Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 19

"Blek! Smell like pine-y tree," Freddie complained as Etta spread the herbal salve over him.

"Yes," Etta smiled indulgently, amused despite her fear. "Which means you don't smell like little boy, and the bad guys can't sniff you out."

"'Arco not bad guy," Freddie insisted.

"No, she's not," Etta sighed sadly, "but remember what I told you..."

"Mean witch put spell on 'Arco to make her be bad," Freddie nodded with all the sage wisdom of a toddler. "You gonna kiss 'Arco?"

"I... what? What?!" Etta stammered, shocked. "Why? Kiss her?!"

"To break spell," Freddie said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Like sleepy beauty... prince kiss girl, break spell... Frog prince... princess kiss frog, break spell. Kissing break spells!"

"OooK," Etta said, adding half to herself, "Call that a solid Plan B."

Freddie stopped to sniff the air.  "'Arco coming," he said.

"OK," Etta took a deep breath. "You remember what to do?"

"Hide," Freddie said seriously. "Pretend I pine-y tree. Don't come out 'til you say."

"And if I don't call you?" Etta prompted.

"Hide and run to Mr. Lumberjacks," Freddie said.

"Good." Etta tried to give him a reassuring smile. She knew he didn't really understand. For Freddie, it must seem like a game, but as long he followed the rules... "Everything's going to be fine, cub. Go."

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As Demarco's russet wolf-form came into view, Etta took another steadying breath. She never thought she'd be so grateful for Father's predictably casual cruelty. 

She was still taking a horrible risk, not only to herself but to little Freddie too. Her plan was in no way sure to work. In fact, she admitted as the entranced werewolf raced closer, it was almost certain to fail. She just hoped Freddie would be OK. Her herbal brew wasn't a true potion, but it should still hide his scent from the werewolves, and if he could reach the Jacksons' house, she was sure they would protect him. 

Yes, a horrible risk, but she couldn't abandon Demarco. She couldn't betray another friend.

Working quickly now, she affixed the tuft of Demarco's hair to the poppet she'd prepared and began the incantation. 

It wasn't real magic. There were no Words of Power, but the rhythm of the incantation felt... familiar... as if the cadence of it carried the echo of a Word. Even as the werewolf bore down on her, she felt strangely calm. She could actually feel the energies of wind and water and the Moonwood itself gathering in her hands. 

At the heart of any magic is intent and will. Etta focused on hers. Lux Demarco, she thought. You are my best friend in world. Come back to me. Please, Lux... come back to me!

She felt the whisper of Power rush through her, leaving her giddy. She actually laughed out loud as she hurled her little folk charm against the might of an ancient and powerful warlock. 

Even bereft of her own Power, she knew the shape and form of her Father's magic. She knew the forbidden secrets that fueled his Power and she knew its weaknesses. 

"Etta?" Demarco blinked, stunned and confused as much from her sudden shift of form as from the breaking of the enchantment that had held her. "What... I was... Oh God, I was hunting you!"

"Yes!" Etta cried. "It worked! I can't believe it worked!"

"Oh God," Demarco shook her head to clear it. "Oh God, Etta what have I done? I..."

"It was my Father," Etta said firmly. "He put an enchantment on you. Whatever you did, it wasn't you. You didn't have any choice."

"It was like, I wanted to do everything... anything... he told me," Demarco said, horrified. "Like he was the smartest, wisest, most perfect..."

"OK, you can stop anytime," Etta snorted. "He's an asshole and he twisted your brain into knots to make you believe he was the center of your world. A little like love, really..."

"Etta, we attacked the Collective elders!" Demarco gasped. "He's taking over the whole town..."

"Yeah, I thought as much," Etta sighed.

"We can stop him!" Demarco said. "You can break the others free, and we can stop him!"

"I can't," Etta said. 

"Etta, he's got Rory and Lou... all the Wildfangs! We have to free them," Demarco said firmly.

"I can't!" Etta insisted. "I wasn't sure the charm would work at all but I know... I know... I need to be close to the subject. Like, emotionally close. Without that bond, I don't stand a chance of breaking the enchantment. Lux, you're my best friend in the world... I couldn't leave you... but I'm not that close to Rory or Lou... and I don't even like Kiril! I'm sorry. We can't save them... not alone."

"OK, OK," Demarco nodded, taking it all in. "I guess I should be glad it worked at all."

"Yeah, me too. Here, you're kinda naked." Etta said, pulling off her shirt and handing it to her. "I'm just really glad I didn't have to kiss you."

