Winter Wolf (20 page)

“Tell us about this myth,” I ordered, making a gesture for Richard to stay quiet. He nodded, standing and offering the chair to me. I sat, crossing my legs.

“It’s just a story.”

“I’m taking a nap after I hang up on you, so tell me a bedtime story,” I countered. Out of spite, and because I could, I stuck my tongue out at the phone. “Need I remind you that I do have a gun, Mr. Desmond?”

My empty threat distracted both Richard and Alex, who stared at me with wide eyes. I waved them off, turning my attention to the phone. Playing the silence game again, my father waited for me to speak, but I was determined to win the contest again.

I did. When he started cursing, I grinned.

“Fine. To make a very long and boring story short, there was a Fenerec a long time ago who was able to cure the plague. He showed up one winter, worked his magic, and vanished. There were no more deaths. More importantly, the witches were able to learn how to cure the plague. They helped the rest of the Fenerec, and the plague went away. They called him the Winter Wolf because of that.”

“Because he showed up one winter?”

“Yes.”

“And these witches do not remember how to cure the plague?” I asked.

“It was over a hundred years ago. Maybe they didn’t think it was necessary to pass it down from generation to generation. Or, maybe in their infinite stupidity, the Inquisition didn’t allow them to,” my father replied.

“So if we find this Winter Wolf, we find a cure to the plague? And he’s been missing for over a hundred years? Are we talking a hundred and fifty years or are we talking two or three hundred years?” I narrowed my eyes, and wondered about how
my
father knew about events from so long ago?

“Closer to three hundred.”

I wanted to ask him how he knew, but I resisted the urge. Instead, I considered how it might be possible to find someone who had vanished so long ago.

No wonder my father believed it was impossible. If the plague was to be cured, someone had to do something, rather than chase after a fragile hope.

The Winter Wolf, if he existed, wouldn’t be able to help us. Even if we started looking as soon as I hung up the phone, I doubted we’d find a single in clue in time to actually save anyone.

I stared at the phone so I wouldn’t have to look at Richard or Alex. “How long do they have?”

“They? What do you mean?”

“The infected Fenerec.”

“Please ask the Murphys to leave the room,” my father said in a tone allowing no argument.

“Go,” I demanded, pointing at the sitting room. I placed my palm flat against my ear and pointed at the door. “Close the door behind you, please.”

Richard nodded, leaving the room. When the door closed, I turned to the phone. “They’re gone. How long do the Fenerec have?”

“The youngest will die first. It depends on a lot of factors, but the weakest succumb first. You need to understand something. Fenerec aren’t human. They don’t get sick in the same way humans like you do. They can’t catch colds. But Fenerec who are infected will catch them. Almost like humans, in that regard. It’s a cough here and there, and they’ll become more frequent over time. The real sign a Fenerec is close to death is when the cold goes away. Bang, just like that. They look fine. Then they die.”

“They die when they try to shift,” I said, drumming the fingers of my left hand on the desk. “Could their deaths be delayed if they remain human?”

“Fenerec become wolves each full moon, Miss Thomas. It’s our nature.”

“I read in a book that a pregnant Fenerec can fight the transformations in order to spare her children from death,” I replied. “But it’s not easy, and few manage to do so.”

“You read this in a
book
?” My father sounded alarmed.

“Know your enemy,” I retorted, shrugging. The book had taught me a lot of things, but it had a particularly fond spot for magical creatures, especially the Fenerec. And, much to my surprise, it had a weakness for vampire flicks. Vampires, however, didn’t exist.

According to the book, the vampires had died out long ago. The Fenerec would become extinct as well if I didn’t do something about the plague.

“If the Inquisition discovers you have research material on the Fenerec, they will target you,” my father warned.

“Let them come,” I said, my voice cool and hard. “Research will be needed if the Fenerec are to survive. I have no intention of advertising to the Inquisition that I have research material on the Fenerec. It begins with the youngest ones, and manifests with cold symptoms. These symptoms come and go?”

