OF WOLVES AND MEN
Later Enric would realize the vandals had posted a lookout. At the time, all he knew that was that bare moments after Cantonicus disappeared, he heard a meaty thump and an old man's cry of pain. It lasted only a moment and cut off with a squeak.
Enric pulled up short at the tent flap and paused. Someone was speaking inside.
"Quick!" came a young man's whisper, husky and slightly slurred. "Tear up his robe and tie his hands with it -- and make sure you get his fingers, too. That way, he can't do his magic."
Oh, Cantonicus, Enric thought sadly, Is that all it takes to disable you? No wonder you gave up adventuring. He reached for the flap, then paused as a second voice answered the first.
"What about the other guy?" it whined. So he'd been seen, Enric thought.
"Don't worry; I'll take care of him." A steely hiss set the werewolf's skin prickling. He melted to wolf form and slunk around the corner, knowing the townie would come after him. Best to separate the men and take them out one at a time. Once out of sight, he turned and crouched low to the ground, poking his nose around the corner to keep watch.
The townie stepped out slowly, his knife at the ready, looking both ways before he committed himself to the night. Smart, Enric thought, you're expecting an ambush -- but are you expecting this kind? His haunches twitched with anticipation.
The townie, seeing no one in either direction, took a guess and headed to the right, away from Enric. Aggravated, the werewolf scratched at the ground to draw his attention. Come on, he urged as the man turned and crept his way. Just a little more -- he ran his tongue across his teeth. Now! Enric leapt silently, shifting halfway back to man-form as he flew through the air. He'd need his hands soon enough.
Steel jaws crunched through the townie's fist, the blood-slick knife tumbling to the grass. At the same moment, a clawed palm stifled his scream. Terrified, the townie stared down at a fire-eyed face and his knees began to buckle. A hairy fist hastened his journey into oblivion.
Good thing I'm not contagious, Enric thought, tossing the man aside. He'd have killed a thug like this before gifting him with lycanthropy, but the Guardians had assured him that his nature was nontransferable. He scooped up the knife and crept back to the tent entrance.
Inside, the second townie crouched over Cantonicus' limp form, frantically tying knots around the old man's fingers. Loren, already bound, lay still at his side. Enric noted with satisfaction that the stranger seemed nearly his own age, as had the man outside. The werewolf would have felt guiltier beating up on teenagers than adults.
Enric took the man by surprise, knocking him out with a practiced tackle. Then he stooped to check his friends. Judging by their pulses and pupils, neither man was in immediate danger, but he'd never have left them there if not for the noise at the back of the tent. "Come out of there, carny bitch!" a townie roared, even as the werewolf slit Cantonicus' bonds.
That voice sent a chill through his gut, but at the same time Enric felt slightly reassured. Vaesha was free -- at least for the moment -- and the zoo tent offered dozens of hiding places. Still, it had only one entrance, and the canvas walls were too heavy and tightly pinned to crawl under. They'd find her soon, and then.... Enric clenched his fists.
All wolf again, he darted from cage to cage, wondering what he could possibly do against so many men. He still couldn't see them, but there had to be ten, at least, to leave such a heavy trail.
Enric! A burst of thought/sound/scent drew him toward the wolf pen. Vaesha -- danger, his friends panted, gnawing frantically at their bars. We help!
For a moment Enric paused. The wolves had a great fondness for Vaesha -- and they'd die for him, of course. But did he really have the right to lead them into danger?
At that moment a new sound pierced the darkness: a woman's scream. "Gotcha!" crowed one of the townies.
Enric gave the wolves their instructions as he picked the lock on their cage, and the three of them sprinted toward the back of the tent.
As he'd thought, there were ten townies, all in their late teens and early twenties. Together they formed a solid wall of knives, clubs and broad-shouldered backs around a thrashing form in the middle of the floor. Vaesha, still in costume, lay flat on her back with four men pinning her limbs and a fifth standing between her legs. "Keep screaming, chickie," he leered, reaching to unbuckle his pants. "I like it that way."
Barely visible through the forest of legs, Vaesha bared her teeth and spit. "Go to hell," she snarled, but her fear-scent was loud as a siren.
