Wolfsbane: Aspect of the Wolf (7 page)

"Come on, bro, snap out of it,” Daniel taunted. “The moon's not full tonight. It's not your time of the month."

He dodged when Vance lunged. They crashed together anyway, knocking over a chair. The force of his brother's body landing on his chest knocked the wind out of Daniel. For a moment, he lay stunned, looking into the remnants of Vance's face as the last of his human features disappeared.

Triumphant, the beast snarled as it ripped the constricting silver chain from its neck. The creature leapt off Daniel and bounded across the room.

A second later, Emilie screamed.

The beast vaulted over the dining room table, trailing shreds of red tablecloth. Its yellow eyes found Emilie and zeroed in, tracking her as she tried to run from the room. Enraged and slavering, the creature lunged for her before she reached the door.

She held up her hands to ward off the rake of razor-sharp claws and cringed as her back hit the wall.

Think! Think! she commanded herself as the creature's hot breath warmed her cheek. Pinned against the wall, she couldn't reach anything to use as a weapon. The bundle of wolfsbane lay discarded under the creature's feet, useless.

A low growl rumbled in the beast's chest and it swiped at her throat. Its claws just missed her flesh, but tore the protection amulet from her neck. The small pouch of herbs flew across the room.

Instinctively, Emilie ducked. She slid down the wall and bolted under the creature's legs. It howled, as if momentarily confused by her actions, then whirled around and tangled its claws in the back of her shirt.

At that moment, when the talons sliced through the thin fabric and into her skin, Daniel rushed toward them. He threw himself at the beast, and once again, they grappled. With blood pouring down her back and her shirt in tatters, Emilie dragged herself up and scrambled after the brown bottle of coffin nails, which had rolled under the table.

She grabbed the cylindrical glass and twisted the tight cork out of the top. The shiny nails spilled into her palm. As a weapon, a two-inch-long nail seemed desperately inadequate, but it was her best, perhaps her only shot, at wounding the beast.

She scrabbled out from under the table with a nail clutched in her fist. With the werewolf and Daniel locked in mutual chokeholds, they'd both probably pass out from lack of oxygen. But Emilie couldn't wait to see who gave out first. She ran up behind the beast and plunged the nail into the thick muscles of its neck.

The creature screamed. Sorry Vance, she thought, pulling the nail out of his flesh and jabbing it in again. The wounds sizzled, and dark blood matted the beast's rough fur.

Another jab and another finally enticed the beast to release its hold on Daniel. Enraged, it turned on Emilie and raked its claws across her shoulder before she could back away. She fell, weakened by the stinging pain, and tried crawling away. She didn't get far before the werewolf lifted her, struggling from the floor.

She braced for the attack, figuring the creature would bite her. Instead of sinking its teeth into her flesh, it tossed her hard across the dining room table. She slid across the polished surface, and her breath left her in a surprised gasp when she landed with a loud thud on the floor.

Dazed, she blinked at the ceiling, expecting the beast to come after her. Glass shattered. Daniel yelled his brother's name, receiving a howl of rage, receding in the distance, as the only response.

Emilie sighed and closed her eyes.

Daniel stared into the darkness outside the shattered remains of the dining room window. Vance had hit the ground running and disappeared almost instantly. In the feeble light of the waning moon, the deep shadows revealed no trace of him.

A moan drew his attention. Emilie.

She had pulled herself up from the floor and used her torn shirt to wipe the blood dripping from deep scratches on her shoulder and back. Blood also covered her lacy bra.

He crossed the room and caught her as she swayed. “I'll call 9-1-1."

"No!” She put a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. “They'll ask too many questions. Where's Vance?"

"He's gone."

Emilie's eyes widened. “Go after him!"

"You need—"

"I'll be okay.” She pushed him toward the door. “Just give me a minute and I'll catch up."

He took her arm and pulled her toward him. “You have to get these scratches taken care of."

"I'll be fine. Find him before someone else does."

How could he leave her? How could he not? What would he do when he found Vance? He headed for the door, but she called him back and her voice broke.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what went wrong."

