Wolf's Bane

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Losing, unfortunately, wasn’t as easy as I’d expected. Oh, sure, when the cage door clanged shut, leaving me trapped within a small chain-link enclosure with two very large werewolves, the shiver running down my spine suggested the hard part would be merely staying alive. But my opponents—for all that they appeared to be brothers—combined to create the worst team imaginable.

Ransom—the human-form brother and the only one the announcer had introduced by name—turned out to be a run-of-the-mill opponent. He was fast and aggressive and out for my blood.

His brother, on the other hand, was not.

“Get out of my way!” Ransom muttered between gritted teeth the third time Gunner tangled himself between his sibling’s legs and made it nearly impossible for the human sibling to dodge my blows...let alone get in one of his own. I would have laughed out loud if my goal hadn’t been to lose the match subtly enough so the audience wouldn’t wring my neck afterwards. As it was, my cheeks heated with frustration and I could almost feel next month’s rent money slipping out of my grasp.

Meanwhile, the crowd was no more pleased than I was at my opponents’ inability to put up a passable show. “Boo!” howled one angry bystander while fingers rattled the cage inches from my head. A beer bottle cleared the fence and shattered onto the mat a yard away from my booted feet, the glass shards turning into makeshift blades my opponents could pick up at any moment and use against my flesh.

In the midst of all this mayhem, I needed to not only survive but also to lose without appearing to throw over the fight. Time to implement my favorite weapon—my tongue.

“Ma Scrubbs told me you two were boy scouts,” I said conversationally even as I danced through a series of warm-up exercises that appeared far more impressive than they really were. Had to keep the crowd happy while gearing up for the grand finale. “I’m thinking you look more like Brownies, though. Or maybe Daisies. Did you even earn enough merit badges to sell Girl Scout cookies yet?”

In response, Ransom growled between human teeth and took a single step forward, but I could have sworn Gunner was amused rather than provoked by my taunts. Whatever the reason, the latter’s lupine jaws gaped open, his tongue lolling off to one side even as he blocked his brother as gracefully as if the two were dancing a minuet.

You-fight-like-a-girl jabs clearly weren’t going to move this match along to the point where the audience would go home happy. So I assessed the way the two males worked in effort-filled non-harmony. Guessed reasons why one gamecock brother might choose to engage in battle while the other would undermine Ransom’s authority at every turn...while still insisting upon guarding his sibling’s back.

Then I opened my mouth and launched a second attack. “New alpha can’t handle his own fights, can he?” I guessed, piecing together whispers I’d recently heard emerging from the few shifters I dared to speak with. “Just another dumb jock inheriting shoes too big for his puny feet. You know what they say about a guy with small feet....”

And just like that, the brothers glanced at each other in perfect harmony. Silent words streaked between them while the scents of fur and electricity filled the air.

At last, I’d gotten under their skins.

How like wolves to get riled up over issues of heredity...and shoe size. I let a smile crinkle my cheeks for a split second, but then it was time for battle.

Because both brothers were leaping toward me in synchronized splendor now. And above our heads, a surge of approval rolled out over the crowd.

***

FOR LONG SECONDS, MY world narrowed down to the simplicity of attack and parry. I hooked the hilt of my sword around one of Ransom’s knives and pulled it out of his grip as easily as I disarmed raw beginners in my day job. But with Gunner circling slyly toward my blind spot, I was soon forced onto the defensive, spinning on my back foot and stabbing wildly to force the wolf into a retreat.

Whoosh. My sword cut deeper toward my lupine opponent than I’d intended, and I held my breath as hairs sprayed out around us both. If I’d misjudged my reach and pricked Gunner’s skin, the match would be over before it really started...and not in a way that would please my picky boss.

Rent, I reminded myself as I scrambled backwards, glad there was no blood welling up where my blade had recently made contact with the four-legged werewolf. Groceries. Bus money. More magic-trick paraphernalia for Kira’s birthday next week. Tuition at her school in the nice part of town....

Gradually, the roar of the crowd receded into the background and calm descended upon me just as it did every day during training. I grabbed the veil of control Dad had taught me to wield two decades earlier, slowed my attacks and parries until they matched my gasping breaths. There. The outer world meant nothing. Now I could be certain my blade would fly eternally true.

“I know what you are.”

And to my eternal embarrassment, I stumbled, Ransom’s words cutting through my hard-earned concentration far more admirably than my earlier verbal parry had interrupted his. The pack leader’s knowledge of my identity was impossible. Because if werewolves were aware of my family’s secret, their leader wouldn’t be fighting me in a cage match. The whole pack would instead descend upon Kira and me as a unit, intent upon tearing out both of our throats.

As I tried to make sense of the nonsensical, Ransom took advantage of my turmoil. Swiping his sole remaining knife beneath my armpit, he opened up a nick in the jacket that had protected me year after year. And even though the cut didn’t reach all the way to my skin, I was so shaken by the damage that I took a step backward...

...and promptly stumbled over Gunner, who’d poised himself in just the right spot to take advantage of my lapse. I teetered, nearly falling. Then I decided not to fight the imminent collapse. Instead, I allowed the accidental momentum to propel me sideways as I slashed my sword in a Z pattern in front of the unruly wolf’s nose.

The sword-waving warning gave me breathing room to come up behind the two-legger’s unguarded back. And, okay, so maybe I called upon a little supernatural speed to get me there. Maybe I bent my sword slightly away from its target so the metal didn’t come in contact with game-ending flesh. But, in the midst of combat, who would either know or care?

The sharp tang of success cleared my head the way it always did. And I realized as I set up the defeat I so badly needed that my opponent was merely accusing me of being an unaffiliated werewolf...not of something considerably worse. After all, I smelled as much like fur as the brothers with whom I shared the stage at the moment. And more than a century since our supposed eradication, most shifters probably didn’t believe beings like myself and my sister continued to exist.

So I ran with it. “Yep, you’re right. I’m outpack. That means I don’t have to kowtow to the new alpha who thinks his farts don’t stink,” I bantered, knowing that my voice would prompt Ransom’s body to swivel just the way I wanted it to. Knowing that his knife would spin through the air at precisely the same level as the hand I’d raised in supposed self-defense. The sharp blade would cut through the flesh of my palm deeper than the scratch Ma Scrubbs had promised these boy scouts would dole out in victory, but the searing pain was more than worth the result.

Because as red blood dripped toward the ground between us, the audience erupted into jubilation. They’d lost their hard-earned money on the match, but they’d enjoyed every minute of the tussle that had come before this bitter end. The crowd would be even larger next week...and in the meantime I’d take home a rather hefty ten percent for my surprise upset.

“Good fight,” Ransom offered, holding out a hand to shake without any arrogance in his posture at all. He really was a boy scout. As gentlemanly in his win as he would have been after a loss.

“Good fight,” I agreed, swapping the sword over to my b****y left hand so I could return the hand clasp. Only then did I turn toward Gunner and shiver as something darkly suspicious flickered behind sienna lupine eyes.

Maybe my lapses hadn’t been quite as overlookable as I’d thought in the heat of the moment. Now, I decided, would be a good time to beat a hasty retreat.