Black Wolf (14 page)

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Authors: Steph Shangraw

Tags: #magic, #werewolves, #pagan, #canadian, #shapeshifting

BOOK: Black Wolf
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He was alive,
though. She couldn't recall any better news in years.

 

Well, she'd
made a bad start on hiding her feelings with Gisela; she'd have to
do better than that. She closed her eyes, reached inside to centre
herself again.

 

The bells on
the door chimed; she greeted the man who walked in, and smiled when
the puppies converged on his black Lab.

 

Think about
right now. Worry about Jesse later.

 

8

Jesse heard a
vehicle pull in the driveway, and forgot about the game of Monopoly
Gisela had coaxed him into, reflex putting him on guard.

 

"It's only
Sundark," Gisela said, a frown creasing her pixie's face. "Don't be
so paranoid."

 

Deanna was the
first one in the door; she paused, contemplating the pair at the
table, and glanced back over her shoulder. "Hey, the highlander was
right!"

 

"So what else
is new," Bane retorted, from just outside. "Get out of the way, the
rest of us would like to come in too."

 

Deanna moved
aside.

 

"What in
particular was he right about this time?" Kevin asked, as he
followed Bane in; he saw Jesse, and smiled. "Well hi there. How
long have you been here?"

 

"Since
Thursday night," Jesse said. "Have fun wherever you were?"

 

"Visiting
family in a village sort of like Haven only in Quebec. Yes, lots of
fun, actually."

 

Chaos reigned
in the kitchen for a few minutes, then Bane left to drive Flynn and
Deanna and Gisela home.

 

"So what's new
in the city?" Kevin asked, absently fishing a handful of cookies
out of the jar while Jesse put the game away. He'd been winning,
which was typical: he only had good luck when it didn't really
matter.

 

Jesse
shrugged. "Nothing especially thrilling. Trying to keep warm and
hibernate the winter away." Cynthia disappeared with a canvas
sport-bag slung over her shoulder.

 

"So hang
around for a while, you can do both here just as well."

 

"For a little
while. Not long." Had the need to be out of the city not been so
overwhelming after that insane night of being chased, he didn't
think he'd have come at all; Kevin and the others were friendly,
but it frightened him, how much he was starting to like them.

 

"However long
you like." Kevin stretched, and yawned. "I hate to be rude, but I'm
beat, I'm going to go catnap for an hour or two. If I don't wake
up, then good night and I'll see you in the morning."

 

"Sweet
dreams."

 

Kevin paused
in the doorway, and flashed him a grin. "Probably."

* * *

 

November in
Haven was much prettier than November in the city, Jesse mused,
wandering contentedly along the quiet road with Kevin. No slushy
sidewalks to navigate, no mountains of plowed-up dirty snow, no
yellow-orange streetlights turning everything ugly colours, and no
people running over you in a hurry to return to their warm homes
and a hot meal. Instead, there were trees glittering with icicles,
yards spotted with snow sculptures and snow forts, dogs playing in
the clean white drifts, and people who said hello and invited you
in for a cup of hot chocolate—that last was, in fact, when they'd
passed the home of Bane's parents. Kevin had declined, explaining
that they were expected home for supper.

 

The darkness
was more intense than Jesse was used to, with only the countless
stars and the outside lights of such houses as they passed; it
could have made him nervous, but it was hard to feel threatened
here. There were no lights because there was no need for them,
simple as that. So he could just relax, and enjoy the tranquillity,
and be glad Kevin had suggested the walk. He knew that Kevin's
night-sight was so bad he actually
couldn't
safely go for a
walk like this alone; it felt odd, that Kevin trusted him that
much, but right now, he simply accepted it.

 

Familiar
lights ahead, their house.

 

Jesse paused
at the end of the driveway, and crouched to take a closer look at a
line of tracks. "Kev? What made these tracks?"

 

Kevin joined
him. "What do they look like?"

 

"Four toes, I
think I can see claws, and the pad." He measured one against his
spread hand. "Bigger than my hand."

