Blood for Wolves (22 page)

“When the wolf arrived, he saw the
grandmother was dead and didn’t know what to do. Then the huntsman appeared and
convinced the wolf that Adria would think he’d killed her and the only way to
save himself and their love was to eat up the grandmother’s body. The wolf did
just that, except the poison in the grandmother’s blood got to him too, so soon
he was asleep on her bed, full and sick.

“When Adria arrived, she saw the
wolf and didn’t know what to make of her missing grandmother, and then the
huntsman appeared again and told her that the wolf’s bloodlust was too great
and he had eaten her grandmother alive. He proved it by cutting open the wolf’s
stomach and showing Adria the remains of her grandmother. Adria despaired, her
heart broken, and she told the huntsman to do with the wolf what he wished, and
ran out of the house. The huntsman took out the grandmother’s body and just in
case the wolf survived, replaced it with heavy stones before sewing him up
again.”

“How the hell could he do that
without killing him?” Alex asked. I shot him a look that clearly told him to
shut up.

Wolf frowned at him. “Huntsmen are
very skilled with their knives and needles. Don’t tell me you’ve never kept a
trophy for yourself.”

Alex’s face colored and he mumbled
something about not doing it himself.

“When the wolf finally awoke,” Wolf
said, getting back to the story, “he could barely drag himself from the home. He
didn’t know where Adria or the huntsman was; he didn’t know what had happened. He
could hardly even walk. Because of the stones in his stomach he couldn’t eat,
and wandered the forest in confusion for many days. The huntsman had comforted
and wooed Adria until she finally consented to marry him. Most of us like to
think that she never forgot the wolf. Even if she did, she was reminded of him
again when he dragged himself to the castle, and died by the walls of
starvation.”

“Oh my God,” I said. “That is
awful.” And it certainly was the polar opposite of the story I knew.

Wolf shook his head as if to clear
out the story. “That’s why the House of Hood sits on the throne now. Well, not
the full line at least. The man in control of the kingdom is just a steward, a
far distant cousin to the House of Hood. We all hope for the days of Red to
come again. Those were less harsh times.” He stooped, picked up a stick, threw
it. “She may have thought he ate her grandmother, but she still had a soft
heart for the rest of us.”

“There’s no one left from the House
of Red?” I asked.

Wolf shrugged. “There may be a distant
relative somewhere, but the name has probably been lost. The House of Red has
always controlled the Kingdom, which is why the House of Hood can never have
the full title.”

Suddenly a light bulb clicked on in
my brain. I glanced down at Marianne. Was that why her parents were taking her
to the castle to be safe? Because she was descended from the Red line? And the
House of Hood—was that who wanted her? Except that didn’t make sense. Why would
the House of Hood charge wolves to go after her? Weren’t they charged with
exterminating wolves?

I shook my head. No. Whoever wanted
Marianne wasn’t from the House of Hood. Wolf had kept saying, “She” so it was a
woman. But then why would wolves come after Marianne if she were destined to
make their lives better? If that’s how it worked, anyway.

We continued our hike along the
path, the birds above us chirping merrily in the sunshine. As if I weren’t
walking with a potential future queen or a half-wolf or my step brother dressed
as a wolf-killer. The whole idea almost made me want to laugh. But as we kept
going, Wolf seemed to grow twitchy. His gaze darted around. He made occasional
exasperated huffing sounds. He jiggled the foot with the band around it. A
creepy magical sensation crept up my neck before disappearing.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. I
didn’t like it when his collar did random magical things. I also kept
forgetting to ask him about it.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, no. Just…anxious.
After all, I doubt Miss Marianne’s parents will be pleased to meet a half-wolf.”

“We don’t have to tell them what
you are. Act normal and don’t go flashing your eyes or your teeth and we’ll be
fine.” I was about to ask him about the collar when Alex held up a hand.

“Anyone else hear that?” he asked.

I glanced at him. “Hear what?”

“I don’t know.” He narrowed his
eyes. “It almost sounds like the ocean.”

Up ahead, the trees appeared to
thin and the forest floor grew brighter. I cocked my head. A faint roar drifted
through the trees, receding and then rushing in again. Confusion mixed with an
uncomfortable sense of wrongness curled around inside me.

