The Witch and the Werewolf Read online

  “Three silver rounds?”

  “Yeah,” Dutch said, guiding the big truck to a stop among the man vehicles, mostly off road types, parked around the church. “Why?”

  “How many did you shoot on the bridge?”

  “A couple. I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “Me too. And when you shoot one, they turn back into a man and die, right? One bullet equals one dead wolf. You shot that one three times in the chest and it lived?”

  “The priest said it was old and strong.”

  “I think,” Cassandra said, pulling Jeremy in tighter, “that the wolf you have is more powerful than all the wolves behind us. He has the power to destroy us all.”

  Father O’Leary waited for them at the entrance to his former church’s bunker. Beside the remaining foundation a ramp led up into the ship, through a hole cut in the hull. The ramp, and the hole, were big enough to drive a vehicle through. Men and women worked piling rubble up around both the ship and the foundation of the former church, piling concrete blocks, twisted iron, and smashed cars twelve feet high. Other men wedged debris under the ship’s hull, shoring it up. There were hundreds more people than had been there when he’d left just a few short days before.

  “Father,” Dutch said, taking the grinning man’s hand. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good to see you.”

  “And you as well, me boy. I worried after hearing so much gunfire to our east. I trust you were responsible for that?”

  Dutch nodded. “It’s a long story that I’ll be happy to tell you after some sleep and a shower. If something like that’s even possible.”

  “Of course it’s possible, though the water will have to be heated on a stove and poured over your head. We’ve made great strides in the last few days, but alas, we have not yet managed to get the Perseus’ plumbing up and running.”

  “The ship?”

  “Yes, me boy. The ship. Our salvation in these wastes. I’ll give you the nickel tour once you’re rested.” The man turned and appraised Cassandra. “You must be Cassandra Kent. It is my absolute pleasure to meet you,” he said, taking her hand, “But I fear your arrival here, with Mr. Dutch, foretells something ominous regarding your mother’s fate.”

  “She’s dead,” Cassandra said simply and Dutch winced. The girl was in a daze. She said the wolf was calling to her. Was it affecting her like this?

  “Oh dear lass, I am so sorry to hear that. Your mother was a dear friend of mine since,” the father paused, rubbing at his scraggly beard. “Dear me. I don’t rightly know how long it’s been I’ve known your mum. I fear what her loss means for us.”

  “She was a witch.”

  “Of course she was a witch. You’re a witch. Your family has been witches going back generations. Your great, great, great,” he paused, counting in the air, “well, it does not matter how many greats. One of your ancestors was even a founding member of the Witch Guard. You come from a long, prestigious line, my dear. Why would that surprise you?”

  “She never told me anything,” Cassandra said in a rush. “She never mentioned anything until the night the wolves took her. I didn’t know. I still don’t know. My body is doing things… I have these powers that I have no idea how to control. I can feel things…”

  “You feel the wolves, do you not?”

  She shook her head in sad agreement and again Dutch felt for her. He’d seen her in battle. Even untrained and inexperienced it came naturally to the girl. Whether she knew it or not she was one of those rare people who thrived on combat and was natural at it. With training, and her powers, she’d be a warrior queen. But there, her head held low, staring at the icy ground, she looked like a sad little teenager who’d lost everything and was left in a world that no longer cared. She looked tiny and frail and he wanted to scoop her up and take her away from all this.

  “I’m sorry for that. There isn’t anything I can do about that particular affliction,” the father said, taking her hand. “Your mother not only lived with the pack’s emotions, she used it to her advantage. Think how much good you can do knowing your enemy’s whereabouts and thoughts. And make no mistake, lass. They are your enemy. They will be your enemy until the end of days. Unless they are eradicated you will never again sleep a night in your life without looking over your shoulder. And that, my dear, is why we have the wolf here who is no doubt manipulating your thoughts; we will know where the alpha is. Once we know that, we will destroy this vile race forever.”

  The priest bowed. “Forgive me. I prattle on like an old woman. Please, rest, eat, and enjoy the safety while there is time. The wolves are not far behind you. I must see to our defenses. Use what time you have well. I fear the coming battle.”

  “Come on,” he told the girl. “Let’s find something to eat and a quiet place to get a nap.”

  “I don’t want to go with him,” Jeremy said adamantly.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s not right. I don’t know what he is, but I know he isn’t like us.”

  “What color?”

  “Deep purple,” the boy said. “Almost black.”

  “You know we’re putting a lot of faith in the boy’s ability,” Dutch said, still amazed at how easily the kid got around without eyes. The nuclear explosions of Wormwood had taken his eyes but given him something else and Dutch wasn’t entirely comfortable with that yet. “I don’t really know O’Leary from Adam, but I can tell you this. He saved the people in that bunker. And it wasn’t the rich and the famous. There weren’t any politicians in there. It was full of homeless people… junkies and whores. And then he’s built all of this,” he continued, annoyed at the kid, “in a couple of days. He’s taken in people from the outside and built those walls to protect this place.”

  “There still is something wrong with him,” Jeremy insisted. “I can see it. I don’t know what it means but it’s there. He’s not normal. He’s not…”

  “What Jeremy?” Cassandra demanded.

