Wolves of the Horned God

By Willow Taylor

Part 5

Someone had been, to paraphrase, living in her house. The robe that had been left haphazardly on the floor had been picked up. The candle on the altar had been replaced with a thick blue column, and the phone in the kitchen had been replaced. Tina sulked through her own house, suspicious and feeling betrayed. As she passed the kitchen altar, she took up the bone handled knife that still lay there, and tucked it into the back of her pants. Up the stairs she went, avoiding that one squeaky step, and into her room where she shed her borrowed garments for a pair of her own jeans, worn till they fit comfortably, and her favorite blouse, made of a sturdy cotton fabric, which was a vibrant and vicious red. She put her feet into winter boots, lined with fur and wiggled her toes. It felt odd to be shod, as comfortable as it was to have her chilled feet wrapped in leather and fur. Tina heard a sound somewhere in the house and her head whipped up. Outside, she could hear the wolves howling on the mountain, and the weather was whipping up a storm to accompany them.

"We'll see now who's been living in my house."

Tina turned the corner, staff clutched in her hands, hearing the small noises of someone in the next room. She saw a black sweater worked in red topped with gray hair. The figure turned and stared at Tina with matching gray eyes.

"What in the world?" the woman said with a northern accent.

"Grandma Cates!" Tina said gasping in fear and surprise.

"Tina, you look frightened out of your mind," the shockingly silver haired woman said, "what's happened?"

"The wolves," a quiet voice said from the doorway. "I warned her, the wolves are coming." The pair turned to see the golden eyed child standing quietly, dressed in a pure white parka.

"Who are you?" Grandma Cates demanded.

"I am my father's daughter," the girl said, "I cannot be more than that." She bit her lip. "I'm also lost. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Damn straight, you're not supposed to be here!" Tina snapped. "What are you doing in my home?"

"I was chased," the girl said. "By the wolves that walk like men."

"No," Tina whimpered, her eyes going wide. "Not the wolves, not again, not still."

"Do you fear the wolves?" the child asked. "It is you who made them like they are."

"What do you mean!? " cried Tina, still confused. She'd been chewing at that bone (oh, bad analogy) for days. While there were many ways for men to shift to wolves, she found no record of any spell to change wolves to men. Not even what the handsome man-wolf had told her made any sense. There was no ritual, no rite, that she'd cast, even innocently that could have made the wolves what they were.

"When they attacked, their wildness infused you, making you wild. At the same time, they were infused with what makes you human."

"Oh good goddess," whispered Tina. It was what the man-wolf had told her. It finally sunk in.

"And that shred of humanity drove them wild." The girl shook her head. "They and their master."

Tina pressed her hands over her eyes and tried not to cry.

"No!" she whimpered. "I don't want to believe it."

"I'm sorry, Tina."

All was silent for a few moments, except for the wild blow of the wind about the house, and above that, the hunting howl of the wolves.

"Never in my years," Grandma Cates said at last, "have I heard such a ruckus. It's as if the great wild hunt has returned to earth once more."

"The last wild hunt was ended over a hundred years ago," said the little girl, voice ringing like a chime in the empty room. "I hoped never to see another one."

"The wild hunt," moaned Tina, collapsed in on herself, kneeling on the floor, head in her hands.

Long ago, the wild hunt had been worshipped as an aspect of the winter god. A tall handsome man with antlers, striding a midst a pack of savage dogs, hunting down souls who infringed where they should not go. As the legend went, as less and less was hidden from the eye of man, the wild hunt roamed more an more restlessly, unable to hunt, but with a desperate need for killing. Any human who ran across them was destroyed. At last the hounds disappeared, and had never been heard from again. But Tina was sure it was their voices she heard out there on the night - and it was her fault that they had been reawakened. An inarticulate moan escaped her lips.

"Tina!" her grandmother said sharply, taking her by the shoulders and shaking. "Snap out of it!"

"Oh lady and lord, what have I done?" moaned the dark haired woman in despair.

"Tina!" cried her Grandmother again. "I need you here - "

"Please," said the child's voice. "It's not done yet."

Tina looked up at them, eyes bright with tears.

"You don't understand - I went where I shouldn't have gone, and somehow they can't reach me so they are hunting down others."

"Tina," soothed Grandma Cates. "Shh."

"You can stop them Tina," the little girl said, putting a soothing hand on the older woman's shoulder. "I know you can."

Chewing on her lips, Tina rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself. She could stop it. She had to. There was no place for a wild hunt in this world. If it continued, then magic would be outlawed, and all that she and countless others had labored so long for would be lost, gone beyond repair. Outside the wolves howled. They had gotten closer.

Slowly, Tina got to her feet, and tossed her hair out of her eyes. She looked from her Grandmother, a wise, if frail old figure, to the glowing blush of the strange girl-child.

"So," she said, swallowing heavily. "What do I have to do?"

There was a huge crash from downstairs and growls and howls filled to house, making the walls vibrate.