“Like colds do in humans, yes. From my past experiences, those in the final stages will have a cold a couple of times a month, lasting for a few days each.” My father sounded weary. “Fenerec can live years with the plague before the final stages. It kills slowly.”

“And spreads far,” I guessed.

“And spreads far,” he confirmed with a sigh. “Even farther, now that there’s airplanes and mass transportation. Once, only certain places would be hit with plague. Europe, for example. Or the Americas. Or Asian. Not all of them, not all at once.”

“It’s crossed the ocean?”

“So it seems. People call me and tell me things. Usually, all I do is listen. Entire packs are already dead, Miss Thomas. London’s pack is gone. There were two survivors. One of them has come to the States. The other committed suicide. I have been told there are packs in Africa, Asian, and Europe which have also been infected. Some have already died. The Canadians were among the first to show symptoms, but their wolves are, albeit, older than most. They
might
have some time. Maybe. In the past, the plague would wipe out some packs, but not all. Never all. It didn’t cross the water, because Fenerec didn’t cross the seas. Humans don’t carry the plague. Only the Fenerec. When this is done, the Fenerec will be all but gone. A few of us will live, but not enough.”

“How few?”

“One in a thousand? One in two thousand? Maybe not even that many. Times have changed. The seas no longer stops the plague’s spread. I weary of watching it, Miss Thomas.”

I bit my lip. It made sense. From what I remembered, my family didn’t keep close ties with other Fenerec; if they were a part of a pack, I’d never met them. “How many Fenerec are there, anyway?”

“I don’t exactly keep track.” My father grunted. “If I had to make a guess, I would say no more than forty thousand worldwide.”

If one out of a thousand survived, there would only be forty left when the plague finished running its course. My father was right. The Fenerec were facing extinction. Could forty men and women rebuild an entire race of people?

“Who will survive?” My voice cracked, and I swallowed several times to clear my throat.

“What do you know about the Fenerec, Miss Thomas?”

“Not a lot. Fenerec support each other in a pack structure, like wolves. They become wolves, usually under the light of a moon—but not always. The phase of the moon they were born under as wolves is when they’ll transform. Most are born under the full moon. I was also told Fenerec women do not have children. It’s difficult to carry human children to term. It’s not a disease. That’s all I know.”

“There are several types of wolves, Miss Thomas. There are humans who become wolves under the light of the moon, brought into the pack by Fenerec during a ritual. This applies to most Fenerec. Then there are wolves born to human mothers. These are called true Fenerec. Richard is one of them, as am I. There is a third type of Ferenec, however. These are humans born to wolves. These children are usually killed by their parents, as wolves do not understand what a human child is. The rare few who survive are considered true Fenerec, though they need to be taught how to embrace their wolf. It’s complicated. I only know of one such wolf who exists, and she’s as much of a mystery as the Winter Wolf.”

It was a lot to digest, but I scribbled down some notes, ignoring the pain in my hand as I wrote. Maybe Richard or Alex could shed some light on what I didn’t understand. “Okay, I understand. So is there any way to know who will survive?”

“Without the Winter Wolf, only the true Fenerec will live.” The pain in my father’s voice made me wince. “We’re pack, Miss Thomas. At least half of the true Fenerec will take their own lives in their grief.”

That left the world with twenty lonely Fenerec—Fenerec without pack. I didn’t understand what being
pack
meant, but I understood the anguish in Richard’s eyes. I didn’t know why, but the thought of Richard killing himself to follow his brother made me feel queasy.

I wasn’t supposed to care what happened to the Fenerec, but I did.

I sighed, and because I was afraid to ask the most important question, I asked instead, “Do you know why the true Fenerec survive?”

“We were never human to begin with, I guess. True-born Fenerec are wolves who learn to become human, not humans who learn to become wolves.”

“But you said the ones who were born as humans to wolves also survive.”

“They’re rare, Miss Thomas. There’s only one left.”

“And of six billion people, only forty who were true-born Fenerec to human parents?”

“Thirty-six that I know of, myself and Richard included.”

