Lucille walked to the area Tamara had just vacated but didn’t shift, watching the frightened wolf.
Weston left his post and jogged down the side of the line of wolves, perilously close to the side. He reached the one at the end and cuffed it on the head hard enough to draw blood, his growl rumbling through his chest. It vibrated through my body, and I wasn’t even attuned to his animal. He grabbed the scruff of the last wolf’s neck and pulled, urging it to walk.
The wolf cowered down a little more. Its head lowered and its ears went out to the sides.
“He’s regaining control,” Hadriel whispered. “He must’ve been an alpha of a large pack. He’s damn good at his job. I wonder how the demons were able to capture him. He never said.”
Numbers, probably. Get one or a few wolves alone, and sacrifice as many demons as it took to bring them in. When you didn’t care about your people, you didn’t care how many perished to get you what you wanted.
Weston turned, a tricky business, and jogged back along the line, his feet inches away from the side. Back at the front, he slowed and gave a sort of yelp. The wolves behind him rose to standing, heads down as though they were shouldering a great weight, and started moving again, following their leader off the bridge.
As soon as the last had made it across, Lucille erupted into her dragon—a little smaller than Tamara, with glittering, wheat-colored scales. She pulled off the same maneuver, jumping off and catching herself with her wings, beating and tilting them to get to the other side.
Tamara, human again, cleared away, and Lucille hit the landing on the other side. She’d misjudged her fly-hop, however, and her dragon’s back foot slipped off. Her tail swooped down to adjust for balance, but the weight shift dragged her body toward the lava.
Micah pushed forward, looking over the edge. It was clear he wanted to help but didn’t know what to do.
I watched, breathless, as the dragon’s front feet scraped against the stone, her body sliding back. She shifted, down on hands and knees, one leg dangling over the side and her body about ready to pitch over after it.
Tamara darted forward and grabbed her outstretched hand. Someone behind me cried out as Lucille continued to fall. Tamara held on, though, leaning back with a determined face. She backed up, pulling Lucille with her, dragging her back onto the stone.
“Fuck,” Hadriel said with a release of breath as Lucille made it, panting, to safety. “Good thing they’ve worked as a team for so long. That was close.”
I had to agree.
“Okay, Hannon, let’s start walking people across,” I said before I could talk myself out of it.
“You’re not affected either?” Hadriel asked.
“I am. But I’ll push through it. We have too many people who can’t shift for Hannon to take them all. Someone has to help.”
I have to push through it, I thought.
Yes. Because if you don’t, you will kill us both.
Didn’t need to be said.
Sometimes you are dense.
She was a dickhead at the best of times.
Hannon briskly took to the bridge with Jedrek over his shoulder. Almost immediately, Jedrek bucked. He flailed his arms and tried to claw his way out of Hannon’s grasp. Clearly he’d been playing dead. It would’ve been nice if he’d kept it up.
A shimmer of magic preceded Jedrek morphing, hair erupting from his body.
“He’s shifting,” Hadriel said in an excited hush. “It’ll be interesting to see if he succumbs to the call of the alpha.”
“What does that mean?” I asked as Hannon twisted and then bent, setting Jedrek’s changing form down and then pinning him against the bridge.
“An alpha has an alluring type of magic for a wolf. They are the leaders of the team, and they promise safety and security in exchange for obedience. Unless a wolf is powerful enough, he’ll succumb to the magic and fall in line. The amount of power you need to resist is dependent on the alpha, but Weston is incredibly powerful. It would take a lot of power to resist him when in wolf form. Jedrek won’t have it, bet you. Or maybe he won’t even try to resist. Hard to say.”
Jedrek finished shifting and snarled, surging up and throwing Hannon off. He lunged, going for Hannon’s jugular. I called out, stepping forward to help. Weston was already on the bridge, his teeth bared.
Neither of us made it in time.
Hannon grabbed Jedrek’s snout, one hand on the top and the other on the bottom, holding it open. Saliva dripped from Jedrek’s sharp teeth. Hannon fell back, the wolf toppling him onto the bridge. Without so much as a flash of rage, Hannon tensed, and then a wicked crack rent the air. He’d ripped his hands apart.