"What? Kiss me? Why would you..." Demarco stammered as she pulled Etta's shirt on, glad that it was long enough to cover her. "Also... hey, I'm a good kisser! But why?"

"It was just something Freddie said," Etta smiled. 

"Freddie!?" Demarco gasped. "Oh God, is he OK? Is he safe?"

"OK? Yes," Etta said. "Safe? No. None of us are safe. Come on."

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 18

Night had fallen and the thin crescent of the waning moon gave little light. A chill wind blew down off the mountain, stirring the branches of the old trees. The Moonwood itself seemed to whisper, as if the trees shared ancient secrets among themselves, under the watchful stars.

In the quiet of the cold spring night, the Wildfangs, obedient to their Master's command, gathered at the Den.

"As you see Markus, all the Wildfangs are now ours," Faust said.

"Too bad the last one never came to one of Kiril's concerts," Markus replied, as he studied the gathered werewolves. "We could have finished this sooner."

"You're always so impatient, my friend," Faust smiled. "The concerts served their purpose... giving us our chance to ensnare the others. There was no need to rush. When the time was right, Ms. Demarco came to me... and now the entire pack is under my control."

"What about Claudette?" Markus asked, the whisper of a cruel jeer almost hidden. "Has she come to you, now that the time is right? Is she under control?"

"Claudette is unimportant," Faust's answering smile barely covered the flash of temper. 

"As long as she doesn't interfere again," Markus growled with bitter memory. [1]

"She's powerless," Faust replied. "Stripped of her magic, she can do nothing!"

"Da, she is like buzzing of little fly," Kiril said, shifting out of his wolf-form and stepping forward. "Annoying but harmless."

"She's made her choice," Faust nodded, "and she'll suffer for it."

Kiril smiled, "Wildfangs await your orders."

"Sleep... until morning," Faust said. "Markus, go back to Forgotten Hollow and tell our friends - By the time the sun sets, and they have awoken, Moonwood Mill will belong to the Wildfangs... and the Wildfangs belong to us."

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Soon, Faust's familiar spirit, Mephistopheles, intoned in its sepulchral voice. Soon the Moonwood will be ours.

"Indeed," Faust smiled. "It seems a pitiful domain... to those who do not understand the ancient power here. Now, let us be about it..."

"Kiril," he continued. "Mephistopheles tells me that there is to be a little gathering at the library this morning... local mortals speaking with Mr. Wilder, sharing their their concerns regarding the Wildfangs recent actions. I believe the pack should have a voice in that meeting.

"Take Bianca. Deal with Mr. Wilder and the show these mortals what it truly means to be means to be ruled by the Wildfangs!"

"As for the rest of you... it is time to put an end to this feud with the Collective. They will acknowledge the rule of the Wildfangs or they will pay the price. We will bring the Collective elders to heel... then we will deal with Kristophoros, the Annointed." 

"Of course, that does leave one matter unresolved," he mused to himself. "By now, Claudette will have abandoned her so-called friends and be focusing on protecting herself... hiding or trying to escape. So, who shall I use to track down my wayward daughter?"

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Angry howls echoed through the trees. 

"Don't worry, Freddie" Etta said, holding the little boy close. "I'll keep you safe."

I won't betray you, she added to herself, and I won't abandon you!

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[1] The last time a defiant Claudette interfered.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 17

Something was wrong.

Demarco didn't know what, but she could feel it with every step she took back to the Den. Of course, lots of things were wrong right now, but this was... different. She couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to be somewhere. 

To hell with it, she thought. Rory always told her to trust her feelings.

Breaking into a jog, she trotted past the Den and headed toward the entrance to the tunnels. The underground passages that ran under Moonwood Mill were the quickest way for her to get to the Collective's cabin. Without knowing how or why, she knew she needed to get back to Etta.

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"Hello, Claudette," Professor John Faust's deep voice was like ice and fire in Etta's blood.

The sight of him, standing there behind her like some black shadow she could never escape, filled her with conflicting emotions. Anger, hate... oh so much hate... fear, shame and, despite everything, the desperate, bone-deep longing for his approval. The sheer intensity of her feelings was nauseating.

"Well, I am pleased to see that two years living among these feral beasts hasn't done you any harm my dear, except perhaps to your fashion sense," Faust said.

"Seriously? I mean... seriously?!" Etta gasped, the absurdity of his words cutting through her visceral reaction to him. "After two and a half years... two and a half years! ... you risk coming to Moonwood Mill to insult my clothes?! What do you want, Father?"