"First, we have to stay alive," said the little girl, with a tremble of fear in her voice. There was a crash, as a wolf threw itself at the window they stood in front of. Too late, Tina remembered that there was a patio outside this room, and it was accessible, if you were brave and could jump well, from a ledge near the house. Somehow, it had never really bothered her until now. All three woman screamed, and ran into the hallway. Tina locked the door behind them, and looked up and down the hall. There were growls and snarls beneath them, and the sound of breaking furniture, and tearing fabric. There was a loud hollow pop as the TV crashed to the ground and the tube broke. The door they had just come out of bent slightly as if something huge was leaping against it.

They screamed again, but leapt into action. Grandma Cates threw her frail body at the door, bracing it, as Tina pushed with all her strength to push a chest in front of the door. Then she turned and locked and blocked the door to the back hall, which had a narrow flight of stairs leading to the kitchen. Barricading themselves in this hall way would do little good, because it was open on the other end to the stairs that led up from the den, but the doors to the den were closed, perhaps this could buy them some time.

"Don't worry, Tina, I've stopped them for now. I'd have words with you though." The voice behind them caused her to turn. What she saw forced the air from her lungs, and all but forced her down on her knees.

A man stood behind her, dressed in blue jeans and a simple button up shirt in a deep, foresty green. His feet ended in hooves beneath the hems of the jeans, and there was a wildness about his tanned face, and his wide, open eyes that had no color, only feeling And from his forehead sprouted horns, more elegant than any deep ever sported.

"The man who walks with wolves," Tina whimpered.

"I have been called that," he said, voice filled with the power his appearance had promised. "You know who I am Tina."

"Yes," she said, backing up. "You are the horned one, the master of wolves."

"Master of the Wolves," he mocked. "The wolves needed no master before humanity infused them." Snarls came from downstairs. "Your humanity, Tina." The writer shivered. "You had a chance to mend it, but you denied it," he continued. "You denied yourself. And now there is only one way to end it."

"No," said the little girl. "There is never only one way out." The horned one smiled at the girl, and shook his head.

"So you believe. But some things are like time, child, and there is only one way out of that."

"Mother never believed that."

"Your mother is wrong," snapped the horned one. He paused and smiled, inclining his head to the girl. "My quarrel is not with you."

"You don't believe that," the little girl said, staring fixedly at him.

"You have made yourself part of this."

"No one made me part of this."

The horned one smiled, and in that smile, Tina saw the wildness of the wolf-man she had spoken to, run with. Only on the god's face, it made the wolf look incomplete, and tame. He turned to Tina, curls bouncing slightly as he moved.

"Tina..." he said slightly mockingly. "The killings will begin again tonight, as you hide here."

"Shut up!" she said, teeth clenched.

"Come now Tina, I've heard you say it before, there are too many men on the mother's breast."

"Shut up!"

"You can stop us or not. I don't care. If you don't, the old order will slowly return, as we gather power. Children who were naughty shall be taken from their beds."

"No!"

"Men who abuse those under their care will fall."

"It's still wrong!" Tina cried. "It's not your place to decide who lives and dies - the world isn't the same any more!" The horned one continued as if he didn't hear her.

"And after tonight you won't be able to end them. My wild hunt of wolves will roam one end of this state to the other, beginning to do our work again. No one will be able to stop us. Not without hunting down every wolf in the country. And your human laws won't let you do that." He laughed. "What fun. I haven't run a wild hunt in years."

"You are mad!" cried the child.

"It is not your place to judge," the horned one said sternly. The little girl drew back, burying her face in Grandma Cates' sweater. There was no sound, but beneath her white parka, the child's shoulders heaved as if she cried.

"It's not my place to judge either," snapped Tina's grandmother. "But you are mad."

"Wouldn't you be, crone?" inquired the horned one. "My world has been taken from me, and what little I preserved has been polluted." He looked them over and smiled, it made every bit of Tina's being surge. She heard Grandma Cates gasp. "You aren't the lady's any more, woman," he said to Tina. "There is too much of me in you now."

"If you don't care, which way it goes, tell me how to stop the wolves."

"Tina," drawled the horned one. "You know what must be done to end this."

"No," she said, drawing back into the corner, shielding the child and Grandma Cates with her body.

"You know," he repeated.

"It'll kill me."

"No. Just destroy you." He tilted his head, and for the first time she could actually see where the horns sprouted beneath his hair. "The wolves are part of you now, there is no way to end this, but to come to the wolves, and give them back what is theirs."

Tina's eyes were wild with fear, and she buried her face in her Grandmother's hair. Grandma Cates' eyes were staring blankly into the distance, and she could see nothing. The little girl looked over the elderly woman's arm, silently, at the lord of the hunt. Tina slowly raised her face.

"Grandma?" she asked. her grandmother kept staring off into the distance.

