The Wolves of Midwinter (The Wolf Gift Chronicles 2)

Someone cried out. It was a male voice, a voice full of rage. A loud strangled scream tore the night. Never had he heard a Morphenkind scream in that fashion.

The music had stopped. The singing of the Forest Gentry had stopped. The night was empty, then suddenly filled with the crackling and exploding of the fire.

He opened his eyes. They were all rushing round the fire now to the place of the musicians and the cauldron.

There was that scent, stronger now. A human scent, distinctly human like nothing in this clearing, like nothing that should have been in this clearing or in these woods tonight.

In the flickering half-light all the Morphenkinder were crowded into a circle, but the cauldron was not the center of this circle. That was way off to the side. There was something else in the center of this circle. The Forest Gentry hung back whispering and murmuring restlessly.

Hockan was roaring at Margon, and from the other male voices he knew came a rising chorus of fury.

“Dear God,” said Laura. “It’s your father.”

22

REUBEN PUSHED HIS WAY through the Morphenkinder blocking him, with Laura right behind him.

There stood Phil facing the fire, his eyes wide with shock, his body swaying and stumbling as he sought to stand upright. He wore the old gray sweatpants and sweatshirt he always wore for sleep, and his feet were bare in the dirt. He seemed on the verge of passing out, and suddenly one of the female Morphenkinder grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, jerking him upright.

“He should die for this,” she roared. “Coming unbidden to our revels. I tell you, he should die! Who dares to say otherwise?”

“Stop, Fiona,” cried Felix. He rushed forward just as Reuben did, and gripped Fiona’s arm, quickly overpowering her with his masculine advantage and forcing her back as she moaned in rage, struggling against him.

Reuben reached out and grabbed Phil under the arms to steady him, but what in God’s name could he say to Phil? How could he make himself known to Phil without further shattering his sanity, and it was clear that Phil was losing all semblance of reasoning as he stared around him.

Suddenly as Reuben let him go, so as not to frighten him more, there came a gleam of recognition into Phil’s pale eyes, and he cried out: “Elthram, Elthram, help me. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what this is! What’s happening to me?”

Out of the shadows Elthram came towards him saying loudly, “I’m here, my friend. And no harm, I swear it, will come to you!”

At once three of the female Morphenkinder began to roar, advancing on Phil and Felix and Reuben. “Back, out of here,” screamed Fiona. “The dead don’t talk at our revels. The dead don’t say who lives or dies amongst us!” The others were closing in as well, roaring at Elthram and menacing him with barks and growls.

“Get back!” Felix roared. Sergei, Thibault, and Frank moved in. The taller figure of Stuart charged up to Felix’s shoulder.

Elthram did not move. There was a faint smile on his lips.

“This is a matter of flesh and blood!” cried Fiona, one paw raised. “Who didn’t know the utter folly of these Morphenkinder to bring this human being right to their own hearth? Who did not see this coming?”

Margon took up a spot directly behind Fiona, unseen by her, but not unseen by those with her. Slowly, one female was moving away. Surely this was Berenice. She moved silently away from the females and towards Frank, taking up her stand behind him.

“No one is harming this man!” said Felix. “And no one will say one more word about death on this hallowed night and on this hallowed ground! You want a human sacrifice! That’s what you want. And you won’t have it here.”

All of a chorus the women roared.

“Death has always been a part of Modranicht!” said one of the women, surely the Russian, but Reuben could not clearly picture her now or recall her name. “Sacrifice has always been a part of Modranicht.” The other females gave their loud assent, stepping forward and then back and then dangerously forward again.

“Modranicht!” Phil whispered.

“Not in our time!” declared Sergei. “And not here on our land, and not this man who is blood kin to one of us. Not this man who is an innocent man!” Growls of assent came from the males.

It seemed every figure present was in some kind of motion, yet some dynamic tension held back the inevitable brawl.

“You came to our secret revels,” Fiona cried out as she faced Phil, the stubbed fingers of her hairy hand visible as she spread them out, claws fully extended. “You dared come when you were told not to come. Why should you not be the sacrifice? Aren’t you a gift from fortune, you blundering fool?”

“No!” Phil cried. “I didn’t come! I don’t know how I got here.”

Right through the band of females came Lisa suddenly, throwing back her hood, the glare of the fire full on her face. Margon motioned for her to stay back and so did Sergei but she would not.

“Look at Philip,” she shouted, her voice sharp but unequal to the others. “Look at his bare feet. He didn’t come here of his own accord. Someone brought him here.”

Fiona lunged at her, but Felix and Sergei caught Fiona and held her as Hockan drew close, threatening them. It was only with great effort that the two males could hold Fiona.

Lisa stood her ground, her face as cold and calm as it had ever been.

She went on, “These are lies. Philip didn’t walk through the woods like this. How could he? I gave him the drink to make him sleep. I saw that he drank every drop. He was sleeping like the dead when I left him. This is treachery beneath the Morphenkinder. Where is your conscience? Where is your code?”

The females were outraged.

“And now we listen on Modranicht to the voices of servants?” cried Fiona. “What right have you to speak here? Maybe your usefulness is at an end.” Two of the other females made snorting noises of contempt and outrage. The protective males moved in closer.

“Hockan, speak for us!” Fiona roared. The other took up the same cry. But the white wolf stood apart staring without a sound.

Reuben could smell the fear and the innocence of his father. But he could catch no scent of evil from these female Morphenkinder. It was maddening to him. If this was not evil, then what was evil? But all his senses told him this would end in a violent frenzy in which Phil could be instantly killed.

Lisa would not be moved.

Phil stumbled again as if his knees were giving out, and once more Reuben’s arm encircled his back and steadied him. Phil was staring at Lisa and then he looked again to Elthram. “Lisa’s telling the truth. I don’t know how I got here. Elthram, is this a nightmare? Elthram, where is my son? My son will help me. This is his land. Where is my son?”