A low, undulated growl escaped the Lycan’s lips as it stood, looking at me, though surprisingly, it made no move to attack.
“Stand back,” I said, moving forward, holding out a hand to the man who’d been thrown against the wall. He’d begun to stir, a soft groan coming from where he’d fallen. For a moment, I could have sworn the werewolf scowled at me, looking confused, but maintaining that edge of rage. I turned toward the wolf, holding out my blade, the knife glowing a sharply hued yellow, heat rippling from the sharpened edge of the rune-etched knife.
“Stay away from him.” I tried to keep my voice firm, focusing all my effort on not letting my hand tremble, the point of the blade pointed straight at the creature looming before me.
“This— does not concern you,” the Lycan snarled.
“If it comes to protecting someone from the likes of you— it most certainly does.”
“Remove yourself, wizard.”
“Why does everyone call me that?”
The wolf took a slow step forward, its matted fur pressed to its coiled muscle as it took a predatory step forward. It leaned its sloped skull toward me, nostrils flaring, the front row of jagged, yellowed fangs bared.
“You do not know who you are dealing with.”
“I don’t need to.” My left hand cleared the second blade from leather and I held them both in tight fists, dropping into a makeshift ready stance. In my left hand my defensive blade tucked close, along my forearm, handle turned out. The offensive blade, Firestarter, remained clutched in my right, blade pointed toward my enemy, a glowing, hot halo surrounding the smooth edge.
“I do not have time for this!” The wolf’s lips peeled wide, its gleaming eyes like twin lasers. Its muscles coiled briefly, a sudden clench of poised preparation, and then it leaped at me. I was already uttering the spell when it surged forward, but it had been too long since I’d faced off against a Lycan and I’d forgotten just how damn fast they were.
Before a hint of the protective barrier I was conjuring emerged, the beast swung a massive, closed fist, a rushing backhand, the blow colliding with my left side with the force of a sledgehammer. Air sliced from my lungs as the impact threw me from my feet, lifted me and tossed me through the air until I slammed into the wall of a building several feet to my right. Pain exploded as my defensive blade slipped from slack fingers, clattering to the pavement moments before I fell alongside it, striking with both knees and my opposite shoulder. I wheezed hot, metallic breath, a sharp heat in my side that told me that single blow might have very well snapped a rib or two.
“Stay out of it!” The wolf snarled, barely tossing me another glance, then lurched forward, toward the man in the trash, jaws craning wide. It lunged, teeth bared toward its motionless victim, moving in for what would no doubt be a swift, but bloody kill.
Somehow, I gathered my strength and swept my discarded knife from the ground, then hurriedly finished my chant and swiped up, extending a sudden barrier of swirling amber and blue between the wolf and its intended victim. Its teeth clamped down, ramming onto the slightly curved barrier, coalesced from solidified magic. Two fangs snapped and the wolf jerked back in surprise and pain, a shrill bark escaping its furled lips. Immediately, the shield dissipated, whisking away into nothing as I grimaced, trying to get ready for the wolf’s next strike.
“You were warned.” The creature howled, turning toward me, dropped down on all fours, back coiled as it prepared to strike. Blood specked its white muzzle, its eyes burning bright nuggets of verdant rage.
“What can I say,” I said, my voice strained as I spoke through my aching ribs, “I’m a little slow on the uptake.”
A low, rattling growl escaped the wolf as it stalked forward on all fours, low to the ground. I pushed myself toward the wall at my back, wincing with even the slightest motion. I tightened my grip around the shield knife, then realized when I’d struck the wall I’d lost both blades, not just one, Firestarter having landed a few feet to my right.
The man submerged in trash stirred slightly, another low groan signaling his slow return to consciousness. Barely giving him a second look, the pale-colored wolf crept toward me again, step by step. In my time in service to the Caretakers, I’d faced down more Lycan than I could count and had handled myself pretty well. But I was out of practice and I’d lost more than a step, and if I wasn’t careful, it would cost me my life.
A roar bellowed and the wolf lunged, teeth showing, the front two hacked off near the gum line, a mix of blood and spit coloring the edges of his mouth. I uttered the whispered incantation as I rolled right, desperately drawing the blade between myself and the charging beast, a shield blurring the air. The wolf’s momentum sent it crashing into the gently curved dome, the barrier deflecting its charge just enough that it smashed into the wall to my left, slashing claws barely missing my back. The Lycan snarled again, moving faster than my eyes could follow even as I lurched forward, clawing for my other knife. Pain raced along my spine as the creature recovered and bore down on me, grasping at me with jagged claws. His nails dug into the flesh on my right side, burying deep, clamping into muscle, then pulled, dragging me toward its snarling maw.
