"Muzzle this one and take it to the pens," said Allard. "It's as vicious as the rest."
One of the hunters said, "Isn't that Bernard Preston?"
Allard stared at Charlotte. "Perhaps it was, once. What is this?"
Charlotte gazed at the snarling beast her husband had become. Her grief rose like the tide, and broke on the rocks of her indignation. While werewolves terrified her, a mere man did not. So what if he wielded the power to destroy her? She would defy him, for Bernard's sake.
She drew herself up and tilted her chin. "I am Lady Charlotte Preston of Halfmoon Manor."
Allard glanced from her to the men around her, as if calculating. Charlotte kept her face composed. The hunters had spoken to her and knew her identity. If Allard used the Staff to remove her sanity, the men would know and perhaps deduce his intent to spread the curse to all Grayton.
Allard kept his staff on Bernard. "Take her inside, then. I'll give this one to the wolf handlers."
As the men escorted Charlotte into the tower, she stared after Bernard. He cast her a backwards glance, but there was no recognition in his feral yellow eyes.
Chapter 9: Crushed hopes
The mage tower was divided into three floors, accessed by a staircase that climbed from floor to roof in a spiral. The first floor, where Charlotte entered, had the look of a sitting room. Leather chairs, wooden tables, and inlaid liquor cabinets. It stank of sweat, pipe smoke, and the sharp aroma of brandy. Apparently the serious business of magic and alchemy took place upstairs.
Two mages in blue robes stood with their heads together in hushed conversation, and looked up as Charlotte and her entourage entered.
"Another one?" said an older man, whose gaunt face belied the opulence of the room. "Why is it not muzzled?"
"I need no muzzle," said Charlotte.
The two mages stared at her. Her captors explained the situation, while Charlotte clenched her teeth to restrain her own questions about Bernard. Why had they allowed Allard near him with the Staff? Didn't they know who he was?
"That was Bernard Preston?" said the older mage. "Allard was nearest the door, so he opened it and used the Staff immediately."
The weight of despair crushed upon Charlotte's shoulders. "He did not have a chance to speak?"
"No," said the other mage, eying her. He was a short, stocky man with a dark complexion. "I regret it deeply, because I'm his close friend."
"You are Kryn?"
He nodded.
"Did you receive his potion instructions, then?"
Kryn shook his head. "My scroll stone never received a message. Perhaps he forgot to send it."
Charlotte's heart sank.
Kryn looked at his fellow mages. "She may be a wolf, but she is still a lady! Would you like a cup of tea, ma'am?"
They untied her hands, warily. Charlotte carefully sat in a chair, which felt strange and off-balance in her wolf body. She accepted a steaming cup, but the scent was foreign and unappetizing. Agony over her husband hummed within her.
"Kryn," she exclaimed, "while the elixir restores a man's mind, the Alpha Staff removes it."
To her shock, Kryn and the other mages nodded. They had taken seats around her with their own tea, keeping watch.
"Allard has been teaching us to make our own Alpha Staves," said Kryn.
Charlotte scanned their somber faces. "But why? When there is a cure so close?"
"It is not a cure," said another mage. "At best, it is a treatment with effects easily overpowered by magic."
Black fog swirled through her brain. She fumbled through it, seeking understanding. "But--then you agree with Allard's attempt to curse all of Grayton?"
"Ma'am," said Kryn, leaning forward, "the curse has spread to most of Grayton already. We cannot hope to stop it--therefore we must control the beasts."
"But if Allard cast the curse--"
"He did not," said the gaunt-faced mage. "The curse was placed upon one man by a demon. Allard merely replicated it for his own uses. None of us have the power to lift the curse--only manipulate it."
The mages had sided with Allard. Bernard was lost. Charlotte dug her claws into the fur on her cheeks. "But if the elixir could be made, what then? Would you bring men back to their right minds, only to control them when it suited you?"
Kryn's face darkened. "If a man has control of his mind, mere magic will not strip it from him. Whatever else you may think, Bernard must not have truly have retained his sanity."
