Erik grabbed my arm and turned his attention to the witch. "We will all go inside," he told her.
She sneered, but turned away without comment and shuffled to her abode.
Erik returned his attention to me and frowned. "We must be somewhat obliging to her," he scolded me.
"It's hard to be anything to her but annoyed," I hissed.
"I'll agree with her on that point," Marge spoke up.
"A little decorum will go a long way," Greg argued.
I glared at him and gestured to Erik. "Taking his side again?"
"What fools. . ." Methuselah mumbled.
I whipped my head to him. "What's that make you? After all, you're the one who wanted to come with us."
"Enough!" Erik called over our heated words. He turned to me with a tint of yellow in his eyes. "We will oblige her for a short while. So long as we hold the diary she will do us no harm. If she proves to be a willing acquaintance we may be able to return to the Den with ample proof against Blackwood to lead to his exile."
Marge straightened and glared at him. "The word of Captain Black isn't good enough for your father?"
"It is merely his word," Erik pointed out. "Exile requires a great deal of evidence or the power to do so would be abused."
"Damn politics. . ." I muttered.
Erik grasped my shoulders in both his hands. I found myself caught in his beautiful eyes, so much so that I hardly heard him speaking to me. "Whatever the reason, I feel sure we will find the evidence with this witch. You must trust me."
I snorted and jerked my head towards the house. "It's not you I don't trust, it's her. I don't want to end up on the wrong end of an oven door."
"Are you coming or not?" the witch shouted from the railing of her porch.
Erik grinned and offered me his arm. "I will make sure it isn't turned on."
I rolled my eyes, but took his arm. "You're a dear, Hansel."
CHAPTER 5
Our little group's discussion broke apart and we made our way to the hut. The steps and porch boards creaked under our feet, and I inwardly wondered if she had home insurance that covered termite damage. The witch led us into the gloomy building. There was a window on each wall but the front, and they were all covered in a heavy black cloth that cast the room in a heavy shroud of darkness and shadow. The only sources of light were a few scraggly candles situated around the room and a fireplace. There was a depressing atmosphere to the whole place. It reminded me of a school.
Dust a mile thick sat on the jumble of tables and three-legged chairs that were scattered around the single-room place. A cauldron sat in the crackling fire in the hearth opposite the door and something brackish bubbled at the surface. Canisters and glass vials were filled with liquids of all the colors of the rainbow if the rainbow was ugly. Books were laid open or stacked in piles. Many were so dog-eared I wondered where the rest of the dog was.
The witch waved her hand at a few of the chairs. "Sit down," she invited us. She herself stood beside the warm hearth and faced us.
Erik reluctantly took a seat, and I took his lap. Marge wiped down a chair with her cloak, and Greg and Methuselah remained standing. The witch's narrow eyes swept over us.
"I guess if we're to make a deal I should tell you my name. It's Hazel," she informed us. Erik bowed his head, and she continued. "Now what exactly did you want to know about your cousin's plan?"
"We know he intends a coup against my father and wishes to extend the boundary of the fog," Erik told her.
She snorted and waved her hand at the door. "He's already gotten his wish for that. The fog's been moved two miles inland."
"Were you the one to perform the magic?" he asked our host.
Hazel beamed and nodded her head. "I am, and I'll tell you it wasn't easy. My mistress-the witch who performed the first spell-was very good at her job seeing to its width and such, but I got past that with a simple blood of bat and-"
"Wait a sec," I spoke up. I turned to Erik. "Didn't you say the fog was put here a couple hundred years ago?"
He nodded. "Yes, it was."
I looked to Hazel. "But you just said your mistress was the one who did it."
Hazel's cheeks reddened and she shook her head. "No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"Are witches as long-lived as werewolves?" Erik interrupted us. His question was aimed at Greg.
He bowed his head. "It is possible."
Hazel turned her nose up at our servant. "And who are you to know about witches?"
"A humble servant," he told her. I snorted. There was more sass than humble servant in him.
