Hair of the Wolf (7 page)

The crone sat, settling herself on the bench across from Robert. “Much shall come to pass. One mortal must know the Tapestry of Fate, if the tapestry of humanity is to continue. That mortal might be you.”

“Lucky me, eh?” Robert rubbed his neck. The offer wasn’t surprising. He had received many over the course of his life, but was unwilling to forsake Coyote, his guide. “Surely you know how many offers I have had for patronage? Though you are the first to offer it in person.”

Clotho cackled. “We do not offer you patronage, foolish little man-child. We offer only responsibility. Our hands are bound by the laws of the weaving. We alone can reach beyond the boundaries of the prison, but can share nothing other than information. You gain nothing from us but knowledge in time to act upon it.”

He sat forward. “That is tempting, but I will not forsake my guide. He laid down a path for me that he has spent a thousand years refining, and though I have but one mortal life to walk it, I’ll not forsake that.”

She laughed. “Nor would we want you to. The aspect of the trickster which you follow is the reason we chose you. None may meddle with our design but the Trickster’s chosen avatars. That is the conundrum of trying to manage the lives of billions of creatures that have the attention span of a cat in heat.”

“I’m not so sure we are the cats in heat. Or, at least, we aren’t the only ones in heat.” Robert rolled his shoulders, stretching them as the steam warmed him. “You come to the one who can sidestep your pattern.…I assume you wish to guide our meddling?”

“Not in the slightest. I offer only foreknowledge. Not advice on how you should act up on it.”

Robert thought. It was intriguing to be offered responsibility rather than power. “I am interested. But I must consult with Coyote, I cannot make this decision without him.”

Clotho held up her wrinkled hand. “This I cannot allow. To grant the Trickster knowledge of this transaction would break the laws. What we offer you is a very gray area, and any of the powers knowing about it would give those opposed to humanity a deadly advantage.”

Fretting idly with the hem of her shawl, she pulled an errant thread, staring at it. “Let me try to explain. The reason that humanity cannot know its Fate is that to have that knowledge ahead of time would make it so that that Fate could be changed. This is a simple premise, and completely wrong in every way, but it does serve the purpose of explaining this in a way you can understand. If each person is able to control their thread, then what would happen if one person changed their Fate and it impacted another’s Fate?”

Robert thought about it or a moment. “I suppose that person would have their Fate changed, so they would act to alter their own path through life.”

Clotho held up a wrinkled finger. “Indeed. And as they alter their path, they not only change the Fate of the initial person that changed them, but they also alter the other people they are in contact with. Imagine that, but spread across all of humanity. The pattern would not be able to sustain itself.”

“What would happen?”

“Your race would go mad. The Pattern of Fate would unweave itself. The threads get so tangled that it’d make a Gordian knot look simple. You know, the usual. Fate of the world, blah, blah.”

“Okay. I get that. But if only two people have that knowledge, myself and Coyote, why would that happen? Isn’t it worse if everyone had the knowledge?”

“A single god is far worse than all of the mortal world combined. When a god makes a change it alters the path of millions at a time. That cannot go unnoticed. Because the source of the tangles would be so singular in its origin, anyone with a modicum of power would be able to track the source and extrapolate the pattern themselves.” She stared at him through the steam.

“So if I tell Coyote, not only is it an order of magnitude worse, but everything else with power will be able to unweave Fate?”

“Correct. Should you choose to consult the Trickster we will not be able to grant you foreknowledge. We will not let the Coyote into the henhouse.”

Robert pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I see.” He leaned back again, re-closing his eyes, and let the steam wash over his body. Let the old biddy wait, he had some serious thinking to do.

The tableau remained frozen, Sister of Fate and young shaman both bathing in the steam of the sweat lodge while he thought. Clotho leaned forward, pouring more water over the hot rocks. Steam rose. Robert thought.

“I have one question before I can accept your offer. What is the knowledge you wish to give me about?”

Clotho cackled again. “I knew we had chosen wisely. We wish to impart knowledge of both current events on the divine scale, as well as events surrounding your grandson, whom you will influence.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Robert said, “The connection to Coyote is passed from grandfather to grandson, which, of course, you know already. My grandson is not yet born, do current events have that much impact upon his path?”

“Yes.”

Robert frowned. “Interesting. I beg your indulgence for another moment while I continue to think.” Robert mulled over the offer for several more moments before making his decision. Once he had, he leaned forward to look the sister of Fate in the eye. “I accept.”