"Is it so strange that I would seek out my dear daughter," Faust said with a serpent’s smile.

"The last time we spoke," Etta said bitterly, "you said I was a defiant fool, a disappointment. You said I was nothing."

Even now, knowing better what he was and what he had done, the memory hurt. All she had ever wanted was to make him proud. The memory of things she had done in an effort to earn his approval sickened her and still she yearned for it, ached for it.

"My dear, I was angry," Faust said gently. "You had, after all, just betrayed me."

"Yes, well, betrayal seems to be a particular talent of mine," Etta said, holding tightly to her anger as a shield against her pain. "One you nurtured and honed to a keen edge. Careless of you… cut by your own weapon."

"Yes," Faust hissed. “Quite careless."

"What do you want, Father?" Etta repeated.

"I came to offer you a chance to return," Faust smiled. "A chance to regain the powers those sanctimonious Sages took from you. I can give you that... and more. Come back to me, my dear."

She couldn't breathe for the shock of it. There he was, offering her everything... her powers restored, her place at his side. All she had to do was take it.

"Why?" she heard herself ask. "After all this time, why?"

"I need you, Claudette," Faust said gently, kindly. "Great things are coming, and I want my daughter at my side. You were a powerful witch, and you can be again. Together, we can continue the Great Work..."

"I've... I've dreamed about this," Claudette said. "Literally dreamed of this moment... of you, standing there and offering to take me back, offering to restore everything I lost. Every time... every time... I woke up before I heard myself answer you. I've wondered... for so long I've wondered what I would say to you. Now I know, without doubt or hesitation, what my answer is."

"Go to Hell, Father!" Etta shouted. "I want nothing from you. Your words are lies. Your gifts are poison. You used me, twisted me, made me a weapon... nothing but your weapon! I will not go back! I will not join you. So yeah... go to Hell, Professor Faust! I have it on good authority you know the way."

With a deep breath, she turned her back on him and marched away. It had happened. He'd come to her, just as she had always wanted. He offered her everything, and she'd rejected him. She felt free. She felt strong... and she absolutely wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her throw up. She'd do that when she got back to her cabin and could break down privately.

"You ungrateful little slut," Faust snarled. "Don't you turn your back to me!"

Pain seared through every part of her body. 

She couldn't move. She couldn't even scream. 

Desperately, she tried to cling to her anger, to her defiance, her freedom. Another wave of pain ripped through her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to crawl to Father and beg for his forgiveness. Anything to stop the pain.

"Hey!" Demarco shouted. "What the hell are you doing to her!?"

She didn't know what was happening, not really, but she had no doubt that this strange, dark man was responsible for what was happening to Etta.

"Leave her alone," she snarled, looming over the man.

"Ms. Demarco, I believe," Faust smiled even as he reflexively leaned away from the werewolf's fury. "I've been so eager to meet you."

"If you don't back off, asshole, you're going to get more of me than you can handle," Demarco growled.

"Run," Etta sobbed softly. "Lux, run... please... run!"

"Oh, I think not," Faust smiled. "You see, I know how to handle bitches like you. Heel, dog."

"No," Etta cried as Faust raised his wand and spoke a Word. 

Sobbing, Etta turned and fled. Lux, I'm sorry, she thought. I didn't have enough time. 

Demarco stood, dazed. Her mind felt empty, as she awaited her Master's command.

Finally, Faust thought, the last of the Wildfangs is mine.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 16

"What's gotten into her, Lou?" Demarco demanded.

Winter had finally released its grip on Moonwood Mill, and the sudden spring rains had melted most of the snow. Unfortunately, the newly rediscovered freedom to get out of the house had done little to ease tensions. Rory's declarations at the pack meeting, and the town meeting that had followed, had set the pot to boiling. Relations between the packs had been reduced to hard looks and snarling.

"What do you mean?" Lou asked mildly.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?!" Demarco burst out. "Look, I know I've only been here since fall, but I can see she's acting weird. When Rory brought me into the pack, the Wildfangs were all about supporting each other and improving ourselves. When did 'rule the town' become a thing?"

"You'd rather leave it to the elders and the old blood families?" Lou replied softly, but Demarco was startled by the low growl in his voice. 

"What the hell, Lou?" Demarco said, her eyes searching his face. What's gotten into him, she wondered.

"Look, OK, maybe we should have more of a say in things," she continued. "I really don't know... but Rory's storming around like she's constantly on the edge of shifting and going on a rampage. You know that Kurt and old Mrs. McGee tried to talk to her about all this and she basically threatened them. They're normals, Lou! When did she start going around threatening normals?"