"Then keep your mouth shut like a good servant and let your master speak," she scolded him.
"How old are you?" I asked the witch.
She glared at me. "It's rude to ask a woman her age."
"That's only if a man's asking. How old are you?" I persisted.
She narrowed her eyes and stood. "Old enough to not have to stand for any of this."
I pointed at her legs. "But you are standing."
She whipped her finger towards the door. "Out."
Erik held up the book. "Do you wish for this book?" he questioned her.
Hazel furrowed her face. Her eyes flickered to the door and the book. She settled for the book and settled back into her seat. "All right, but out with what you want."
"We wish for you to revert the fog back to its previous boundaries and to speak on our behalf against Blackwood in front of the Council," Erik requested.
The witch shook her head. "I can't do the first, and I don't want to do the second."
"Why not?" he returned.
She looked away from us and her hand picked at the wooden mantel. A few mumbled words passed through her lips.
"Come again?" I asked her. She spoke again, louder this time, but I still didn't catch the words. "A little louder."
"She says she doesn't know how to decrease the size of the fog," Marge interpreted.
I blinked at the witch. "But you made it bigger."
"Increasing the size of a spell is easier than decreasing it," she replied.
"That doesn't make any sense. Of course it should be as easy," I argued.
She glared at me. "It's not a simple matter of adding more of the same ingredients like for increasing the size. I have to know how to break down the spell back to its original parts, and I don't know some of the original ingredients."
"Wait, so you're telling us you made something bigger that you don't know how to shrink?" I questioned her.
"That is a minor inconvenience I can fix later," Hazel assured us. Her eyes fell on the diary in Erik's hands, and she nodded at the book. "And that may help in my studies."
"It's only got some business stuff," I informed her.
A sly grin slid onto her lips. "That would be what a werewolf would believe, but diaries such as that held hidden information that no untrained eye can see."
Erik raised an eyebrow. "What sort of information?"
"Nothing that would interest a mere werewolf, now hand it over," Hazel demanded. She held out her hand, but Erik stuffed the book into his cloak.
"If the information is as valuable as that then we must insist that you come with us to the Den," he informed her.
Hazel scowled. "I will do no such thing, and I have told you as much as you need to know. Any more and I-" Erik's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. Greg joined him, and for the first time I noticed Methuselah wasn't in our party. Hazel jumped up and glared at Erik. "Now you've done it! They've followed you and you're in for it now!"
I didn't know what all the problem was about until I heard the faint sounds of feet on the marshy ground outside. The footsteps raced in our direction. They soon pounded up the stairs and across the porch. The door swung open and faint light streamed into the dark room. A figure stood in the doorway, and behind them were the shadowy forms of a dozen transformed werewolves. The end of
their long, pointed snouts glistened with snot and their yellow eyes glared at us from the gloom of the fog. Tufts of fur poked out from their ragged cloaks and tattered clothes, and their lengthened, curved feet tread almost noiselessly across the creaky boards. Their long, hairy arms swung at their sides and ended in long, sharp claws.
The leader stepped into the room and I caught sight of their face.
"Carey?" I spoke up.
It was indeed my one-time nemesis from the group of kidnapped girls. Her dark hair streamed down her shoulders and over the rough hunting shirt which she wore. She sported some khaki pants, heavy-duty boots, and an attitude that reminded me why I hated her.
She grinned at us and folded her arms across her chest. "My my, if it isn't my old friend, Sophia. How have you been?"
I narrowed my eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," she retorted. She stepped further inside and the werewolves behind her crowded into the room. They were hulking monsters with the tattered remains of dirty clothes that spoke of their occupation as Guards. "But I already know the answer."
I glanced from one ugly werewolf face to the other. "I'm guessing this isn't a reunion party you brought."
She laughed. "Hardly." She leaned her arm against the closest werewolf. "These fine boys are from my mate, Blackwood."
I rolled my eyes. "You two would get together."