"Don't worry. We'll find a way to fix it.” He wished he could believe it.

The park. Daniel knew the wolf too well. It followed a predictable path through town, avoiding the well-lit areas, the busier streets and the shopping district. It always headed for the park, skirting the lake and winding its way into the deep, dark grottos where wise people didn't walk at night.

He saw a familiar footprint in the mud next to the jogging path. At the edge of the softball field, where willow trees formed a curtain separating the wide-open space from the shady lanes and picnic areas, stillness descended around him. Then he heard the squeal of a small animal, a snarl, and the snap of tiny, hollow bones.

"Vance!” Maybe a trace of humanity remained. But what if this unscheduled transformation became permanent? He thought of the gun locked in the nightstand drawer and cursed. Vance wouldn't want to remain a werewolf. He'd rather die. Could Daniel bring himself to battle the wolf to the death—again?

No.

"Vance! Come on.” He thrust himself deeper into the dark recesses of the park, tensed when he heard a siren and flinched at the sharp crack of a twig. “Vance?"

"Oh, God! Daniel!"

"Vance."

His brother lurched through the trees, naked and shivering, his hands and face bloody. He fell at Daniel's feet. “Emilie?” he croaked out the word, retched, and gasped. “Did I hurt her?"

"She'll be all right.” He hoped. “Come on. Take my shirt. Let's get you home."

Daniel yanked off his T-shirt and helped Vance pull it over his head.

"I ate a pigeon,” Vance said miserably, staggering to his feet.

Nodding, Daniel threw his arm across his brother's shoulders. “Coulda been worse."

"What if this happens every night now? I can't let Bethany see me. You'll have to tell her something. Tell her I had to leave town. Tell her—God, Daniel."

"Don't worry. We'll fix it. I promise."

Emilie surveyed the magickal arsenal she'd spread out on her kitchen table. Spell reversal was a tricky business that sometimes required a “reversal of the reversal” to get it right.

I should call everyone together.
The voice of reason droned in her head as she packed her assembled ingredients into a satchel.
I can't do this alone
.

"But Daniel wants anonymity. I
can't
betray Vance,” she argued aloud. The painful scratches on her shoulder and back twinged as a reminder, that once again, she'd gotten in over her head.

All the training she'd had, the years of following her mother's and grandmother's instructions to the letter, should have made her a first-class witch. Where had she gone wrong? Why didn't things turn out perfectly for her the way they did for Charlotte and Audra and all the members of her coven? Even her own protection amulet had failed her tonight. And worse, she'd failed Vance. Assuming he and Daniel would ever speak to her again, could she find a way to fix her mistake?

She sighed deeply and shoved a bundle of sage into her satchel. “Pity party is officially over, Em,” she said.
Get your act together—now!

The doorbell punctuated the end of her self-recriminations.

Emilie grabbed the satchel and slung it over her shoulder, cringing at the pain from the scratches. She shifted the heavy bag to her other shoulder and headed for the door.

Daniel stood outside, his handsome features sallow in the yellow glow of the porch light. Dirt smudged his shirt, and he smelled like damp grass and musky male. Emilie berated herself for the stab of desire she felt. This wasn't the time to get horny.

"How's Vance?” she croaked.

"He's fine. He changed back and I got him home before anyone saw us."

Without invitation, he stepped over the threshold and grasped her upper arms. For the briefest second, she feared he would shake her or berate her for screwing up so badly with the spell.

Instead, he hugged her. “Are
you
all right?” His rough voice sent a shiver down the center of her back.

"Yes ... um ... I'm fine.” For a moment, she indulged herself with a deep breath of his scent and the warmth of his arms. God he smelled so good, like night air. When he let her go, she stumbled backward a step and dropped the satchel. “I've got everything I should need to undo the separation spell. Then we can start from scratch."

He lowered his head and fixed her with a dark gaze. Its intensity frightened her a little.

Her pulse raced and she looked away. “I'm sorry about how things turned out. I went over everything and I don't know where I went wrong but I'll—"

"You put me in a bad position tonight."