"She will be fine," said the horned one. "The crone is strong of mind, but she has retreated within herself. She does not want to see me." He smiled. It didn't look truly natural. It wasn't that his teeth where fangs, or sharp like that of a predator's; the smile just looked more predatory than friendly. "Oh yes, and when you make your decision, I'd like my knife back, eventually."

"Take it!" she cried. "Just go away, leave us alone!"

"I can't take it Tina. You took it. Now it needs to be returned." He laughed again, a wild, terrible sound. "Much needs to be returned."

"Why?"

"Why? Why did you wander into my realm, and disturb the guardians," he replied easily. "Why does the lady's time lead to my sons, and my sons to mine, and mine to my daughters, and my daughters to the lady?" He shrugged and gave that easy, powerful smile. "Why does the grandmother time keep spinning her thread when so few wish to see its length?"

"I will stop the wolves," Tina said, interrupting his mildly voiced musings. "I can, I know it." She glanced back at the child. "She said... she said there was another way."

"There was. But there is no other way now, Tina. The wolves must have you. Your humanity must be destroyed ere it destroy all that they are."

"There had to be," Tina said.

"There isn't." The lord of the hunt took a few steps forward and put his hands on Tina's shoulders. He smiled at her gently, but with the fire of wildness that she sensed before rippling around them like water. "It has been a while, since one of the lady's people has come to me. You see, you are mine now. It has been a long time," he repeated and lowered his face till it was even with hers. She could feet his horns brush her head. He smiled again. " If you choose to stop us, Just give in, Tina. It will be so much easier that way." He turned away from her and started down the hallway.

'Give in,' she repeated to herself. 'Submit. It isn't worth it!' She tugged on her hair and felt like wailing. 'I'm not worth all that human life. Just... give in...' Suddenly, a blessed calm overtook the slim young writer, and she smiled, opening her eyes. 'I will never give in. If I am yours, than I am. But I will always run my own path.' The sight of the horned one walking away still took her breath away, and stole her courage, but now she had resolve. She stood up and glanced back at the child and Grandma Cates, who were still frozen in a terrified tableau.

Tina swallowed, as the horned one turned the corner, casting a sharp shadow on the wall, even after he was out of sight. She could hear the yelps and growls of the wolves downstairs, and knew that as soon as the horned one reached them, their hunt, the hunt for her would begin anew, till she, and anyone they found with her, was dead. She let the hawthorn staff fall from her hands, and pulled the bone handled dagger from her belt. The blade clattered sharply against the floor, and brought Grandma Cates out of the state she'd been in. As Tina slowly drew her clothes off, the elderly woman cried out

"Tina, what are you doing?" Tina turned and smiled at her.

"I'm running." She followed the horned one around the corner, casting her own shadow against the wall.

"Goodbye, Tina," said the little girl's voice, and when Grandma Cates glanced to see her, the girl-child was gone. A sharp snarl brought Gramma's attention forward again. A grim drama was played out in shadow puppets for Grandma Cates, and she heard howls and snarls, that had never come from a human or animal throat. Then, all at once the entire house went silent. And in the silence that followed, there was laughter.

They found her there, in the middle of an empty house, dead. There were no other bodies in the house. They found no sign of Tina, and they never did. In view of the lack of evidence against her, she was cleared of all charges, despite the fact she had disappeared. There never was another attack, though campers swore they saw, from time to time, wolves upon the mountain.

Actually there was one record of what had happened to Tina. Sybil found it hidden in one of the folders on Tina's computer. She was supposed to be finding the last few stories that Tina had written, to at very least complete the young writer's contract. Somehow, as she read what her friend had written, it all became clear, as if someone or something was whispering in a child's voice into her ear. When Sybil finished reading the file, she deleted it. Sybil knew one thing, and that was the dagger had to go back to where Tina had said she'd found it.

It was the early spring when Sybil found the grove. She had the knife, wrapped in silk, in her pocket, and, despite the warmness of the day, shivered, when she realized that she'd found it at last. The woman clasped her hands together, and offered a prayer, looking around the strange clearing. Early flowers were sprouting up all around it, but the rocks were clear, only ringed with the spring's bounty. Sybil carefully took the knife out of her pocket, and began to unwrap it without touching blade or handle. She stared at the artistry of the carved handle, and suddenly had to look up. Sybil found herself surrounded by wolves. She froze and her eyes flicked around her. Only one wolf stood on a rock, a handsome figure, dark, with a touch of gray at his muzzle. Green gold eyes stared deep into Sybil's and her throat went dry. A second wolf leapt up beside him. A female, ready, almost to give birth. Her fur was dark brown black, and her eyes a startling gold. The female looked at Sybil, and smiled. One by one, the wolves left.

Sybil fell to her knees, every molecule of her body shaking. She reached out, holding the knife in the cloth, and set it on the rock the two wolves had been standing on. It took her several moments to gather the strength to stand, and turn and walk away. Behind her, she felt, rather than heard laughter. But it was spring, and the horned god's power was waning. She knew this, but it didn't keep her from stepping a little more quickly, down the mountain, to her car.