Wolves of the Horned God

By Willow Taylor

Part 2

Running. Running. Not from Wolves. Running. Running. Not from the man. Running. Running. Running from hate. Running from fear. Running. Running. Running. Wall! Wall! Can't run! Leap! Scramble! Fall! There is hate! Run! Run! No place to run! Turn. Snarl! Scare the hate away. The hate will not flee! Growl. Pounce! Rend. Tear. Eat.

***

Tina sat up in bed, gasping. She stumbled from her bed and into her bathroom directly into the shower. Oh god, how that dream had scared her. Her eyes were wrung shut and she didn't notice the pink water dripping off of her and slowly swirling down the drain. The water pounded like thunder on her aching head, but slowly began washing away pain, and after a few moments, washing away the fear the dream had left her with. In short order, Tina was ready to face the world as much as she ever did. She pulled on a pair of old jeans, a soft sun-back satin shirt that was much patched and sat down to work on her latest manuscript.

Tina stared at the computer screen as the word processor whirled, finding the misspelled words and typos in her hastily typed text. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Tina glared at the closed door, and then the phone rang.

"Door or Phone, Door or Phone," she debated. Finally she grabbed the radio phone, as she went to the door, finger combing her short hair.

"Tina." It was Sybil. "Don't open your door. Turn the TV on." Startled, Tina did. Barbie's face in bright pink lipstick lit up the screen.

"I'm here, live, at the house of the author of the popular 'Dark of Moon' series' home. Why? Yesterday, I interviewed a man who said she was responsible for the attacks in this area. This morning, he was found dead, ravaged and decimated in the same pattern, but in a more savage manner. Is it mere coincidence, or is this pagan less harmless than she looks?" Barbie knocked on the door, and waited. A phone rang inside, on the screen. Tina whirled, ran to the front door and tore the door open. Lights blazed in her face, and Barbie stuck a microphone at her face.

"Tina Cunningham...."

"Get that thing out of my face - " Tina growled, barely restraining her hand from smashing the microphone from the reporter's hand. "I heard what you said, Barbie. That's slander. There are laws against that."

"Oh come now Ms. Cunningham - I haven't said a thing that isn't true - you are under suspicion for magic-assisted murder." Tina gasped.

"There is no reason to believe that I would want to kill a harmless old man!" Tina replied, "and no way that I could have torn him apart the way it's described. I don't have the strength to tear a man's head from his body."

"...from his body." Tina's pale face, with thick eyebrows and wild hazel eyes said from the small TV screen on the desk in the Ranger station. Ranger Sierra frowned. They hadn't released that detail of the man's death. How did Tina know that the man's head had been torn off?

***

Running. Running. Always Running. Always hunting. Running. Running. Always hungry. Running. Running. Always lost. Running. Running. Always lonely. Running. Running. New wolves. Not the wolves that walk like men. Running. Running. Stop. Sniff. Growling. Submit. Lonely. Growls and snapping. They fear. No. Wait. One sniffs. Return, sniff. Gentle. Lonely. Howl. They run. One waits, nuzzles. No! Running. Running. Return to Den. Not Right. Running. Running.

***

"Tina," Roger's voice came frantically from the phone receiver, "everyone is talking about you."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Tina growled into the phone.

"Not for suspicion of magic aided murder!" her editor said frantically. "Look, if you go to the police, and tell them that you dreamed about his murder, they'll probably accept that, hell, they might even ask for your help in finding the real murderer. But as long as you stay cooped up on your mountain, the rumors are going to keep flying."

"Roger, get bent!" Tina snarled. "I'm really not in the mood for a lecture right now."

"Well you need one!" the man shot back tartly. "You're behaving like a spoiled pet!"

"I think you think I did it!!" Tina said outraged.

"No, Tina, please, you're being irrational..."

"You think I killed him!" Before she knew what she was doing Tina tore the phone off of the wall. Then she blacked out.

***

Running, Running. The woods are cool now. Scents carry far. Running, Running. Pause. Scent. A sent that has come before. Running. Running, Running. They are coming. Running. Running. The wolves that walk like men. Running. Running. The man that walks with the wolves. They know. They know. Running. Running. Running. Wake!