I covered my mouth, tears welling up in my eyes. My mother, like my father, was a Fenerec, but my father hadn’t included her. If she was true-born, I was certain my father would’ve said something. Maybe then he wouldn’t sound so grieved or tired.

My father wasn’t going to die of the plague, though he’d perish because of it. I heard it in his voice.

There would be nothing left for me to rebuild, because they really would be dead, either from sickness or grief. I closed my eyes and gathered every bit of courage I had.

“How long does your daughter have?” I couldn’t bring myself to say her name—or confirm she was my sister.

“She’s just a puppy, Nicolina,” my father whispered with tears in his voice before he hung up on me.

I stared at the phone for a long time, listening to dead air, until I found the strength to set the handset back on its hook. My throat tightened, and in that moment, I understood the terror in Richard’s eyes.

We weren’t running out of time—it was already gone.

Chapter Thirteen

For a long time after I had hung up the phone, I stared out the window and tried to decide what to do. My family needed a miracle and I wasn’t God or a saint.

If the Winter Wolf existed, I wanted to beat him into a quivering pulp for letting people die when he knew how to cure the plague. If he had helped once, why wasn’t he helping again?

I suspected he was dead.

If he wasn’t, he was my best chance to save people. If my sister counted as a young Fenerec, as my father had implied on the phone, I didn’t have months or years to find a cure. With luck, I had weeks. I wasn’t lucky.

Minutes mattered, if my sister wasn’t already dead. The thought sickened me. I swallowed several times to stop myself from throwing up. Shaking my head, I rose from the chair and walked to the door. My hand trembled when opened it.

Richard and Alex sat at the table, shuffling through the folders. Maybe they were hunting for a clue—or some feeble hope—in their own way. Maybe the Winter Wolf was a lie, maybe he didn’t exist, maybe he was long gone, but maybe he wasn’t. There were so many ‘maybes’ that my head spun trying to keep them straight.

I didn’t bother trying. I had to rely on myself and the things I could do.

The pain in my father’s voice was enough to convince me I would succeed or I’d die trying, right along with the rest of my family. If it took forbidden magic to find a cure, I’d throw away my soul to accomplish it.

If the Winter Wolf existed, I’d find him, whether or not I had his blood.

But I needed the talismans and stones from my apartment to do it. I needed the book. I needed my powers to return to full strength.

I needed allies who were as desperate as me.

Richard shared my desperation. Alex didn’t seem like the type of man who wanted to lie down and die from the plague. So long as his life hung in the balance, and so long as we worked for a common goal, we could work together.

Wizard and wolves, all hunting a common enemy: death.

If we could find a cure, they’d live on and remain together. What would be left for me if we
did
eradicate the plague? I wasn’t a witch, who could find protection within the Inquisition. I wasn’t a Fenerec, nor did I desire to become one. If anyone found out what I was, death would come for me. No one would come to my rescue.

Would Richard and Alex betray me if they learned the truth?

Would it matter if they did? The book had warned me I’d be hunted down and killed eventually. It was inevitable.

If wasn’t a matter of
if
I would die; it was a matter of
when.
If I could save my family, I could die content.

That thought convinced me. I stepped to the table and pressed my palms against the smooth, polished surface. I leaned forward, staring at them until they noticed me. Alex looked up first and made a startled sound, which captured his brother’s attention.

“Nicole?” Richard asked.

“There are a few things I need from my apartment. It’s important. Do you know anyone you can trust to fetch my things and then bring them to me? A Fenerec. Someone who knows how to hide from the Inquisition. I don’t care who, but the Inquisition can’t learn about this.”

“You’re worried about the Inquisition?” Alex’s eyes widened. “Why would you be afraid of them? You’re human. They won’t care about you unless you start talking about the Fenerec in public.”

Instead of sitting on a chair, I hopped up onto the table, resting my feet on the plush cushion nearest to me. I twisted around so I could watch the brothers. “I need your silence for what I’m about to tell you.”

“You have my word,” Richard said without hesitation. After a moment, Alex nodded his agreement.

