Magic Stars (Grey Wolf Book 1) (7 page)

He still didn’t like it.

They circled the former industrial park, drawing a wide arc around it. Adams would expect them to come from the southwest. They approached from the north instead. The wind blew from the south, and he liked being upwind of his prey. They hid Peanut in the nearby ruins. With her backpack gone, Julie resorted to her backup bag, a small satchel she carried on her back.

From above, the walls looked shorter. Up close, some rose as high as ten feet. Giant mushrooms shaped like five-feet-high bay boletes, with pale blue caps the size of large umbrellas, clustered by the walls, their pores radiating a pale pink glow. The odd dark texture he’d seen from the top of the crumbling building turned out to be leaves—strange, purple-black plants no more than five inches tall, each a bunch of triangular leaves on short stalks. They blanketed the ground completely, spreading from the ruins like a puddle of spilled ink in an almost perfect circle, and they had to pick their way through thirty yards of them to get to the solid asphalt. He’d almost stepped on a rusty jagged spike sticking out of the dirt. Julie followed his footsteps, trusting his senses and another walking stick she picked up. Even so, they were barely ten yards in, and she’d stumbled once already.

The plants stank too. A heavy metallic scent that sat low, pooling near the ground. His nose would get used to it eventually, but for now he went scent-blind.

“Stop,” Julie whispered.

A needle of alarm pierced him. Derek froze in midstep, his foot hovering above the ground, carefully stepped back, and raised his hand. She put the walking stick into it. He crouched and used the stick to push the leaves aside. A metal bear trap lay open among the leaves, the old-fashioned kind with a pressure plate and heavy-duty steel jaws armed with metal teeth. A chain stretched from the trap, snaking its way between the leaves. He glanced in that direction and saw an old, concrete power post. It had to be fastened around it. He’d seen these traps before. They weighed over fifty pounds, and the metal teeth would go straight through the bone.

“Adams did something,” Julie whispered. “There is a blue stain of magic on the trap. It’s faint and hard to see, but I’ve got it now. It’s not witch magic; it’s something else. Something really old. The whole field is seeded with them. Let me take the point.”

They were sitting ducks out there. The faster they went through, the better.

He nodded.

A whine tore through the air, and a sharp spike of pain punched into his chest, exploding into white-hot, mind-numbing agony. Silver. The poison bloomed inside him, the agony ripping at him, spreading too fast. He didn’t waste time glancing at the wooden shaft protruding from above his heart. Dropping flat would do no good. No cover.

The second arrow whined, only half a second behind the first. He thrust himself in front of Julie. It sank into his stomach. Silver exploded inside him. The detonation of hurt almost took him to his knees.

“Run!” she yelled at him.

If he tried to run back, they would be finished. Too much open ground behind them. They had to run forward, toward the bowman and to the shelter of the brick walls. If he pulled Julie behind him, she couldn’t keep up. If he carried her in front of him, she would get shot. All of this flashed in his head in a torturous instant. He dropped, his back to her, grabbed her legs, shoved her on his back, and dashed forward to the ruins just as the third arrow sliced into the ground where he’d stood a moment ago. That was the only way the bulk of his body could shield her.

“Right!”

He turned right, sharp, almost falling, and sprinted. The pain ate at him from the inside, devouring his innards with burning fangs.

Another arrow whined and missed.

“Left! More left! Right! Straight!”

He shot out of the field of leaves into the shelter of a brick wall and smashed into it, unable to stop himself. The old bricks shuddered but held. He barely felt the impact. The fire inside him consumed all other pain. The silver poisoning spread as the virus that nourished his body died in record numbers. His legs shook, and he couldn’t stop the trembling. The pain was spreading too fast. The arrows had been coated with silver powder.

He grasped the arrow shaft in his chest, focused on the brilliant spike of agony inside him, and pushed, forcing his dying muscles to obey. Julie’s hand closed over his. He let go, and she pulled the arrow gently, carefully. His body fought him, trying to escape the pain. The world hovered on the edge of blackness. He snarled. The white spike vanished.

“Next,” she said, grasping the second arrow, but he was already pushing with clenched teeth. It came free, but the suffering remained.

“Derek?” She looked into his eyes.