  “He’s not human.”

  Dutch sighed. The last two days had been hard on him. He was exhausted and said so. “Fine. He’s not human. Neither are the werewolves and the two of you together are even weirder than an entire pack of werewolves. Forget it for now. We’ll deal with it later. Right now I’m eating and sleeping. In that order.”

  Dutch started up the ramp into the ship, closely followed by Jeremy. Cassandra hung back.

  “I’ll catch up.”

  “You okay?” he asked the girl, knowing better.

  “You bet. Just go on in. I’ll find you later.”

  Against his better judgment he left without her. He wanted to pull her away from the wolf in the basement, but the thing was in her head. There wasn’t anything he could do besides support her later, if she needed it.

  Cassandra didn’t need anyone to tell her were the wolf was. She felt it in the core of her being just as she had since Worm Fall. The old wolf was so close; his thoughts beating like a dying star in her mind. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. She couldn’t do anything until she confronted the beast in her mind. Her hands shook with nervous anticipation as she descended the stairs.

  The basement was well lit but trashed like the survivors had been in a hurry carrying out its contents. Empty MRE wrappers and water bottles littered the floor. The room stank of human occupation. Across the wide basement was a solid silver door guarded by a man in a shoddy police officer’s uniform.

  “Hi,” she said with the best smile she could force.

  “Hello,” the man replied, obviously exhausted. “How can I help you?”

  “I need to go through that door,” she managed. The wolf’s emotions were pounding in her head. He could feel her as well. He wanted her to come through that door.

  “Yeah,” the cop told her. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. The thing behind that door is dangerous in a way you couldn’t understand. Father O’Leary said not to let anyone in.”

  Come to me, Cassandra, the wolf said in her
mind, his voice the clearest she’d ever heard it. I would see you.

  “You have no idea what I understand. You have no idea what I’ve seen in the last few days, what I’ve done. I really have to get in there,” she insisted but the former cop didn’t look like he was going to change his mind anytime soon.

  “No, little girl,” the man said. “That’s the big bad wolf. You don’t want anything to do with it.”

  She held her hand out, palm up, unsure of what she was doing. She felt the power coursing through her body and had no doubts that Jeremy would see that blue energy forming within her. A tiny blue flame leapt into existence, dancing on her outstretched hand. The guard looked on, eyes wide.

  “I am the big bad wolf,” she said, blowing the flame. A tiny blue fireball leapt from her hand and slammed into the wall, leaving a fist sized hole there.

  “What the…”

  “Open the door,” she said forcefully.

  “Yes ma’am,” the cop said, fumbling with the lock to the door. He was in a panic. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

  Cassandra stepped through the open doorway and into the dimly lit room. A couple of candles flickered with the door’s closing behind her.

  The wolf came to her and her perceptions of the beast, based on his invasion her mind, were wrong.

  The werewolf was not the withered old man she’d imagined. Instead he was a handsome thirty something year old with bulging muscles and hard lines. His hair was just starting to get shaggy and he had several day’s worth of beard on his face. He stared at her with piercing blue eyes that made her heart flutter and smiled with teeth so white she was sure they glowed in the dark.

  “Hello Cassandra,” the beast said, his voice full and rich, yet pained with the torture he’d been subjected to. “It is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

  The beast was inside a cage of silver bars six feet wide by six feet long. His arms were chained to the top with silver chains as were his legs at the bottom. His hard body was covered in cuts and burns and she knew, both from looking at him as well as him having lived in her mind for the last few days that he’d been constantly tortured with silver implements. He smiled at her, but the smile bordered on exhaustion. The silver had caused the skin around where it touched him to burn and smoke even as she watched it.

  “I am, however, sorry about the circumstances.”

  Cassandra didn’t answer. Instead she pulled the silver filled pistol from its holder and aimed it at the beast’s head. “You killed my mother. You’ve invaded my head. It’s time for you to die.”

  He did not try to argue. “I am sorry about your mother. Though long an adversary, I have nothing but the greatest respect for Eleanor Kent. She was a true warrior and, if it’s any comfort, the feral who took her recently saw his own demise. As for your thoughts… that I cannot explain. I’ve never felt anything like it. If you will pull that trigger and be sure to put the bullet here,” he said, pointing to the spot between his eyes, “You may be able to stop the connection and do me the service of killing me once and for all.”

  Cassandra had wanted nothing more than to kill wolves since Worm Fall and her mother’s murder. She was getting good at destroying those who’d destroyed her mother. She’d thought of little else besides killing this wolf since he’d first stirred in the corners of her mind. She’d expected a snarling beast, easy for her to kill. She hadn’t expected a thoughtful, sorrowful man.

  “I don’t understand. You want to die?”

  The wolf nodded in agreement. “I came to this city to do just that. One last night of relishing in the warmth of your people and then a long, endless sleep. I was taken to this place before I could manage it, though.”

  “I still don’t understand. Why do you want to die?”

