30 – Wolf
Ward shifted in the uncomfortable wooden seat, looking down at the sizeable crowd in the auction hall. He, Lisa, and Haley were sitting in a boxed section of seating that was assigned to Lisa’s cousin. Apparently, being the “Director of Commerce and Trade” got you some special privileges at public auctions. Ward had yet to meet the man—he wasn’t present for the auction, but Lisa said he’d already put his connections to use for them, discouraging bidding on the living-ship berths that were going up for auction that day.
It had been three days since Ward and Grace had made their excursion to the library. During that time, Ward kept finding excuses to put off using the bloodline potion he’d gotten from the spire. At first, he’d wanted to see how things would go if he did nothing—would he turn into a werebeast at night? Would he have trouble controlling his carnal urges? When the first night was uneventful, save for some vivid dreams, he managed to fill the following day with time-consuming chores.
He and Haley slept in and then spent the day with Lisa, shopping and eating out. Ward hadn’t eaten so much in a long, long time. He didn’t have the excuse of being fresh back from the spire, either, having accounted for that the previous day. No, he’d come to accept that there was something different about his metabolism now that he’d begun to awaken his lycan bloodline. He was hungry for all types of food, but the satisfaction a good piece of meat gave him was on a whole other level.
On the second day, Ward and Lisa sat down together to learn and try out the new spell they’d acquired in the spire. It took a while to get the meditative postures correct, but with both of them working on them, it was only a matter of time before it began to click. Ward was pleased with himself when he formed the spell in his mind before Lisa did, but she was happy enough that she could do it; her mana refinement had, according to her, given her two tiers of advancement on her “mana sensitivity” and “mana pathways” attributes—enough of a boost that the spell no longer pained her to look at, and, after some testing, she proved capable of casting it with only minor discomfort.
Ward hardly felt the spell. He’d rank it on par with his Shadow Step spell. The effect of the words of power was profound, however, and far flashier than most of the other spells Ward knew. As he spoke the words, they rolled off his magical tongue like miniature peels of thunder, and, thanks to the posture the spell’s memorization had ingrained in his reflexes, he found himself stretching his right hand forth as the words echoed through his hotel room. Almost instantaneously, they seemed to gather at the tips of his fingers, swirling with palpable force like a ball of sonic energy that sparkled with blue, mana-hued light.
When Ward had focused his gaze on the window, he cost himself thirty glories by launching the magical projectile through the pane, shattering it as the charged mana ball whirled, crackling, into the air outside the inn. That signaled the end of that day’s productivity; he and Lisa had gone north of town, not far from where Ward had run on his lycan escapade, and spent the day experimenting with the new spell.
Ward could cast the “Mana Bolt” three times before having to re-learn it. Lisa could only manage two casts. Perhaps more interestingly, Ward’s bolt was larger, with more caustic, crackling blue energy surrounding it as it flew. His bolt could scorch the bark of a pine tree in a ten-inch circle, even going so far as to carve a divot into the wood about an inch deep. Lisa’s created similar damage, but less profound.
Of course, the differences in their abilities prompted Ward to ask her again about her mana attributes, and she’d finally relented, divulging some of her numbers. Where Ward had a tier-3 mana well, tier-4 mana sensitivity, and tier-5 mana pathways, Lisa’s numbers were, respectively, tier-2, tier-3, and tier-3. Of course, this led to some animated speculation about other spells and Ward’s capabilities beyond Lisa’s, and the day had bled away into the night long before they were ready to call an end to their activities.
Lisa stuck to her word, moving into the Iron and Ivy, so they’d moved their discussions back to the common room, had a late supper, and turned in. Now, it was the third day since Ward’s wild, naked run through the town, and he feared he’d lose a lot more time than he’d bargained for by sitting through the auction. As the third lot of cattle went up for bids, he turned to Lisa and nudged her with his elbow. “How much longer do you think it’ll be before the ship berths go up?”
“Hmm…” She licked her fingers and leafed through the auction listings—a document that resembled a newspaper more than anything else—and sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, Ward. It doesn’t seem as though they’re putting items up in any order I can discern.”
“Probably saving the more interesting items for last,” Haley opined. “That’s how they did horse auctions back in the Copper Valley.”
“Which means we’re stuck here for a while,” Ward sighed.
