Black Wolf (48 page)

She sighed,
and got up. "I'm going to have a bath and go to bed," she said
tiredly. "See you in the morning."

Alfari gave
her an exasperated look, and rejoined Bryan, curling again into her
place at the back of his knees.

His expression
was troubled, but he let her go. "Sleep well."

44

Rebecca shook
mud off her paws, stepped up on the front porch, and shifted to
human. On still-muddy bare feet, she went inside. It had been a
short run; it wasn't nearly as much fun when the moon was dark.

From the
living room, she heard Moira's voice, chanting. Rebecca frowned,
trying to make out the words. Neither English nor French, she
realized in sudden anger.

She strode
into the living room, and jerked the terrified white cat out of
Avryl's hands an instant before Moira's knife descended—the blade
came away with fur on it, but no blood. The cat yowled, scratched
her arm, and bolted for the shadows behind the couch.

Within the
pentagram painted on the black silk stood a tall woman whose
delicately-scaled skin was covered only by her own golden hair; her
expression of anticipation turned utterly neutral, impassive.

"What are you
doing?" Duayne demanded. "We're right in the middle..."

"I told you no
more! I don't care what you're right in the middle of! Is this why
you've all been so cooperative lately? Because you've been doing
this behind my back?"

Moira winced
away, but Avryl stood very still, arms crossed, lips pressed tight
together.

"It isn't at
all reasonable for you to be giving commands that don't relate
directly to you," the witch said. "We aren't promising the coven to
anything, we've been taking care of everything ourselves."

Rebecca
snatched up a glass of what smelled like wine, and flung it at the
large mirror on the wall. Both shattered dramatically, spreading
bright shards and red liquid all over the floor. "I lead this
coven.
You do as I say!
"

"We're going
to keep doing it. We just have three options how. You could see the
logic in it and agree that it's our choice, or we can do it behind
your back, or you can go find another coven to bully."

Rebecca stared
at her, shock driving the anger away, turning it into ice. "Excuse
me? Find another coven? I
formed
this coven!"

Duayne
shrugged. "It would amount to the same thing if we all left you.
Don't make us do that, Becky, please."

Again. This
was all happening again. Rage surged, hot and blinding: she'd kill
them all for this insult!

No. She'd lost
her temper completely the first time, in fury at the sudden
betrayal. It had gained her absolutely nothing, and in fact she
suspected it had been a major factor in Bane's decision to
intervene long-term, costing her Kevin permanently. She'd be
stupider than a human to make the same mistake twice.

Very likely,
the consequences of their own actions would turn out be sufficient
revenge. Clearly, there was nothing further she could do to
influence matters. It seemed they'd chosen their course and very
likely would only accelerate along it, passion and zeal
overwhelming any caution or reason, until it came back to bite
them.

But she didn't
have to stay here and watch it happen, or be part of it.

"Fine. I don't
know how long you think you're going to last with only Karl to
protect you, but have a good time with your demons. May they eat
the lot of you." She turned away, and climbed the stairs two at a
time to her room. Her large, bright-patterned shoulder bag was in
the closet; she stuffed into it such things as she'd need right
away, closed the door behind her, and went back downstairs.

"Please,
Rebecca, don't go," Moira said entreatingly.

"Since my
authority apparently counts for nothing anymore, I'm hardly going
to hang around and be insulted." She reached behind the couch,
caught the cat by the scruff of the neck, and dragged it struggling
out. She wasn't about to leave it here so they could finish their
ceremony in peace as soon as she was gone. Without another word,
she left the house, grabbing jacket and shoes on the way.

Outside, it
was harder to hold the cat. She finally wrapped it tightly in her
jacket.

Though her
reputation was bad in certain circles, she still had a few friends.
One was her aunt Sylvia, with whom she'd lived for a time when
she'd first come to the college.

Sylvia opened
the door, wrapped in a fuzzy brown robe almost the shade of her
hair; she didn't look like she'd been in bed.

"It's late for
visits, Becky. Is something wrong?"

"Can I stay
here? I just had a rather major fight with my coven. I'd rather get
away from them for a couple of days." Not even Sylvia would she
tell the truth, that if Whitethorn still existed, it was without
her. She'd have to think of a way to hide the fact that she
wouldn't be celebrating Beltaine with her coven in a few days.

"Of course you
can."

The white cat
squirmed madly, and mewed plaintively.

"Gods," Sylvia
said, startled. "What have you got in there?"

"Just a cat.
I'm going to take it to Samantha tomorrow." She hadn't even
realized she intended to, but there was a certain sense in it. This
cat would never become a sacrifice to a demon once it was safely in
Sam's hands. In that small way, at least, she could triumph.

The
Quicksilver Sphynx

Miscellanea, May 1995

Nick 'Winter

Wasn't the weather
amazing for the Earth Day celebration Coven Sky-Drum organized? No
one could've asked for a more beautiful sunset! It was even
natural, as far as I could tell, there didn't seem to be any witchy
influence involved.

Aaron and Josh's
handfasting party was worlds of fun, and I've never seen either of
them happier. Beautifully done, Dragonfire. As for that improvised
elvenmage fireworks display... the party couldn't have had a better
ending.

The usual witches'
get-together is being planned for the full moon in June this year.
The weekend of the 10th and 11th, actually, which is a little
before it. As always, call Dion if you want info. As for the
healers, I haven't been told anything and neither has Liam, so if
there is one at all, you'll have to find it alone.

