A scream filled the night air, and I turned, trying to gauge where it had come from. It was definitely female. I stood, sliding down the roof, and jumped over to the next lowered roof. From there, I leapt into a wagon and hopped onto the road, running into the covered market. It had closed up hours ago, the tables and stalls still stood, but the merchandise had long been packed away. Most of the coal in the burners had been left to die out. An ebbing orange glow flickered within the tent, creating haunting shadows on the canvas walls.
A whimper came from below a nearby table. Stooping low, I found a woman with brown hair, her white blouse was spotted with blood, cradling a fair-haired girl protectively. The girl’s eyes glistened with tears. The woman’s hand was covering the child’s mouth as she tried to keep her from crying out.
I placed a finger to my lips, and she nodded. I mouthed the word “where” and she pointed farther down the aisle across the market. Standing, I reached for my short blades. Both were only the length of my arm, which made them easier to hide than a short sword.
My eyes searched the shadows for movement. Where was it? Then I paused and turned toward the table where the woman and child were cowering. My intuition said something was wrong. There had been something more than just fear on the child’s face. A pleading look. I replayed the encounter in my mind. The woman: brown hair, white blouse . . . she wasn’t wearing shoes. I leaned down and the space beneath the table was empty. The woman and child were gone.
I swore under my breath and jumped up onto the table and took off running in the opposite direction. A female werewolf. Of course, she would send me downwind.
Now I was angry. Leaping from table to table, I saw a shadow running on the other side of the canvas. I crossed, leapt in the air, and ripped my blade through cloth and crashed into the person, tackling them to the ground.
Hands wrestled for my blade. I grunted, and then was easily flipped over their head where I landed on my back. The air was forced out of my lungs and I gasped as a shadow loomed over me.
I expected a killing blow, but a hand reached out and pulled me to my feet.
“You’re getting slow,” Percy said.
“Shut it,” I snapped. “Come on, she’s getting away.”
“She?” He looked confused.
“Women are capable of being killers too.”
Percy didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t doubt it.”
“That way,” Rumple called from Percy’s back. “In the woods.”
We took off running toward the path, through the bushes and up a hill. We approached a clearing and slowed when we came to the girl, left abandoned in the middle of the snow. I raced to the child and checked her to make sure she wasn’t injured.
Percy stood over us protectively. “The werewolf wouldn’t just abandon her prey so easily.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” I agreed, pulling the girl's arm out to see the bite mark on her wrist. “But I don’t think this is about food.”
“What?” He turned his head down to look at me as I met his gaze
“Watch out!” I pulled the child back as the werewolf dropped from the trees above, landing on Percy and knocking him to the ground. Percy raised the axe as the wolf snapped at his face. He shoved the handle into the wolf’s mouth, pushing her jaw up and away from his head and neck. Her claws dug into his shoulders, ripping through his skin.
I grabbed my knives and slashed at the werewolf’s arms. She howled and leapt backward off of Percy. Now she was injured and crazed. Percy got to his feet, his arm dripping blood.
“She bit me!” Rumple called out indignantly. “It’s only fair that I bite her back. Let me at her.”
The werewolf in front of us stood at almost seven feet tall, her chest gaunt and her body misshapen. Her mouth was now a maw of jagged yellow teeth, with fingers elongated into claws, and her eyes yellow with madness.
She attacked me, her claws swinging for my head. I ducked, spun, and kicked out my leg to sweep her feet out from under her. The werewolf leapt straight up, avoiding my attack, and clawed again. I wasn’t so fast dodging it a second time and her claw raked my shoulder.
“Honor!” Percy rushed forth, swinging the axe toward the werewolf, aiming to cleave her in half.
“No, don't harm her!” I jumped between them, and he arched the axe upward, barely missing my face.
“Are you crazy?” Percy cried out. “I could have killed you!”
I ignored Percy. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, walking toward the werewolf. “For the pain you’re in, and your loneliness. But you have no right to steal what doesn’t belong to you,” I said, repeating the same words Lady Eville had spoken to me years ago.
The werewolf’s jaw snapped and froth fell from her lips, then her head turned back to the cowering child. She took a step forward, and I cut her off, my swords at my side. “I know you must have lost a great deal. But nothing will bring them back.”
The wolf shook her head and her shoulders lowered as if in remorse. I took another step closer. “This is not who you are. What happened was an accident. But you’ve become a killer, and I can’t let you continue this course. Think about what you are doing. Your family wouldn’t want you to become this.”
“Honor, what are you doing?” Percy tried to take a step closer, but I held my hand out, keeping him at bay and motioning to the child. He sidestepped and picked her up in his arms, preparing to run to safety.
“Don’t do this to them. You can be stronger than this. You don’t have to continue on this path.” I took another step, and the werewolf snarled. She snapped at my outstretched hand, but I didn’t back down. “I can help you.”
The werewolf looked over my shoulder at the child and then back to me. She shook—head to toe—and I watched the horror of her shift. The bones in her arms and legs cracked and broke as they reshaped themselves. The snout began to mold back into her skull, and I couldn’t take my eyes away as the fur peeled back to reveal a quivering naked human woman, cowering in the snow. I took off my cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She clutched it closed in front of her and looked up at me, tears running down her face. “It hurts so much. The pain. It never stops.”
“It’s the werewolf curse. You weren’t born a shifter. Your body’s not handling the change well.”
She trembled, her eyes looking through me, like she was remembering. “They attacked our village. There were so many. Monstrous wolf-like creatures ravaging through our homes. My husband died protecting me as I tried to escape with my daughter, but they caught us. Those monsters caught us,” she repeated and raised her trembling hand to her throat, where I saw faint scars that had healed. “I thought I’d died that day.”
“What else can you tell me about the attack?” I said softly.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was dark. Middle of the night. Wait. I remember . . . I remember hearing music. A haunting melody right before a beast burst through our front door. After the attack, when I came to, everyone was dead, and all that was left was dust.”
Was this one of the attacks Lorn was worried about? The son of Allemar?
When I thought of the evil sorcerer, I shuddered. He was killed by my sister, Maeve, or at least his soul was. He had come back before, but we knew he had apprentices spread throughout the land. In Florin, he was trying to create a shifter army. It seems that was still the case, but now it was led by someone else.