“Someplace you want to be?” Grace asked. She was sitting behind the trio, or, more accurately, standing, pacing, and acting even more bored than Ward.
“Yeah, I’d like to practice more magic, and, well, I have to start getting serious about drinking that bloodline potion.”
Lisa nodded, looking at him sideways. “You haven’t had any…strange behavior?”
Ward shrugged. “Just eating like a teenage football player on growth hormones.”
Haley leaned past Lisa and poked Ward in the stomach. “You’re not getting fat.”
“Thanks for confirming,” Ward snorted, shifting in his seat again; he was too large for it.
Haley watched him squirming and sighed. “If you want to go drink that potion, I’m pretty sure Lisa and I can handle the auction.”
Lisa nodded. “True. If my cousin’s contacts can be trusted, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting three tickets. According to him, there will only be seven or eight passengers with deep pockets at the auction today. They’ll be competing with us for five suites, and everyone else will be bidding for economy berths.”
“I think if we pool our funds, we can win a suite,” Haley added.
Lisa nodded. “Considering the journey’s close to ten days, I wouldn’t mind having a little privacy.”
Ward scooted to the edge of his seat. He felt a little guilty bailing out of the auction, but, on the other hand, he was feeling incredibly antsy. That was another thing he hadn’t mentioned to Lisa—his aversion to indoor spaces. The auction hall wasn’t terrible, being large and open as it was, but he still felt confined, especially in the seat that was most definitely made for a much smaller person. He fished around in his coat for the little pouch containing his thousand-glory coins and passed it to Haley. “Sorry, I don’t have more to pitch in.”
She took the pouch but shook her head. “I doubt we’ll need all this. Lisa thinks it’ll take between five and ten thousand glories to win one of the suites.”
Lisa nodded. “Only because my cousin convinced a few of the resellers to back off today’s auction.”
“Well, if it works out, be sure to convey my thanks.” Ward stood with a grunt and then jerked his thumb toward the distant exit. “I’m out, then. I’m going to drink that thing out in the woods, so it's probably good that I go earlier rather than later.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Grace had moved around to face the three of them as she spoke. “Ward, don’t you think you should have someone watching over you?”
“Why? So they can watch me run off after a rabbit or something? Or worse, attack one of them? No, I’d rather be isolated. I’ll hike a good ways out into the woods. If I’m not back by the time you two are done, just wait for me. I’m sure I’ll find my way back eventually.”
“You’re going north?” Haley confirmed.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry, Grace. I’ll find you two if he takes too long.”
Grace smiled and leaned close to Haley. “I wish I could touch you. I’d give you a hug.”
“It’s not fair,” Lisa remarked, watching the two of them. “Grace, you deserve a body.”
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Grace opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She looked stunned by Lisa’s observation. Ward took Grace’s hand and gave it a gentle tug. “Come on.” As he pulled her toward the aisle, he threw Lisa a quick smile. “That’s her dream. We’re hoping to find a solution for her on one of the higher worlds.” Grace nodded and followed, almost in a trance, as Ward led her out of the auction hall. “She was trying to be nice,” he said as he felt the stress melt away with the waft of fresh air outside the doors.
“I know! I didn’t say anything…”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t tell if you were upset.”
“I’m not. It’s just so strange having so many people who can see and speak to me. I’ve had a single person to interact with for a very long time, Ward.”
“You’ve had more than one host—”
“I meant at a time. It’s strange and…wonderful having friends.” She squeezed Ward’s hand and nodded toward the busy street. “Will you walk?”
Ward turned to the right, looking up the steeply sloping road. They were a good mile further into the city than the square near their inn. He felt good, though—strong and full of energy. He nodded and stretched his long legs into a ground-devouring pace, weaving between slower pedestrians as he made easy work of the hill.
He’d bought a new coat, this one a bit roomier and longer, though it featured a tailored slit at the waistline, seamlessly integrated into the design to allow his sword to rest comfortably without bunching or tugging at the fabric. Ward had been impressed by the reinforced stitching and the slight flare of the slit to ensure unrestricted movement. He’d begun to get used to wearing the heavy broadsword all the time—the weight was reassuring to him more than irritating these days—but the coat’s clever design made it all the better.