Clotho tightened her bony fingers around her walking stick, pulling herself up to her feet. “Very well then. But a warning, young shaman. Be wise in your use of this power. You are now a conduit for both order and chaos. Both destiny and chance now run in your veins, and for all the conflict that will be inside you, you will discover you have great power as well. Do not abuse it or we will be forced to cut your thread early.”

Robert sat back, shaken. Fate had just threatened to kill him. Of course, that had to be an empty threat, didn’t it? Especially if the sisters needed him in the picture for his grandson. Or could they weave what they wanted around his absence? They were Fate after all … he frowned. “All right.”

She leaned forward, almost leering at him. “You will embark on a great quest with what we give you tonight. For a decade we will be …” She glanced at the towel around his waist, and grinned toothily, “watching. After that, boyo, you’re on your own.”

With that said the elderly sister of Fate raised her walking stick and slammed it once onto the ground, as though it was a mighty staff. The sweat lodge shook with impact and in the space of a flinch Robert found himself once again alone, the only remnant of the crone’s visit a glowing thread that had appeared in his hand as she disappeared. Knowledge slammed into him, a rockslide of information hammering his mind, and he fainted, falling to the floor of his sweat lodge.

***

Tabitha Magyari

Tabitha slammed into the buffet, hitting the low bar with the small of her back, sending food flying everywhere. She flipped, ignoring the excruciating pain blossoming through her spine, landing on top of the now empty platters.

Bathory was crouched in the train car, fangs bared, fists balled in front of her in a loose and low stance. Her white pantsuit was spotless, and almost too bright for the aged and run down car they were in. “Where did you find the Abomination? Where is it?”

“Screw you, bitch.” Tabitha was careful not to meet the Vampire’s eyes. Out of her peripheral vision she could see Andrew hiding under the table he had been sitting at. That was as close to safe as he would get for now.

“Aw. The little puppy thinks it has more bite than bark. How cute. You will tell me how you secured the help of the Unblooded in New York. Do you need a repeat performance of our dance back there?”

Faster than Tabitha could track the Vampire darted forward and slammed a fist into her midsection. Tabitha went flying backwards, her head slamming into the train wall.

She blinked, dizzy, and saw Bathory’s clawed hand reaching for her face. And then there was blood.

Something even faster than the elder vampire blurred in the space between bloodsucker and wolf, and Bathory’s hand went flying through the air, severed at the wrist.

Bathory danced back, howling in pain, holding her injured arm to chest. A seven foot tall leopard, a werecat wearing only leather pants and a hefty cross on a thick chain, appeared, protectively standing over her. “Back off, lady. These ones are under our protection right now.”

“Peter …” Tabitha smiled weakly.

“Fucking cat!” Bathory hissed.

Tabitha pushed herself up to her elbows and saw a man, covered in midnight blue scales, standing behind Bathory. He savagely raked his claws across her back.

Bathory sensed it coming and spun in place. The blow missed her by centimeters, shredding her white jacket instead of her flesh. Her foot lashed out as she spun, catching the demon square in his chest.

Tabitha could hear his ribs breaking over the noise of the wind howling through the hole in the roof. The demon fell to a knee, snarling, and managed another rake of his claws, catching Bathory’s calf. Vampire blood spattered across floor and tables.

“Fucking KISS! I hate your music!” Bathory kicked the demon in his face, then ducked, dodging Peter’s rush at her. The Werecat was faster than the Vampire, but her senses gave her an edge that non-vampires didn’t have. She slammed an elbow backwards, catching Peter in the gut.

He slid back, reaching down and digging his claws into the floorboards to stop himself.

The four of them stood frozen for a moment, the only sounds the wind howling above and Andrew whimpering under the table. There was a soft click, impossibly audible despite being diminutive.

Loki stepped out of the bathroom. Raising an eyebrow, he took in the scene. “You.” He pointed at Bathory. “Leave.”

Loki flicked his finger and the Vampire vanished with a small sucking sound followed by a pop.

Loki collapsed to one knee and reached out to stead himself against the wall.

Peter walked back to Tabitha and reached out a hand to help her, shifting back to his human form as he did. “What the hell did you just do, man?”

Loki shook his head, trying to steady his vision. “I banished her. I don’t have power over those not tied to Fate, so that took a lot of juice. Couldn’t let her see that I’m not as strong as I used to be though.”

Tabitha rushed over to the Andrew, helping him out from under the table. She clutched her young ward tight, stroking his hair to calm down his shivers.

Gene stood up, still in his scaled form, holding his nose. Blood dripped down his chin. “I think she broke my damn nose. Why didn’t you just take her to fucking task? Rip her damn head off?”

