Werewolves, in my considerable experience, simply do not do that. The things that werewolves attack are usually the ones whimpering in dismay-shortly before they expire from an acute case of missing jugular.
I expected Magnusson to completely lose his shit at this point and teach that thin air a lesson, or at least give his whimpering pack members a mental bitch slap. But he and the rest of the Pack all flopped down, rolled over, and presented their throats to the air.
Werewolves never do that. I was very glad I wasn’t in hound form-and then understanding broke upon me as Flidais, goddess of the hunt, dispelled her invisibility and addressed me with a pack of submissive werewolves at her feet.
“Atticus, I must speak with you before you confront Aenghus Og,” she said. “If you proceed as is, this magnificent pack will be destroyed.”
Chapter 23
I was doubly resolved never to shape-shift around Flidais again. I had already experienced the danger before, but this object lesson positively cowed me. Her control over the animal form was absolute; I had not thought it possible to subdue a pack of werewolves through magic, but she had just made it look effortless. It provided me with a new perspective on our earlier encounter: My amulet had indeed saved me from the brunt of her power, where I had thought it had failed somehow-and Oberon had been as helpless to disobey her as earth is helpless to remain dry in the presence of rain.
“Flidais.” I nodded to her and lowered my sword but did not relax my grip. I could bring it up with a snap of the wrist if necessary. “What news?”
“The coven of witches with Aenghus Og is tasked with taking out the Pack so that you arrive without help. They have rigged traps around the cabin with magical triggers that will deliver silver in several ways.”
“Physical traps with magic triggers?” I said.
“Aye. And even were the Pack to get past them, the witches all have silver daggers.”
“Have you chosen sides, then?” I asked.
The red-haired goddess gave me an enigmatic shrug. “I will not fight for you or with you. Nor will I walk the path you walk.”
“Because you may not be seen to take sides against the Tuatha De Danann.”
One corner of her mouth quirked up, and she gave the barest of sardonic nods. No, Flidais would never be seen taking sides, but she could certainly give one side an intelligence bombshell on the sly. It was then I remembered she had sworn to be revenged upon Aenghus for interrupting her hunt in Papago Park. I was glad we had no quarrel; I think I would have had an arrow in my gob long ago. She had her bow and quiver with her now, I noticed; the protective rawhide strips on her left arm were new and fresh.
“Might you have any suggestions for us as to how we should avoid those traps?” I asked. Laksha had stepped behind me and was trying to be inconspicuous. If she was hoping Flidais wouldn’t notice her, it was too late. Flidais had already registered her presence and decided she was nothing to worry about.
“You can’t avoid them,” she said to me. “You’ll have to trip one. But they’ve only set up a circular perimeter, thinking the Pack will come from all directions.”
“That’s probably what they would have done.”
“Aye. But if you attack one point and make a sacrifice, the rest will be able to get through. Then they will have only the daggers to deal with and whatever magic the witches can muster with werewolves at their throats.”
“And I will have to deal with Aenghus Og.”
“Aye, he’s there. He is doing something in the fire pit, drawing large amounts of power.” Great.
“And what of my hound and my lawyer?”
“They are fine, bound to a tree but otherwise unharmed.”
“That is good news. Thank you. But what about the Pack here?” I said, gesturing to the werewolves lying passively on the ground. “What have you done to them?”
“I have subdued them, of course. They were agitated and two of them leapt at me. We could hardly have a conversation while they were attacking me, and since you were doing nothing about it, I took the duty for myself.”
“I have no power to subdue werewolves,” I said, “and I would not use it even if I did.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Then you are going to face an interesting situation when I leave, Druid.”
“That’s right,” I said. “If they were agitated before, they will be pissed beyond reason when you release them. They will turn on me merely to vent their spleen.”
“Vent their spleen? Are you trying to quote Master Shakespeare to me again?” She smiled at me, and I began to think of things I really shouldn’t before going into battle. “Because no one in this age speaks of spleen venting.”
“No, you’re right,” I said. “I get my idioms mixed up sometimes. It would be more contemporary to say they’re going to go apeshit on my ass. So what would you suggest?”
“Communicate with them. Explain what I did and refocus them on their goal. They should vent-I mean, go apeshit-on the witches’ asses, not yours.”
“I cannot do that,” I said. “I fall far short of your skills in these matters, Flidais.”
She frowned at me but said nothing. Then she considered the werewolves splayed on the ground, and I felt her draw a bit more power as she spoke to them through their pack link. After about half a minute, the werewolves leapt to their feet as one and snarled at her. It became one long, threatening growl, and if I had that many burning eyes glowering at me, I’d probably have issues with a squirming colon. But Flidais appeared unconcerned. She said aloud, “Go and free your second. If your sacrifice survives the witches’ traps, I will render what aid I can to remove the silver. You are a strong pack. Fight well, feast well, and be whole again.”
Gunnar Magnusson barked a last note of defiance before turning around and launching himself down the path into the canyon. His pack quickly followed, and I had no time to do anything except mutter a clipped “Bye!” before taking off after them, Laksha close behind.
The werewolves were not bothering to keep their pace down for the slow bipeds anymore. They quickly outran us, and Laksha and I were left running alone. Some of them-perhaps many of them-would be severely injured or even killed tonight to rescue one of their own. But for Gunnar and the rest of them, this wasn’t about saving a pack member so much as saving face. No one could be allowed to mess with the Pack and not suffer retribution- with, perhaps, the exception of Flidais.
I was glad not all the Tuatha De Danann had her gifts. Clearly Aenghus Og did not, or he would not have given the coven the task of taking out the Pack. He had other gifts, though, and I could only hope mine were a match.
We ran in silence for a while, but by and by Laksha observed that Flidais’s interference might turn out to be a good thing.
“I have never seen a pack so angry,” she said. “It makes them stronger. They might survive the silver.”
“Let’s hope we all survive.”
We ran six-minute miles over rough terrain in the unforgiving Superstitions, so we approached the Tony Cabin area in a little over twenty minutes. We heard the werewolves ahead of us going apeshit on someone, and that’s when Laksha pulled up and told me she would attack Radomila from where she stood. Her eyes were rolled up in her head again, and I wondered if Granuaile would get a headache later.
“We are closer than we need to be now, and the werewolves could use my help. It will be only a few minutes.”
I wasn’t sure how she knew they needed her help. They sounded pissed off, but that didn’t necessarily mean they required aid. “All right,” I said. “I’ll see you there.”
Laksha was already drawing a circle in the dirt. “I am counting on it,” she said.
I continued on in solitude.
Tony Cabin isn’t situated in a bowl, nor on a hill, but rather in the middle of a meadow graced by little beyond