***

Tina woke at a dead run, tearing through the woods, beneath the full moon, hot breath streaming out of her mouth. She couldn't see herself, being clothed in shadows, but somehow knew that she had to keep running. Then the moon came out from behind a cloud, as Tina leapt a small river. She looked down to make sure that her feet would land on something solid, and almost tripped. The legs that propelled her so swiftly over the ground weren't hers. They weren't human. She'd had dreams like this before, rushing over the ground in an animal body, and if it had just been an animal's legs, she would have been fine. But they weren't.

They bent strangely, down to half lupine feet, and were covered in a fine dark brownish fur. At the toes were tiny claws, silvery sharp in the moonlight, that churned up the ground beneath her, as she ran without thinking. Tina then turned, and ran parallel to the river.

'This is impossible!' she thought. 'I can't... I must be dreaming!' The river got deeper and wider as she ran. She was still slivered by moonlight, as she became more and more at tune with the body that ran on its own. Finally, she got the body to stop. Tina panted heavily, her breath fogging around her face in the cool night air. Then she leaned down and lapped at the water. Pulling her face back she stared.

The face had her eyes, but was unfamiliar. A wolf's head, set on a vaguely human shaped set of shoulders turned as she turned, and stared back at her in the water. She stepped into the river hands first, willing this to wake her up. The water was freezing! Tina drew her hand-paw out of the water quickly and waved it about. If this was a dream, it was more vivid then any she had ever had. Reality crept over her consciousness, and Tina threw her head back and screamed. The howl echoed back across the hills.

Tina sat up in her bed, gasping, and swung out of bed, then stared down at her feet. They were muddy, true, but they were undeniably human. She panted, breathing deeply. She was a werewolf. She was a loup garou... she was in trouble. She leapt up and began pacing in her bedroom, trailing her bedsheet. The cool morning air felt soothing against her flesh.

"I couldn't have killed all those people. I would have felt that weight." She paused and bit her lip. "Wouldn't I?" She shuddered. "No. I can't doubt myself, even for a moment." The sheet fell to the floor, and she scrabbled around her room, dressing. "Okay, so I'm a werewolf," she said to herself. "There are cures for this." She went into her library and plucked books off the shelf, gathering a great pile before sitting herself down into a chair with the stack beside her.

Hours later, Tina collapsed on the book she was reading, tears brimming in her eyes. It was hopeless, unless she knew how she had been cursed like this, then she wouldn't be able to cure herself. Well, she knew that a wolf had bitten her, so it was a reasonable assumption that the attack had something to do with the werewolves. And since she was fairly secure that it wasn't her that was doing the killing, it must be the wolf that had bitten her. So someone else must have been cursed before this.

"But who?" Tina thought. "The attacks didn't start until that day in the woods." She bit her lip. Maybe she was wrong, maybe it she was the one doing the killing. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes wearily. They were burning she wanted to cry, to break down. She felt groggy and disconnected, like nothing had definite shape. If she wasn't the one doing the killing, then she had to find out who was. And if the killings were coming from her woods, then there was one way to do it. Tina closed her eyes and the world went red-gray.

Running. Running.

Must find the answer.

Snow covers the ground, foot-tracks show. Mustn't be tracked.

Tina turned her head to the wind and sniffed.

There - another not-wolf. Find!

With fine-tuned grace, and predatory speed, the dark-furred werebeast flew through the snowy wood.

Running, Running. Stop. Hide.

Tina stopped, breath fogging in front of her muzzle as she hid partially behind a snow bank and a stand of raspberry brambles. Hazel-gold eyes watched, as out of a den came a pack of wolves, who then twisted upward to a similar shape to hers. These were the wolves that walked like men. She twisted her face one way then the other, golden-green eyes storing details in her mostly human brain. A distracted part of her consciousness realized that this was a good form to observe in. The wolves that walked like men formed a circle, and howled. The black wolf, the leader of the pack stepped into the center and raised his talon-tipped paws. The other not-wolves howled, and raised their paws, all colors, brindled, and grizzled and the leader's form twisted and shrunk as the others headed more towards wolf. Tina's magic sense exploded, and she tore away from the wolves clearing, heart pounding in her not quite human throat as she ran beneath the new moon.

