Secret of the Wolf (54 page)

him out of my soul if I could.”

"That is what you cannot do." She held his gaze unblinkingly. "I know little of this,

Quentin. It is beyond my meager experience. But I think that you must find a way to

accept him as part of yourself.”

"Part of myself? Should I let him use and discard you, and destroy everything in his

path? Is that what you want me to be, Johanna?”

Her jaw clenched. "No. But you can't simply erase him. He won't let you. You and Fenris

are two halves of what was meant to be a single whole. Neither one of you is

complete without the other. And now he has the means, perhaps the only means, of

saving us all.”

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Her theory made a bizarre kind of sense. He felt the merciless logic of it, though his

insides turned to ice. Fenris, the lost piece of the puzzle, the final answer
.

"Even if you're right," he said, "why should he help us? What has he to gain?”

"It is true that he's said that he intends to displace you, Quentin—just as you want to

erase him. That is part of the risk. The greater part. But you will not be alone." He

caught a glimpse of her heart in her eyes. "We shall contact him through hypnosis. I will

be with you. But you must be willing to let him out, under our control. Yours and mine,

together. You must truly face him for the first time in your life.”

He sat down, too numb to remain on his feet. "You think that I can influence such a

monster?”

"Fenris has no friends, no brothers. If you convince him that he is more than your

brother—if you embrace him rather than reject him

”

Quentin smiled through his terror. "Embrace?”

"His needs are yours, Quentin. He must be acknowledged, for he was your creation,

and he suffered on your behalf.”

"My creation, born of my cowardice.”

"You were a child. You were not to blame. But now you know Fenris exists, and why.”

And only Fenris could kill Boroskov
.

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Quentin slammed his fist into the wall, feeling it give under the blow. "He'll be our hired

assassin," he said hoarsely. "But the blood will still be on these." He raised his hands

and rotated them slowly. "I'll become what he is.”

He waited for another facile answer, but none came. Her eyes welled up with the tears

she must have been fighting all along. She crumpled in on herself. The counterfeit

Johanna Schell became a vulnerable young woman who questioned everything she'd

ever believed worthy and strong and true in her own nature
.

It struck him with the full force of revelation that this was her greatest fear, that she

lacked the skill to do what she proposed; not that he didn't return her feelings or rejected

her love, but that she would ultimately fail them both
.

He turned his face to the wall, unable to hide his emotions. He ached to hold her close

and assure her that it would be all right. To tell her that he loved her
.

But he couldn't. And with that realization came a second revelation, too overwhelming to

deny
.

Words of love and empty platitudes were not what Johanna needed from him now.

What she required most was the strength, the fortitude, the self-reliance that was so

much a part of her being. She needed to remember that she was a doctor of great skill

and bravery
.

By admitting her love to him, by loving him, she had relinquished the very qualities she

most needed to win the coming war. If he denied her this chance she'd never regain the

spirit and assurance to continue with her work. She would be ruined in every way that

mattered
.

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To do what she asked, he must hold fast all the way to his soul. No running, no slipping

away. The surrender he must make was to his deepest self and the memories that had

created him
.

He had to do it for her. For Johanna
.

He stood up and strode toward her, stopping mere inches away
.

"Very well," he said roughly, "Let us proceed.”

"No." She bowed her head. "I was wrong to suggest it. I recognize that I am no longer

fit—”

"Fit?" He took her by the shoulders and made her look at him. "You think that you are

fatally flawed, don't you, Johanna? You've made too many mistakes. You've misjudged.

You don't trust yourself, and you don't expect anyone else to trust you, either. You have

your theories, but you have no confidence in them. You're just going to

give up.”

Her body trembled violently. "You don't understand. If I'm wrong—”

"Have you suddenly lost all the skills you had when I first came to the Haven?”

She stared at him. "No, I—”

"You still know how to hypnotize me, I presume.”

"Yes.”

"That's how you'll call out Fenris, so that I can face him.”

"Yes, but—”

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"We don't have much time. You'd better get started.”

She pulled free, jerking up her chin with a touch of the old spirit. "I cannot be within your

mind, Quentin. I can only begin the process. In the end, you must fight three battles—

with Fenris, with Boroskov, and with yourself. You must ally with Fenris to win over

Boroskov, become the guiding intellect behind Fenris's hatred. Without you, there can

be no victory.”

"Without you, we haven't a chance in hell." He grinned. "But damned if I don't love a

challenge.”

Johanna's heart broke into a thousand pieces and slowly, bit by bit, reassembled itself.

It bathed in the healing warmth of Quentin's grin, took strength from the enormity of his

faith in her, grew until it stretched the walls of her ribs and expanded beyond the mere

physical boundaries of flesh
.

The gift of his trust held her heart safe, like a magical coffer made of precious gold and

priceless stones hidden in a cave on the highest mountaintop. She'd asked that he be

strong, and he was—strong in the face of fear she knew as well as she did her own. His

great courage lay in his willingness to confront his fear, and challenge her to do the

same
.

