This realization stabbed me deep to the heart. Then, it awakened me. If they are fighting over me, I thought, then only one thing could stop them. Me.
“STOP!” I screamed as hard and loud as I could, to no avail. They probably couldn’t even hear me. They were locked in mortal combat, fueled by jealous rage and raw animal instinct. Talk and reason would never work, so I went another way.
I closed my eyes. I blocked out the snarls and howls, ignoring the smell of blood in the air. I pushed everything else out of my mind, to focus on one thing. My flame. All around me was enough raw magic to explode a fucking Death Star. What better tinder to stoke my flame?
The still, windless air began to hum, vibrating with a storm of magic that almost seemed to crackle like a massive charge of static electricity. As I drew it in, as I felt it grow, I opened my eyes. Every leaf, every branch, every blade of grass, began to bend. All pointing at me, as all of life’s forces converged. The living power of all the plants, all the animals, of every being or spirit on this Gods-forsaken island opened to me, and I absorbed every megawatt of this force.
It was like pouring jet fuel on my modest little flame app, turning it to a molten core of white hot magic energy. Oh Jesus. This is such a fucking rush! Incredible! I felt as if I were expanding, growing a hundred feet tall, like I could reach up into the night and tear the very moon from the heavens.
Too bad I couldn’t.
Instead, I reached into the furiously boiling mass of wolfman combat and tore them apart. Not with my hands, of course. They’d have bitten them off to the wrist, in a heartbeat. I generated the thickest, darkest tendrils of smoke I had every cast from my hands. I grabbed each of them by the scruff of the neck, and jerked them apart, throwing them, slamming each to the ground hard. They each squealed with that high pitched yelp a puppy makes if you step on his tail. Then, shaking off the pain, they each scrambled up and tried to dash back together in battle.
“Sit!” I commanded them. They stopped advancing, but still they stood, faced off and growling. “I said SIT!”
They sat.
“Stay!” I said firmly, holding out a flat palm toward each in my best ‘talk to the hand’ wave-off. They squirmed, and whined, fighting to resist my control.
Weylyn barked, then so did Orin. They started to growl again.
“NO!” I shouted at them. “Bad Dog! BAD!” They shut up. They didn’t like it, but they couldn’t help it. Deep, deep inside them, a spark of love, an ember of humanity, still had a little voice.
“You sons of bitches,” I said, angry and without irony. “Sit and stay. You hear me? Stop fighting!”
Still shaking with fury, they both stayed frozen in their sitting positions.
“Orin. Lie down. Down!” Whimpering, unable to refuse, the beastly wolfman dropped to his belly. I turned to his brother. “Down, Weylyn!” He didn’t like it either, but he did it.
“Good boys,” I crooned. “Who’s a good boy?” If werewolves had a tails, there would be two tails wagging, or pounding on the ground. I swear, if I had some kibble, I’d have tossed them each a doggie treat.
“Good. Good boy, Orin. Weylyn? Are you a good boy? Yes, he’s a good boy.” Half a minute of baby talk, and they both just relaxed, panting, acting like nothing ever happened. I could almost imagine hearing them. Me? What shoe? Why would I chew on that dirty old thing?
“All right,” I said. “That’s better. Now behave yourselves. I mean it, I’ve had enough.”
They each dropped their eyes down, staring at the grass, with a hang wolf expression. Like their canine descendants, it appears that werewolves can actually be shamed. Just like dogs. (And if you don’t want to take my word, check U-Tube.) Good thing they didn’t shift into tigers, I thought. Cats don’t give a flying fuck what humans think. They have no guilt, no shame, no need to please.
I felt pretty proud of myself. In fact, I felt great. Like a million bucks.
“Orin, roll over,” I said. And he rolled onto his back, arms and legs spread in total obedience. This was brilliant! Deadly brilliant!
“Weylyn! Over!” And over he went. I walked over and rubbed his belly. “Good boy,” I said. “Now, stay.” Then I went over and gave Orin’s tummy a fond little scratch, too. He loved it. Well, he looked like he did, anyway. What choice did he have?
This is fantastic, I thought, mind racing. The control, the power, it’s intoxicating. It’s great. Super great! Better than Molly… better than—”
What the fuck?
Something was wrong with the grass under Orin. It had shriveled up, turned brown. Then, a small torrent of leaves blew past the brown grass, dry and dead. I turned, and saw leaves falling in torrents from the sagging branches of the trees, followed by a dead bird, just dropping like a stone.
I suddenly realized that I was drawing more and more of life’s juice from everything around me... and still, I craved more.
No! I tried to ignore the feeling in my body, the lust and yearning, but could not make it shut up. Stop! my brain screamed. Before you lose control. A dim memory of Brann popped into my mind. Too much dark magic will drag you into darkness.
But I didn’t want to stop. It felt too amazing to stop. I fought back against what I knew was right, because Brann was spot on – I craved more. Every cell in my body screamed for