My fingers touched the contoured hilt of my knife as I jerked back. Agony threatened to loosen my bladder, like a flare being ignited within my guts. I felt the hot breath of the beast on the back of my neck as it drew toward me, blood-tinged spittle wetting my skin like a thick, summer rain. It smelled of copper, musk and primal hunger. A hand coiled around my left shoulder, claws again digging into my skin as the wolf forced me around, drawing me to it, mouth agape for feeding.
I closed my fingers around the hilt of Firestarter, barely, and yanked it close as I was spun, shouting the incantation as loudly as I could, bellowing into the gnarled Lycan face. Heat pulsed and I felt the warm surge of power punch through me. I didn’t waste any time thinking about where I struck or how powerfully, I just immediately unleashed a sudden glut of flame, thrusting the knife forward into the approaching face of the white-furred animal. An orange explosion ripped through the dim light of the alley as the fireball engulfed the wolf’s face, flames tracing their amber claws along its fur-covered shoulders. Smoke roiled and the stink of seared flesh and fur filled the alley, the huge Lycan howling as it lurched backwards in agony, claws flailing.
It went up and over, tumbling backwards, fire trailing across its arms and down the length of its spine, and the large creature thrashed wildly. My teeth pressed, I managed to stand, using the alley wall, the pain of my broken rib cascading into the agony of torn flesh and muscle, wetness soaking my t-shirt and pants. I stumbled, barely holding myself up against the wall, my knees weak as the wolf rolled wildly, the fire seeping into low, smoldering embers, his white fur dark with soot and scorch.
That— hadn’t been my first choice about how to handle the situation— but it had worked. Or so I thought, as I tried to take a step forward and nearly collapsed. A trash bag shifted by the far wall, the formerly prone form of the unconscious man digging his way free.
“Hey— you need help?” My voice was weak in my ears, barely audible even to myself. A man emerged from the pile of trash, rising as if from death. I was shocked by his height, he stood well over six feet tall, a length of dark hair clung to his head, draped over his left shoulder. He wore a trench coat like me, though his was thicker and darker, not leather— something older. A thick mustache and beard covered the bottom half of his aged, leathery face which concealed the narrow line of a mouth. As he stood, I could see by the light of the nearly full moon a trio of jagged scars peeled down his face, a diagonal swim lane of long-healed gashes which left permanent remnants carved into tissue. His jacket slipped open as he stood and across his chest was a belt of bullets, an arrangement of shells tucked individually into several fitted pouches.
A belt hung loose on his hips, a revolver stuffed into a holster at his left and when he drew up to full height, I could see that he held a rifle in his right hand. Moving with slow, calculated precision, he craned his neck to look at the wolf, who was softly whimpering. The fire was all but out, but its effects remained, the pale fur colored dark with burn marks. Smoke lingered, filling the air with the odor of burned hair.
“That was mine. Not yours.” The man’s voice was gravel.
“Excuse me?” It hurt just to speak.
“The prey. It was mine, not yours.”
“I— I think I just saved your life, man.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Something very, very weird was going on here. “Look, I don’t know what you think that is, but—”
“I know damn well what it is, boy. I’ve been hunting it for two hundred years.”
My lips parted, but I wasn’t sure what to say, as my brain lagged at least ten minutes behind my eyes.
“You got in the way.”
“I—”
The man bent low and swept a hat from the ground, lifted it and tugged it down on his head, over his thin mane of hair. He ground his teeth, a shifting of bone I heard from several feet away, then scrutinized me, his eyes as dark and hard as steel.
He didn’t speak again, he simply lifted his rifle and pointed it directly at me, his eye lowered to look over the sight.
“Hey!” My shield knife hummed and I sliced it across my body, erecting a swift barrier of energy, a desperate defensive maneuver. His finger tugged the trigger, the weapon exploding with a single, echoing shot. The bullet smashed into my shield— and straight through, a blue smear of liquid power punching through the barrier as if it didn’t even exist.
Pain seared my left shoulder, an acetylene torch burned directly into my muscle and I stumbled backward again, the shield poofing into a scatter of pale ash. I fell to one knee, then toppled over onto my right shoulder, feeling the heat pulse outward from the point of the bullet’s impact. My vision clouded, but I saw the tall man in the wide-brimmed hat approach the whimpering wolf. He bent low, then lifted the huge creature, draping it almost effortlessly across his broad shoulders, hefting it as if its weight was almost nothing.
I tried to form words, but I couldn’t seem to put them together, the world whirling into a crimson mist of confusion. The Lycan slung across his back in a fireman’s carry, the coat-wearing cowboy vanished down another alley, leaving me alone and bleeding in the gutter.