Erik stepped forward and shook his head. "That isn't possible. Blackwood has no mate," he argued.
"He does now." She pulled down her right sleeve and showed off a marking that resembled a full moon. My eyes widened and my eyes flickered to my left shoulder where there was the same mark. "Besides, why don't you use that powerful sniffer of yours? That'll tell you I'm telling the truth."
Erik's eyes narrowed and I noticed his nostrils flared. "Well?" I asked him.
He nodded and his eyes fell on Carey. "She holds his scent, but I don't understand it. He had no mate before the Choosing of this year, and you were given to another."
Carey sneered and pushed off from her werewolf toy. "Don't remind me. That fool was nothing more than a pathetic, lying sack of worms."
"Then he was your mate," I quipped.
She whipped her head and her hair flipped from one shoulder to the other. "He was of no use to me, so I divorced him and picked up a new mate."
"Werewolves don't divorce. We're kind of stuck together for life," I argued.
A sly grin slipped onto her lips. "You think so, don't you? Well, I'm here to tell you that my dear Blacky found a way for me to divorce my pathetic mate and have him take me."
"You're pulling our tails," Marge spoke up.
"Is that what you think? Or are you maybe just a little tempted to see if I'm right?" Carey teased.
"How was this done?" Erik demanded to know.
Carey laughed and shook her head. "Maybe I'll tell you later, though you don't have much of a later left. My Blacky told me to fetch you and take you to him. He has a few proposals to put before you."
Erik stepped in front of me and shook his head. "I told him once I would never join him."
Carey's eyes fell on me. "Not even if he could free you from your mate?" I noticed Erik stiffened, and Carey grinned. "I thought that'd get your attention. That's why I suggested it to Blacky. He remembered you didn't want to play with us, but he thought maybe my little proposal might change your mind. Interested?"
Erik's eyes flitted between Carey and me. Everyone waited with baited breath. His shoulders sagged and he gave a nod.
"I will go with you," he agreed.
"Master!" Greg scolded him.
"You idiot! That's just what they want!" Marge shouted.
I grabbed his arm, and he turned to me. My eyes searched his, but I couldn't read the expression in his bright orbs. "Are you sure about this?" I whispered.
"Isn't this what you always wished?" he pointed out.
I glanced past him at Carey as she stood triumphant near the door. I frowned. "Not if it means she wins."
Carey grinned and turned to Erik. "We could just take care of her here if you want." She stepped back and petted the furry back of one of her escorts. "These guys have been dying to sink their teeth into some flesh, and they don't mind a little cannibalism on the side." The werewolf growled at me and saliva dripped from his mouth.
I heard a small intake of air and looked to Greg. His eyes were wide and filled with horror. "You have given them the flesh of another werewolf," he whispered.
Carey clapped her hands. "Greg, isn't it? Blacky told me you weren't dumb."
I felt the color drain from my face. "They. . .they ate somebody?"
"That's the usual definition of cannibalism," she concurred.
Erik started back and his eyes widened. Marge's mouth dropped to her feet. "Good god!" she whispered.
"God has nothing to do with this, but this is getting a little old," Carey commented. She half-turned to the door. "Let's go. All of you."
CHAPTER 6
"All of us?" Hazel spoke up.
"All of you," Carey repeated.
The witch's eyes narrowed. She stepped back against the far wall beside the mantel and waved her hands at us. "If all you want is them then get out of my home and let me be! You've caused enough damage!" She gestured to the dirty floor. "You're dirtying these fine floors."
Carey sneered at the plain-clothed creature with her wart. "You're coming with us. Blacky says you can't be trusted to be on your own, and finding everyone here shows how right he was."
Hazel's eyebrows crashed down and she stretched to her full, short height. "Can't be trusted? Who's he to say I can't be trusted?"
"He's the werewolf in charge, that's who, and he wants you to come with us so you're coming with us," Carey insisted. She snapped her fingers and a pair of the werewolves lumbered forward.