“I gathered some things over the years. A book, some trinkets. Things the Inquisition won’t appreciate. I need them all.” I pointed at a pad of paper and pen, which was near Richard. He dutifully picked them up. “The book is what I need most of all. It is inside the mattress of my bed. They’ll need to cut it open. It doesn’t look tampered with, but trust me. It’s there. It’s bound in blue leather.”

“One blue book, in leather, inside the bed. What else?”

“
Debens.
One of copper, the other is gold. I require both of them.”

“What are
debens
?” With a puzzled expression, he wrote down my request.

“Ancient Egyptian currency. They’re very, very old.”

Alex’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “Where did you get something like that?”

“I stole them from a museum.”

“You
stole
them?” Alex’s eyes widened.

With a smug grin, I nodded. “Stole them both fair and square. Next, there is a silver mirror on my dresser. I need it, as well as a Celtic knot. It’s made of bronze. There are also gemstones littered around my apartment. I need them all. There’s six crystals in particular. Three are balls, while the others are uncut crystals.”

“Like a witch’s crystal?”

“Yes. Finally, there is a brooch in a jewelry box. Just have them take the whole box. There’s a bunch of things scattered around my apartment. Incenses, and so on. Have them ransack the place and grab anything they think looks mystical. Hopefully they get everything that way.”

“Damn, the only thing you’re missing from this list is a cauldron and a pentagram. I’d think you were a witch or something,” Alex said, leaning over to stare at the list. “We could probably get some of this stuff in Vegas.”

“It needs to be from my apartment.” I reached inside my bathrobe and pulled out my pentagram. “And I already have my pentagram, if you must know.”

“You’re into that cult stuff?” Richard asked in surprise. “You don’t smell like a witch.”

It was my turn to blink in surprise. “Witches
smell
?”

Alex grinned at me. “They do. Our noses are a little more sensitive than the average human’s. Earth witches smell like they were in a damp forest. That, well, earthy scent. Water witches smell like the sea. Air witches have a crisp scent to them. Fire witches smell a little like incense—smoke, but pleasant.”

“And what do Fenerec smell like then?”

Richard’s laughter rumbled in his chest. “Cinnamon. Each one of us is a little different, sometimes nutmeg, sometimes allspice, but always some sort of spice. When we’re wolves, we smell like wolf and spice.”

My eyes widened. Richard’s coat had smelled of cinnamon. I hadn’t imagined it, then. “Cinnamon and Spice.”

“I think I know someone who can get into your apartment for these things. We’ll probably have to meet him halfway so no one misses him. Do you really want me to tell him to ransack the place?”

“Make a mess of the place ,” I replied with a shrug. “If there are Inquisitors out there, I’d rather them think it was a robbery than me having specific objects retrieved. I don’t have much in the way of valuables, but your man is welcome to have whatever extra he can carry out. The best way to get in is through the garage. He better go in masked late at night.”

Hopping off the table, I went to fetch my card key for my building. I brought it back and held it up for them. “He’ll need a card to get into the garage unless he manually bypasses the door. Unless you can get a courier to give it to him, he’ll need to break in.”

“I think he can manage to get through a door. Cameras?”

“They’re monitored at the front desk. They have a panic button. I’m friends with one of the security guards and he was feeling chatty one night, so I asked about how the complex was guarded. If it’s triggered, your man will have maybe five minutes to get in and out. My apartment is in the basement and there are a few small windows. They’re barred, though. If he can cut the bars, I don’t think he’ll be seen. They’re obscured by hedges.”

“I’ll let him figure out how to get in. Let me give him a call and I’ll see what we can do. But, what do you need all of this for?”

I smiled at him, pressing a finger to my lips. “It’s a secret.”

Pulling a phone out of his shirt pocket, Richard dialed a number. He got up and stalked his way across the suite, glancing at me over his shoulder as he went to make the call.

~~*~~

When Richard emerged from the bedroom some thirty minutes later, he was frowning. It was thoughtful and brooding, pensive and gave him an intense presence. I tensed, watching him pace back and forth across the sitting room.