“Powder,” he ground out.

Her face went white.

They had to move. They were too exposed here, and the shooter knew exactly where they’d fallen. He forced himself to his feet.

“Wait.” She dug in her bag.

“No time.” He pulled her up and leaned to glance around the wall. The night was empty. He moved, running quiet and fast. The silver burned its way through his veins. There was no time to expel it now. His body would either overcome it or die trying.

He ducked into the shadows, weaving his way through the maze of half-walls, aware of Julie next to him. They had to get to shelter, a higher ground, somewhere he could collapse for the few minutes he’d need to bleed himself. Somewhere hidden.

He smelled pungent smoke of burning herbs, too layered to parse into components. A thicker odor, dirty and hot, overlaid it. Some sort of animal, and more than one. Three, no four distinct scent trails, and below it all another scent. He took a whiff of it and recoiled. The scent was pure fear. It hit him deep in the gut, squeezing. He breathed in shallow quick breaths, trying to get a grip against the thought-killing primal panic.

Julie gasped. He turned. They’d come far enough to see around the corner of the larger wall. Beyond it, in a clearing, a circle smoldered on the ground, the scorched ground still smoking. Julie moved toward it before he could stop her. The revolting scent grew thicker. He followed, trying to shut down the terror snarling in his mind. The wall on their right ended, and Julie darted across the space. He cursed inwardly and followed.

She knelt by the circle, sheltered from view by the corner of the building. Charms and bundles of herbs hung from the bricks, each strung by a wet thread that smelled like flesh.

A wooden pole rose from the ground just outside the circle. Dead animals hung on it, each nailed to the wood with a long iron nail. A rat, a squirrel, a cat, and above them a wolf head smeared in fresh blood. Above the head, an arrow protruded from the wood. The arrowhead looked crude, almost ancient.

The wolf head stared at him with dead eyes, as if saying,
“Hey buddy. Don’t fret. You and I are the same. There’s no pain where you’re going.”

Great. He had to bleed himself before the pain dragged him under or he started seeing things that weren’t there.

“He summoned something,” Julie whispered, her eyes wide. “He killed a wolf and summoned something very old.”

He pointed at the herbs. “Are those wolf guts?”

“Yes.”

A deep eerie howl rolled through the ruin. He jerked.
Run! Run now! He had to go. Dogs were coming and they would run him to ground. He was in the open, exposed, but he could outrun them if only he ran now, fast and hard, into the woods. . . .

Julie grabbed his face with her fingers. “Look at me,” she whispered, her words urgent and fast. “Look at me!”

He pushed her hands away, but she put them back, her fingers cold on his skin. She caught his gaze. He stared into her brown irises.

“Derek! He summoned a hunter. The animals on the pole are your prey, and you are the hunter’s prey. This whole place is one giant magic trap, and it’s trying to make you act in your assigned role. The hunter will sic his hounds, the wolf will run, and the hunter will chase and kill it. It’s the way things were done for thousands of years, but you’re not all wolf.”

Another howl cut at him, like a sharp blade slicing at the nape of his neck.
Woods . . .

Her hands held his face, her eyes two bottomless pools. “You’re human. You’re not all wolf. You don’t have to run. You’re human. Look at me. You’re Derek. If you run now, you’ll die.”

If he ran, she couldn’t keep up.

“You’re human, Derek.”

Her voice severed the welling panic. He felt reason returning slowly, slipping through pain and instinct. The things that howled would find them soon, and he was in no shape to fight. “We have to get to shelter.”

She let him go. “If you run, the spell will lock on you, and you won’t be able to break away. Don’t run, Derek.”

“I won’t.”

He turned around, fighting dizziness. A building—an old warehouse— loomed above the ruins to the right. It was obvious, but he didn’t care. They needed shelter. He pointed to it. She nodded.

A sharp, triumphant howl sliced through the night. A hound was feet away, and it had just caught their scent.

TO THE LEFT, THE WALLS CAME together under a sharp angle, leaving only a narrow gap, half-choked by rubble. Anywhere else would put them into the open. He pointed to it.

