The Witch and the Werewolf Read online

  Another wolf barked and rushed at him, leaping on all fours across the frozen ground. He shot it twice in the chest, spinning it around. The thing was still moving by the time he’d advanced on it and he shot it once more, just to be sure. That left three in the magazine before he had to reload.

  He watched as a teenage girl crawled out from the lighted confines of the basement, an M4 in hand. She was letting the rifle rip on full auto, which he frowned on, but smiled when he saw the wolves scattering away. She turned the rifle to him, never taking her eye from the site. She was pretty young but he knew someone had showed her, at one point, how to use the rifle. Good, he thought. That will make this a lot easier.

  “Hiya,” Dutch said with a wave. “I’m looking for Eleanor Kent. Would she happen to be home?”

  Cassandra walked backwards carefully down the stairs and kept the rifle on the man as he followed her down into the basement. He wasn't looking at her, though, and instead was staring out into the dark wastes, sighting through the scope of his rifle. She wasn’t exactly sure what to think of him. He was very cute from what she could tell through all the muck and grime he was coated in. The bulky winter gear hid what she was sure was a lean, fit body. The man was a soldier, no doubt, and had taken three of the wolves with silver laced ammunition. That fact alone indicated they were, at least in some part, on the same side.

  "Who sent you?" she asked, wishing he'd look at her and acknowledge the danger he was in. She was the one with the gun on him. "Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you."

  The soldier turned to her and smiled. Beneath the grime, icicles hanging from his clothing, mud and blood, he could have been pretty cute. Stop it, she ordered herself. This isn't the time for that. And then he smiled a smile that melted her.

  “You’re cute. I’ll give you that,” he said with a lopsided grin. “But it's hard to look at you and keep watch at the same time. Now if you'll get your stuff together, we'll get out of here before the big bad wolves come back."

  "Who are you, exactly?"

  "Oh, sorry," the soldier said, smiling again. "You can call me Dutch. Father O'Leary sent me. I’m here to rescue you.”

  The schoolboy hero tone ended any creeping curiosity she had about the soldier out of uniform. “I don’t need rescuing. I was doing pretty well on my own.”

  “You were,” he agreed without reservation. “But they were coming in before long. I don’t know how long you could have held them off. I’ve fought one already… they are tough.”

  “I’d have been fine,” she said, unsure why she was so miffed.

  “Where's your mother?” Dutch asked, changing the subject. “We need to get out of here."

  "You're here for my mother?"

  "Yes, and you. Is she near? We’re in a bit of a time crunch here.”

  The priest from the Church of the Dead Wolf had sent someone to get her mother. What sort of plan did had they hatched for the end? For the thousandth time that day she wished her mother were still alive to guide her.

  "And if you wouldn't mind not shooting me, while you get her, I'll keep an eye out here just in case they come back.

  "She's dead." She wanted to cry. Helping Jeremy had kept her focused, kept her strong. But now she just wanted to sit down and cry and forget everything that had happened.

  "Oh," he said, turning back to the dark wastes. “I’m sorry.”

  "That's it? Oh? That's all you’re going to say?” She was angry. Her mother was dead, the world had ended, and all this guy had to say was ‘oh’. He was cute, no doubt, but he didn’t have the right to blow off her mother’s death.

  “Cass,” Jeremy said softly, bringing her tirade to an abrupt stop by using her nickname, something he hadn’t known. “It’ss okay.”

  Her hands shook, both from the werewolf attack and from the appearance of the armed stranger. It was reaction, nothing more. Strangers were quite literally danger now and her body had responded in kind.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sullenly, not lowering the gun. “But the world’s over and all you can do is stare out there into the wastes. And you come in here asking about my mother…”

  “I understand,” he said, still not looking at her. “And I am sorry about your mother. But I’ll be honest here. A week ago I was just an ordinary working guy,” he began. “I’ve got a job, bills… you know, life. Then I’m hired by this crazy Irish priest to capture a werewolf. I didn’t actually believe in werewolves. It doesn’t really matter why I took the job. I did. And you know what? The damn thing was a werewolf. Eight feet tall and full of teeth and angry. A werewolf. I couldn’t believe it. But I did my job. I got the werewolf to the priest and then we weathered the end of the world. So here I am, end of the world, and in need of a job. So he sends me for your mother. I get here across a ruined city, get shot at, nearly eaten by the aforementioned wolves, come to rescue you, and I get lip. I’m sorry that I don’t cry with you for your dead mother. The world died last night. It’s a bad ol’ world that’s just gotten worse. Everybody’s lost someone.”

  “Why I…” she was in shock that he’d talk to her like some spoiled little rich girl. All she wanted was a little sympathy. But deep down she knew he was right. She’d taken the wrong time to lash out at someone who’d gone through god knew what in order to come help her.

  “I came here for your mother. She’s dead, so there, mission done. I’ll just be on my way.”

  “Cass,” Jeremy said again. “He really is a good guy. I can see it.”

  That drew a glance from the man but he didn’t question he boy’s ability to see without eyes.