It was a very dark gray wool, almost black, with burgundy silken lining. He loved the way it felt and couldn’t imagine going back to the cheap raincoats he used to wear when he was a cop in Seattle. He supposed it helped that it was winter, and the temperature was hovering a good five degrees below freezing for most of the day. The coat, like his sword, was a comfort.
On the same shopping trip when he’d purchased the coat, he’d ordered a custom-tailored armored vest. Unlike his current armor, it was more leather than chainmail, but metal scales were stitched into the leather to cover his vitals. The armorsmith had insisted it would provide excellent protection while still being significantly more comfortable to wear than Ward’s chainmail shirt, especially if he intended to wear a coat overtop. “When’s my armor going to be ready? Did the guy say tomorrow?”
“Day after,” Grace replied, idly skipping along beside him. She seemed happy, and seeing her happy made Ward smile. He wondered about that—how his emotions seemed at least a little bit tied to hers. Was he being sympathetic because he liked her more and more, or was she influencing his feelings because she was in his mind? He didn’t want to start down that rabbit hole, so he didn’t ask her what she thought.
As he slipped out the northern end of town, following a narrow cobbled road with almost no traffic, he noticed a light dusting of frost on the grass leading up to the ancient siege defenses. Looking up at the gray sky, he wondered if he would see some snow before they left the world for Springsea. The idea that he was casually thinking of leaving the world brought a chuckle out of him, and Grace gave him a look, a crooked grin on her bright red lips. “Something funny?”
“I was just thinking how weird things have gotten. I mean compared to my old life. We’ve got friends who are buying us tickets to travel to another world! I’m walking into the woods to drink a potion that’s supposed to wake up my lycan bloodline. Hah! If someone heard me say just those two sentences back in the department building, they’d order mandatory mental evaluations.”
“When you put it like that, yeah, it’s pretty wild.”
“Pretty wild?” Ward chuckled.
“What?”
“You’re supposed to be hundreds of years old.”
“Yeah, but I spent the last decade living in the head of a young woman—in modern-day Earth.”
“Right. Fair enough.” Ward inhaled deeply, savoring the cold air as it coated his nostrils and filled his lungs. When he blew out his breath, it plumed in a great cloud, and he laughed. He broke into a jog, powering up the hill past the old fortifications and across the field into the sparse trees that bordered the deeper forest that dressed the hills. Grace ran effortlessly beside him, and he looked at her with a grin as hot breath continued to steam out of his lips. “Fun?”
“I don’t get tired, so you do you!”
“But do you enjoy it?”
“I enjoy it if you’re enjoying it!”
Ward grinned more broadly and picked up the pace, pounding over the frosty ground, running between low tree-covered hills. Soon, he’d gained significant altitude, and when he charged up a hill to a small, boulder-covered clearing, he turned to look back at Westview. He hadn’t gotten a view of it like this before, and he soaked it in, marveling at the weird mix of steam-age technology and medieval architecture.
Great steam stacks rose up on the far side of the city, down by the docks, and their white exhaust plumes mixed with the gray clouds to drench the city in gloomy splendor. He saw tall towers with stained glass windows, great ships out on the sea, and thick green forests and fields on two sides of the city. It was like an industrial-age city had been plopped down on a pastoral setting with steam-age ships calling to port in the nearby sea. It was strange and wondrous, and it filled Ward with optimism.
He turned to look around the little clearing. Trees stretched away up into the hills, but, straining his ears, he didn’t hear any logging. He didn’t see any movement, and, by his estimations, he was a good five miles from the road that led north out of town. “I think this is an all-right spot, don’t you?”
“Seems like it to me.” Grace hopped atop a moss-covered boulder. “Are you going to get undressed?”
“Do you think I need to?”
“I don’t know if you’ll void the way you did with the refinement potions, but you might. You might freak out and run around like a lunatic, too. Or, you know, you might turn into an animal, which wouldn’t exactly be good for your new jacket.”
“Dammit,” Ward sighed, shrugging out of his coat. He folded it and set it atop a flat rock with his hat, then proceeded to remove the rest of his clothes.
Before he set his sword belt on the stone, he loosened the little belt pouch where he’d stashed the finger-sized vial of silvery liquid. He sat on a patch of stiff, cold grass in nothing but his cotton briefs and looked at Grace with more than a little trepidation. “Am I being stupid? Should I lock myself in a cellar and have Haley watch over me while I drink this?”
