Page 121 of The Wolfing Hour
Eight unhealthy wolves.
Eight unhealthy and unpleasantly familiar wolves.
“Surround the bastard,” a woman yelled. Her voice was like an echo in a canyon, sonorous and booming.
The wolves looked around. Some at Floyd, some at Rory, and some at me. One scratched his head with his hind leg. One stopped to pee on Floyd’s melted rear tire.
“Good graves, I forgot you’ve all got brain damage.Surround THAT bastard—Alpha Pallás. The male wolf.”
Ida strode up behind the wolves, a legendary-level badass in lime green sneakers and matching sleeveless pants set, her eyes flashing like lightning streaking across a desert night sky as she commanded the pack of…
“Are those the wolves I killed this morning? How in the world did you get them here?”
“Crammed them all into my LTD—I fit three in the trunk. Now, don’t distract me, Betty. These guys have been decomposing all day—plus you fried the hell out of their brains, and we weren’t dealing with NASA scientists in the first place, were we?”
She glanced over at the bodies of Nameless and Krane. “Ooo, looks like we have two more. Headless ones are always a challenge, but I’ve animated worse.”
One dead wolf growled. Charged.
Floyd batted it away with the effort he would’ve used on a buzzing fly. It crashed into the side of the smoldering SUV.
“Coordinate.” Despite her flippant asides, when she spoke to the wolves, Ida’s voice conveyed the solemnity of a general leading an army into battle. “Attack together.”
Four of the brainless wolves leapt simultaneously at Floyd’s head. One sank teeth into his throat, one dug claws into his back, one went for his rear legs, and the other went for his … tail?
Ida threw commands at the reanimated wolves. “Drop the tail and go for the belly.Retreat. Regroup. Attack.”
The wolves did as Ida commanded.
In life, these had been strong alphas. In death, they were nearly unstoppable. Until Ida released them, they would continue to fight as long as they had arms, legs, torsos, teeth. This was necromancer magic, and it was stunning to behold.
Floyd stomped the skull of one of his late pack members and donkey-kicked a hole in another’s chest. Now fully shifted, his wolf was twice the size of Aurora’s, a fact that became even more apparent when she milled among the dead wolves, awaiting her own turn to strike.
“Rory, stay out of the way.”
She heard me, because she shook her head. Great. She was as stubborn as her brother.
I stumble-ran into the motel room and crashed to my knees by the circle I’d created to contain Gnath. I put out my hands, and the Siete Saguaro soil separated from the salt it had been mixed with and flew to me like iron shavings to a magnet. I absorbed it all.
“No. Don’t use it to heal me,” I said when my witch side tried to intervene. “I need the power.”
I ran back outside and circled behind the wolves—and creepily, the two headless men—all the while spooling my magic, holding it at the ready.
Hurry, Ronan.
It wasn’t long before Ida’s wolves lay convulsing like broken toys with dying batteries. The headless men hadn’t lasted two seconds, their bodies crushed to paste under Floyd’s paws. Bits of wolf twitched on the asphalt in clumps of coagulated bloodand body fluids then went still as she extracted her power from their bodies.
Rory’s wolf stiffened, ears back, teeth bared. She was going to attack, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. Worse yet, she was going to lose.
Floyd was just too powerful.
I pooled all the magic in my body and thrust it into one purpose. My injuries ignored, fresh blood trickled down my sides and my head rang like a bell hit with a sledgehammer.
Ah, Ronan. This witch is about to make your life a whole lot more complicated.
I raised my hands until they were in line with Floyd’s heart. Oblivion’s cold, black fingers walked into the edges of my vision as I pulled more and more magic. I’d need it. The alpha leader was far stronger than the wolves from earlier.
This was it. One chance.