Loki smiled. “For one, to risk her shedding even one drop of blood in a way that she could lick it up … you don’t want that to happen. Just trust me. And two, frankly, it’s more fun this way.”

“Fun? Are you insane?” Tabitha looked back over her shoulder at the exhausted god.

“Yes, I am. But you didn’t ask the important question.” Reaching forward, he picked up the Vampire’s severed hand. He started toying with the fingers.

“And what would that be?” She replied.

“Where did I banish her to?” With another popping sound, the hand vanished.

***

Elizabeth Bathory

Elizabeth held her still attached hand over her nose, plugging it as best she could as she struggled to fight her way out of the chest high manure heap. The smell was god-awful, and yet another pantsuit was ruined beyond all hope.

Growling to herself, she mumbled, “I will end you Loki. Rip your throat out and drink your blood till you are empty. Ungh.”

As she stepped forward through the squelching mess, her severed hand appeared in the air before her, middle finger extended. It fell into the manure and vanished with a
gloop.

***

1989

***

Peter Criss

Light breezes swept in both directions at the intersection, cooling the otherwise hot day. Peter shook his head, still surprised that both Ian and the werewolves would end up in Denver by complete happenstance. He was the only one who knew the child’s location, and since he had just finished helping Ace with his new album, he figured he could detour on his way to L.A. to check up on the kid.

He spotted Ian sitting outside his middle school, on the front steps during the lunch hour. A grin crossed his lips. The kid was precocious, sitting by himself and using a clunky tape recorder. Peter opened his senses and listened.

“… sitting in class and Mike popped Mrs. Loqa with a spitball. He didn’t get caught. Trisha got blamed instead. Mom, if you sneak into my room and listen to this, don’t tell Mrs. Loqa. I plan on getting Mike to leave Ryan alone and stop stealing his lunch money. If you tell it’ll spoil everything. Back to my notes on the day.…”

Peter stifled a laugh. Ian was doing just fine.

***

Mina & Lilith

The streets of Albuquerque were empty, with only the light of the moon keeping the buildings company at three a.m. on the moonless night. A figure walked out of an alley next to one of the few open shops in the city and into the shop.

Mina approached the counter, studying the menu as she walked through the mostly empty cafe. Jonathan was in the alley, disposing of the animals they had drained, and would appreciate the coffee to cleanse his palate. Neither of them had ever gotten used to the taste of blood. Of their original group of friends, the only one who had embraced the change had been Van Helsing.

He had snapped, become something bestial. She shuddered at the memory.

The barista walked up to the register. She was a mousy woman, pretty, but she was hiding her face behind her brown hair and she was tucked in on herself like she was uncomfortable with the amount of space she occupied in the world. “Can I help you?”

Mina glanced at her name badge. “Hi, Lilly, can I get a café mocha and a chai tea?”

“Sure thing.” The girl rang her up and started making the drinks. “You guys come in here a lot. Always at three or four in the morning. Is that when you get off work or something?”

Mina sighed. “Nope. It isn’t when we get off work. We’ve been married a long time. We don’t try a lot of new things. This place works for us.”

“Cool. I can’t imagine that, though. I move every couple years. New city, new friends, new experiences. What’s it like? I can’t imagine not trying out new all the time.”

Mina glanced back at the door. Jon wasn’t here yet. “Mostly, it’s boring. But … the stability is nice. Knowing there is someone I can count on, that I’ll always be familiar with my surroundings.”
And being a vampire it’s nice knowing I won’t get stuck in the sunlight.
She smiled wistfully. “Really, a new city every few years?”

“Really, really. It’s amazing. I want to see the whole world. Can’t do that sitting still, you know. If you sit still too long, life passes you by, no matter how old you live to be, you’ll miss it all. That’s what I think.” She slid the drinks across the counter.

“Thanks.” Mina dropped a couple extra bucks in the tip jar then grabbed the drinks and headed out to meet Jon. Lilly’s words were echoing in her mind.

***

Lilith

Lilith wore the night sky like a gown, dancing through the stars. Smiling slyly, the other survivors, the three sisters and Loki, waited for her in a vast vaulted hall that had nebulas and galaxies floating inside the wall.

“Ah.” She smiled warmly. “The grandness of creation. Why don’t we meet here anymore? It’s been centuries.”

Loki picked at his fingernails, cleaning imaginary dirt from under them. With each speck of nonexistent grease, he wiped his hands on his jeans or his red flannel. “You know it’s just an illusion. Why do you care?”

