Greg couldn’t remember the last time he had been a werewolf alone on full moon. Nathan went into the basement with him—David was still at Fort Brunich, preparing an army of werewolves for war, and Andrew and Bram had taken their three apprentices—two of whom had only started their training a day ago—to witness the full moon change at the dungeon. Lane was at Courtenay to support Imani with the cubs. That left only Nathan and Thoko at the house—and Nathan, too, was gone by the time Greg came back to his senses.

To deal with another wild werewolf, who might or might not be a danger to anyone else but was certainly in danger themself now.

Greg went back to sleep until noon to find Thoko and Gustave in the unnaturally quiet sitting room, conspiring to drag him out of the house to the racetrack. They were showing dog races today. Which meant that the duke was in attendance. Greg mostly heard about it; His Highness was surrounded by a band of courtiers and bodyguards so vast, Greg barely caught glances of him.

He wondered what he might have said otherwise. “Thank you,” went a bit too far. Yet he was thankful that the duke was willing to teach his own citizens a lesson rather than making the werewolves—and Greg first of all—suffer the mob’s abuse any longer.

He just wished that lesson didn’t make him the only settled werewolf in the whole city.

When the last night of full moon fell, Greg stayed up rather than go back into the cage. Gustave hung around, trying to talk him into a game of chess.

“Don’t bother. He won’t play on full moon,” Thoko said, grinning.

“I can’t think on full moon,” Greg grumbled, pacing. He was too tired to do anything useful, and too restless to sit. “Sorry. I’m bad company tonight. Can’t even read.”

“Really. Do you have a book in mind you’d like to read?”

Greg waved over towards the wall with the bookshelves, but he couldn’t form the words to explain how he wished he had time to read all the novels published since he had been bitten.

Gustave scanned the shelves thoughtfully. “Here, let’s try this one. I remember you liked that one when we read it with Mr. Higgins. Let’s see if you can listen.”

And then he settled down and started reading out loud, as if Greg was a child. He considered protesting, but it was easier to let the words wash over him, a familiar tale unfolding, and Thoko resting in his arms.

It was quiet and peaceful and nice, right until someone hammered against the door, and a nervous servant girl informed them that the watch was asking for his help.

A Rot-brute had broken through the perimeter along the river and was loose in the city.

Greg stared at the terrified guard, white-faced underneath his silver helmet. Just a raw recruit. Possibly younger than Greg had been when this whole mess started.

The boy seemed to sense his hesitation, because he went on, “please, your lordship, we’re—we’re dying! The helmets barely help, and this thing, it’s too strong!”

“It’s still full moon,” Greg pointed out. “I can’t—if I turn wolf, I’ll be a werewolf on full moon in the middle of Deva.”

“Is there a place you could draw the creature, something enclosed—something you couldn’t climb out of? Like—some kind of mediaeval fortifications?” Thoko asked from behind him.

“What about the old moat?” Gustave offered. “How deep does it have to be?”

Greg turned to Thoko with a mix of fear and betrayal. Was she really asking him to fight, as a wolf, on full moon in the middle of the capital—without his brothers or even Lady deLande to watch his back?

“You know the watch can’t stop this,” Thoko said quietly. “And you know that not everyone living down by the river was throwing rocks.”

“I—” Greg kicked the door frame. He knew she was right. But he was scared. Not so much of the Rot, though he was still far away from a hundred full moons, but of the watch. And yes, also of going rampant in the middle of Deva.

“Morgulon and Lane will be there, soon,” he muttered, but he knew as he said it that it would take far longer to drag them here than for him to run down to wherever the problem was.

They should have all seen this gaping hole in the duke’s plan.

Thoko reached out for his hand. “Let’s at least look at the moat and see if you can lure the Rot there. Let’s just take a look at the situation.”

Greg took a deep breath, but he nodded. His hands shook as he reached for his shoes and coat. The young messenger stepped impatiently from one foot to the other, but he didn’t hurry them. Only when Greg said: “All right. Lead the way,” did he take off.