Her thoughts flew to the days and nights of Bernard hunting for her, keeping her warm, slowly articulating his feelings. He had been human! But he had also enjoyed being a wolf...
"No," she whispered. "He was himself. But I fear he embraced the wolf too readily. It was how we survived."
Kryn stared at her. "What about you, ma'am?"
Hot anger surged through her. She rose to her feet and set aside the teacup. "I may look like a monster, sir, but I am Lady Charlotte Preston."
The door opened and Allard stepped in, gripping his staff. Charlotte faced him, and he raised his staff as a warning.
"Archmage," said Charlotte, "are you going to strip me of my humanity, too?"
Allard smiled, but his eyes were hard. "I don't understand what you mean."
Charlotte's fingers curled into claws. "You tried to burn Bernard alive when your staff did not immediately harm his mind. Will you seek to destroy me, as well?"
The room was silent. The other mages stared at Charlotte and Allard.
But Allard smiled. "He threatened me. What else could I do? If you threaten me, I will restrain you as well."
Charlotte suddenly was aware of how tall she was, of the sharp tips of her teeth, and the strength of her muscles. She could rip Allard into bite-sized pieces.
But that would not help Bernard.
She drew a breath and restrained her murderous urges. "Take me to Bernard. And if I can return him to his senses, you will destroy these accursed staves."
The mages murmured dissent.
"Very well, my lady," said Allard, the words mocking on his lips. "I will escort you to the pens. If he tears out your throat, we will keep our staves."
Chapter 10: Confrontation
An empty reservoir had been converted to an enormous holding pen for werewolves. Twenty feet deep and spanning several acres, its edge was lined with wooden fencing angled inward.
Inside, wolves paced everywhere, restless. From this distance they looked like mere animals. Charlotte stood at the gate and tried to identify Bernard, but he was lost in a sea of gray fur. Her heart quailed.
"Well?" said Allard. "Go find him."
Charlotte cast him a sidelong glance, ears laid back, the hint of a snarl tugging at her lips. "I shall. And when we return, you shall be shown for what you are."
Allard smirked and opened the gate with a half-bow. "Certainly, madam."
Charlotte drew a steadying breath and jumped into the pit.
Several wolves nearby backed away, then raised their hackles and bared their teeth. Charlotte summoned all her courage and snarled back. "This isn't the time! I need Bernard!"
At the sound of her voice, the wolves flinched and backed away. Their snarls took on a hint of desperation.
They were afraid of her?
Charlotte's fear faded a little. Perhaps they would not attack her. She could move among them, find Bernard, and they could escape.
An iron ladder led up to the gate, but it was too narrow for a wolf to use. They had chewed it anyway, leaving bright scratches in the metal. Charlotte examined it. Perhaps she and Bernard could navigate it, since they possessed their human intelligence.
Then she set out into the throng, sniffing and peering about for her husband.
Excrement covered the reservoir’s dried mud floor. There were also gnawed bones and dead wolves--they ate each other after a while. The mages had mentioned nothing about feeding them. The smell would have sickened a human, but to her animal senses, it carried messages. Hungry. S
ick. Frightened.
They stared at Charlotte, and some bared their teeth and postured, but as long as she avoided eye contact, none of them interfered with her search. Indeed, her fear of them was replaced by horror and pity.
The male wolves were larger than the females, and many females had children with them. Charlotte tried not to stare, and her heart ached. The children were quite small, with short muzzles and round ears, and stayed close to their mothers. Some wrestled and played like puppies.
These were the people of Lyedyn City, and even the curse had not broken the bond of mother and child.
Perhaps it would not break her bond with her husband.
A familiar smell touched her nostrils, and Charlotte followed it eagerly. The wolves parted before her, and a little further on, she found Bernard.
He lay with his head on his paws and ears flat, the picture of dejection. He'd turned his back on the other wolves and stared at the wall.
"Bernard!" Charlotte bounded to his side. "Bernard, I'm here! Are you all right?"
He lifted his head and stared at her. His eyes were shallow and wild.
Charlotte crouched beside him, longing to take his hand. "My love, it's me. Come back to me!"