“You’re right. It does sound like an
ocean.” I breathed deep. “And now that you mention it, it smells like an ocean
too.” I clutched Marianne’s hand tighter. “Do you live by the ocean?”

She gazed up at me with wide,
confused eyes. “No.”

“Wolf, where are we going?”

Howls and snarls erupted around us
as a pack of hairy creatures leaped up from the brush. They stood on two legs
like people, but their legs bent like a dog’s. Claws curled out from big, oddly
jointed fingers. They had tails and heads like wolves, with sharp teeth and
glowing red eyes. I knew all too well what they were.

“Werewolves!” Alex yelled.

He swung his crossbow forward and
started firing as they jumped at us from all directions. I snatched up Marianne
and skittered backward so my back was against Alex’s. Wolf snarled at the two
facing him.

Too many! Too many!
I swung
my fist at one of them, but he ducked with ease. His hands darted out and
yanked Marianne from my grasp. She screamed and kicked at him, slapping at his
face with her hands. I shouted in anger and jumped at the werewolf, locking my
arms around his neck and slamming my knee into his side. He snarled and flung
his body forward, flipping me off him. I landed on my back, the air knocked out
of my lungs. Before I had a chance to recover, two other werewolves were on me,
grabbing at my arms and digging their claws in deep enough to draw blood. One
tore my daypack off my back. They hauled me to my feet and despite my vicious
kicking, started to drag me out of the forest. The werewolf carrying Marianne
ran ahead and vanished.

“Alex!”

But he only screamed amidst the
werewolf barking and growling. I slammed my heel into one of my captor’s knees.
He let out a howl and went down, releasing my arm. I spun around, trying to
dislodge myself from the other werewolf, but he only held on tighter, sinking
his claws deeper into my flesh. Behind us, Alex was unconscious, held between
two werewolves with another carrying his crossbow.

“Wolf!”

Wolf glanced over his shoulder at
me. His eyes were red. He faced off with several werewolves, in a half crouch,
arms out and fingers curled into claws. One of the werewolves lunged at him,
but the werewolf I’d kicked got back up and yanked me back around. Behind me, a
bout of snarling went up as leaves crunched and crackled in the fight.

I jerked and kicked, but they
weren’t so easily caught off guard again. They carried me into the open area
beyond the trees. Bright light dazzled my eyes. We’d emerged on a beach where
peach sand swept off to either side for miles. Just as suddenly, the sunlight
vanished as a huge fortress loomed ahead. It looked like it might have been
carved out of a single towering rock lodged on the beach the oceans had never
been able to erode. A strange assortment of poles with blackened debris beneath
them lined either side of the fortress. Then it hit me.

We’d arrived at the Impound.

I didn’t understand. Why were we at
the Impound? Why were werewolves at the Impound? Why had Wolf brought us this
far?

They dragged me inside the
structure. We passed through a hall lined with weapons; crossbows, swords,
knives, and clubs, all hanging on racks for quick access. I mapped out our
progress in my mind as we went. If we had the chance to escape, we’d need to
know the way out again, fast. We headed up through another hall to an open
chamber with a vaulted ceiling. It looked like it had been rearranged to suit
whoever now used it, wood piled in the corners and a chair set against one of the
walls. A massive fire pit burned in the center, the walls decorated with
tapestries depicting people standing before a castle or dead wolf after a hunt.
After another short series of halls, they hauled me into a huge circular room
with cells lining the walls. The walkway spiraled down one floor to another
area where a second fire pit burned. More tapestries hung from the walls around
it.

The werewolves stopped in front of
a cell with a door made of thick wooden planks. I kept a close eye on the lock.
They didn’t use keys. Instead, a complex set of metal bars attached the door to
the stone building. Too far away from the gaps in the boards to reach with a
hand. The werewolf worked at the bars.
Left, left, right, up.

I repeated the combination in my
head even as they shoved me into the cell and shut the door behind me. I glared
at them through the gaps as they left, ignoring the pain in my arms from their
claw marks. I paced along the door, making plans, discarding them, coming up
with new ones. Where had they taken Marianne? What had they done to Alex?