Greg had to hurry after him and was soon panting against the stitch in his side. Despite his gear, the young guard seemed determined to jog all the way back to wherever the threat had emerged. He didn’t even slow down as they went down the slope to the river banks and into the thick fog cloud that hung over the valley.

This night, it really wasn’t a natural phenomenon—or only partially natural. The stink made Greg almost lose control over his own body. He stumbled forwards, deafened by the howling in his own head, and almost fell over his guide, who kneeled over two collapsed bodies in the city watch’s uniform. They were dead. Their bodies were crumpled, as if an ox had gone through them.

The young guard retched, and just barely avoided throwing up all over the dead.

Greg reached out to touch the boy’s shoulder, barely breaking stride. The wolf’s fury propelled him forwards, down the road. Following the stench of spoiled magic.

Down to the river bank, into some sort of park along the path right by the water. Even though he knew the inner city well, Greg had no idea where he was. Not the Royal Gardens, that much he knew. All he could see was the white wall of the fog that ate all sounds and made him feel like the only person in the whole city. It retreated before him and closed back in behind him.

When had he lost Thoko?

The monster lurking beneath his skin didn’t care. It just hungered for the fight

His face felt wet from the mist. So that part at least was natural? Or was there something worse than a brute hiding in the city? He couldn’t fight a Rot-queen, not even to lure it away. Oli had been roped in like a puppet, and the kid had been a werewolf three times as long as Greg.

But now that he smelled the Rot, he couldn’t stop himself, either. Not while the moon was in the sky. The challenge to his territory was too great.

Downriver they followed it, away from the palace, and thus the old moat. Across a bridge and more scattered bodies strewn between the barricades, then up the hill on the other bank.

It wasn’t until he saw the colourful glass scattered across the street from a broken window that he realised that he was walking around the back of the university. And he suddenly had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly where the Rot creature was going. Why it wasn’t breaking into any of the homes they had passed.

The university had a hospital. A hospital with a large maternity ward, hailed to be one of the safest in all of Loegrion.

Greg started running. He had no idea what he was going to do if he got there, but he’d worry about that once he caught up.

The hospital was surrounded by high walls, with tall wrought iron gates that would be closed at this time of night. Greg could sense the cold of silver as he hurried along to the closest gate. There was alchemy in the air, too, burning his nose.

When Greg rounded the corner, the gate to the hospital was wide open, bent out of shape. Something was moving on the other side, trying to break into the main door, Greg thought, when he heard a strange sort of wailing—not quite a wolf’s howl, nor a scream—undulating unlike anything he had ever heard.

All he knew was that it was a challenge.

And the wolf was all too willing to respond.

***

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Thoko cursed breathlessly when she heard the wailing in the distance, followed a few seconds later by a howl. Gustave lost his stride and almost landed on his arse, but she didn’t slow. She had heard that howl too many times to be fazed by it—worst case, they’d have to climb something.

The stink worried her, and the snarling in the distance.

“Did you—did you hear that?” Gustave asked.

“Greg’s fighting something,” Thoko replied tersely. “Yes, I heard.”

“So he’s a wolf now, isn’t he? Why are we still going that direction? On full moon?”

“You’re welcome to wait here for the cavalry,” Thoko grumbled. She wasn’t going to wait for David or Lane or Morgulon to get there. Someone had to make sure the watch didn’t screw Greg over, and it looked like there was nobody else on hand.

She hurried up the hill as fast as her burning legs carried her, breathing flatly. Could she even get close enough to see? Did she have the fortitude of mind to withstand the Rot’s miasma or would Greg’s presence be enough to counter the effect? Or would the Rot just knock her out flat?

She wasn’t about to tell Gustave, but secretly, Thoko was relieved that they could hear Greg fighting. She had heard about what had happened to Oli when he met the Rot-queen, and there was no way she could do what Nathan had done that day. The only weapon she had was the pistol that bumped into her hip at every step. Greg’s brothers had trained her how to use it, but that wouldn’t do her any good against the Rot.

However, she was perfectly willing to shoot the first soldier who pointed a gun at Greg.