Running, Running, Running...

Tina woke up the next morning, head pounding. "Owww...." she muttered, rubbing her temples, and walking towards the shower. "If I'd known shifting on purpose would give me a headache, I would have thought twice about it." As hot water rolled over her, she tried to think about what she'd seen the night before, and put sense to it. She couldn't. It didn't make any sense. She dressed herself, and flipped on the news. Once again, Barbie Smith was on screen.

"Last night there were no attacks in the once peaceful town of Nearhaven, but the townsfolk cannot hope for this trend to last. Footprints found at the scene of one of the murders indicate supernatural forces at work. I've called in the expert, Dr. Abraham Crowly, to consult on this." The picture switched to an older, balding man, bent over a plaster cast of the footprint.

"Hmm..." he muttered to himself.

"Dr. Crowly, what do you think?"

"I feel it's fairly obvious," he said in a sharp, biting voice. "Your problem is obviously a shape shifter." He looked up at the camera, light glinting off the pentacle around his neck and out of his dark brown eyes. "You have a werewolf roaming your woods. And I warn you, Ms. Smith," he said, raising one finger, "these ones rarely run alone!!" He straightened up, cutting quite an impressive figure, clad in black velvet and silver jewelry, he looked every inch the kind of witch that people thought of. "If it is an accident of nature, then the beast will call others of its kind, and possibly a mate. If it is a magic user shifting with a purpose, the whole coven will do it in support."

'Coven,' thought Tina, as the doctor blathered on screen, 'that's what it reminded me of! A Coven without a high priestess.' She thought back to what the wolves had been doing the night before, and bit her lip. 'But what kind of magic could the wolves-that-walk-like-men have been doing?' Her mind was jerked back to the TV as she heard Barbie say "And I understand you've met our local witch, Ms. Tina Cunningham."

"Oh yes," said Crowly. "I have."

"And what is your opinion of her?"

"She's an odd one," the charismatic man said. "I wouldn't trust her."

"WHAT?" yelped Tina, as Barbie signed off. Her mind raced, pounding trying to remember where she'd met that man before. Then she remembered, it had been at a gathering one of her friends had dragged her to, shortly after magic became public. Crowly was one of the main activists. She couldn't stand him. Tina didn't like the way he presented magic and witchcraft to the world, and found him personally creepy. It unnerved her that he had chosen to name himself after one of the worst examples of magic users she could possibly think of, Aleister Crowley. He didn't officially maintain that that was why he'd taken his new name. Many thought it was something to do with his spirit guide, the snake. But there were disturbing similarities between how he conducted himself and the charming, egocentric way Crowley was supposed to have handled himself. And Tina didn't like his politics, his magical practices, or him. To top it off, she didn't have the least bit of a basis for disliking him personally. And it didn't help that he was, apparently, extremely attracted to her. An attraction that she didn't return in the least. After she had turned him down, Crowly had treated her in the same manner, though with a little more malice. He also had given her a bad review in his publication, but went on for a half a page, debunking her fiction, all the while saying nothing about her book, only calling her opinions ludicrous!

'And I just know what's going to happen next,' Tina growled to herself. 'He, or Barbie is going to come to my door, with some sort of sideways accusation that it is me.' Resentment burned and growled with in her, stretching at her sense of reason. Her vision blurred with a reddish mist. Tina convulsively clutched the arms of her chair. She recognized it. This groggy, misty feeling meant she was about to change. She couldn't let that happen. Power moved within her, wild magic. That energy sought release, and Tina's fingernails shifted to talons, tearing the upholstery she clung to. Her eyes cast about, and set upon an unlit column candle on the kitchen table. Hands clenching, fur starting to sprout across the backs of her hands, her eyes focused, her will shoved and the candle went up in a column of flame, as beads of sweat dotted her face. Panting, the mist of change gone, Tina stood and extinguished the flames that remained, smothering them with a wool blanket that had been thrown over the back of her couch.

