The Wolves of Midwinter (The Wolf Gift Chronicles 2)

A bit of a gale beat on the windows. And the prediction was that it would get worse before morning. However, better weather was expected for Sunday’s party.

The wind was screaming in the chimneys, and the rain on the glass sounded like hail.

The lights in the oaks had been shut off. But all the other outside lights were on. The workmen were gone from the property; and for the moment at least everything was “done” for the Christmas gala. Masses of holly and mistletoe as well as pine garland were wound around the mantelpiece and the sides of the fireplace, and about the windows and the doors, and the sweet scent sometimes filled the air and sometimes died away altogether, as though the greenery were now and then holding its breath.

Margon cleared his throat. “I want to speak first,” he said. “I want to tell what I know about this audacious plan and why I’m against it. I want to be heard on this issue.” His long hair was down around his face, and a little more brushed and combed than usual, perhaps because Stuart had been insisting he comb it, and he looked something like a dark-skinned Renaissance prince. Even his burgundy-colored velour sweater added to the effect, and the jeweled rings on his slender dark fingers.

“No, please, I beg you. Be quiet,” said Felix with a small imploring gesture. His golden skin usually didn’t show much color, but Reuben could see the flush in his cheeks now, and his brown eyes were sharpened with what was obviously anger. He seemed a much younger man now than the polished gentleman Reuben knew him to be.

Without waiting for Margon to speak, Felix looked at Reuben and said, “I’ve invited the Forest Gentry for a reason.” He glanced at Stuart and back at Reuben. “They’ve always been our friends. And I’ve called them here because they can approach Marchent’s spirit and invite her into their company, and comfort Marchent’s spirit, and bring her round to realizing what’s happened to her.”

Margon rolled his eyes and sat back, folding his arms, rage exuding from every pore. “Our friends!” He spat the words contemptuously.

Felix went on. “They can do this,” said Felix, “and they will if I ask them to do it. They will take her into their company, and if they will permit, she can elect to join them.”

“Good God!” said Margon. “Such a fate. And this you do to your own blood kin.”

“Don’t speak to me of blood kin!” Felix flashed. “What do you remember of blood kin!”

“Guys, please, don’t fight again!” said Stuart. Stuart was plainly shocked. He too had combed his thick curly hair for the meeting, even cut some of it maybe, which only made him look more like a giant freckled six-year-old.

“Since time immemorial they’ve lived in the forests,” said Felix, glancing again at Reuben. “They were in the forests of the New World before Homo sapiens ever arrived here.”

“No, they were not,” said Margon disgustedly. “They’ve come here for the same reasons we came.”

“They have always been in the forests,” said Felix. He kept his eyes fixed on Reuben. “The forests of Asia and Africa, the forests of Europe, the forests of the New World. They have their stories of origin and their beliefs as to whence they came.”

“Emphasis on the word ‘stories,’ ” said Margon. “Better put it they have their preposterous fables and nonsensical superstitions like all the rest of us. All the Ageless Ones have their stories. Even the Ageless cannot live without stories, no more than humankind can live without them, because all the Ageless of this world come from humankind.”

“We don’t know that,” said Felix patiently. “We know we were once human. That’s all we know. And finally it doesn’t matter, especially not with the Forest Gentry, because we know what they can do. What they can do is what matters.”

“Does it matter if the Forest Gentry tell lies?” demanded Margon.

Felix was becoming more and more agitated.

“They are here and they are real and they will be able to see Marchent in this house, hear her, speak to her, and invite her to go with them.”

“Go with them where!” said Margon. “To remain earthbound forever?”

“Please!” said Reuben. “Margon, let Felix talk. Let him explain the Forest Gentry. Please! I can’t help Marchent’s spirit. I don’t know how.” He had begun to tremble, but he wouldn’t give up on this point. “This afternoon I walked all through this house. I walked the property in the rain. I talked to Marchent. I talked, and I talked and I talked. And I know she can’t hear me. And every time I see her she’s more miserable than the last!”

“Look, man, this is really true,” Stuart said. “Margon, you know I worship the ground you walk on, man. I don’t want to make you mad. I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me. You know that.” His voice was getting husky and almost broken. “But please. You gotta understand what Reuben’s going through. You weren’t here last night.”

Margon started to interrupt, but Stuart waved him aside. “And you guys have to start trusting us!” said Stuart. “We trust you but you don’t trust us. You don’t tell us what’s going on around us.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lisa. Lisa regarded him indifferently.

Margon threw up his hands, and then folded his arms again, looking off at the fire. His eyes flashed angrily at Stuart and then at Felix. “All right,” he whispered. He gestured to Felix to speak. “Explain. Go on.”

“The Forest Gentry are ancient,” said Felix, now attempting to pick up his customary reasonable demeanor. “You’ve both heard tell of them. You heard of them in the fairy tales you learned as little ones, but the fairy tales have domesticated them, rendered them quaint. Forget the fairy tales, visions of elves.”

“Yeah, like it’s more like Tolkien.”

“This is not Tolkien!” Margon seethed. “This is reality. Don’t mention Tolkien again to me, Stuart. Don’t mention any of your noble and revered fantasy writers! No Tolkien, no George R. R. Martin, no C. S. Lewis, do you hear me. They are marvelously inventive and ingenious, and even godly in the way they rule their imaginative worlds, but this is reality!”

Felix put up his hands for silence.

“Look, I saw them,” said Reuben gently. “They appeared to be men, women, children.”

“And so they are,” said Felix. “They have what we call subtle bodies. They can move through any barrier, through any wall, and over any distance instantly. And they can take visible form, a form as solid as our form, and when they are in the solid form they eat, drink, and make love as we do.”