Coven Amrita is doing
another astronomy session. Come out to the pasture beside Coven
Blackbird's house at dusk on the 12th, there'll be lots of hot
water and the bakery is providing some snacks but bring whatever
else you want and expect to be sitting on the ground some of the
time. Coven Amrita and the college are providing telescopes. I'm
told it will be the usual mix of science and mythology.

July and August are
sounding more and more fun all the time.

One of the events
coming up is, gods save us, Werewolf Wargames (I was told I had to
capitalize it). It's being organized the same weekend in all five
villages, the evening of Friday July 14th to the evening of Sunday
the 16th. Each pack has a territory and a flag, and has to defend
them against all opponents while attempting to steal other flags.
Or something like that, I got the feeling I was being laughed at
while certain wolves attempted to explain this to me.

The Renaissance Faire
is progressing well, but there's still plenty of opportunity to get
involved. Get in touch with Covens Prism or Shadowstar for more
info.

Number three big
event: the folks at Pan's Flute have been helping to organize
another inter-village event, this one in August and I'm told new
plans are now for it to overlap with the Faire. Haven is playing
host to a musical competition that apparently once happened every
five years but hasn't for nearly thirty years now. All traditional
Celtic instruments, and the judges and audiences will decide who's
the best with each. I've heard speculation about a Native version,
a rock version, and gods know what else. Maybe we can have one
yearly and just rotate the type?

Vesta's Hearth has
done so well selling us handmade candles and pottery and such made
by that improbably creative Coven Shadowstar that they're
expanding. Well, that's sort of why. They also found a new coven
member, that Renata met while in Ravenrock to check out The Sun
Crown (for you barbarians who haven't been there, it's the
Ravenrock equivalent). She also happens to be my cousin Chandra.
Just wait 'til you see what new magic she's going to be bringing to
Vesta's Hearth! She makes candles with the most incredible colours
and scents, and no two are ever precisely alike.

If you aren't aware of
this, you should be. All witches sure are. The lake, and for that
matter the water in wells and springs, appears to be rather
disturbed about something. No one has managed to track down the
source yet, although the most common reply to any search is to the
effect of, feelings of great loss and loneliness. We'll keep
trying, especially the water-oriented witches, who don't even dare
try the new techniques in the book Dion found, not under conditions
like this. As far as anyone can tell, there's nothing actually
dangerous, at least.

I'll see what kind of
update I can give you for June. Ciao!

45

Sleepily,
Patrick opened his eyes, and smiled in contentment. Gently, he ran
a hand down the curved side of the woman lying next to him. Human,
ungifted, much too strong-willed to break easily, she was no use to
him as prey, but he'd noticed her anyway, the strong sensuality she
broadcast in every gesture, every shift in her expressive features.
She carried somewhat too much flesh on her bones to fit society's
current opinion of beauty, but any man who couldn't see what this
woman had to offer a lover deserved to miss out on it. The light of
the setting sun washed over her tanned skin, her shoulder-length
brown hair, tingeing it all with crimson, picking up highlights not
present in artificial lighting.

He thought she
might even have been willing, even for only the few days he'd be
here in this city; he might not have needed the mental suggestion
that had ensured she couldn't reject him.

She stirred,
moving towards his hand with a small contented noise, and rolled
onto her back to look up at him with a warm smile. Patrick lowered
his head to kiss her, hand caressing her ample breasts, the soft
roundness of her belly.

"Mmm... oh,
god, I wish I could stay here with you, but I'm supposed to be at
work, I'm on the night shift this week. After tonight, I have the
weekend off, though..."

He considered
charming her into forgetting about other obligations, but he'd
enjoyed the day so much, she didn't deserve that. He could make
sure she kept coming back to him until he moved on, though.

"Tomorrow?" he
murmured. "I'll take you out to dinner, and afterwards we can pick
up where we left off."

"Sounds
wonderful." She stretched, which did fascinating things to her
profile, and after a last kiss, untangled herself. "You can stay
here, if you like. It'll save you looking for a hotel." She smiled
again. "And I'll know where you are."

So generous,
so trusting... it took almost no power to nudge her into the
offer.

"Thank
you."

She vanished
into the bathroom; he stayed where he was, uninterested in the
details of her personal hygiene, no matter how much he appreciated
the results. He watched her dress, noted the flirtatiousness of
every move, the sexiness of the black lace underwear that no one
else would see but he would know was there. Vivid, fiery red would
suit her, too. He made a mental note to see about getting her some,
so he could see her in his colours.

Only after she
left did he bother to get up and find his clothes.

"Master?"
Sikial said tentatively, peeking in the door.

"Yes?"

"I have a
message for you, master, from a greater one than I. It asks that
you call it here to speak to you. It has an offer for you, and says
it would be best to discuss it with you personally."

This was a new
development—he couldn't recall any demon ever
initiating
an
exchange before.

"I need its
name."

"I've been
given that, to give to you, master."

More and more
interesting. What could a demon want so badly that it would give
him its name, and thus a great deal of power over it?

Normally, he
didn't bother with trivialities like pentagrams, but given the
irregularity of this situation...

He headed for
the kitchen, and rummaged around. The first thing that came to hand
was a bag of flour; not ideal, but it sufficed to create a thick
line on the linoleum; he checked that it wasn't broken anywhere,
before he set the flour aside and positioned himself next to the
circle.

The words of
summoning were a formality, a way to focus and make sure he invited
the proper demon into this plane.

In the centre
of the circle it took shape, as a classical satyr; it inspected its
prison briefly, and a frown flickered across its face, but it
turned a smile to Patrick.