'I did that,' Tina said, staring at the burn marks on her table. The wax had evaporated. There was nothing but the charred table top to mark its inflammation. 'Without raising power, without preparation, without anything.' She was on the verge of hyperventilating. "I can't even light a candle without a half-day's ceremony." Tina collapsed back into her chair. Her world was starting to crumble. Tears burned down her face, and Tina cried.

"All right, all right," she said to herself, much later. "This is accomplishing nothing." Drying her tears, she went to her computer, where hopeless frustration and anguish gave rise to the rough draft of a chapter and a half before her fingers froze up from the exertion. Saving carefully, Tina went into other room and fell into bed.

These were dreams, they had to be dreams, this mass of disconcerting images, of her house, melded uncomfortably with her school and her mother's house. She was fighting a hopeless battle against impossible odds of the wolves that walked like men. There were two others with her, who she was trying to save. As they entered a room, Tina looked up to see a gargoyle above the door, it cocked its head at her.

"You've gotta learn before you can save them," it said.

"Learn what?" wailed Tina.

"Learn what made the horned one mad." Impossibly the walls shook with the sound of howls, and Tina crawled her way out of the dreams into the waking world. The phone was ringing. Tina scrambled for the phone beside her bed. A young girl's voice, molten innocence poured out.

"They're coming for you Tina. They're coming. The wolves. They want it back." The line went dead.

"Want what back?" the dark haired writer asked the silent line. "Oh, sweet mother, what do they want?"

Further sleep was impossible. She got up and paced around her house, holding a blanket around her like a cloak. She began to notice things about the way she moved, the way she placed her feet. It was different. Something within her was changing. The only thing that Tina could think of was that it was the "wolfness" inside her that was changing the way she was acting. The way she walked, moved her head, drank her tea, it was all different, less human. Tina looked at her nails and just stared at them for long moments, trying to determine if they were harder or longer than before. She examined herself in the mirror in the soft moonlight trying to see if she'd had any unusual body hair. It was a long night, and Tina shivered as she watched the sun slowly inch its way above the horizon.

Tina had to go down to town to discover why her phone was dead. Or rather, halfway to town, where a tree had fallen on the line. The phone workers were already repairing it, and they waved to her as she drove past. Good naturally, she had returned their waves. She felt good about the fact it was getting repaired. Somehow, she just didn't want to be isolated. But at the same time, she didn't want to be surrounded. She felt uncomfortable indoors and yet it became worse when she sat outdoors inactive. Even when she was human, something was tainting the way she thought. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. She drove to Sybil's house.

Tina was somewhat surprised to see another car, one she didn't recognize in her friend's driveway. Despite this, she parked her car and walked up to the front door. The door opened before she knocked, and Sybil stood there, looking only a touch surprised.

"Tina, I'm so glad you're here," she said, softly. "I'm have a small problem...." Tina looked past her friend and agent into the living room and saw Crowly lounging across her friend's leather couch.

"Yeah, I can see." She barely restrained a growl, and the edges of her vision clouded slightly. Tina shook the anger down.

"Why Miss Cunningham," said the supernatural expert oozing to his feet. "One might think you aren't happy to see me."

"Why should I be?" asked Tina, putting her hands in her jeans pockets, and resisting the urge to raise her hackles.

"Why I only have concern for your community on my mind," he said with a smile.

'I'll bet,' thought Tina. She threw a glance at Sybil, who looked totally helpless. Tina got the impression that her friend had not invited Dr. Crowly here. Her hazel eyes fixed on his face, despite the urge she had to fix it a few inches lower. 'I have to be human now,' she told herself. 'I can't let the wolf near the surface - Crowly is slime, but he is good.'

"Tina?" Sybil said softly.

"So, Dr. Crowly," Tina said, not sitting, voice and instincts under an iron control. "What do you think is going on?"

"I gave my opinions the other evening," the imposing man said, smoothing his coal-black pony tail. Nothing in his manner spoke of uneasiness. Tina spared a thought to how ridiculous that long black tail at the base of his balding head was. She started to think about how nice it would be to yank it out by the roots.

"...am here to hear other opinions, after all I'm not native to this area. I understand you are?"

Tina blinked. "Yes," she said, shaking the fog out of her eyes.

