even time to bolt before she
was on it, tearing at it.

The hare's hot
blood and flesh were a cleansing of sorts; calmer, she loped away,
still reluctant to return to the house just yet.

For that
matter, maybe she'd just sleep outside. She was wolf, she'd be
fine, she'd spent colder nights than this curled up with her face
between her hind legs and her tail over her head, more comfortable
than any human would understand.

Not just yet,
though, she'd run more first, work off the extra energy, then later
she'd find a place to sleep. If her coven—she would have laughed in
derision if this form allowed it;
her coven
—wondered where
she was, that was their problem. She did whatever she pleased, and
answered to no one. That was how things were meant to be.

26

Damn school
anyway.

Jesse dumped
the supper dishes in the sink with more violence than he intended;
one of the plates cracked in three.

Somehow that
fit his mood. Swearing fluently, he fished the pieces out from
under the other plates and dropped them in the garbage.

I am not
washing these god-damned dishes right now! If they're still here
when I get a minute, which they probably will be, then we'll
see.
He rummaged in the cupboard for dishes for leftovers,
turned back to the table to toss the rest of the spaghetti noodles
in one and the sauce in the other. Both he deposited in the fridge
hard enough to shake the shelves.

It wasn't that
he was angry over seeing so little of his friends; he remembered
his own high school exams before he'd run away and sympathized with
the stress, and surely college was worse. Nor was he angry that his
four housemates had come home, found to their relief that he had
supper ready, eaten quickly, and scattered again to studying and
evening classes; that was why he'd done it, to save them the
hassle. He didn't really mind working a lot for Sam, to give her
the study time for the classes she was taking, he liked spending
time there, or doing extra hours for Tomas at the Brewery to take
up the slack for Sonja who was dealing with January exams, it was
interesting meeting people. In the six, almost seven, months he'd
been living in Haven full-time, both jobs had come to mean a lot to
him, and his friends certainly did. He didn't mind taking over
virtually all the care of Cynthia's young white-footed,
white-chested black cat Hob, a gift last summer from Sam; Hob was
actually quite appreciative. He could understand Caitryn's sudden
absence from his bed; she'd made it very clear that sex between
packmates wasn't considered to involve any particular strings, only
meeting mutual needs, and besides, he had no reason to think she
wouldn't go back to showing up a couple of nights a week again once
everything calmed down. Anyway, Cait was a considerate and creative
lover, but she was also enthusiastic, and he wasn't sure he'd have
the energy to keep up right now. And, okay, so there was no time
for the pack to play and hunt and run together.

All that he
could handle, maybe not happily, but resignedly, and waiting for
exams to end and things to go back to normal—down to more
reasonable work hours, and generally enjoying life with his
friends, and continuing to learn all the countless things about
Haven life that he still didn't know.

What
was
frustrating him was completely irrational. It was all
little things. Like at supper. Not once had any of the other four
said anything not purely functional—pass the butter, Jess?—or
comparing notes about, what else, exams. Not a word that indicated
that they were really aware of his presence, and barely an
absent-minded thanks from Deanna before they left. Little things
like no one seeming at all to realize the effort he was making to
help.