Julie reached into her sack and pulled out a plastic bag of yellow powder. He took a deep breath and thrust his hoodie over his nose and mouth. She tossed the handful of wolfsbane into the air and backed toward him. They slipped into the gap. It terminated in a solid wall less than ten feet away. To the right, another wall. Above them, metal bars crossed. He could break them, but not without making noise. They were trapped in the twelve-by-twelve-feet space.

He went to ground. Julie lowered herself next to him. They peered through the gaps between broken bricks and dirt. Something grunted low and deep just behind the corner. Something big.

Derek lay completely still. The silver had eaten a hole in his chest and was trying to reach his heart.

Another grunt, harsh, loud. A beast ran into the open, huge, at least three hundred pounds and covered with long, coarse brown fur. In a bad light, he’d mistake it for a boar: It had the bulk, the shape, and the enormous boar jaws armed with tusks and massive teeth. But it had no hooves. Its legs terminated in clawed paws.

He had no idea if the wolfsbane would work on it.

The boar-hound snarled under its breath, sucking in the air. Small vicious eyes stared, unblinking. The creature took a step closer to the gap.

Next to him Julie held completely still. She couldn’t take a hound. She’d need a spear. The tomahawks wouldn’t do it. He had to fix himself fast or neither of them would get out alive.

Another step.

Another.

He reached for his knife.

The boar-hound inhaled, searching for their scent, and recoiled. It snorted, pawed at its nose, snarled, and squealed like a pig.

His ears caught the sound of heavy hoofbeats drawing near.

The boar-hound grunted, circling the smoldering ring, trying to get away from the wolfsbane.

A massive shaggy horse came into view, carrying a rider. Derek’s view gave him a glimpse of a leather boot and a leg in brown pants. Derek dipped his head, trying to get a better look. The hunter wore leather. Big, at least six eight, larger, broader, probably stronger than a normal human. A hooded cloak of wolf fur shielded his back. The invisible hackles between Derek’s shoulders stood on end.

The hunter turned, showing his face. Around thirty, white, long brown hair. Hard. Weather-bitten. Light eyes. A long ragged scar crossing the nose bridge. Something with claws had marked him, but must’ve died before it finished the job. Derek bared his teeth. He’d make him choke on that fur.

 A tall bow of wood and bone hung over the hunter’s shoulder. The hunter raised an arm shielded by leather. A shriek tore through the night, and a bird dropped from the sky like a stone and landed on the arm. Ugly, bearded, big, with a vicious beak. Didn’t look like any bird he’d ever seen.

The hunter studied the boar-hound, then raised his head and surveyed the area. His gaze passed over their shelter. He peered into the gap. Derek looked into his eyes. Magic rolled over him in a dark cold wave, dousing the agony of silver with ice, and he saw a long, frozen winter night under the moon. He felt the cold snow under his paws. He smelled his own blood, bright and hot, as it fell onto the snow, and heard the long, undulating howl of hungry hounds.

This is the way it always was. This is the way it had to be now. He had to run, run into the trees, before the arrows and hounds found him.

Nice try, asshole.

The urge to run was overwhelming now. It was taking all of his will to just stay still.

A moment dripped by. Derek waited. He was a wolf. He had all the patience in the world.

The hunter whistled softly through his teeth. The boar-hound shook its head and moved on. The hunter turned away, tossed the bird back into the night sky, and the massive horse resumed its steady walk.

They lay still for another three minutes before they quietly slipped out of the gap. Julie grabbed his hand, pointed to the pole, to herself, and up.

Lift me.

He grasped her legs and held her up. She plucked the arrow from the pole and they melted into the night.

THE BIG BUILDING GAPED OPEN, its front wall gone, scattered in pieces on the ground. Half its roof was missing, but the back offered shelter. He was limping now, running slow even for a human.

“Almost there,” Julie whispered.

He squeezed one last burst of movement from his body. He was shutting down.

“Almost there,” she repeated.

He followed her across the dirty floor to the metal staircase leading up, up the stairs and to the far corner of the empty building. He sagged to the ground. She dropped beside him, yanked a small knife out of the sheath on her waist, and pulled his hoodie off. Her eyes went wide.

“It’s over your neck.”

He knew that already. The flesh over his neck and chest felt dead. When she touched it, he felt no pressure. The skin on his chest had turned duct-tape grey.