"What sort of legends are common in this area?" Crowly sunk back down to his seat, as it became obvious Tina was not going to greet him in any fashion.

"Hmm..." Tina said at a loss for words. She knew the legends. Six hells, she'd written two books on the area. This was one of the few areas in the eastern states that got frequent reports of fairy rings and crop circles, which were normally a phenomenon of the Midwest. Shaking free of the last of the anger, Tina began to list the various bizarre happenings she'd been able to find, reaching back to when this area was first settled. She relaxed, feeling the glow of knowledge fill her and push back her anger.

"There were the normal ghosts and restless spirits, but according to some records, this area was originally settled by a community who worshipped the elder gods, a female earth deity in the summer, one of fertility and grain, and a male, of power, and hunting in the winter. There are some legends concerning blond Native Americans in the area, which suggests an influence from wandering Vikings even earlier than the original English settlers." Tina took a deep breath and smiled at Crowly. "All of which you could have found out by reading my research works, or the volumes and records I used to write them."

"But I wanted to hear it from you," said Crowly sweetly. "There is nothing quite like hearing things from the lips of a lovely young lady." Sybil sat on a chair and played with her hands, she was quite visibly made nervous by the amnesty between Tina and Crowly.

"I'm sure that was intended as a compliment."

"Oh it was." He stood again. He was a quite imposing man, even at his age, and appearance. Tina set her shoulders. "I also wanted to discover what you might be doing to look into these killings?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"They did originate in your area? With a poacher I believe?" Tina thought about it.

"That's right, as far as public reports go. According to what I've heard of it, his body, what was left of it, was found with six buck skulls, antlers intact, and some meat left on them."

"Ah, you always were a one for details, weren't you Ms. Cunningham?"

"I endeavor to," she said, setting her shoulders again, and narrowing her eyes slightly. What was he getting at?

"As the powerful witch you claim to be, perhaps you've been looking into a possible killer on your own?"

"I have no authority," Tina said. "If the police or Rangers came to me and asked for help I would do what I could. But I never claimed to be particularly powerful." She frowned. "Or, in the end, a witch. I am a Pagan, Dr. Crowly, which from your own writing means 'from the earth.' I am not a monotheist of any kind, and I am not a Christian. But that does not make me a witch."

"As you say," said Crowly, with a slight bow. "Well, I am in your debt for the information you have provided me, and with any luck at all, the killings will end." He quirked one eyebrow at her. Tina managed, barely not to hit him. "Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Andersdaugter. I'll find my own way out." He brushed past Tina with an air of propriety and after a moment, she heard a car start and drive away. Only then did Tina turn and snarl over her shoulder.

Sybil swallowed heavily. "Tina, I'm so sorry," the woman began. Her face looked drawn, as if something had been supporting her until that moment, and had withdrawn. "I know how you feel about him, but he just showed up and..."

"It's all right," the writer said choking down the fury that rose within her. "No harm done."

'Not yet at any rate.' Tina sat in her car and clenched her hands around the wheel. She didn't dare start driving home yet. She was too infuriated. If anything, anything at all happened on the road, she would leave her humanity behind like a discarded candy-wrapper. Deep down, Tina knew she shouldn't have left her friend's house until the last of the anger had dissipated. But so much of her life had been consumed by this anger this strange primal urge that she didn't want Sybil's opinion of her tainted by anything she said or did when she felt like that.

'I was on the verge of tearing out his throat without any further provocation. The man makes my skin crawl, and now, my skin is perfectly liable to crawl right off and turn itself inside out if I let it.' Her deepest female instincts made her want to tell someone, Sybil especially what had been happening with her, but Crowly's presence in her friend's home proved that she could really trust no one. If Crowly could convince Sybil to let him in, it would be only a small step to get her to tell him her every confidence. While Tina didn't like the man, she respected his power. But it had always been her opinion that Crowly should be watched from a distance, like a giant gila monster or something equally ugly, nasty and poisonous. A few more moments passed, while Tina did every calming exercise she could think of. Then she reached down and started the engine of her car. Despite this... unpleasantness, she still had errands to do in town before she could return home.