The wolves split up and circled the group, Enric homing in on the townie with the group's only torch. Clearly the lowest man on the totem pole, he hung at the rear with his light held high, hoping to catch just a bit of action. Enric howled the attack and leaped toward the light.
It was a chancey move. If he struck wrong, he'd set himself -- maybe even the whole tent -- on fire. But he had no other option. The townie fell with a yelp, Enric tumbling over him and onto the torch. White-hot pain seared his belly, but he clenched his teeth and held on until the blaze snuffed out. Men and wolves howled around him, while the townie at his feet struggled to rise. Enric decked him with a wolf-man punch, then completed the change to human form, healing his wounds. "Quiet!" he bellowed over the din.
Silent shock filled the tent; then the moans began. Enric saw one townie face-down in the dirt, nursing a mangled hand, while another clasped a nearly severed foot. The wolves had followed his instructions and backed off with a single attack -- more for their own safety than that of the townies. Now they circled around the group, growling conspicuously and lapping the blood from their teeth.
"Who's there? What's happening?" called the man atop Vaesha. He'd been insulated by his friends during the attack.
"Wolves!" came the answer from the rear. The speaker stabbed blindly with his knife at the dark. "They're out of their pens!"
"Not just wolves," Enric announced, switching back to wolf-man form to take full advantage of his growl. "Throw down your weapons, and we'll let you live."
The leader clenched his knife even tighter. "Who are you?" he shouted. Vaesha bucked beneath his weight, but he covered her mouth with a free hand and held on.
"A better question," Enric snarled, "might be, what am I? Throw down your weapons!"
"Shit!" whimpered one of the townies, "I think it's a werewolf!"
At that, the gang's fear-scent quadrupled, but the leader held his ground. "Werewolf or not," he told his troops, "if we do what he says, he'll kill us all."
Enric's lips curled with rage. "I could have done that already," he shouted, "if that was what I wanted." Then he switched to English. "Wind, Whisper -- one bite!"
Townies screamed and weapons fell; the wolves had scored three more. But this time the victory had its price. Wind, in the act of leaping away from his target, took a knife wound deep in one shoulder. He yelped once but returned to his circle, limping now, with his head held low and tongue lolling nearly to the ground.
Good boy, Enric thought, although his heart felt close to breaking. I'll fix you up myself when this is over.
The lead townie, meanwhile, sat up a little straighter on Vaesha's belly. "Did you hear that?" he called to his men. "We got one of them! Keep fighting!" The townies pulled in tighter, their ranks bristling with knives and clubs.
"Werewolf!" the leader called, squeezing Vaesha's face painfully tight. "Is this your bitch?" Then, to the girl: "You got a thing for animals, huh, carny whore?" His knife danced down toward her eyes, and she made a noise that might have been fear or fury.
Enric moaned; he couldn't have asked for a worse turn of events. "Hurt her," he snarled, "and I'll tear your throat out myself."
"Hurt us," the townie answered, "and I'll cut her eyes out. Back off, monster-man."
At that moment, Vaesha's hand broke free and shot to the townie's crotch, her nails digging into his flesh like razors. The townie shrieked and jerked, his knife hand flying wide.
It was the only break Enric would get. "Full attack!" he shouted in English, and dove toward the center of the circle. The leader had already brought his knife around again, but Enric grasped the blade before it could strike Vaesha's face. The metal bit deep into his hand, but he ignored it as he had the torch before. Momentum carried him onward and he fell to one side of the girl, carrying the townie with him. "Run, Vaesha!" Enric shouted. "Get help!"
Vaesha scurried away and Enric, with the blade still buried in one palm, caught an incoming fist with the other. He bit down hard on the townie's knife-hand, and again the man shrieked. Enric head-butted him into oblivion.
The white wolves, meanwhile, had finished the rest of the gang and now stood growling over their prey. Wind, Enric saw, had taken another knife wound, and one of Whisper's ears lay crumpled and bloody. Good work, he told them, then staggered upright into his human form. Fresh energy surged through his body, and the wound in his palm sealed shut.
Enric, though, was more concerned with the wolves than with himself. Without proper medical supplies, all he could do was bathe and bind their wounds. The work left him feeling strangely helpless despite their victory.
