hear it, so let’s drink instead.” He tossed the parchment back into the box.
A’marie brought in a dusty old bottle of champagne. It turned out to be for lords only. Even the stooge who’d actually won the tournament didn’t rate a glass. And they could have given me Queen’s share, because she only took a couple drops, dribbled over the gray sludge in the bottom of her flute.
The other lords toasted Timon, and the rest of us served up a second little round of applause. When it died down, Wotan said, “Now the tournament is really finished. That means the human isn’t Timon’s champion anymore.”
I wasn’t sure why that was important, but I felt a cold little twinge of uneasiness. Trying to hide it, I said, “I thought you were going to lay off.”
“As did I,” the Pharaoh murmured.
“I’m just saying,” Wotan said, “now that the mantle of the champion is gone, it makes sense to take a look at what was underneath. And clearly, it’s human, even if it does have a drop of our blood and some of our power. It certainly didn’t grow up among us. It doesn’t understand our traditions, and it hasn’t really given its fealty to any lord. Otherwise, it would never have showed Timon such disrespect.”
“If he wants to get even,” I said, “he’s going to have his chance.” I turned to Timon. “Right?”
He hesitated. “In point of fact, yes. So I don’t know why we’re talking about it.”
“It’s just that I hate to see this wretch take advantage of one of his betters a second time,” Wotan said. “We all love a good game, but we shouldn’t let it cloud our judgment. Look how one-sided your bet really is. You’re staking a fief. The human’s merely putting up his miserable self, which by rights is already your property anyway.”
“Maybe you think so,” I said, “but he and I still have a deal.”
“Even if you win,” said Wotan, ignoring me, “
“‘Treacherous,’” I said. “That’s good, coming from you.”
“Or the right to watch him die in agony?” asked Wotan, still fixed on Timon. “You don’t have to win a game for that.”
Timon hesitated again. I really wished he’d stop doing that. “I gave my oath.”
“Yes,” Wotan said. “To play him when your eyes are fully healed. And it would be dishonorable for you to try to hurt him in the meantime. But honor
“I didn’t laugh,” I said. “And I knew they’d heal.”
Timon kept talking to Wotan. “Tell me what you want.”
“Just tell me Billy is neither your champion, your vassal, nor your thrall. It’s simply the same thing he’s asserted himself, by trying to contend with you as an equal.”
Timon stood and thought about it a few seconds. Then he said, “Billy is neither my champion, my vassal, nor my thrall.”
The ballroom fell silent, as everybody else figured out exactly what that meant a second before I did. In my defense, it had been a long couple days.
Wotan leered at me. “In that case, little man, I have your lord’s permission to hunt you, just like any other human I happen to meet.”
It sounded like good advice. But instead I lunged forward and grabbed one of the chairs. As Queen, Leticia, and Timon backpedaled, and Davis jerked the Pharaoh away from the table, I swung it over my head, and, bellowing, smashed it into Wotan’s face.
The chair broke apart in my hands, and I saw that it had cut and scraped his nose, cheeks, and forehead. But it hadn’t rocked him backward or even knocked the grin off his face. His eyes completely red with blood, he grew and changed.
You probably think you know what it looked like from movies, and you’re not completely wrong. But, his fancy clothes splitting and ripping into rags, other things popping and cracking under his skin, Wotan got taller and put on more muscle than any wolfman I ever saw on TV. His arms stretched long like an ape’s, and the claws that hooked out from the tips of his fingers belonged on a lion or tiger. His head turned into a mix of wolf and bear, and as all that black body hair lengthened and thickened into fur, it gave off a rank animal stink. Everything happened fast, too. My eyes could hardly track the changes.
I decided A’marie had the right idea. I spun around and ran out into the lobby, scared shitless and also mad at how unfair this was. I’d won the damn tournament. At the very least I deserved some down time.
Wotan finished changing and charged the doorway. He was running on all fours, and since his arms were now longer than his legs, it could have been clumsy. It wasn’t. What it was, was fast.
Which might mean I could knock him out like I had the fire shark. I flashed the Thunderbird and plugged the opening with an invisible wall.
He slammed into it, bounced back, roared a word in some other language, and threw himself at it again. This time he broke through, and the feedback jolted me like a punch. The servants on duty in the lobby screamed and cringed at the sight of him.
I knew I’d never make it to my car. I had to fight, so I burned what mojo I had left to call Shadow. Fortunately, he answered fast. He filled me up in an instant, like an explosion of black paint.
It felt great, too. I wasn’t even a little bit scared anymore, and with fear gone, my hate was pure and eager. Joyful in a horrible way that didn’t feel horrible from the inside.
Wotan sensed the change in me. He snarled at it, but it didn’t slow him down. He sprang, landed on his feet only, and slashed at me with the claws on his right hand.
I ducked, and the fur on his forearm ruffled my hair. Then I snap-kicked at the inside of his knee.
He shifted the leg, and I only grazed the kneecap. It probably hurt, but it certainly hadn’t crippled him.
Since I was inside his reach, I felt more than saw him trying to catch me in a bear hug. I dropped low and spun left, slamming my elbow into his kidney as I escaped. He grunted.
He whirled to keep me in front of him, too, and his left hand raked at me. I retreated out of range. As he chased after me, he swung his right arm up and over like you’d swat a fly on a tabletop. The flyswatter was a couch he’d somehow grabbed without me noticing, sinking his claws and fingers into the armrest.
I jumped back again. Wood cracked when the sofa slammed into the marble floor, but it didn’t fall to pieces like my chair had. Wotan instantly picked it up again and whipped it in a horizontal arc.
That one caught me. If I hadn’t been backpedaling, and if the couch hadn’t been upholstered, it probably would have broken several bones. As it was, it knocked me flying through the air. When I thumped down, I slid until my head rammed into the base of the front desk. The little bell on top of it dinged.
For a split second, everything was blurry, meaningless, and then Shadow’s viciousness snapped it back into focus. I kept on acting dazed and helpless, though, until Wotan stepped in, took the remains of the sofa in both hands, and lifted it over his head.
Then I rolled up onto my knees, and, screaming, drove a punch into his crotch. That locked him up, and I scrambled to my feet. He towered over me like Sylvester, so I jumped like I had to steal Sly’s magic neckerchief and hooked a second punch into his Adam’s apple.
As I touched down, he made a choking sound. I barked a laugh-just one mean little
Then, dropping the couch, Wotan threw himself forward. His furry bulk plowed into me and slammed me back into the desk. The impact hammered pain across my back and knocked the wind out of me.
Stunned, crushed between Wotan’s weight and the object behind me, I couldn’t even move. If he followed up, he could kill me easy. But instead, he stumbled backward. My punches had hurt him bad enough that he felt like he had to take a moment to recover.
But it didn’t take him long, or at least, no longer than it took me. When I sidled away from the desk, he pivoted immediately, and moved as fast as he had before.
That made one of us. My left leg was gimpy, and my scrapes and bruises-I hoped that was all they were- were starting to throb.
And even worse, when Wotan came back on the attack, there was more science in it. He faked high, then