“Because it has style.”

He shrugged.

Lachesis, smooth skinned and wearing an ivory-colored toga that was barely paler than her skin, cleared her throat. “I don’t like it. I remember a time it was full of life, not the echoes and emptiness of the dead. Why did you call us here?”

Lilith smiled sweetly. “It has come to my attention that you have all meddled. We have a plan, why do you ignore it?”

Loki sat up. “You have all?” He glanced at the sisters. “I’ve done nothing outside of my nature. I’m sticking to your precious plan, Lilith.”

The sisters spoke in unison. “We have done only that which the pattern allows.”

Lilith stared at the four of them. “It’s so creepy when you do that. How is it that the embodiments of structure and chaos both have the same answer for me? Unlikely, don’t you think?”

Loki shrugged, still picking at his nails. “None of us trusts each other. Even in the old days, when belief was plentiful, we were at each other’s throats. Nowadays it’s hard. I always assumed each of us had our own agenda.”

Lips tightened in a forced smirk, Lilith waved a hand at the illusionary hall. “And we can see how far having our own agendas has gotten us, yes?”

Atropos, tugging on her blond pigtails, twirled in place. “There are powers greater than us too. Snippety snip, no? Even the gods will pass from the universe in their time. It’s not for us to say how much further we go.”

“If not for us, then who? Where are these powers that we do not know?” Lilith snarled. “I’ll not be scrubbed from this reality because uppity children that we helped create want us gone. You do not choose when my thread is cut, Atropos.”

“Don’t I?” The little girl grinned wickedly as she twirled a pair of golden scissors around her fingers. “You think my shears haven’t cut the threads of gods? Shiva, Thor, Quetzalcoatl … ask them how powerless we sisters are. Oh! Butterfly!” Atropos suddenly looked delighted and wandered away from her sisters.

Lilith snorted in disgust, but Loki interrupted the tirade she was about to launch. “We aren’t at cross purposes. We are acting like dogs fighting over turf. We all want to survive, but that won’t happen if we waste our power coming to blows with each other.”

The gods eyed each other warily, but settled down. Lilith spoke. “What of the Archangel? His first brush with the younger vampires who call themselves Dracula is supposed to happen. That sets the course for his collision with Kaine. Are we on track?”

“To my knowledge, yes.” Loki thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Though I still don’t approve of the death you say is necessary. Wells is as close to a friend as I have.”

Lilith traced a galaxy floating through a column with a delicate finger. “Are you saying I am stripping you of your allies? Your friends? Don’t blame it on me. If the sisters three would reveal the pattern to us, we could plot a course. But it’s all ‘wah wah destroy the web if a god knows the pattern.’”

Clotho slammed her staff against the ground. Gathering her black skirts and shawls close, she narrowed her eyes. “You know even we cannot act in the mortal realm on what we know. To do so would shake the foundation of reality and potentially erase us from the web.”

Lilith snorted. “Whatever. We are gods. The world is ours to play with.”

“How forward thinking of you.” Loki scuffed a boot against the marble floor. “Enough of this. We came to assess the plan, yes? Let’s check in on the players.”

He snapped his fingers and patterns swirled in the floor until a picture was revealed. New York appeared, and the gods watched.

***

Skid

Steam wisped up from the cup of espresso, dancing merrily in front of the blond man. Outside the small New York café, pedestrians flocked by in multitudes, a sea of salmon swimming upstream in both directions, hurrying to their spawning grounds.

Watching the New Yorkers rushing to their destinations, he pushed a lock of hair away from the aviator glasses covering his eyes and smiled at the young man across the table. “True, it may take a while.” Time had never meant much to Wells, making the sentiment one of little concern.

Skid, the younger of the two, ran his hand over his bald head, shaved to the skin, and raised an eyebrow. His British accent was starting to fade, a result of six years spent in the States. “I’d rather not wait years and years to suss them out, Wells.”

“Tsk.
Patience is a virtue. It is the
only
virtue. The soul you are bonded with should know that, and know it well.”

Skid eyed the older man. He was well toned, in his early thirties, and had a strong jaw. His looks did not betray his age. “Yeah, yeah, old man. You try being trapped in a sixteen year old body. It was fun for the first few years, but try dealing with teen hormones for a decade. No fun.” Skid grumped about the last twelve years, since he had stopped aging.

Wells threw back his head and laughed. “We each carry the burdens of our responsibilities. That is what sets us apart from those we are in conflict with. They choose a darker path, one in which they use others to avoid those burdens. We defend our kind. The dark immortals use humanity as food and labor. They are things to them, nothing more.”