She'd been sure, for so long, that love was a luxury she could ill afford. When she let

down her guard, it had happened just as she predicted: Once she opened the gates to

emotion, she could not close them again. Out spilled the fear, the doubts, the

indecisiveness, the despair, weaknesses that stripped away the unassailable facade of

Dr. Johanna Schell. The rational moorings upon which she'd built her life snapped and

sent her crashing down into bedlam
.

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That Dr. Schell had been extinguished, and the new creature born out of the ferment

was blind and deaf and nameless, searching desperately for identity in the midst of

chaos, prepared to grasp at any anchor. She was close to becoming the very thing she

most despised: dependent and helpless
.

Looking into Quentin's eyes, she recognized the truth. His only hope was to

acknowledge and unite both halves of himself. She was no different
.

She must summon her doctor's skills to give Quentin the chance he needed, but she

could no longer rely on the old definitions of competence. Rationality was not enough. If

she rejected her emotions, her fear, her love, she would be fighting with only half a

weapon. Dr. Johanna Schell had not disappeared; she had merely evolved
.

Love was her anchor. Love for this man, who'd turned her life upside down, who'd

begun to heal a physician who hadn't learned how to heal herself
.

Overcome with gratitude, Johanna stretched up to kiss him. He stepped just out of

reach and averted his face before her lips touched his
.

It hurt. She couldn't guess which of her many shortcomings, or his regrets, made him

withdraw. But what might have been a devastating blow was a minor bruise she could

and must bear. Love remained steady and sound, unaffected by anything Quentin

Forster, Fenris, or Boroskov could do or say
.

"Please sit down, Quentin," she said evenly. "If you are ready, we will begin.”

Aware that Boroskov might return at any moment, Johanna ushered Quentin into a

trance as quickly as she dared and, with a whispered prayer, called Fenris out of the

darkness
.

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It was like shouting into a chasm miles deep. Minutes ticked by. Johanna tried every

trick she knew, and still Fenris didn't answer
.

Quentin had warned her that Fenris was gone. She didn't believe it. He was waiting,

holed up like a hibernating bear, dangerous to wake and biding his time for his own

incomprehensible purpose
.

Then she remembered what Fenris wanted more than anything in the world except

permanent mastery of Quentin's body. She had asked Quentin to try to accept Fenris as

a part of himself. How could he do so if she refused to accept Fenris the same way?

Accept him, even submit to his lust. Another risk she had to take
.

"Fenris," she said. "I know you hear me. I am waiting for you. I need you. I need you,

Fenris.”

Quentin jerked
.

"Come to me," she coaxed, her voice filled with promises. "Help me.”

The muscles in Quentin's face suddenly shifted, swiftly completing the subtle but distinct

change to the coarser features of his other self. His eyes snapped open and focused on

her
.

Her comparison of Fenris to a hibernating bear was apt indeed. He lunged up from the

mattress and stalked toward her, every line of his body shouting violent intent
.

"You want my help?" he snarled. "I still have some use to you, now that he's had you?”

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She could only guess what it had been like for Fenris to experience Quentin's life as an

observer, watching and unable to interfere as she lay with Quentin at the Haven, seizing

control only to lose it again before he could complete his goal
.

"Yes, Fenris," she said, refusing to flinch. "You know of Boroskov—”

He grabbed her by the arms, almost lifting her from her feet. "I know everything. You

gave yourself to the weakling. But I brought you here, didn't I?" His fingers bit into her

sleeves. "Now you're in trouble because of him. But when I save your pretty little neck,

you plan to get rid of me, don't you?" He gave her a shake. "Don't you?”

Of course. He hadn't been so far "gone" that he'd failed to hear her discussion with

Quentin. The only defense she had left was to make him understand
.

"Haven't you always defended Quentin from his enemies, and yours?" she asked,

ignoring the pain. "You and Quentin share a fate, just as you share a body. You can't

escape what happens to him.”

"You're calling me a coward?”

"Quentin said you were gone, even when he tried to find you. You ran from Boroskov,

didn't you? You buried yourself deep, because you know that what Boroskov wants is

worse than anything Quentin could do. Worse than anything you could be.”

He let her drop. "Boroskov is like me," he said. "Why shouldn't I ally myself with him?”

"Because you won't be anyone's slave. Because you know he'll eventually destroy you.

Because he embraces the evils that you endured for Quentin's sake.”

"Words. Boroskov wants power. I want the same thing.”

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"No. You want the pain to stop.”

"And when it stops, I'll be gone. There won't be anything left." He bared his teeth, but

the gesture was ruined by the quivering of his mouth. "Quentin will have you. I'll have

nothing.”

Fenris the monster was gone indeed. Now she heard the voice of the boy he had been,

callow and immature, desperate to find some meaning in his hellish existence
.

Begging to be loved
.

It wasn't cold reason Fenris needed, but intimacy. Not animal lust, but true caring. Like

Quentin. Like herself
.

She had to love Fenris as she loved Quentin in order to set him free
.

She closed the space between them and lifted her hand to his cheek. "When I see you,

Fenris, I don't see Boroskov. I see Quentin. I see what both of you share. I see the man

I love.”

He stared at her. "You're lying.”

In answer she did as she had done with Quentin not so long ago. She drew his face