“I had to hire a witch,” he announced, pivoting on a heel to face me. “She’s a fire witch, and her word is good. The Inquisition won’t learn of what’s in your apartment. My guy didn’t think he could get in and out of the complex.”

“And your witch can?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. Witches belonged to the Inquisition, or so I had thought. “She’s part of the Inquisition.”

“She can, and she is—but she’s under the hire of my pack. We have a… very special arrangement with the Inquisition on matters like this. It’s Fenerec business, and the Inquisition isn’t willing to push me. Not now.”

“Your pack? And why won’t the Inquisition push you?” I heard the fear in my voice.

Richard winced, but nodded. “My pack. And… we have an arrangement. That’s all.”

My eyes widened as realization settled in. “You’re the Alpha.”

“Guilty as charged, Miss Thomas.”

“And you called Mr. Desmond ‘sir,’” I straightened, narrowing my eyes at him. “No wonder he was upset when I told him you were my hostage.”

“He’s an old, dangerous wolf, ma’am. Anyone with half a brain is afraid of him. There are those who say he’s crazed, and that it’s only his wife’s tender mercies that keep him from turning on all of us.” With a heavy sigh, Richard flopped onto the couch. “We have an understanding. I don’t bother him and he doesn’t bother me. We talk. Sometimes, I think my pack is left alone so much because the Inquisition is afraid of what Mr. Desmond will do if they push me too hard. It’s rather annoying, if you must know.”

Alex chuckled. “Don’t let Richard fool you, Nicole. He’s got the Inquisition by the balls. He controls their finances, including all of their offshore accounts. That’s a
lot
of money he has his grubby paws on. He could ruin them very, very easily. Since he’s always played fair and made them money, they don’t dare rock his boat. So our pack is exempt from the Inquisition and we have agreements to hire their witches for pack business. We don’t even have to tell the Inquisition what we’re doing. Richard’s fire witch won’t say a word to anyone. If she did, the Inquisition would execute her for putting their finances at risk.”

“I should’ve held you two for ransom,” I muttered.

“Plan your hostage taking better next time. You did pretty well for an amateur, though,” Alex replied, his grin widening. Then his expression soured. “If my brother had to hire a witch, your place is guarded well enough, including wards. Why would your place have wards?”

“There’s a security guard, cameras, that sort of thing, but I don’t know what wards are.”

“Then you need to learn. You’re better at this stuff than I am, Richard. Explain it to her?”

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wards are protective magic. They allow people who belong there in and deter petty theft, even in high-crime areas. But if there are wards, someone would have to let guests through. Wards are tricky things. Most witches can’t even detect them because all they usually do is make people who don’t belong avoid the place. Sometimes wards warn the person who created it when they are passed through.”

“How do you know so much about them?”

“I’m an Alpha. It’s my job to know these things.”

“His Alphaness likes knowing his enemy,” Alex said.

“If the Inquisition decided to betray me and my pack, I like knowing what we’re up against so we can fight them as equals. If they try to take us out, I’ll make sure they pay for it very, very dearly.” Richard yawned. “She said she’ll be here in six hours or so.”

“That fast?”

“I offered her a rather nice sum to make it fast.” Sitting up, Richard stared at me. “I hope these things are worth the price. I asked my witch and she has no idea what sort of tricks you’re up to. Wondered if you asked for a bunch of things to hide one or two items. And frankly, I’m curious myself. What are you doing, and why do you think you can help?”

I couldn’t quite bring myself to proclaim I was a wizard. Considering the problem, I glanced at my broken cell phone, which was still on the table. “Can I see one of your phones?”

“Sure, but my battery is almost dead.” Richard pulled his out of his pocket and stretched his arm out to hand it to me.

“Just turn it on.” With his brows furrowing in bafflement, he obeyed, his eyes focused on the screen.

I reached over and touched the top of his phone, focusing my attention on the device and its hungry, hungry battery. My powers weren’t back completely, but I could feel the energy coursing through me as I concentrated.

It took me several minutes to recharge his phone when it should have only taken seconds. By the time I was done, I was sweating and trembling. Richard stared at his phone in disbelief. Without speaking, he showed it to his brother.