Sighing, he moved on to the injured townies. No matter what they'd done, the doctor in him wouldn't let him go without at least attempting to ease their pain. Of course, a knife butt made quite a handy anesthetic.
Absorbed in his work, Enric almost didn't hear the groan from the front of the zoo tent. "Cantonicus?" he called uncertainly.
"Enric?" a weak voice answered. "Is that you? I can't see a thing." Shuffling footsteps sounded from between the cages.
Enric rolled his eyes. "Stay where you are!" he shouted. He could just imagine the old man stumbling over his feet in the dark, possibly injuring himself a second time. Enric reached his side in a matter of seconds.
"Where's Vaesha?" Cantonicus asked as the younger man slipped his arm around his shoulder.
"She's safe." Enric soothed. "She went to get help." In fact, he could already see a flicker of approaching torches, still dim through the walls of the tent. The carnies would be here in minutes.
Instinct told him to leave Cantonicus and escape while he had the chance. After all, Vaesha knew his secret now, and there was no telling how much of it she'd keep to herself. For all he knew, his erstwhile coworkers could be rooting through their desk drawers right now, looking for wolfsbane and silver.
Enric cast a glance at the canvas walls. Heavy as they were, he didn't think they'd stand up to his claws for very long. But realistically, he knew couldn't leave, not when Cantonicus and the wolves still needed his help. Besides, he had to see Vaesha for himself, to find out what she thought of him and to make sure she really was all right. Enric helped Cantonicus sit down and crouched beside him, their backs to the bars of the elephant cage. Wind and Whisper trotted up and settled themselves at his feet.
When the carnies made their entrance, Vaesha was at the head of the crowd. She burst into fresh tears at the sight of her uncle and threw herself down at his side, practically squeezing the breath from his lungs.
Enric bit his lip, waiting for the girl to notice him, but Mil beat her to the punch. "Holy hell," he muttered, gaping at his battered charges. He skewered Enric with a glare. "What have you done to my wolves?"
Considering the accusation that could have been, Enric considered this a relatively mild charge. "Better to ask what they did to them," he answered, and pointed back toward the townies. "Those men tore the big top to pieces and tried to rape Vaesha."
Again he glanced at the girl, shuddering hard now in Cantonicus' grasp. She paled as their eyes met, but didn't look away. Enric took that as a hopeful sign. "Are you all right?" he asked, and she nodded without speaking.
Mil, though, hadn't finished with him yet. Face reddening, he planted hard fists on his hips and grated, "And I suppose they just broke out of their cage on their own?"
Enric stood and locked eyes with the trainer. "I suppose you would have preferred to leave her to the rapists?" he snarled, throwing the full power of the wolf into his gaze. "Is that it?"
Mil quickly backed up a step. "Of course not. It's just -- "
"Quiet, Mil," Ilarro cut in. She'd materialized quite noiselessly at his side. "Vaesha's safe, and Doctor Twen will take care of the wolves -- and the others." Her eyes slid to Cantonicus, still pale, his temple caked with blood. "Holding up all right, old man?" she asked.
He smiled and gave her a weak wave. "I'll live."
"Good. Loren's still out front -- " she looked at him and Enric both. "He seems to have had the worst of it, but he's coming around. Thank Chresta no one was killed." She cleared her throat and gazed around at the carnage, amazed by the scope of it all. "Well then, I'd better send someone to get the healer -- and the authorities. We're going to have a lot of explaining to do -- " and here she glared hard at Enric.
The werewolf nodded. Now might be a good time to arrange that exit, he thought, before the real questions began. "Lady," he asked politely, "May I have a moment with Cantonicus and Vaesha in private?"
The ringmaster frowned hard. "To coordinate your stories, I sincerely hope?"
"Of course." Enric gave her his most guileless smile, the one that had worked so well with his sisters.
Ilarro sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "Understand one thing," she said, and he knew right away that he'd won. "I don't care what you tell the police, as long as they believe you. But when you get to me, it had better be the truth." Then she turned back to the rest of the mob. "All right, people, back to the entrance. These folks aren't going anywhere." The crowd trailed behind her like a school of fish, with Mil hanging at the rear to cast Enric a last venomous glance.