Here it comes, she thought, bracing for a battle. But she had no strength left. “Vance doesn't blame you, does he? I'm not trying to make excuses but—"

"That's not what I mean.” Emilie felt the heat rolling off him in waves. She tensed and her muscles clenched when he tipped up her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes. “I had to choose between you and Vance. I
hated
leaving you. I
hated
that I thought about killing the wolf to save you from him."

Emilie swallowed hard. Every possible retort crashed together in her mind, into a jumble of unusable words. Daniel plowed on, though, saving her from mumbling incoherently.

"Even when I was running through the park, searching for him, afraid the cops might find him, the only image in my mind was of you, under him, those filthy claws on your skin. I couldn't shake the image of him hurting you—and I wanted to kill him for it."

Emilie drew in a labored breath. It seemed as if the air had turned to liquid between them. Their faces hovered inches apart, and she felt her aching body drawn to his.

"I'm sorry.” Her words slipped out as a tortured whisper. She looked into his eyes again and saw something that made her blood pound and her knees weak.

He brushed his thumb over her lips; it felt like a kiss. Emilie closed her eyes.

"
I'm
the one who's sorry. I should have told you."

"Told me what?” She tipped back her head, her heart hammering.

"The wolf is inside me, too. Both of us."

Emilie's stomach flip-flopped as a rush of cold realization washed over her. “You're a werewolf, too?"

"Son of a werewolf. Grandson of a werewolf."

"Huh?"

Daniel took her hand and led her to the couch. “Pop was a werewolf hunter first. He became one when he was about twelve. He was bitten not long afterward, yet he managed to keep the secret for more than thirty years, even from our grandmother. Even after our father was born, he didn't tell her."

"But he told you?"

"I found out from reading his journals. My father didn't even know half of it. He had the wolf in him, too, but he didn't transform—at least as far as I know. He was never bitten, and you have to be bitten in order to transform. Pop apparently kept Dad out of it, wouldn't allow him to become a werewolf hunter."

Emilie nodded as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The spell hadn't separated Vance from the beast because they were too closely entwined. The wolf had an anchor to hold onto within Vance, and making it let go wouldn't be easy.

"Your grandfather was killed by a werewolf hunter, wasn't he?” she whispered.

The pain in Daniel's eyes told her only part of the answer. “He had a few close calls and finally stopped hunting. He tried to avoid his old friends because he didn't want any of them to have to kill him one day.” He looked away, stiffening under her touch as he spoke. “I was seventeen. Pop had a cabin that bordered on the state forest. He stayed there in the summers after my grandmother died. Sometimes Vance and I would sneak up there at night, but he'd drive us home in the morning and never tell on us. One weekend, I went there alone because Vance had chicken pox ... he was so mad I was going without him..."

He smiled at the memory, but it didn't reach his eyes. Apparently, the pain was too deep. Emilie touched his face.

"A group of deer hunters wounded something by the lake. When I got up there, I saw it, crawling toward the cabin. I called for Pop, but he didn't answer. I panicked. I let myself in the back door and got his gun."

Emilie squeezed Daniel's shoulder. Her heart ached for him. She didn't need to hear the rest of the story, but he seemed compelled to tell it.

"They'd wounded it pretty badly and it was crazy with pain. I was going to shoot it, but I panicked. I ran and it chased me. Then it cornered me, and I fired. Just once."

"I'm sorry.” Emilie wrapped her arms around him and cradled him against her. He clutched her to him, and she felt the ragged beat of his heart.

"I should have told you, but Vance doesn't even know exactly what happened."

Emilie wiped away the tears that brimmed in her eyes. “It's okay. It's okay. We don't need to reverse my spell, then. It worked—just not enough. It brought out the beast, but not far enough. We need something stronger."

"Can you do it? Can you separate him from the beast?"

"I think so. But I'm going to need Charlotte's help."

"Charlotte?"

"My cousin. She's from Seattle, so I don't think you have to worry about her spilling the beans to Bethany."

Daniel smiled. “At this point, it doesn't matter to me anymore. We have to get Vance back to normal before he hurts someone else."

"We will. We'll find a way."