“How do you feel about that idea? I mean, really—how do you feel?”
“The thought of being locked in a room makes my skin crawl. I feel like I’d go apeshit and rip the place apart.”
“And out here? On this secluded hilltop?”
“I feel good.” Ward smiled and reached a hand down to the cold grass. Clutching a handful with his powerful fingers, he tore it away and lifted it to his nose, sniffing the deep, sharp tang of the torn grass. “Yeah. This is the right move. I’m trying to gain control, so why would I set myself up to fail?”
Grace nodded. “I agree.”
Ward took a few deep breaths, surprised by how comfortable he was, sitting in the cold air, on the cold grass, in nothing but his underwear. He wasn’t shivering. He didn’t even have any goosebumps. “Another thing that’s changed, I guess.”
“What?”
“I’m not cold.”
“Considering how much you’ve been eating, your metabolism must be off the charts.” Grace moved in front of him and put her hands on his cheeks, her fingers delicate and cool. “You’re warm, but nothing weird.”
Ward shrugged. “Nothing to be done about it.” He held up the vial. “Except drink this, I guess.”
“Only way out is through, hmm?” Grace arched an eyebrow in amusement, then let go of his face and sat in the grass before him.
Ward chipped away the wax holding the cork in the vial. He held it up in a silent salute. “Right, well, here’s spit in your—”
Grace laughed. “Don’t you dare! That one’s out of fashion, Ward!”
“Fine, whatever. Bottom’s up!” Ward twisted the little cork from the vial and then tilted the contents into his mouth. It wasn’t thick, as he’d imagined. It was thin, like alcohol, and it burned like potent spirits as he swallowed the shot in one gulp. He coughed, tears springing to his eyes as he fought to get his breath back. “Jesus! Like Everclear!”
“I can taste it!” Grace cried.
Ward felt the heat in his belly, then realized his skin was steaming, not like a swimmer out of warm water in the cold weather, but more like the stacks he’d seen down in the city. Looking up, he saw great plumes of white steam rising into the cold gray sky above him, and he laughed, holding out his arms, watching it stream off his naked flesh. “It doesn’t hurt or anything—”
“Don’t tempt fate!”
Ward nodded and put his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his body, trying to figure out what was happening. The heat from the drink had spread from his belly into the rest of him, and he simply felt like he had a powerful buzz—like he’d worked all day, had an empty stomach, and then drunk a really strong beer. It felt wonderful—euphoric, even. He tilted his head to the sky and inhaled deeply; when he let the breath out, he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, only it wasn’t a laugh—it was a howl.
His eyes shot wide with the realization, and then the first convulsion hit. Ward arched his back, grunting loudly as he felt his limbs contort, drawing close, stretched, and popping at the joints. His groan turned into a growl, and suddenly, he was up on legs that felt like they were wound with high-tension steel springs. The world had brightened, almost painfully so, and he stared at the shadows between the wide boles of trees nearby and, without thinking, he jogged that way. It wasn’t wise to be out in the open—better to find prey and avoid hunters if he could stick to the shadows.
Ward realized he was leaning forward, his long arms with their hard black claws clutching the cold grassy soil. He felt comfortable that way, so he didn’t worry about it. He moved fast, effortlessly devouring the hillside as he prowled upward into the deeper, darker shadows of the forest. This was his territory. This was home to him. He had nothing to fear in those shadows. Nothing could hide from his senses in those loamy woodlands. He could smell a million things at once, and his gaze could pierce the veils of darkness like the noonday sun shone directly onto the canopy floor.
Ward laughed, and it was a chuffing, barking sound. He liked it. He liked the feel of his rumbling voice in his chest and the strength of his great lungs. He liked it so much that he tilted his head back and told the world, howling his freedom into the hills. His voice echoed and rang off the stones like it held as much power and magic as the words that made up spells. Something bolted at the sound of his cry, and Ward tore after it, a hulking, shadowy figure that loped along on all fours. Hunger brought saliva to his mouth, and the excitement of the chase brought another chuffing, growling laugh out of his throat. He was fast and strong. He was free. He was the Wolf.