 

"Wolf, then,"
Kevin said.

 

"That's got to
be a damned big wolf."

 

"Most likely.
Don't worry about it, wolves won't attack people."

 

"It has to
have been by here since we left, this wasn't here before."

 

"True."

 

Jess gave him
a suspicious look. Was that amusement hidden in Kevin's voice?

 

"Stand up,"
Kevin told him. "I'm betting that's your wolf I just heard."

 

Jess whipped
to his feet, and spun around to look where Kevin indicated.
Shadowed by a grove of trees, a large dark shaggy animal watched
them, very still. Then it trotted off in the other direction, and
vanished into the trees that surrounded the yard.

 

"Wouldn't they
go after the farms, even if they don't hurt people?"

 

Kevin
shrugged. "There hasn't been a single domestic animal lost to
wolves in this township in well over a hundred years. A couple to
feral dogs, pets that went wild, but that's different. Even outside
Haven area, most so-called wolf kills are feral dogs. Leave 'em
alone and everybody can live in peace. They keep the other wildlife
under control. C'mon, we've been out a while, Deanna will have my
hide if you get sick. Not that much can stand up to her herbal
remedies and Gisela's gifts. Besides, that stew I left in the oven
should be just about done."

 

Jess left the
tracks, and went in the house with Kevin. Cynthia greeted them
absently, intent on patching a pair of blue jeans, and told them
Bane's brother Bryan had called and invited him to go out with him
and a couple of other friends, he wouldn't be back until late.

 

Firmly, Jess
banished the utterly silly thoughts that crept into his head, and
went to hang his jacket in the hall closet.

 

* * *

 

"You're going
to leave soon, aren't you," Gisela said.

 

Jesse walked
beside her in silence for a moment. The road to her house was very
quiet in the darkness of winter's early sunset. "Yes. Probably the
next day or two. I've been here over a week, I need to get back to
someone."

 

"I thought so.
You'll come back, right?"

 

"Yes. Why
wouldn't I?"

 

"I don't know.
But I don't know why you leave, either, and you do that."

 

"It's... not
easy to explain. It's just... everything here's so different from
everything I know, it's like heaven, but it scares me."

 

"What
does?"

 

"You. Kevin.
Everyone. I've never seen anyone trust four other people as totally
as they trust each other. I've never been able to trust anybody,
nobody's ever cared."

 

"Why do I
scare you?"

 

"Because I
trust you so much."

 

She smiled.
"Lots of people trust me. Healers don't hurt people, ever."

 

"And because
you trust me. Nobody's ever trusted me before, either."

 

She thought
about that. "That's hard for me to understand. But it makes sense,
I guess."

 

They were
almost at her house, they could see it ahead.

 

"Jesse...
sometimes when I heal someone, like I did you, it leaves a little
of you in me and a little of me in you." She smiled. "I like it, it
feels all warm and wild and dark. That might be why you trust me.
If you listen for it, you might be able to hear that little piece
of me. Maybe it'll help you stop being scared of trust." She laid a
hand on the railing up the stairs, stepped onto the first, then
turned to give him a quick, shy kiss. "Take care of yourself,
Jess." She spun around, darted up the steps and into the house.

 

The
Quicksilver Sphynx

Miscellanea, December 1993

Evaline 'Winter

You get me, this
month; Nick came down with a nasty flu a few days ago, and he's in
no condition to sit at the computer. Since Sonja is working and
Liam is with Nick trying to help him get over this, and since this
space has to be filled by tonight... (sigh) I guess it falls to
me.

 

I don't have any
gossip for you; Nick will have to catch you up next month. I do,
however, have something I'd really like to bring up: a few days
ago, I heard someone refer to a wolf killing a demon, to protect
her witch.

 

There is a trick I
would devoutly love to see, since 1) wolf abilities only work on
predators, and 2) who on earth called a demon to kill this poor
witch?