"Hoo, boy," Cantonicus murmured as the last of them disappeared. "Enric, you duals are an amazing bunch. I knew you'd have to be good, but this, son...."
"Duals?" Vaesha looked up from her shudders, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. "Is that what you are, Enric?"
"That's part of it," he answered, holding her gaze. "I hope you're not afraid."
Catching his deeper meaning, Vaesha gave him a wan smile. "No, I'm not afraid...at least," she amended, "not much. It's just that I've never met a -- a dual before. But you did save my life. No matter what you are, I have to give you that."
Enric's heart puddled into his stomach. "I'm glad," he sighed, and risked reaching for her hand. Vaesha reached back, tentatively, and he gave her fingers a squeeze.
Cantonicus, meanwhile, stared at the pair in consternation. "All right, kids," he growled as the silence between them lengthened, "I may be old, but I ain't stupid. Now, what'm I missing out on here?"
Vaesha broke away first, blinking innocently at her uncle. "Nothing important," she said, a touch of the old honey creeping back into her voice. "I'll tell you later, after Enric leaves."
"Leaves?" For a moment the magician looked startled. Then he smiled and rubbed his chin. "Oh! Hm, yes, I see.... A man in your position can't stand a lot of questioning, can he, Enric?" And he winked broadly, making the most of his share in the secret.
"No," Enric answered, "he can't. Of course, I don't want to get you two in trouble -- "
"Aw, don't worry about that!" Cantonicus flapped a bony hand. "We can make up a story for the police easy enough. And as for the Lady -- " he winked again -- "well, she can't afford to get too pissed with her star attraction, now, can she? We'll make it all right, son. It's you I'm worried about. Think you can sneak out of here without being caught?"
"No problem," Enric grinned, thinking again of claws and canvas. "Thanks for all your help, Cantonicus. And Vaesha, thank you for your understanding." Again he took her hand, and this time raised it to his lips. "You really are an amazing young woman."
"Thank you," she answered, flushing, "and you're welcome, too."
Enric saw that her shudders had ended. "You're going to be all right," he said, then rose. "Well, I guess I'd better get moving before Ilarro calls time on us. My pack's back there -- " he gestured toward the rear of the tent. Thank God he'd had the presence of mind not to store it up front. "No, Cantonicus, don't get up. You've got a concussion; you need to sit still."
"But you let me walk this far!" the old man protested.
Vaesha laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Now, Uncle, you know he's right," she said, and added a sly wink for Enric's benefit. "Besides, we have to plan our story. Wind and Whisper can walk him out; he hasn't said goodbye to them yet."
"Say goodbye to wolves?" Cantonicus grumbled, but Enric had already turned away. Wind and Whisper followed at his heels.
Behind the feed sacks, in a dark little recess barely large enough for the three of them, Enric changed a final time. You leave? the wolves asked plaintively when he was done.
I leave, he acknowledged, and touched his nose to theirs. I miss you.
Miss you, they answered, bathing his face with their tongues.
Enric looked again at their injuries -- the bloody flanks, the mangled ear -- and ducked his tail between his legs. Wolves brave, he told them. Love/ pride/ regret-for-hurt.
Love/excitement/laughter! they flashed back, and flooded him with images from the battle.
Four nights ago, when Enric had asked the wolves if they were happy, they hardly knew how to respond. Yet now, even wounded as they were, the pair looked close to dancing. Gift, gift, Whisper beamed at him, and Wind licked his chops and grinned.
True? Enric asked, and almost lost his balance under the weight of their kisses. Well then, he thought, I suppose that's all right.
After a final round of good-byes, he clawed a hole in the canvas and stood, resuming his human form. "I'll miss you," he said again, though he knew they could no longer understand him. He parted the fabric, then paused, amazed at his own forgetfulness. Of course, it had been a busy night, but still....
Chuckling to himself, Enric reached to his neck and unclasped the silver amulet. "Give Cantonicus," he said carefully, slipping the chain around Whisper's throat. She ducked her head in acknowledgment; these were two words she knew.
Then with a final scratch behind the ears, Enric left them: two pale muzzles testing the night through a crack in a canvas wall.
