27. The Stag and the Wolf #2
The lycanthrope stood on its hind legs; its abnormally long limbs dripped claws and coarse auburn fur. Matri had once warned of a huntress friend who’d had the misfortune of stumbling upon a lycanthrope den. ‘ By the time you see it, you’re already dead ,’ Matri had lamented.
“Spade?” I begged again. This time I dared a quick glance over my shoulder, knowing that could be the moment the creature lunged for my neck—but even more terrifying—I discovered I was alone. Spade Blackthorne had brought me to a lycanthrope’s den and abandoned me.
Had he lied and manipulated to get me here only to leave me for dead?
Anger roiled in my chest. I should have seen it coming. “Fuck him,” I cursed, reaching toward my thigh, only coming up with an empty holster.
Oh, that’s right, that asshole had taken my dagger.
Showing my palms in surrender, I winced under the lycanthrope’s gaze as its snout lowered, sniffing the top of my head. The creature had to be at least nine feet of muscle and reddish fur. “Hi Wander,” I tried to say, though I was trembling. “My name is Rumor.”
The lycanthrope dropped to all fours with a thud that shook the ground—startling me. He sniffed at my fallen blooms as I stood with shaking palms. “I hope it’s okay if I harvest of few of those?”
Please don’t be offended. Please don’t be offended.
Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me.
Wander nudged the wolfsbane with his snout, pushing the flowers onto the tops of my boots, before flopping onto the grass and rolling over onto his back—looking at me expectantly.
I gathered up the flowers, shoving them into the pockets of my skirt. “Ah… would you like me to… rub your belly?”
The lycanthrope’s tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.
Inching closer, I extended my hand, still wary it may be bitten off, and rubbed his belly.
Wander wiggled back and forth, pleased with the scratches I offered.
My shoulders eased with relief. He wasn’t going to eat me or at least not in that moment.
Smiling sanguinely, I murmured with forced cheer, “I’m going to kill Spade Blackthorne for this. Murder him very, very slowly.”
Wander’s ear twitched, and I jumped back as he hopped back up onto all fours, bending into a stretch and yawn. So many teeth revealed themselves in that yawn. Long, pointed, scary teeth.
Taking a step back, I attempted to sidestep the den, so I could continue into the woods to find…
fox-something and white fur of… something…
I couldn’t exactly remember at the moment—not with the glowing eyes of a killer lycanthrope of legend watching my every move.
“Well, it was a blast meeting you, Wander. I’m just going to tiptoe into the woods for a moment… ”
With a pounce of energy, Wander jumped by my side, squatting. Inching away, I tried to usher him away. “You stay here.”
In a very human-like manner, he shook his head.
With a sigh, I gave in. “Fine, you can come—just don’t eat me, please.”
The lycanthropy pushed past brush, clearing my path easily.
Wander proved useful as a companion, as creepy looking as he was.
Too large, limber, and lanky to be a common wolf, his body was awkward and malformed by centuries of twisted enchantments.
Every so often, I’d glance up and see his drooling fangs hanging over his maw and shiver.
I pulled the ripped page from my bra and inspected the white flowers.
Fox Flame and White Stag Hair were my last ingredients.
Star Anise had promised they’d be near, so I continued my search, Wander’s heavy breathing keeping me company. Finally, a round clearing appeared, littered with pale flowers.
Triple checking the ripped page, I confirmed the tiny little orange and yellow blooms to be Fox Flame.
The risible had said stag hair would be nearby, and I assumed it would be in the grass, so I crawled around looking for it.
No doubt, I looked ridiculous crawling in the dirt in fishnets and a skirt, but there was no one to see me but Wander—who was currently pawing at a toad.
Rounding a wide tree, I searched through piles of leaves for any hint of white fur and came up short. I turned over branches and dusted my hands through dirt and found nothing.
And then a twig broke and a low growl sounded behind me.
My heart lodged in my throat as I turned, standing and wobbling back toward the tree. As striking as it was majestic, a white stag stood in the circle I’d just departed. Its six-pronged antlers pointed and proud, it stared down the source of the growl.
Wander bared his fangs, hunched over, and lurked forward.
No, this was all wrong. I couldn’t let the lycanthrope kill something so beautiful.