A few moments later, the clanking
of a cell lock came from the one next to mine. I pressed my face against the
door to try and see out.

“Alex? Is that you? Alex?”

But the only response I got was a
snap from a werewolf. I kicked the door in reply. Then I kicked it again out of
sheer frustration. Nothing I did involving Marianne ever went right. What the
hell kind of Guardian was I supposed to be? I started pacing again.

After another few minutes, the
werewolves returned and worked at the lock to my door. I stood ready. Were they
here to kill me or worse? Either way, I wasn’t going down without a fight. They
moved in slowly, eyeing me, ready for any move I might make.

The moment one stepped forward to
take my arm again, I swung my fist at him. But he easily grabbed my hand and
dragged me forward. The other werewolf seized my other arm, and once again I
was stuck between them. They pulled me out of the cell and back the way we’d
come when first entering the fortress, stopping once they reached the chamber
with the vaulted ceiling. The room had been empty the first time, but now a
handful of werewolves stood around like soldiers. Some of them wore gold ankle
collars, but not all. In front of the chair stood a woman. I gasped at the
sight of her. Her skin was almost as white as snow and her icy eyes narrowed at
the sight of me. Her obsidian hair was so long it touched the floor. She wore a
black dress that clung to her finger and spread out around her feet in a pool
of darkness. A kind of feral air seeped from her, yet she kept it masked behind
her porcelain face. I reached out with my senses. She knew magic. It lay
quietly in her, available for use any time she chose—and it was mean. Yet at
the same time it somehow felt twisted. Like it didn’t want to be there. But who
was she?

My werewolf captors came to a halt
several feet away from her. For several long moments, she merely stared at me,
assessing. Then she broke out into peals of laughter.

“
This?
This little thing is the
Guardian?”

From out of the shadows, a familiar
form materialized. “That’s her, my Mistress. The Guardian of the child. I must
say, she was quite a lot of trouble.”

Wolf. I gaped at him. No. No way. This
had to be some kind of ruse. Fake. He had to be pretending.

“Excellent, my lovely. She is a
fresh smelling thing, isn’t she? And smelling so much like wolves too.” She
smiled a smile that would turn ice glacial. “Did you have anything to do with
that?”

Wolf grinned. “I had to keep her
with me somehow.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded,
tugging at the werewolves holding me.

“I actually thought her brother was
the Guardian at first,” Wolf told the woman, ignoring me. “Until I heard it
straight from her mouth.”

A dark chill ran through me. The
old witch. She’d told me not to let Wolf know, and what had I done?

“Really?” asked the Mistress, who
seemed truly amused with this information. “She’s such an insignificant little
thing.”

“Come down here and I’ll show you
how insignificant I am,” I growled.

Her eyes glittered. “I shall enjoy
locking you away.”

“What do you mean?”

She stared at me, a slightly crazed
yet delighted look appearing on her face. “You’re the Guardian? And you didn’t
know?”

I didn’t answer. She laughed again.
I glanced at Wolf. What was his plan? He couldn’t really be on her side, could
he?

“You,” the Mistress said, “and your
little charge are only going to be in my way if I leave you around.” She took
several steps forward, her dark dress swishing with each movement. “I don’t
care how accurate the rumors are, I enjoy being what I am. So do all my
werewolves.”

She gestured around the room, met
with a chorus of howls. So that was it? She was a werewolf too? How did she
know magic if wolves didn’t mix well with it?

“I still don’t understand what this
has to do with me and Marianne,” I said.

If knives ever came out of
someone’s eyes, they would have come from hers. “I’ll not have the old curse
broken just because of some little girl. Some pathetic little human child. Humans
are the bane of this land. It should be ruled by wolves! I mean to make it so. My
pack and I will set out and kill every human we find, and the other packs will
join us. They shall become like us, and together we shall take the Kingdom of
Red!”

She raised her hands to the
ceiling, the werewolves around her howling again. They planned to take over the
land. The crazy bitch wanted to start a war. After a few moments, she breathed
out slowly, lowering her hands. She faced me again.