15. Luna Del Lupo #2
“We had a deal,” he continues. “Romulus would back me with all the support of his wolves, and I would remain quiet about Remus. Everything was fine, until five hundred years ago. He decided that I was no longer of use to him, and spread lies about me that irreparably damaged my reputation. Now, he fears my retribution—this is why he wants the Luna del Lupo back.”
His chest heaves, and so does mine. I back the chair further away.
“This is why this matter does not need to concern you further,” he finishes, but there’s a cold and steel-like quality to his tone.
He might think so, but I won’t be giving him the Luna del Lupo, and not only because I’ve no idea what it actually is.
It wasn’t in my room—he searched there—so it must be something I’m wearing.
Except, I’m pretty sure I just pulled on regular human clothes this morning, and not magically enchanted ones.
Time Guy flattens his palms on the tabletop.
“I understand what you did,” I blurt out. “To Remus, I mean. That was a deal. But the colony at Roanoke? They were just people. Ordinary, everyday people. Why fold them away?”
He pushes up with his hands and stands to his full height, towering over me.
“They do not concern you either. They were a test, nothing more. One hundred and seventeen people were folded that day in a single event. There have been other larger-scale events since, and when you hand me the Luna del Lupo, I’ll show exactly how all my practice has paid off. ”
He leans closer. “I’ve strengthened over the years, and now I’m ready. Fifteen million in a single event.”
“That’s twice the population of New York City!”
“And every member of the Romulan Bloodline!” Time Guy holds out his hand, palm up, and curls his fingers in an impatient gesture.
I stand too. Fisting the charger cable in one hand, I pocket my phone with the other. Time Guy tracks the movement keenly, and so I keep my hand suspiciously in my pocket as I step out from the tight space between the table and the chair.
Putting all my faith in the fake promise of this magical artifact, I state, “No.”
He growls in response. At least, I think that was him. Hard to tell because his lips have been peeled back in some kind of permanent snarl for a while now.
“You don’t like that word, do you? But no. What happened to the people of Roanoke was unfair. And cruel. And I won’t let you do it again.”
He lunges for me, making a grab for my arm that’s still in my pocket, and I rise on my tiptoes and suck in my stomach to evade him.
“This doesn’t need to concern you—”
“So you’ve said…” I dart behind my own chair, one hand braced so tightly on the back of it that my knuckles turn white. I could really do with that better exit strategy now, please. I’m really not a fighter.
“But I still haven’t heard why you need it,” I say, stalling. “The wolves don’t have it—I do—so what’s stopping you from just…” I click my fingers à la Thanos.
Time Guy pauses, both hands braced on the small Formica-topped table between us. “Cretino.”
He inhales slowly. “Because the Luna del Lupo was specifically created for the General—to protect him—and so his Bloodline will share that protection.”
I open my mouth to refute that because he told me earlier that the…
“Sì, the witch who made it revoked it, but its continued existence—as you have proved—enables a connection. I don’t want any connection. I want the filthy animals sealed away. Forever.”
I swallow uneasily and take a side step closer to the door. “Say I give it to you… what assurance do I have that you won’t fold me away too?”
Time Guy gives a wicked and predatory smile.
My eyes flick over to the barista, still frozen in time, and then I slowly ease my hand out of my pocket and stretch the charging cable tightly between both fists.
Another growl. This one much louder than before. Definitely not made by Time Guy.
I turn to look out the window behind me, and there, barrelling at full speed across the small parking lot outside, is Rowan.
Between one blink and the next, I barely register that the ginger man-mountain is transforming into a large russet-coloured wolf in broad daylight.
And isn’t heading for the shop doorway, but the window.
The squeak that escapes the tight cinch of my throat is involuntary. Raising my arm, I shield my face from shards of glass as the alpha wolf explodes through the window. His wolf is just like the man—massive—but with a lot more emphasis on teeth and claws.
Those huge and powerful jaws latch onto Time Guy’s forearm where he, too, had made a vain attempt to protect himself.
Deep rumbling growls and vicious wet snarls underpin sharp cracks and guttural cries of pain. The table breaks under Rowan’s weight, and Time Guy is sent crashing back onto the floor.
Italian curse words punctuate the chaos as more chairs and tables are upturned and splintered. I make a mental note to look up vaffanculo later.
There’s a moment of deathly silence, and I lean around Rowan’s impressive flank to take in the shredded and blood-soaked scraps of material that cover the coffee shop floor like a macabre and abstract rug. However, it’s impossible to tell how badly injured Time Guy is.
Between us, Rowan pants heavily.
Having been released from the werewolf’s maw, Time Guy’s eyes are now a rageful red—and they’re intently focused on Rowan.
Purple crackles glow and spark between the fingers of his injured arm that he cradles to his chest. More violet lightning arcs and weaves around his other hand, and I remember the same magical aura from right before he tried to…
Instinctively, I reach for Rowan. Pushing my fingers through his thick, russet fur, I grab a tight hold of his tail only a moment before Time Guy shoots his hand up and presses it to the wolf’s shoulder.
Purple lightning bolts, a bit like those plasma balls at a science fair, spread over Rowan, and that same spot on my hip itches with a savage intensity. But I don’t let go.
Those violet sparks web further out, rapidly taking us both over, but it’s as if we’re inside some invisible, protective layer. I stare, stupefied, and Time Guy stares back, horrified. Only Rowan has the wits to move.
The biggest damn alpha wolf I’ve ever seen bites down on the junction of Time Guy’s neck and shoulder, grinds his jaw back and forth, and then shakes him. Once. It’s all that’s needed.
Time Guy falls lax, and the magenta magic fades. For some reason, my gaze drifts to the barista, who remains perfectly still—just like me.
It isn’t until Rowan turns himself in a tight circle that I relinquish his tail from my vicelike grip. A pair of almond-shaped golden eyes lock onto my face.
I step back.
Those golden eyes deepen in colour as their wide spacing narrows. It probably only takes a second for Rowan to change back into his human form, but it’s as if Time Guy’s magic has slowed everything down, and I stand here, transfixed.
I’ve never seen a werewolf shift before, but I’ve always wondered about it. There are no breaking bones or painful augmentations, no drooling nor panting, but rather a fluid transformation between states. As if it’s perfectly natural that man and beast would co-exist.
Where bloodied fangs had been, now there’s a short auburn beard and human lips that draw into a thin line when a soft Scottish accent asks me, “Ye okay, Pup?”
My gaze drifts back to the mangled body on the floor. I don’t know. Am I okay?
“The Dogs are coming to sort this. We should leave.” Rowan extends his hand—human, five fingers with bloodied knuckles. “Come on, I’ll take ye home.”