Hazel snatched a clay bottle off the mantel and threw it at them. The bottle shattered at their feet and a thick fog rose from the remains. The fog covered the faint glow from the candles and the fireplace, and shrouded the room in complete darkness.
A battle ensued, and it was fierce. I couldn't see anything but I could hear chairs breaking and bodies crashing into the thin walls. In a moment the fight was done. Someone huffed and puffed, and the fog blew away. I saw that our team had lost. Erik was locked in a stranglehold by one of the cannibalistic fiends and Greg was on the floor pinned beneath two of their massive bodies. Marge's limp body was slung over the shoulder of one of the werewolves. Hazel herself had disappeared from the fireplace and I couldn't see where she'd disappeared to. Methuselah was still AWOL.
"Where the hell did she go?" Carey shrieked. One of the werewolves beside her shrugged. She rolled her eyes and pointed a finger at the door. "Well, go find her!" she yelled. The werewolf turned tail and ran out of the cabin with two of his friends in tow. Carey marched over to Erik and shoved her face into his. Her eyes blazed with a golden-hued fury. "What the hell was that about? I thought you were going to come nice and peaceful."
Erik grinned at her. "It is no dishonor to deceive an evil foe."
She snorted. "Because everybody who's against you is the bad guy, right?" she sneered. Carey backed up so she stood smugly beside the fireplace with her arms folded over her chest. "Well, you picked a stupid time to turn against me. I know Sophie doesn't know what these boys are capable of, but you three should know better," she scolded them.
"What do you mean?" I asked her
She laughed at my ignorance. "It means that because they ate a couple of other werewolves they gained their strength."
I cringed. "Cannibalism with benefits."
"Exactly, but it does make them a little stupid, though," Carey commented as she patted one of their shoulders.
"And they willingly did this?" Erik asked her question her
She laughed and shook her head. No, but Blacky treated them to a good feast just a couple nights ago and they came out changed men, or rather, we
rewolves. Now if you boys and-" her eyes darted over to Marge, "-I guess girl are done playing then we should get going. We can't keep Blacky waiting."
"You're still going to take us?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "Why not? Besides, I did promise Blacky I was going to bring you guys in whether or not you agreed, and we might have other ways of persuading you to join us. Now let's move out."
We were marched single file out the door with Hazel as more company. I was pushed ahead of Erik and Greg. Marge was still unconscious across the shoulder of one of the brutes. The werewolves led us off the porch and down another path that led to the right of the building towards the lake.
The foggy night was dark as we were marched into into the thick trees. The shadows lengthened and fell over us like shrouds of defeat. I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw that Erik and Greg's faces were turned to the ground. The wolf that was my keeper pushed me on and growled. I got the hint. He didn't want me looking back there.
It felt like we marched for hours but maybe that was because I kept tripping over all the stupid roots. It wasn't that I was wasn't watching for them, but rather that I was watching out for where Methuselah and that damn witch had gone. After a few minutes the werewolves that Carey had ordered to find Hazel rejoined us.
"Well?" Carey asked him. He shook his head and she growled. "Damn it. . ." I heard her mutter. She looked to the other werewolves and jerked her head forward. "Let's go. We can't worry about some stupid witch, and she's done what she needed to do."
We continued on our way. A couple of miles further on I smelled the scent of lake water. My senses weren't fooling me. A few minutes later I heard the sound of lapping water, and the trees parted to reveal the lake. The soft waters of Wolf Lake greeted us, and I saw that there were two large motorboats ready to take us to Blackwood.
A pair of long planks led to the decks of the small boats. They led us to one of them and I had placed a foot on the plank when a noise behind me caught everyone's attention. I turned around and saw that Marge had awoken and was struggling in the grips of her captor.
"Let me down!" she screamed. "Let me down, or so help me I'll open your throat!"
The werewolf who held her had a hard time holding her. Marge clawed and bit at his back. He tried to pull her forward but she dug her claws into his flesh.