Not happy to, nor eager. But she wasn’t going to tell his brothers—or Eyal and Isaac, for that matter—that she had stood idly by as some idiot in a uniform shot Greg for saving them from their own stupidity.

He couldn’t transform to heal himself tonight, even if the bullet wasn’t silver.

After a minute, Gustave caught up with her, panting and holding onto his sides, choking on the stink. “You’re sure about this?” he asked. “What do we do if we run into him?”

“Climb.”

“What?”

Thoko thought her answer had been pretty simple. “Just get off the ground,” she hissed back.

In the distance, Greg’s howl changed in pitch. The stink grew ever more suffocating. Gustave fell behind again. Whether it was the Rot or fear, Thoko couldn’t tell. She didn’t have the strength to spare to look for him. Her head felt like it was about to split open like a ripe pea pod, but she stumbled forwards still, carried by the worry for her friend.

He had stayed for them. When they had hardly known him, when he couldn’t have known how they would react to the truth, he had stayed to guard them, until nearly full moon. Because it had been the right thing to do.

She’d never be able to face her ancestors if she did less for him now.

There was a gate in front of her, all bent out of shape. The walls to the right and left hand had bricks ripped out of them, too. Other than that, it looked like a good, high wall, designed to keep the public out of the area on the other side.

An easy spot to start climbing. Soon, she was up on the wall—was that a prison on the other side? But the building behind looked too nice for a prison. Given the darkness and the fog, it was hard for her to tell. Only the sounds of the fight were suddenly much louder. She did think she saw the cloud moving, too.

Or maybe that was just her imagination.

Or maybe the Rot just wanted her to think that.

Something had emerged from the swirling white haze. A giant spider? But no: Some of those legs wore boots. Thoko shuddered. Those were human legs. Some of them were still wrapped in the uniform trousers of the city watch, others seemed to have been rotting in the water of the White Torrent for a while. They grew around some kind of trunk, put together from pieces too small for Thoko to identify. That was probably a relief.

There was no proper head on top of the trunk, just a wide maw of bony jaws. No eyes, either, like any Rot creature she had ever seen. Yet it knew exactly where she was. And like any other Rot creature, it didn’t let her move.

All she could do was watch as it came closer and closer.

It was an all too familiar feeling. But as every time before, Greg was there to save her. He was limping already, but he threw himself at the misshapen thing coming for her.

Monster, the mob had called him. But there was nothing evil about him. Not even now, with the full moon in the sky. He was nothing like the Rot. No werewolf was. Not even the Spreaders.

Deadly, sure. But monstrous? If that was monstrous, then so was everyone in the mob who had been screaming for Greg’s blood.

Maybe they were.

Thoko blinked slowly. She had lost track of time, track of what was happening, track of Greg and the Rot creature. Track of where she was.

The stones of the wall were cold and wet against her cheek. It was sheer luck that she hadn’t fallen down yet: she was lying flat on top, and the wall wasn’t that wide.

Greg had locked his teeth around one of the many legs and was throwing his head left and right like a giant dog with the most bizarre chew-toy ever. Thoko clamped her teeth over a mad giggle and the sudden urge to throw herself off the wall face first rose in her. Gingerly, feeling with her hand, she rolled onto her back, then let her head fall to the side to continue watching.

The Rot’s giant maws kept trying to grab Greg, but everytime, he’d dance out of the way. Harder to avoid were the many kicking feet. Thoko winced every time she saw a boot hit home. If they had just been dismembered human feet, Greg would’ve barely noticed, but with the twisted power of the Rot behind it, they broke bones and sent even the giant wolf flying.

Shakily, Greg got back to his feet, the limp more pronounced. He was bleeding, too, but he wasn’t stopping. Over and over he dragged the monster away, either from Thoko or the door to the large building on the other side of the yard. Thoko had no idea why the Rot even wanted to go there.

But she did know the exact moment Morgulon was back in the city. Between one blink and the next, the night seemed brighter. The fog inside her head lifted, if not the one around her.

Hospital. There was a sign above the door that said hospital. No wonder the Rot had come here. There were people moving upstairs in the windows, too.