  Cassandra took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I understand you’ve been through as much as we have. It’s all…”

  The man looked around at her, eyeing her up and down once before forcing a smile. He looked exhausted. “No, I’m sorry. Let it go. We do need to move, though, if we’re going to get out of here before they come back.”

  Jeremy stood, holding the blanket around him, and went to the door, staring to the south. “They’re regrouping. I think they’re going to bring the females this time. There are…” he paused, counting, “thirty five of them, including the little ones.”

  “How in the world can you know that?” the man asked.

  “I can see them.”

  “You don’t have eyes,” he said, perplexed.

  “It’s a brand new world,” Cassandra said, scrambling to find the boys clothes. “What do we take?”

  The soldier turned around once more and quickly scanned the basement. “Ammunition, water, and a few of those MRE packs. Put on as many layers of clothing as you can get on and still move. Oh… hey… is that silver ammunition?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra replied.

  “Pass me a few mags. Get the boy dressed and let’s go. They’ll be back soon.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Cassandra asked, after her initial anger faded relieved to have someone else in charge for a change. She was also relieved that there was no mention of leaving Jeremy behind.

  “We can’t go the way I came. The ship channel is frozen now and, even it wasn’t, the water’s running the wrong way. I don’t think the Washburn Tunnel will be any better. I’m guessing it’s a solid block of ice by now. So that only leaves the 610 bridge over what’s left of the ship channel.”

  “It’s still standing?” Jeremy asked.

  “Yup,” the soldier responded. “But it’s not empty and there’s going to be a problem there.”

  “What problem?”

  “The bridge is being held by bad guys. But it’s the only way through.”

  “How do you know they are bad guys?” she asked.

  “I watched theme execute survivors. I can only imagine they’re thinning the ranks so whatever supplies they have will last longer. I took a couple of them out, in the process, but there were a lot of them. It won’t be easy, but it’s dark out, now. And I think it’s going to stay that way. That and we have the element of surprise. I doubt they’ll b
e expecting me to come back.”

  “But they’re just regular people?” Cassandra asked. “Not werewolves?”

  “Yup,” the soldier tapped the rifle in his hands. “Bring regular ammunition too.”

  Bridge Town Blues

  She sensed fear and panic among the males as they returned to where the females huddled with the cubs against the bitter cold in a hollow, trying to keep out of the raging wind. Ice was forming in their fur and the cold was all penetrating. The alpha was furious, though, and she watched as it tore into several of the defenders.

  The other wolves cowered, tails between their legs, heads held low.

  The alpha was angry that one little girl had held them off. The hated silver had torn through their ranks and many of the newer pack members had fallen.

  Dutch paused a quarter mile out from the slaughter at the base of the bridge. He’d been maintaining a furious pace through the ruins, barely allowing the young woman and boy a chance to catch their breath. The wolves were near, howling in the night, but they were going to have to rest before they attempted what he was planning. If he got lucky, he thought, maybe both problems would take care of themselves without him having to do much. The lights of the bridge glowed in the distance and the girl stared at them longingly.

  “I’m Dutch, by the way,” he said, offering his hand. “We haven’t had much of a chance to do a proper meet and greet.”

  “Cassandra Kent,” the girl responded with a heartfelt smile, taking his hand. “I guess it’s nice to meet you.”

  Cassandra was exquisite, he thought. In another time and another place he’d be interested in the girl. The way her dark black hair whipped about the pale skin of her face took him aback. Her piercing blue eyes were bright, even in the dim light they found themselves in. The girl hadn’t done much to change his initial impression that she was a spoiled little princess more concerned about herself than anything else. That she hadn’t whined during his forced march through the ruins was a plus.

  “And you are?” he said, turning to the eyeless boy. The kid creeped him out to no end. How the boy could see to take his hand, however meekly, was beyond him.

  “I’m Jeremy,” the boy said.

  “And somehow you can see, Jeremy,” Dutch said. “Even though you don’t have any eyes.”

  The boy shrugged. “Something happened during Worm Fall. My dad made me look at it and then, well, this.”

  “You said I was a good guy. How do you know that? How do you know I’m not taking you somewhere to kill you?”

  “Are you taking us someplace to kill us?” Cassandra asked, though the even expression on her face didn’t change. “You could have tried that in the bunker.”

  He liked how she said ‘try’, implying that though he might have tried, he might not have gotten away with it. “No, of course not. I’m doing exactly what I told you I was doing. But there’s no way for the kid to know that.”

  “I’m not a kid. I’m almost nine.”

  “Right. So how do you see me?”

  “What does it matter?” Cassandra asked, becoming annoyed. “You said it yourself. Three days ago you didn’t believe in werewolves. Now you do and there are more than just the wolves. I’m apparently a witch. Jeremy… he’s some kind of wizard or something.”

  “I like that,” the boy added. “A wizard. Like Harry Potter.”

  “Right. So there are werewolves, witches, and wizards. It is what it is. We can’t do anything about it now,” she continued.

  “Whoa there, missy,” Dutch said. “I wasn’t trying to start an argument. I was just asking how he did it. Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down.”