Skid cocked his head to one side, thinking. “This is so frustrating. I kind of get what you are saying, and Uriel definitely does, but I can’t get more than that feeling.” He sighed.

“Patience, my young friend. Your mind is very young as of yet to start grasping the lessons the Angel has to teach.” He glanced at the sword propped on the side of the table. “Even your body has lessons to learn. Your mastery of the skills you will need is lacking.”

The sword, invisible to most people, seemed to hum when it was mentioned and both of them glanced at it. Skid shrugged. “It led me to you, as you know. How long will it take to get me ready?”

“How long will it take you to get ready? Ha. That is up to you. I suppose it will take as long as it takes.”

“That’s all sorts of cryptic. Can’t you give me something more precise?”

Wells leaned back and sipped his espresso, smiling cryptically. “Skid, have you heard the joke about the man asking God how long it took to create the universe?”

“Huh?” Skid shook his head. “I haven’t. What’s that got to do with how long my training will take?”

Flicking back the errant wisp of hair, Wells took off his glasses and leaned forward to look the young man in the eyes. “A man gets to talk to God. While they are conversing he asks God the following question. ‘In the holy books it says that creation was made in just seven days. How can that be so, when we know that the universe is over fourteen billion years old?’ God looks to the man, ever patient.”

Wells sipped his coffee again. “God answered. ‘To you, it has been billions of years. To me it was seven days. For me, time passes differently and a million years stretches by in the course of just a moment.’ The man thought about this for a while, then looked back to God. ‘So all things great to us seem small to you?’ God nodded yes to the man, who then, thinking himself terribly clever, asked another question. ‘God, may I have a penny then?’ God smiled. ‘Of course my child, in just a moment.’”

Wells toyed with the sugar spoon on the table, staring Skid in the eye. “Understand youngling, that my life has spanned over ten millennia. So, when you ask how long it will take to prepare you for your battle, I will be honest. It will take but a moment.”

Skid’s shoulders slumped. “Bloody fantastic.”

***

Tabitha Magyari

Tabitha slapped Drew across the back of the head. “Focus.”

The gangly teen scowled at her, then shifted his attention back to his own hand. His face turned red with exertion. Sweat started to pour down his cheeks. He grunted. Painfully slowly the nails on his right hand’s fingers grew until they were six inch long claws. Drew gasped and fell down onto his ass, exhausted. He flopped backwards into the soft grass of the yard, pleased at his accomplishment.

Two children, neither older than six, clapped excitedly. The little boy spoke up. “That was awesome, Drew!”

Tabitha glanced to the side. “Amber. Eliot. Please watch quietly until I say were done. Drew, back on your feet. I know you’re trying hard honey, but you’re sixteen now and you barely have control over your claws. When I was sixteen, I could shift any part of my body. I want you to try both of your hands at once now. Don’t strain so much. You are not trying to force them to grow, you are relaxing and letting them grow while maintaining control over the rest of your body. You understand?”

Drew struggled to his feet. “I get it Tabitha, I do. It just isn’t that easy to actually do. I mean I get that you were a natural, but I’m not, and it’s really frustrating. I’ll never be as good as you.”

Tabitha lovingly stroked his hair. “I know it’s frustrating. But do you want me to let you in on a secret?”

Drew nodded. “I guess. Yeah.”

She smiled encouragingly to the youth. “It was worse for me. As a natural, I was expected to be able to use my strength in ways I never thought of. You have to fight for every inch you get, for every skill you master. In the long run that can make you much stronger than me. Natural genius is rarely as strong as talent that has to fight for it.”

Drew thought about that for a moment, his face deep in thought. “You know, I’ve never asked this before. Why can’t we just have a normal life? I mean, I get that we’re werewolves and all, so when I say normal I don’t mean you know, like, normal—normal. I mean to say, why are we always training and stuff? Why can’t we just be a family?”

Tabitha sighed and sat down on the grass, tucking her legs under each other to sit cross-legged. She dusted some imaginary dirt off her jeans while thinking. “Gather round kids. It’s time I tell you about the fate of our pack.”

She waited while the kids gathered around her, each carefully picking out their seat in the backyard until they were all seated facing her. She leaned back, stretching her arms, digging her palms into the cool grass.

“Okay children,” she looked at Drew, raised her eyebrows. “I’m going to explain as much of this as I think you’ll understand. Each of the four of us was orphaned. I adopted each of the three of you so that you would have a family and a pack. But there is one other thing that makes us a family. All of our packs were killed.”