Again, the creature tried to make it past Greg and the hospital’s doors. Someone quick-witted inside must have barricaded them when the fog had first risen. The sturdy wood shook, but held long enough for Greg to attack from behind. In retaliation, it tried to bodycheck him into the closest bit of wall but he stumbled out of the way just in time to avoid getting his rib cage crushed.

Up behind the windows, children cried. A street urchin peeked around the corner, then quickly ran off. Thoko sat up as the city started breathing again.

Some backup would still be nice.

But Morgulon never showed up. Neither did any other elder. Greg had to rip the damned monster apart on his own, taking more wounds in the process. What had they even sent Pierre and his pack to Windish for, if they weren’t going to be of help when the Rot attacked a damn hospital?

When it became clear that the fight was ending, Thoko carefully climbed back down onto the ground. She wasn’t the only one finding her courage at that point: A nurse had stepped onto a balcony, a handkerchief pressed to her face against the stink.

And the watch was snooping around, too, checking if the coast was clear.

Thoko took a deep breath and stepped into the broken gate. Her heart was racing. Behind her, Greg was just ripping the final leg off the ugly bastard. As long as Greg stayed within the courtyard and nobody left the building, or tried to enter the yard…

She crossed her arms over her chest when the patrol of watchmen came closer. She could hear the giant wolf moving behind her back, but she refused to turn, even to look.

The watchmen stopped on the other side of the street, staring at her. They didn’t seem eager to get any closer.

“Anyone hurt here?”

“This is a hospital!” Thoko yelled back. “If anyone’s hurt, they’re in the perfect place!”

“What happened to the Rot creature here?”

“My friend took care of it.”

“Your, ah, friend. He okay?”

The whole situation was a little surreal. Thoko glanced over her shoulder. “He’s a little beaten up, but I think he’ll be fine.”

“Right. Uh, he’s not going to go walking around the city, is he?”

And if he did, would you shoot him for it?

Aloud she said: “Pretty sure he’s tired out for tonight.”

“You’re going to stop him, right, madam? If he goes a-walking?”

What did they expect her to do? No, wait—they had her confused for one of the Felekes? But what could she do to stop Greg from leaving the yard?

That wasn’t the point, was it? The guards just wanted reassurance, didn’t they?

“I’m just going to keep standing right here,” Thoko called back.

When she heard the clicking of nails on cobblestone get closer, she wondered if she would be made a liar while the watch was still in sight. Every hair on her body stood on end as the giant wolf behind her limped closer and closer, but she refused to turn, refused to look away from the guards who were gaping at her underneath their silver helmets.

The blood was rushing in her ears and her knees shook, but Greg hadn’t jumped at her yet, hadn’t even growled at her, so she stood her ground. Maybe he was just too tired after the fight.

He kept coming closer though, until Thoko could hear him panting right behind her, could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. Every muscle in her body froze up, but he just stood there, looking over her shoulder like a curious horse.

Maybe Morgulon had some power to keep him calm from afar. Maybe Pierre had some kind of magic trick. Or maybe it was the same thing that made the cubs playful on the first and third night of full moon rather than intent on biting Imani’s fingers off. Or maybe a mix of all the three. To Thoko, the only thing that mattered was that he wasn’t biting her.

The huge wolf sniffed her shoulders, her hair, then her hand, too. Thoko held her breath and turned her head inch by inch to look over her shoulder. For a brief moment, their eyes met and Thoko stilled again.

It was weird to look into that familiar face and have a stranger look back at her. There was intelligence in those yellow eyes, more than she would have expected on a full moon. She thought there even was recognition. But it wasn’t Greg looking at her.

The wolf quickly turned its head, baring its teeth at her before limping away. It retreated along the wall, into the shadows. Shyly. Like a wild animal.

She stayed right where she was, leaning against the broken gate. Now that the coast had cleared, she was starting to wonder what had happened in the rest of the city. Where was Lady deLande? David? Morgulon? How many Rot-creatures had entered Deva tonight?

And where had they come from? Fenn was still at the source of the river, right? Just pulling Morgulon out shouldn’t have had this effect? Right?

What had happened tonight?