  Dutch threw up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here.” It was always his luck. He was forever getting tied up with the wrong sort of girls. Cassandra Kent had bad idea written all over her and yet he couldn’t get over how cute she looked angry. “Let’s just stick to the plan.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “We’re going to start at this end of the bridge and shoot our way to the other end. Easy.” He knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as he made it out to be. It was going to be a tough slog up the bridge and over, but hopefully the ruckus would draw the wolves out and then the survivors on the bridge would be more worried about the wolves than they would be he and the kids.

  “And why should I shoot these people? They’ve never done anything to me.”

  “I told you they were bad people.”

  “And all we have to go on is your word.”

  “He isn’t lying, Cass,” Jeremy said. “They aren’t just bad people. They are evil people. I can see them from here.”

  The girl hesitated. She obviously put great stock in the boy’s words. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like the best plan there is. Maybe we could go across the river, instead. It’s iced over.”

  “Who knows if that ice is stable? I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any desire to go for a swim in the drink,” Dutch told her and then sighed. “Look, you don’t have to like me. But you can trust me here. I’ve been in this business a long time. Over that bridge, through these clowns, is the best way. They aren’t professional soldiers. If they were, I wouldn’t have it made here this time. We get over that bridge and I’ll have you at the Church in less than a day. Then we can go our separate ways.”

  “Fine,” the girl said. “Let’s get going, then. I’m sick of the wet and the cold.”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell that, at least when he’d left, the Church was also wet and cold. Maybe they got the ship open, he thought. He had a feeling the world was going to be wet and cold for a long, long time.

  Cassandra was cold, wet, and a little annoyed with the cocky soldier sent to rescue her. Rescue her mother, she silently corrected herself, as she sat huddled next to Jeremy stirring the unidentifiable contents of one of the MREs. Dutch, as the man called himself, insisted they eat and rest before heading to the bridge. Attacking the bridge was more like it, she thought, and wondered if the man had a personal grudge against the survivors there. Still, Jeremy had said the man was telling the truth and he could see people on the bridge. The majority were okay, as he said, but there were a few in their midst that were absolutely evil. She felt it as well, though she’d been trying to block out the external feelings. But even then how well did she know the boy? They’d survived a couple of nights together but what did that mean? Why was she having all these doubts now? She wished for the hundredth time in an hour that her mother was there.

  She tried to block the wolf in the Church of the Dead Wolf out, but couldn’t. His pain was her pain and she wanted to scream with each and every step.

  Focus, she told herself. Ignore the pain. Move on. One foot and then the other.

  Jeremy seemed to be taking to the man, which also annoyed her. He was her charge, not his.

  Stop it, she silently ordered herself. Do not do this now. Get through this. Survive.

  Jeremy snored quietly and she couldn’t help but laugh. Here they were, in the middle of a desolate ruin, and the boy was snoring. She was as exhausted, but couldn’t let herself sleep. Not now, not when there was so much danger about.

  Dutch seemed to sense her thoughts. “You should sleep. We probably won’t get the chance again.”

  “They’re behind us still,” she said quietly.

  “I know.”

  “And there’s one ahead of us, isn’t there?”

  Dutch nodded in agreement. “But how could you know that?”

  “I feel him.”

  “Like a sixth sense or something?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than that.”

  “Like what?”

  She didn’t really want to talk about it. She couldn’t put into words the feeling of having someone else in your mind. “I just know. I can feel him the same way I can feel the others.”

  Dutch nodded and seemed to accept the explanation without fu
rther addition. She shivered in the cold. It was dark and cold and the ground was covered in ice and black snow. Dutch scooted closer to her, draping his blanket over her. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to get fresh or just helping, but his added body warmth, along with his rich, earthy scent, was pleasant. She leaned in close.

  “A day ago I was ready to die,” she told him, unsure where the speech was coming from. “I’d accepted it. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but I was okay with it. Now… I want to survive more than anything else.”

  “What happened to your mother… it was the wolves, wasn’t it?”

  She shook her head in sad agreement. “They killed her. I didn’t even know they were real. I didn’t know my mother was a witch. I was such a silly girl, only thinking about me. You know what I was doing during Worm Fall? I was trying to get in a boy’s pants. So much death and destruction in the world and all I could think about was going out with a bang.”

  It felt good to talk about things she couldn’t say to the much younger Jeremy. And she didn’t particularly care if Dutch listened or not. She just wanted to say it.

  “I don’t see a lot wrong with that. If I’d have had someone I cared about, I guess I would have wanted to spend the end with them as well.”

  “You don’t have a significant other?”

  “Naw,” he began, his southern accent playing heavily, “there wasn’t anyone. I never slowed down long enough to meet someone, much less the right someone.”

  “You were a soldier before.”

  “Yup. Among other things. Whatever the job was, though, it generally involved bullets and people shooting at me. So, at least for me, not much has changed.”

  “Everything’s changed,” Cassandra told him. “Werewolves are real and my mother was apparently a pretty powerful witch.”