  The wolf man sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it to someone so young.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “Nor do I mean it that way. I am, however, thousands of years older than you. I’ve seen the rise and fall of my people. They are rising once more, but I do not want to see what comes of this new dark kingdom. They are not the innocent wolves in the meadow. They have become twisted, sick with blood lust. I’ve grown weary of watching my lovers grow old and die before my eyes and my children become monsters. I’ve seen the good of your people, but more importantly, I’ve seen the bad. I do not relish living in this new world created by Wormwood.”

  Cassandra’s finger tightened on the trigger again. Fine, she thought. The thing does want to die. I can make that happen. But she could not squeeze the trigger far enough to make it and her hands shook as she tried.

  “You do not want to see what is coming,” the wolf told her. “War like this world has not seen for thousands of years is on the horizon. It will not just be my kind. It will not just be the wolves. Every dark species has been waiting for this day and they will all crawl from the shadows and hunt your people to extinction. Man has been the king for far too long, now, and Wormwood has brought the change those hiding in the dark needed. The scales are tipping, Cassandra. I suggest you pull that trigger and then turn the pistol on yourself. It would be the easiest, most humane way.”

  He wanted her to not only kill him, but commit suicide. It seemed ludicrous. Cassandra tensed and tried to pull the trigger but couldn’t. “Damn it,” she growled at him. “Why can’t you be full of fur and teeth? Why can’t you be a wolf right now?”

  “Would it help if I transformed for you? The process is not pleasant to watch and these silver bindings will make it… difficult.”

  “No,” she said sadly, the pistol wavering in her hand. “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why?” the wolf asked, genuinely curious. “Why can’t you kill me? I am your enemy, aren’t I? At least that’s what your mother has raised you to believe.”

  “Until Worm Fall I didn’t even know werewolves were a thing. I mean, I know in the movies and what not, but in real life… no.”

  “You did not know your mother was a witch?”

  “No.”

  “I think it’s my turn not to understand.”

  She felt its confusion. The wolf had been so sure she was coming to kill it and, when she couldn’t, his situation changed.

  “If you can’t kill me at least set me free.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Is this right?” he said, pulling at the shackles that still burned his flesh. “Is this who you are? You’ve felt what they’ve done to me. Every time I think your species is finished with learning new ways to inflict pain you think of another.”

  “You are a werewolf. Not six hours ago I watched your kind devour an entire survivor community,” she said, not mentioning that the people who’d run Bridge Town deserved exactly what they’d gotten. “You expect me to turn the most powerful of your kind that I’ve met free?”

  “Those are mere feral wolves,” the wolf man told her. “Little more than beasts, countless generations removed from their sire. They are so far from the original bloodlines that I barely feel them. My connection with you, for whatever reason, is stronger.”

  “And just who is that sire? My mother and the priest say if he were to die, your entire species would just disappear. Is it really that easy?”

  The wolf leaned forward, grinning. “If you’ll pull that trigger we can finally put that particular theory to the test.”

  He was the alpha? How is it possible? Her hesitation faded and she finally squeezed the trigger. The big gun barked in her hand, her aim true. The bullet punched a hole between the wolf’s eyes and his head jerked back. Brain and bone splattered the silver walls behind him as he slumped down, against the chains.

  The cop burst into the room, his own firearm drawn. “Is everything all right? There was a gun shot.” He looked past her, into the cell. “Crap. The priest is going to be pissed now. What have you done?”

  “I’ve ended them,” she said sadly as the connection to the wolf was severed in an instant. She felt a piece of her fade with
it. “There will be no more wolves.”

  Alarms began blaring throughout the complex.

  “What is that for?” she asked the cop, holstering her gun.

  “Werewolves are attacking,” he said, running for the stairs.

  She stared at the corpse of the wolf in disbelief. They’d all been wrong, she thought. So very wrong.

  “So much for that theory.”

  Church of the Dead Wolf

  The interior of the ship surprised Dutch and he knew then where all of the priest’s supplies had come from in such a short amount of time. The basement had been loaded to the ceiling with supplies, but it hadn’t been enough to feed the large number of people now working around what everyone had taken to calling the Church of the Dead Wolf for more than a couple of days. The cargo ship had been packed to the brim with supplies of all sorts. There were stacks of Chinese generators next to pallets of shrink wrapped noodles along with hundreds of tons of pallets marked FEMA. The vast holds of the ship were packed with similar items and Dutch had to wonder what sort of cosmic luck the preacher had in order for something like this to crash only a feet away from where the entrance to his bunker was.

  “Wow,” Jeremy mused as they pushed through the people in the ship. “Where did they all come from?”

  There were more people inside the ship than out. Many were simply recovering, lying on mats on the floor, eating, and sleeping. Most, however, worked like ants, cataloging the ship’s supplies and rearranging the cargo areas to squeeze in more people. Dutch and Jeremy eventually found a makeshift cafeteria and the smell of cooking food just about doubled him over.

  They stood in line with the survivors from the bridge battle. The men and women were dirty and bruised up from the ride in the back of the eighteen wheeler, but Dutch was happy to see some of them smiling. He even heard some laughter. Man will go on, he thought. You can throw a cosmic rock at us, blot out the sun, and attack us with killer werewolves but we’ll survive. He felt good after the mostly successful mission and was happy to see other survivors who weren’t trying to eat him.