"... and what about Kiril?" she added. "I know she used to keep a tighter leash on Kiril... now she's letting him go around snarling at people and basically doing whatever he wants." 

"Kiril's always been..." Lou started.

"The other day, he had Layla cornered back by the library bathrooms," Demarco interrupted. "When I challenged him about it, he laughed it off... like it was nothing. It's not nothing, Lou! I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't come along."

"I'll talk to Rory," Lou said. "You know, you should really come with us to Kiril's next gig down in the Harbor."

"What?" Demarco blinked at the sudden subject change. "Why would I do that? Apart from the fact that I have to listen to him torture a perfectly good guitar here all the time, have you not been listening to me? Kiril is out of control."

"Well, he's better when he's playing," Lou insisted.

"Out. Of. Control," Demarco said firmly.

"I'll talk to Rory," Lou repeated. "She'll reign him in."

"She will or I will," Demarco replied seriously. "This is going too far, Lou. Someone's going to get hurt."

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"I don't know what to do," Demarco ranted. "Other than keep an eye on Kiril. That, I definitely have to do."

Etta, Demarco thought, at least seemed to understand. Her entire pack might have bought in to this 'rule the town' nonsense, but Etta she could count on to be sensible.

"Yeah, not good," Etta agreed. "Hey, can I have a lock of your hair?"

OK, maybe not 'sensible'...

"What?" Demarco blinked. "Is this some weird witch-y pick-up line?"

"No... no," Etta laughed. "OK, actually it can be sometimes... but that's totally not what I meant. It's just... well, think of it as 'luck charm' thing."

"I thought you couldn't do magic anymore," Demarco said, puzzled and distracted.

"I can't," Etta said quickly. "Not real magic... but there are... other things. Herbalism, folk magic... little things I can still do."

"I guess a little good luck couldn't hurt," Demarco admitted. What did a few hairs matter, in the end?

"He made a play at me again," Etta added. "Kiril, I mean."

"He what?! What did he do? Are you OK?" Demarco couldn't hold back the snarl. 

"I'm fine," Etta insisted. "He just pulled his 'hey baby, need a real man' thing... but Bianca shut him down pretty quickly." 

"He went after you with Bianca around?" Demarco blinked. "He's usually not that daring. What did she do?"

"She called me a skinny, flat-chested bitch and said he'd never be interested in me... as if I was the one hitting on him," Etta snorted.

"Bitch," Demarco muttered. "I don't get those two at all... but I definitely need to keep an eye on him. I don't know, Etta... I can't shake the feeling that something really bad is about to happen."

-----------------------------

The strands of Demarco's hair felt heavy in Etta's pocket, as if their significance had physical substance. Almost as if she could still sense the magic. 

Should she have told Demarco the truth? No, not yet. Demarco wouldn't understand... or, worse, she would understand perfectly. 

Time. She just needed a little more time.

"Hello, Claudette," Father's deep voice filled the silence.

Bad Moon Rising - Chapter 15

"So, what's the deal with this Town Meeting anyway?" Demarco asked, a little apprehensive.

Winter refused to let go of Moonwood Mill without a fight. Despite the calendar claiming it was a few days until spring, cold winds blew down off the mountain, carrying icy snow that continued to blanket the ground. 

"Everyone in town gets together and talks," Rory snarled. 

Demarco cringed. Tempers already frayed by the long winter were stretched to the breaking point. The idea of getting everyone in town together in one room and talking sounded right up there with pouring gasoline on gunpowder while smoking a cheap cigar.

"Is democracy in action!" Kiril said with a broad grin. "Everyone votes on town budget, elects town officers, choose action plans... Is beautiful!"

"It's bullshit," Rory snapped. "The meeting is just for show. The Collective really runs everything."

"That's tonight anyway," Rory continued. "This is the Pack meeting... same kind of deal, but werewolves only. All the so-called Respected Elders and Heads of Families get together and hash out our business before we deal with the normals."

"Oh," Demarco said. "So, why am I here? I mean, I've been a werewolf for less than six months, so I'm not a respected elder, and I don't have a family so..." 

Maybe I can get out of here, she added to herself.

"You are family of one," Kiril grinned.

"Exactly," Rory said, crushing Demarco's hopes of escape. 

Demarco nodded, more in acceptance than agreement. She might have a voice in the meeting, but if she had any choice in the matter, she was going to stay quiet. 

