Wolf wanted to howl. I tipped my head back, let my nose flare. I could howl for an hour. But I didn’t. Wolf had to understand about making a sacrifice, taking a chance so the pack—so Ben—could live. But I had to at least try to tell him what was happening. About what had happened
Chapter 19
I HAD NEVER met a were-frog, or even heard of one existing—all the lycanthropic beings I knew about were hard-core predators. So I considered the tale of the Frog Prince with some skepticism. Especially because of all the different versions, the one where the princess kisses the frog to return him to his unfroggy state is new. In earlier versions, like Grimm’s, she grabs him by the leg and smashes him against a wall. How this is meant to promote virtuous behavior, if that’s really what it’s supposed to promote, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe the message is, “If he tries to chat you up so hard he gets annoying, don’t be afraid to deck the bugger.” At its heart, though, the story is another iteration of Beauty and the Beast—one must consider a person’s inner beauty before judging the outer appearance. You cannot fall in love solely with the way someone looks.
On the other hand, maybe it’s all about how kissing is magic.+ curled up from ed, the
Sometimes in the mornings after running on full-moon nights, Ben woke me with a kiss, and I imagined in my still half-dreaming mind that his kiss was what transformed me, drawing my human self from my Wolf’s body. The human touch, the human contact was my anchor. What other creature in the world had such sensitive, pliable lips as ours, and what other purpose could such lips have but kissing?
* * *
NEAR AS I could figure, I had been in the mine for four days. I couldn’t imagine what Ben was thinking now. This kind of thing had happened before—me, trapped in the wilderness, unable to answer calls and in trouble. Would he figure that I’d come out of it okay like I had before? I hoped that my message would reach him, that he’d found my trail and was on his way. On the other hand, if this situation was on a track to end badly, I wanted him as far away from here as possible.
My world was collapsing into a small space filled with my breathing and my fears.
We fight to defend ourselves. When cornered. That’s the best way. Less risky than attacking. Nothing to gain here.
That was the Wolf’s calculation—would the energy you’d expend hunting and killing the food exceed what you’d get from eating the food? If so, break off the hunt. Better to run than fight, when the odds were against you. But maybe sometimes the best defense is a good offense? Wolf was anxious and had every reason to be. I wanted to pace, to wear holes in the stone under my feet. It wouldn’t help at all, so I didn’t. I curled up tighter.
This isn’t right.
I knew it wasn’t. On paper, the rituals Kumarbis and Zora had concocted seemed great. Find Roman, destroy him safely from thousands of miles away. But we weren’t as safe as they pretended. If Roman knew he was being hunted, he wouldn’t sit back and wait for us. We were in danger.
Staying’s not worth it. We’re not protecting our pack, here.
But maybe we could do more. Protect more than our pack. We could protect everyone Roman wanted to hurt.
Not our concern. Must return to the pack.
We could make sure Antony’s death meant something—and wasn’t that bullshit? Did I think I could trade in lives, decide what would make the sacrifice of a life worthwhile?
Wolf was right. So was I. We were gnawing our own tail, going back and forth over this. But I stayed underground, and waited.
Back in the antechamber, Sakhmet and Enkidu were still asleep. I lay down near them and curled up for warmth and comfort. However tired I felt, I couldn’t sleep.
I could almost smell Ben, and the memory made my eyes sting. I wondered if I would ever see him again—and that was the first time I wondered, instead of being sure. I scrubbed my face, to banish the thought. I would see him, I would I would. I want to run.
* * *
I STARTED awake, surprised that I’d been asleep in the first place. I was in the antechamber, curled up, arms over my head. Enkidu and Sakhmet were awake, folding sandwich wrappers, and noises were invading. Footsteps approached.
Stumbling to a crouch, my back to the wall, I blinked my way to awareness. This still felt like a dream, the wavering light of a flickering candle in a sheltered lantern causing movement all around me, shadows of the stone itself dancing and jerking. Dressed in her white tunic and all her ritual finery, Zora held a candle. Priestlike, Kumarbis followed her, his hands clasped before him, his expression serene. He was otherworldly, in a homespun white cassock draped around him and belted with a black sash. His stance was straight and proud, statuesque. His gnarled hand pressed over his chest, and he bowed his head, a stately gesture. I gaped; I couldn’t help but feel awed. I saw this from his point of view: two thousand years of effort and planning come to this. He had spent centuries seeking out his avatars, his wizards and would-be gods. A million stories lay in that history, a dozen failed attempts, dozens of people identified, indoctrinated, brought into the cult—and what had happened to them? Even if I could get Kumarbis to talk to me candidly, I’d never get all the stories.
I hurried to my feet with surprising grace—that was Wolf, moving my muscles for me, keeping us upright and stable. Dominant. We didn’t want to be on the ground at this man’s feet. We were better than that, so we stood before them, chin up and shoulders back. Tail straight, ears pricked. Slower, Enkidu
