A crying maidservant stumbled out of the drawing room, pushed by another one of the thugs. The girl was in her nightgown, just like Thoko. Her cheek was scarlet red, showing a faint imprint of a hand.
“The beast isn’t here,” the man pushing her announced. “Must’ve heard something and run.”
Their leader, still holding Imani, cursed. “Tolve, Jimmy, with me. The rest of you, find the werewolf. It can’t have gotten far, not with the brood in tow.”
The man holding the servant girl directed her to kneel between the rest of the staff and the guy who had his pistol trained on Thoko waved her to move closer to them, too. Before the rest of them could start searching, a noise outside made them all jump, attackers and staff alike: a soft clicking sound, as if somebody tapped their fingernails against the window. The sound stopped, then repeated itself more slowly, only to speed up again, like the drumroll before the main act at the circus.
As hard as Thoko stared, she couldn't see anyone out there. Was it just her own reflection, hiding whoever it was? But shouldn’t she at least see a hand?
The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started. For a few breathless seconds, the room was perfectly quiet. Just as Thoko thought that whoever had been out there might be gone, there was a knock on the door. Three times, then a pause, then another three raps. And then another three.
“Open it,” hissed their leader, whose blade was still pressed to Imani's throat. The rest of the invaders only exchanged uneasy looks.“Quick! Jimmy, move!”
The one who had pointed his gun at Thoko obeyed slowly, clearly reluctant to do so. He pressed his back to the wall right next to the door and hesitated again.
“Coward!” hissed the leader. “In Mithras’s name, move!”
Jimmy bit his lips and gripped the handle, pushing the door open with a jerk. By then, there was nobody in sight. Instead, they all heard another rap against the window where it had first come from. It sounded more like knuckles than fingernails now.
Jimmy stared down at the ground, clearly not about to cross the threshold to have a look. Rather than ordering him again, the leader sighed and waved at another guy. “Tolve, go.”
Dutifully, the man went and poked his head out into the night, gun raised. Thoko could see him frown, then step outside all the way, out of her sight.
“There’s nothing there! Must have been the wind!”
“There’s no way that was the wind,” Thoko whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from grinning in triumph when Jimmy wasn’t the only thug who looked around uneasily.
The leader noticed it, too. He sneered at her and drawled, “Stop it, woman. You really think you can spook us with fairytales? There is no such thing as an invisible werewolf.”
Thoko thought that it was working quite well indeed, but she wasn’t sure how much further she could push it before one of them did something drastic. She was therefore a little surprised when behind her, a trembling voice said: “But she was right there!”
It was the quietly-sobbing maidservant. The girl pointed a shaking finger towards the living room, and added: “She was right there, Mithras burn me, she was! With her cubs! We all saw her! Where did she go?”
It was impossible to tell whether the young girl was trying to help or just terrified beyond reason.
“That our Lord Mithras will burn you, wench, that is beyond doubt,” growled the leader. “Think about that, and do not trouble yourself with the question of where the beast ran off to. Enough of this nonsense. Go. Find the werewolf.”
Tolve came back inside, and Jimmy slowly pushed away from the wall. He kept glancing into the night outside rather than focus on the staff he should be guarding. Just as the bastards set out to find Morgulon, the door smashed shut—seemingly on its own. Thoko thought that even the gang’s leader was starting to look a little unnerved.
She was glad, glad that she had had a minute or two to get used to the idea that Morgulon might be stalking around them unseen. Because, while all the strangers were staring at the doors or the windows, trying to make out the unseen person or people rattling the glass panes and wood—someone had grabbed her arm.
She really, really hoped that it was Morgulon, and not some other, more malignant spirit that had chosen this night to stalk the premises. There was no sound behind her at all, only cold fingers taking her lower arms, first one, then the other, pulling them behind her back, where the guards wouldn’t see them. Thoko was just about to clasp her hands together, to make the movement look at least somewhat natural, when something equally cold was pressed into her hands: It was some kind of wooden shaft, with only a hint of a grain to it, as if it had turned smooth from countless hands grabbing it. It felt familiar in Thoko’s grip. Her exploring fingers found a sharp blade at the end.
The werewolf had handed her an axe, already unsheathed.
Thoko couldn’t help herself, she had to glance back. She still couldn’t spot Morgulon, but as soon as the Elder let go, the axe became visible in her hands, as if it had materialised right there: a good, sharp felling axe.
Like a child caught with her hands in the sugar jar, Thoko spun and looked ahead again. Just as people turned away from the door, she shifted her grip, until the handle aligned with her spine, hiding the tool. She did feel like a child, hiding candy behind her back.
Except that she wouldn’t just be told off if she got caught.
Ancestors, Morgulon had better have a plan beyond giving her a weapon. What was she supposed to do against seven of them?
“I believe I gave you an order? Find the beast!”
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At the leader’s shout, two of them trumped up the stairs, and two more went back down the hall towards where Morgulon’s nest had been. As soon as they were out of sight, there was the faintest puff of wind on Thoko’s face, like air displaced by someone walking past quickly. Or changing size?
Thoko shifted her grip on the axe and listened for the clicking of claws on the tiles, but all she could hear was one of the servant boys yelping in surprise and pain. The boy pulled his bare foot back, hopping around on the other one, a movement that caught the attention of the three remaining bastards. They didn’t realise Morgulon was right in the middle of them until the she-wolf’s teeth closed around the leader’s neck.
The blood went everywhere, but mostly onto Imani’s face. All she did was close her eyes, though. She didn’t even flinch as the cursed werewolf teeth closed just inches away from her chin.
It was one of those details that stuck with Thoko as she brought the axe forward, her hands finding their place on the handle on their own. She swung hard, just like at work, as if it wasn’t a man in front of her but a tree. She had never fought for her life before, but this? This was second nature.