Resigned, she followed Rory through the bunker's heavy door and down the rusty metal stairs. No one had really explained to her why there was an old bunker behind Grimtooth's. Demarco knew there was a second one in the woods near the Collective house where Etta lived, and that they both connected to the network of tunnels that ran beneath the town. 

Whatever its original purpose may have been, the bunker had become the formal meeting place between the packs. The Collective elders were there already, speaking quietly among themselves as Rory led the Wildfangs in.

Despite the rickety tables and mismatched chairs, Demarco felt the air of importance in the room and the weight of authority that rested on the single, otherwise ordinary, chair at the head of the table. 

As she took her uncomfortable place at the table, across from Wolfgang, Daniel Moonrunner and Lily, Demarco considered that chair at the head of it. An uncomfortable silence fell, as everyone seemed to feel the emptiness of that chair.

Rory broke the silence, plainly holding back simmering emotion. "Are we waiting for Kristopher?"

"I believe we may... have to begin without him," Lily replied with a motherly smile. "I'm sure we can..."

"Where is he?" Rory demanded. "Where is the great leader of the Collective?"

"Perhaps, in his meditations..." Lily began.

"He's sitting on the damn mountain, isn't he!?" Rory snapped. "Or he's off walking in the woods, watching it snow. Or maybe he's playing guitar. His 'meditations' are more important than this meeting!"

"Really, Rory," Lily snapped back. "We can begin without him. I propose..."

"You can't!" Rory barked back. "You're not his mate, Lily. You're just like me... another one of his foundlings. You have no right to speak for him. Not here. Not now."

"I am your elder," Lily snarled.

Demarco almost rocked back in shock, hearing the anger in Lily's voice. She'd come to think of the Collective werewolves as calmer, more contained, than the Wildfangs. It was easy to think of Lily as a sweet, grandmotherly old lady and a shock to remember that, like her, a wolf hid behind the other woman's eyes.

"But she is correct," Daniel Moonrunner put in calmly. "You are not Kristopher's mate. You do not have the right to speak for him in council."

At least Mr. Moonrunner was still calm, Demarco thought. Born a werewolf, he rarely seemed to struggle with his wolf. It was just part of him. The news that Lily wasn't Kristopher's mate was actually a surprise though. Demarco had always assumed... 

"Fine," Lily huffed, "but I am still an elder. I have a voice here."

"But I am a pack leader," Rory said fiercely. "So, I get to speak first. I claim my rights."

"Very well, Rory," Lily said stiffly. "What do you wish to say?"

"I think it's clear that we need a new leader," Rory growled.

"How dare you," Lily snarled back.

"Kristopher's not here!" Rory snapped. "He hasn't been here since Jake left. He's abandoned us... abandoned his position as leader. It's time for someone new to take his place."

Demarco did not like where this was going, and she could tell Wolfgang shared her fears. Kiril seemed to almost be enjoying this, his feral grin challenging Mr. Moonrunner to speak again.

"If Kristopher is ready to retire, he'll tell us," Lily said.

"He's not here! How much clearer do you need him to be?" Rory snarled back. "So, since he raised me to be his successor..."

"Until you turned your back on him and on everything he believes in!" Lily burst out. "You went out and founded your own pack, and you're welcome to it... but you are no leader of the Collective. If anyone will be the new leader of the Collective, it will be Jacob."

"Yeah? He left too!" Rory sneered. "At least I'm still here... and I didn't say I wanted to lead your damn Collective!"

"You said..." Wolfgang began.

"The Collective has ruled long enough," Rory snarled. "With your immortal elders and ancient bloodlines... cut off here on the mountain. It's time for new leadership and a new way for werewolves. It's time for the Wildfangs to rule!"

Demarco felt her breath catch as if she'd been punched in the gut. She hadn't expected this. Something, sure, but not this. What the hell was Rory thinking? She saw Wolfgang and Mr. Moonrunner exchange their own shocked looks, clearing sharing her thought. Beside her, she heard Kiril growl in fierce glee. 

Deafening silence fell across the table. With a fierce grin, Rory surged to her feet.

"We're done," Rory growled. "Meeting adjourned. Kiril, Demarco... with me."

Turning on her heel, she stormed out. 

Demarco, still too shocked for words, followed her out. The same thought continued to cycle through her mind - What the hell is Rory thinking?! 

She didn't see Kiril's wicked grin as he sauntered after her.

She didn't see how the elders of the Collective watched them go, in worried silence.