Bracing myself on the tree, I opened my mouth to call out for him to stop, and to warn the stag to run—when a hand clamped around my lips.
My scream died in my throat as warm breath hit my ear and Riot’s voice whispered, “Don’t interfere. ”
My heart raced in my chest, and my pulse pounded in my ears. Wander prowled closer, and the Stag lowered its head, digging its hoof into the dirt. And like a rubber band snapped, something broke, and they charged for the other—colliding fangs and antlers.
Bones crushed, and I turned, gripping Riot’s shirt and burying my face in his chest. I knew what was happening—and it was confirmed as I heard the stag whimper.
The sounds of a killing in the woods were not foreign to me.
I’d grown up hunting with my matri. I’d experienced many a wolf take down many a deer.
But there was something heartbreaking in witnessing it on a larger, mythical scale.
Both creatures, rare and beautiful.
One now dead.
Wander howled, startling me as Riot’s shirt grew wet with my tears.
His warm embrace held me close, letting me disappear into his arms. The gnashing of teeth sounded behind me until silence deafened the forest. Just as I looked up at Riot’s soulful eyes, a melancholy howl cut through the air, trembling the branches.
“Why did you let him do that?” I asked. Riot carefully brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
He gestured with his chin for me to turn around.
Reluctantly, I obeyed, finding only a pile of white blooms as Wander limped away, bloodied.
“I don’t understand.” I confessed. “Where is the stag? Did he not die?”
Riot lowered behind me to whisper in my ear, the sensation of his breath on my neck sending shivers down my shoulders. “The white stag, whom you so coincidentally happened upon, is my familiar.”
Turning to him in shock, I asked, “You watched as your familiar was attacked? Why would you do that?”
Riot nodded toward the blooms again. This time when I looked, a small white pile of fur formed. Magic fluttered over me like a hundred tiny moth wings as the ivory took form and stood on four wobbly legs.
A fawn.
Riot explained softly, “He dies and is reborn—over and over again.”
I wasn’t an expert in familiar lore; in fact, I never believed I was important or powerful enough to have a familiar of my own.
It still hadn’t sank in that one had chosen me in the form of a half-cat Twenty Blackthorne.
Even so, I knew enough. I knew that familiars and their witches were bound to each other, connected by fates.
If harm befell a familiar, it often caused immeasurable physical and emotional pain to its witch.
To imagine enduring that several times over was incomprehensible.
“Doesn’t it hurt you when this happens?” I asked.
Riot swallowed, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face as he watched the fawn wobble on its hooves.
“Hurts like hell.” Stepping forward, he knelt, giving the fawn’s ivory ear a soft caress.
He ushered me to join, and I knelt to run my fingers through the mythical creature’s velvety, spotted fur.
“Prism would have loved to pet a white stag,” I said softly.
“She loves animals—grand and magical, small and plain.”
Riot plucked a bundle of pale fox flame flowers from the pile of flora beneath his reborn familiar, offering them to me. “Better get to hexing so you can get her back,”he said with a sad sideways smile.
“Or you could help me, Riot. Please, help me, help Willowspire.” I rested my palms on his forearm. “Please?”
He stared at me for a long moment, a soft breeze flowing through his long, white hair.
In the forest, he looked even more like a fae prince than he did in the castle.
At home in the foliage, surrounded by green, as if the woods answered to him.
How powerful would one need to be to elicit a mythical white stag as a familiar?
Not just any stag, but one that evades death repeatedly. “If I could… I would, Rumor.”
Surprise gasped into my lungs. I’d always gotten a no, or a sly reply, this was… this was new… this was hope . “What do you need?” I pleaded. “What holds you back?”
The leaves rustled on their branches, and Riot looked around us, as if someone might be listening.
I’d never seen him hesitant before, as if something important were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t say it.
“The darkness of our affliction, the chains of our regret. There is a magic at play, and our bargains with it cannot be broken… at least not only by Spade and me.”
“Are you saying you need your other brother? Twenty?”
“It would be a start… even so… it would require much and, Rumor…” He cupped my jaw, gazing into my eyes with earnest intent. “It would risk everything .”
My words dried in my throat as we knelt over fox flame, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. “I’m worth risking everything for.” I dared on a strong whisper.
Darkness and desire flashed across Riot’s gaze as his grip on my face tightened. “Yes, I dare say you are.”