He scrambled to his feet and backed away from her, teeth bared. She moaned. "Please, no! Don't you remember who you are?"
Bernard whirled and ran.
Charlotte bounded after him. He fled through the assembled captives, who watched with ears pricked. She followed him, heart pounding. How could she get through to the man inside the beast? She had brought him back before, somehow. Perhaps the key was her voice—the other wolves reacted to it. She must corner him and talk to him.
***
Bernard fled in a miasma of terror. A wolf who spoke like a human? Monster! He sprinted across the floor of the pen, dodging among other wolves, but always the monster's feet pattered behind him.
He reached the far wall and turned at bay, head down and fur bristling. The white monster wolf halted and cried more human words at him. The rhythm and cadence slid sideways through his ears and seeped inside him. Somewhere inside him, something was wrong. Her voice touched it. Somehow it terrified him worse, and at the same time filled him with loathing. He hated something—what was it? It must be her!
He lunged forward and snapped at her face, but she dodged and backed up. She kept speaking, meaningless syllables cascading into his ears in a never-ending stream. Among them were a particularly painful pair of sounds: Ber Nard.
Those sounds drilled into him and made him flinch. The white wolf saw this and stepped toward him again, ears pricked, eyes bright. Her beauty hurt his core, too. He made a moaning howl and covered his ears with both paws. But she crept closer, and he had to swipe at her with his claws. Thankfully she jumped aside—he didn't want to hurt her, not really. But her voice frightened and hurt him, deep inside.
His nerve broke and he ran again, following the edge of their prison. She followed him. He hurled a warning howl over his shoulder. Other wolves scattered out of his way, but not the white female. Why did she keep following? Why wouldn't she leave him to wallow in misery? Her voice stirred the wrongness inside him and aroused his hatred.
His hatred of himself.
He reached the far end of the pen and another wall rose before him. A corner. He whirled to face the monster wolf, snarling to warn her off. If only she would leave him!
She panted, "Bernard, Bernard, Bernard!"
He cried in pain and covered his ears. Something twisted inside him, struggling toward the surface. It grappled with his animal instincts, fueled by his loathing of himself--his claws--his fur--
His cries became words. "Stop it, stop it, it hurts me! Leave me alone!"
She fell silent. Other wolves shambled away from them, ears flatted.
Bernard panted, shoulders heaving, and stared at the white wolf. Charlotte. He knew her name, and he knew himself. What had happened? He checked his claws for blood. Yet inside him, the pain and loathing continued. "Charlotte, why are you here?"
She cautiously stepped toward him. "To bring you back."
He opened his arms and she rushed into them. They embraced like humans, standing on two legs with their arms around each other. "You're beautiful," he whispered into her mane. "Even as a beast, I didn't want to harm you."
She was the source of his pain-- or rather, his love for her. Even as a beast, the thought of harming her tortured him. Even now, the elixir battled the curse, tugging him between sentience and base instinct.
"Come, quickly." Charlotte's voice was unsteady and tears wet her muzzle. "We must return you to the mages so you can give them the formula."
Bernard dropped to all fours and escorted her back toward the ladder and gate. "The elixir isn't strong enough. It's why I keep waffling between man and beast. I'll need to make changes..."
"Yes," she said. "Look at them. Even without their humanity, they suffer. There are children here."
Bernard hadn't noticed them, and now stared at a pair of cubs as they passed by. The cubs stared back, eyes too bright, ribs showing through their thin pelts.
Pity touched his heart. "Yes, the elixir must be strengthened fourfold."
They reached the ladder and gazed up at the mages assembled at the gate. Allard was foremost, gripping the Alpha Staff. His eyes widened as Bernard approached. The stink of his fear drifted on the breeze.
Bernard rose on two legs, and Charlotte did the same. "As you can see, the elixir cancels out the curse's effects."
Charlotte gripped the ladder's rungs and clumsily pulled herself up. It was little wonder the other wolves could not climb it--it required the full concentration of a rational mind.
Bernard followed her, and in a moment they stood inside the gate on a small patch of bare ground, the wolf pit to their backs.
"Unlock the gate, please," said Charlotte.