 

Kids, there are three,
count 'em, 3, types of esoteric (Greek
esoteros
, inner; secret, mysterious, "unnatural")
beings out there, that is, three distinct categories into which
fall those creatures not alive like the rest of us yet alive
nonetheless. Granted, faeries and demons are scarce these days, but
can we try to keep things clear anyway? Please? Just to humour one
obsessive wolf?

 

Just so no one can say
they don't know the difference, how about a mini-lesson to remind
you of any details you may have forgotten?

 

Predator: (Latin
praedator
, a robber) These are the ones we
usually see, looking for unprotected highly-gifted snacks. They
come in a wide range of forms (I've seen all too many personally,
like most wolves), usually ugly. They have no physical reality;
they exist on the astral plane, though they can interact with ours
in limited ways. These are the ones wolves kill, because wolves
have neat abilities that let us do that, even when magical and
physical attacks by the rest of you are a waste of time. This is
why you put up with our various quirks and eccentricities, or so my
coven tells me: so we'll kill predators for you. (Ah, yes, now we
all remember!)

 

Demon: (Greek
daimon
, a spirit) Demons live on a plane
of their own, a long way from this one. When called, and only when
called, they can take physical form on this plane. Theoretically,
that physical form could be killed, but I've never heard of anyone
who knows how, or whether it would be permanent. Demon forms are
reported to be incredibly strong, fast, well-armed, and either ugly
or beautiful. That's not counting the shapeshifting, hypnotic, and
other powers some are said to possess, which even wolves aren't
immune to. If you figure out how to kill one, I'd love to hear it.
Seriously. These things are bad news: they like to cause suffering
and they like to play mind-games. This is why one of the very few
absolute rules of our whole community is to not mess with
demon-summoning, at all, ever, no excuses.

 

Faerie: (long history,
from Latin
fari
, to speak, and/or Latin
fata
, the Fates, to most recently Old
French
faerie
, enchantment) These are
those beautiful (sometimes), capricious (always) immortal beings
that our oldest legends tell us had a part in teaching us about
magic and the cycles of life and death. No one has seen them
reliably in a century or so, so most likely they've gone back to
wherever they came from (theories include Underhill, Alpha Centauri
and the sixth dimension; does it really matter?). I suppose seeing
the mess that's being made of Earth might depress an immortal into
heading for home.

 

Anyway, that makes
three
clearly-defined types of esoteric
races. Please, no more tall tales about wolves killing demons, or
elvenmages being adopted and trained by predators, or witches being
drained psychically dry by faeries, or anything silly like
that!

 

9

"Hello,
Kevin."

 

"Hello,
Rebecca. I'd ask what I can do for you, but I probably don't want
to know."

 

The redheaded
werewolf settled herself across from him at the table. "Can I buy
you a drink?"

 

"Why? Surely
you have something better to do with your time."

 

She shrugged.
"Duayne's meeting me here for supper, and you look like you're
waiting. Maybe we can talk until then?"

 

He sighed.
"I'll have a drink with you, but I'll get my own, thanks."

 

Copper-maned
Sonja of Coven Winter came over, expression uneasy while she took
orders—a refill on Kevin's ginger ale and a Bloody Mary for
Rebecca.

 

"Relax, Sonja.
We won't wreck anything," Kevin assured her. "Tomas bawling me out
once for it was enough for me. If we're going to fight we'll go
outside."

 

"Don't fight
at all," Sonja retorted. Her irregularly-cycling psychic gifts had
her telepathy reasonably high at the moment—she flashed him a
wordless image of her and her witch coven-mate Nick stepping in to
back him up no matter what, followed by their healer coven-mate
Liam scolding them all while repairing the damage, and her and Nick
looking for new jobs.

 

"I didn't mean
it literally. I have no intentions of starting a fight." What
Rebecca might intend was another matter, but it was highly unlikely
she'd use anything but words.

 

Which were
far, far worse. Why could he never seem to just walk away from her,
even knowing that? Masochism?

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