And she did have the advantage of surprise. Jimmy never managed to aim his pistol. The blade of the axe bit him in the small of the back, and he went down, down in another spray of blood. Thoko changed her stance slightly, and swung again, from overhead this time, hitting the neck—it wasn’t an executioner’s axe, so the cut wasn’t clean, but at least she was certain that he wouldn’t get up again.
Tolve got a shot off, hitting Morgulon squarely in the chest. The werewolf crumpled, and in falling, turned human. She kneeled on the ground just long enough to shake herself, then jumped, turning wolf so fast it was just a shimmer in the air, like fluid coalescing—
And then the giant wolf was flying right at Tolve who hadn’t even finished reaching for his crossbow.
The slug hit the tiles with a klink.
As Morgulon bore down on the man, one of the servants started screaming, as if they only now registered what was happening. Imani grabbed the man by the sleeve.
“Follow me!” she ordered, towing the man with her. She pulled a second woman along and through the door that led to the servant’s quarters, out of the line of fire from the gallery on the first floor.
Morgulon cleared the stairs in one leap, presumably to meet the two attackers who had gone to search the upper floors. Which apparently left Thoko to guard her back from the other two. She could hear them coming down the hall.
As she leaned against the wall next to the hall’s opening, she wondered what her father would think if he could see her right now—he had been a healer, after all, a man who would treat both sides once the fighting was over, who would never hurt another human being. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to feel regret when she swung the axe again, surprising the first of the two men charging into the entrance hall.
What a mess an axe to the face could make.
The other one fired his pistol at her just as Thoko reversed directions to draw back for the next swing. His first shot grazed her ribs, the second one went completely wide, and then he was empty. He jumped backwards, reaching for his own sword. Thoko let the blade come around again with desperate strength, but he was out of reach. So she ducked around the corner herself.
She couldn’t duel him in the open. She was no fighter, but it was clear she was at a disadvantage here—he was taller than her; he’d have both reach and speed on her. Especially with the injury to her side.
Back pressed against the wall, she glanced around the corner. He was staring back at her, lips curled in a fixed grimace, both shocked and angry. Thoko snarled back. She couldn’t feel it yet, the pain that was sure to come. All she did feel was fury. These bastards came here, to kill a mother and her innocent children, and this man had the gall to look upset, even surprised, that she was fighting him?
She hadn’t had an axe when the Inquisition had come to take her father, but she wished she had. She wasn’t going to back down now.
“Witch!” he hissed at her. “You’re that black witch from the railway!”
That made Thoko choke on a laugh. That’s what they still thought of her? A witch?
In that moment, she wished she were one—someone with the powers of evil, the power to curse and harm. She’d unleash it all right now, rip off his flesh and bend his bones the way Greg’s bones got bent in every transformation and keep him alive while she did it. Curse his whole family and let him watch as they perished…
But she was no witch. She had no magic and commanded no spirits. She was just a young woman, tired of feeling helpless. Tired of the pain.
All she had was a sharp blade and the strength of her arms. And the head on her shoulders.
He didn’t know any of that, did he? He really thought she was an unsanctioned magic user. And a heathen, to boot.
Well, he was right about that last part, at least.
Now, how would this go if she were a witch?
She tried to make a scary face, but had no idea how it would look. So instead, she opened her eyes as wide as she could, grimaced—then leaned over again and pointed at her own eyes with two fingers, gaping at them unblinking as long as she could, before pointing at him with the same fingers.
“I curse you!”
Her voice rasped and she had to fight the urge to clear her throat. Rasp was good. Very witchy, right?
“By my blood, I curse you and all of your blood. By the spirits…”
Thoko’s voice broke. She’d almost said “by the spirits of my ancestors,” but the last thing she wanted was her father’s soul to get caught up in this. And she didn’t want to accidentally invoke a true malevolent entity, either.
Upstairs, Morgulon barked sharply, buying her more time. And also giving her an idea.
“By the spirit of the full moon,” she went on. “May it take your mind and leave you as a raging beast.”
If there was a spirit of the full moon, it was surely upstairs right now, hunting the other two attackers down. She grinned at the furious scream around the corner, and continued:
“By the spirit of the waning moon, may it take your manhood with it as it fades. By the spirit of the, uh—”
She was saved from having to come up with another spirit when he came charging at her, screaming at her to stop cursing him.
Obliging him, Thoko shut up and gripped the axe with both hands again. She swung it low, just as he came out of the archway, passing underneath the sword he held at guard, and hitting him in the knee. He fell—just like the pines in the forests around Sheaf would come down. Thoko didn’t give him a chance to get up again. His spine broke with a crack and another splatter of blood.
What a mess indeed. Two of the lamps lining the stairs had been broken—Thoko could only guess that Morgulon had torn them down by accident—and there was a splatter of red even on the ceiling. Five bodies littered the entrance hall. While Thoko was staring around in a daze, a sixth one dropped over the bannister, pushed by Morgulon. The last one followed a moment later. Morgulon herself stopped at the stairhead. She was covered in blood, too. The werewolf sniffed, turned human, and gingerly climbed down the first step in a way that made Thoko wonder if she had ever walked stairs in this body at all. She’d have gone to offer a hand, but her own legs suddenly refused to move.
The pain along her left side was sharp. The blood trickling down her side tickled a little, but that only made the injury burn hotter. It palsied the muscles of her ribcage, making it painful and strenuous to breathe.
She couldn’t remember sitting down.
The door flew open, and Lane came sprinting in, followed by the Feleke brothers and the rest of the group. Greg came to a sharp stop in front of Thoko, looming above her.
“Thoko, what—”
“You’re late,” she managed when he broke off. “‘s okay, we dealt with them fine.”