Chapter Eighteen

We are fascinated by the darkness in ourselves, we are fascinated by the shadow, we are fascinated by the boogeyman.

—Anthony Hopkins

 

THEY BOTH TENDED to the fires and then stripped out of their wet clothes and hung them to dry. After they dressed, they headed down to the deeper cave basement and closed the door. Thomas went straight for the back of the large room where all the traps, snares, and other hunting-related items from the previous owner were stored in old wooden crates.

Thomas sat down on the stone floor, and Ryan followed. Thomas leaned in close and spoke quietly. “Listen to me, Ryan, if the Bellum’s come here to wage war, it will be devastating. Our pack is not a fighting pack. We only have fighters meant to defend and protect from things like poachers or a lone rabid Wolf. Bears. Or humans who try to steal our pups or capture Wolves. Those are all minor threats compared to this. Our fighters are organized, but not for what’s coming. If the pack loses, the Bellums will slaughter any survivors and move their own pack here. That means you and me, even if we aren’t on the best terms with the pack right now. Especially you.”

Thomas thumped his own chest. “No warrior pack would ever understand a human-turned Wolf. It violates Wolf law. They won’t stop to ask if there was a decree. They would kill you first, then me for turning you. This is why I had to fight to get permission… Anyway, you know all that. What I’m trying to say is if it gets bad, if it looks like we’ll lose, you and I—we’ll have a backup plan no other Wolves know about. Not my father, no one. I’m willing to plan, help prepare, and we can even fight. But I am telling you right now, we—” Thomas motioned between them. “—we will not die for anyone else. We will run. We’ve paid our dues and been through too much already. We will run, and to do that, we need to be ready with our own plan—just in case.”

“They’re that bad?” Ryan asked.

“Imagine the Joker times ten, war-hungry Viking Wolves, and our pack is like…the Cleavers.”

“Oh,” Ryan said slowly. “Well, shit, we’re screwed.”

“Exactly, but maybe not. Not if we use every tactical and dirty advantage we can. Even if the council doesn’t want to use the traps, I do. Or at least some of them for our backup plan. To make sure we can get out if we have to run.”

Ryan knocked on the crates behind them. “Supposedly, these are all traps and snares. Tristan said this was all the hunting club’s stuff. Mr. Steele never moved it out because it’s all too heavy.” He paused, then asked, “What did Malcolm mean by it could be a punishment?”

“Yeah, then there’s that.” Thomas sighed. “Our gods are complicated, fierce, but loving at the same time.” Thomas thought about how to explain it.

Ryan waited.

“You never know; sometimes they agree with things, and then sometimes they let war decide. If that’s the case, then it’s the Bellums they use. You can run, or you can fight if you don’t think you’re guilty. The God you believe in is forgiving; ours aren’t. You’d like them; they are grudge holders. Think Old Testament and heavy-handed on the eye-for-an-eye.”

“Moody gods, got it. I’m not a grudge holder,” Ryan argued but bit his lip, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Please.” Thomas waited.

“Fine, maybe a little bit of a grudge holder.” Ryan made the smallest possible gap between his fingers.

“I wish you hadn’t given them all the maps. I know this land well, but there are places even I avoid.”

“I have maps I drew in my journal from those maps,” Ryan said.

Thomas motioned, and Ryan got up and went to get his journal. He brought it back, and they sat and strategized and discussed options.

“There’s another cave. It has a name I can’t pronounce—in another language,” Ryan said. “But it’s on the other maps and is way over here, far from the battleground or the cabin. To the north.” Ryan tapped a spot on the floor off the page. “Beyond the lake and to the far north.”

“On Steele land?”

Ryan traced the imaginary map on the floor with his finger. “On the border with the national forest, but, yes, on our side.”

Thomas thought for a moment and closed his eyes. “What did the word look like?”

“C-h something. It ended with an ‘i.’”

“Chindi?” Thomas whispered.

“That’s it,” Ryan said.

Thomas opened his eyes and frowned hard. “I know where it is, but I’ve never been near it. It was a burial cave for Native American tribes who lived on this land. This was their land and it’s a holy place, but also a wrong place. No Wolf will go near it.”

No Chindi, Wolf agreed.

“But if no one will go there…” Ryan started.

No Chindi, Wolf growled.

“Okay, fine, no Chindi,” Ryan said, and Thomas shuddered as Wolf settled back down.

“But—” Thomas nodded. “Wolves can feel it for miles around. It’s in the ground, the air, the trees, the wind. The Chindi spirits can take over a Wolf. They carry a great sickness. We could cut through it but not go anywhere near that cave.”

“I’m not afraid of spirits,” Ryan said. “If you respect them, they will not harm you. I learned a lot from Léander.”

“These aren’t Creole spirits, Ryan. They’re very old—ancient tribal spirits.” Thomas gave Ryan his rarely seen serious look. “Long before the Creole, long before the English came here. This is so old, and it’s darker magic. The Chindi, they are death.”

“I’m pretty sure there is some Native American mixed in with the Creole. But either way, there are things we can do. Move on—past the creepy cave. Let’s plan.” Ryan rolled his hand.

“This is all worst case, but we need supplies, clothing, temporary shelters. They’ll hunt us down, Ryan.”

“Is there another Wolf pack? You know, friendlies we could ask to help?”

“To the far east, but they are nowhere close. So we are it, until far, far to the south.”

“But we aren’t afraid to live as humans, like the pack is.”

Thomas pointed at Ryan and said, “Fugitive,” then at himself, “Dead guy.”

“Crap,” Ryan muttered. “Then we win. We need Tristan.”

“Why?” Thomas scowled.

“Research. He’s brilliant. Tristan would have ideas about war strategy, and what he doesn’t know he could research for us. I have no way of getting ahold of him though. He isn’t due back here until after winter is over. Will they attack during winter?”

“No, they’ll do it right when spring arrives and all of the Wolves want to come out and hunt and run. I bet they plan to pick us off one by one that way.”

“It’s a smart strategy,” Ryan said, and Thomas punched his arm. “What? You have to think like the enemy, Thomas. You can’t counter their moves if you don’t know how they think. This is like chess.”

“This is like war and death and genocide,” Thomas said sadly.

“Yes, but it’s also about strategy.”

“Okay, then I say we start going through these crates and taking stock of what we have. And we also start gathering and preparing go bags and emergency gear.”

“How do we carry those things if we’re our Wolves?” Ryan asked.

“We hide them along the way as humans. That is why our escape has to be planned if it comes to that. If we win, we just have to drag all that shit back here this summer.”

“I’m pretty good at escape planning,” Ryan joked.

“You are, but we do all of this together. Two minds are better.”

“Four minds.” Ryan grinned, and Thomas rolled his eyes.