"I think not." Allard aimed his staff at them.
The power struck Bernard in the guts. He dropped to his haunches and growled. Charlotte dropped beside him with a gasp.
"Elixir or not," said Allard to the mages, "they still must obey the power of the Alpha Staff! Look at them. What torment it is to be conscious of the compulsion to obey. They'd be happier as brutes who did nothing but serve us. An unstoppable army of monsters."
Bernard tried to object, but all that came out of his mouth was an unintelligible howl.
***
Charlotte struggled against the staff's power. It seemed to magnify Allard into a god--a terrifying being who must be obeyed and worshiped. His silent command was to sit and say nothing.
But I am a woman, not a beast! she told herself. He is a bigger monster than any of the wolves here. She looked at Bernard and saw him gasping, tongue lolling out. The curse's grip on him was tightening. She must defy Allard and his staff, for the sake of the man she loved.
She lifted one hand. It resisted her, as if hung with lead weights. She moved it forward and placed it down. Then the other hand. Then her hind feet, until she had walked to the gate. Allard turned toward the other mages and did not see, but the mages watched her with wide eyes. Finally one pointed and said, "Archmage, look!"
Allard turned as Charlotte rose to two legs. He pointed the staff into her face. "Down, beast!"
More fear struck her--fear of punishment and pain if she disobeyed. Her knees bent. But Charlotte fought it and slowly straightened up. She repeated to herself, "I am human, I am human! I have nothing to fear from a mere man!" But it was not enough. So she hung on to her new-found love for Bernard, and slowly that love filled her heart and crowded out the fear.
"You say we shall be your army," she said through clenched teeth.
"Silence!" Allard barked.
But still Charlotte resisted the Staff's command. She laid her hands on the gate's crossbeam and faced him through the bars. "What of the women and children, Allard? Will you send them against Grayton's enemies, to die on the battlefield?"
Sweat trick
led down Allard's face. "Shut up!" He thrust the Staff closer to her face.
But Charlotte stood firm. Bernard edged behind her and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. The power of the Staff seemed to wane. "You would see everyone turned into slaves and grovel at your feet. You would throw away every life in Grayton. All for what? A few more gold coins to jingle in your purse?"
"Shut up, bitch!" Allard roared, and jabbed her in the face with the Staff.
Charlotte flinched, but her hand shot through the bars and grabbed the Staff. Bernard seized it, too. Together they wrenched it out of Allard's grasp and pulled it through the gate.
Allard screeched, "Give me the keys! Open the gate!"
But Charlotte and Bernard gripped the staff in amazement. Charlotte's claws shrank and returned to a human hand. Her fur vanished and human skin took its place. Bernard's muzzle receded and became a human face once more. The transformation hurt, but in a good way, like having a thorn removed.
When Allard threw the gate open, Bernard and Charlotte were human once more, and shivering without warm fur or clothing.
Bernard stepped in front of his wife. "Give us your cloaks."
As Allard gaped, the other mages pushed forward, offering cloaks. Bernard and Charlotte robed themselves, passing the Staff back and forth and keeping an eye on Allard.
"How is this possible?" exclaimed a mage. "The Alpha Staff only has powers of command, doesn't it?"
Bernard smiled his old human smile, and encircled Charlotte's waist with one arm. "I commanded it to change us back."
Charlotte kissed his forehead--a real kiss with human lips. "No, we both commanded it." Her human body felt small and frail compared to the wolf's power. Yet the beast still lurked inside her. She feared to release her hold on the Staff.
They moved among the mages, who peered into their eyes and clasped their hands. Bernard immediately fell into discussion about the way the elixir influenced the Staff's magic.
But Charlotte watched Allard.
The Archmage stood beside the open gate, watching this transpire without a word. But his eyes had taken on a distinct yellow tint. He met Charlotte's gaze and smiled--and his teeth lengthened into fangs.
"Bernard!" Charlotte cried.
The mages and Bernard turned and stared.
Archmage Allard's body exploded upward into a twelve foot tall wolf, his clothing shredding from his limbs. His shoulders were nearly as broad as his height, and muscled corded his limbs.