Brent normally felt as though he and the wolf were one, but lately, ever since he’d come to Chicago, he’d felt edgy, as though the wolf inside him was fighting him, trying to get out. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. It was an unnerving feeling, and for the first time in his life he understood what the made wolves said when they spoke of the wolf as a separate entity.
Being closer to nature calmed his instincts, but at the same time, he felt more on edge. It was an odd, off balancing sensation. He forced himself to breathe deeply, trying to focus and figure out what exactly was causing this feeling.
His senses prickled suddenly, as though he was being watched. He froze completely, opening up to the magic that made him a werewolf, extending his sense as far as they would go, searching for that presence. He scented magic on the air, female magic, from two different sources. One was older and was almost floral with a hint of cinnamon and cloves; the other was darker, with hints of decay and blood overlaid with a sickly sweetness.
He didn’t move, hoping the females would take whatever their business was elsewhere. An old woman with a cane came into his line of vision. She moved laboriously up the path, breathing heavily. He could tell just by looking at her that something was wrong and that she was not well. He took another deep breath, but he couldn’t scent anything wrong with her. Normally sickness carried a particular scent, but in this case there was only the strange smell of that wrong magic.
Brent pulled his shoes back on and stood, planning to make his way over to the woman. She didn’t look healthy and obviously needed help. As he took his first step toward that sweet death smell intensified and a chill followed by strange dizziness swept over him. Confused, he tried to stop and asses the sensation, but his body moved smoothly without any direction from him.
Abruptly he realized he was caught in a spell, what else could it be? He struggled against the spell, his wolf instincts reacting like an animal caught in a trap, but all he did was succeed in exhausting himself. He no longer even controlled his own breathing.
He was trapped inside a body that moved gracefully, more predatory than normal, toward the old woman. The closer he got to her the more he could smell that dark scent on her. Whoever was doing this was obviously trying to get to this woman and her spell having failed, she was using him to do it.
The woman stopped and watched him as he approached. He stopped on the path in front of her. “Hello,” he said his voice low and polite. “You looked like you were having some trouble, so I thought I’d come to your aid,” his voice continued smoothly.
The old woman looked at him carefully. “I’d wondered when we’d actually get to it, but I must say, I didn’t expect this.”
Brent was confused for a moment even while his lips curved into a mocking smile. “Will you come with me then?”
The woman sighed and took his proffered arm. It was only as he began to lead he back the way she’d come that Brent realized what she meant. She recognized the spell on him. She knew that some Sorceress was using him to get to her and there was nothing she could do about it. The only reason she was going with him was because she didn’t want him hurt. The Sorceress had in him, not only a werewolf to be her muscle, but a hostage as well.
“I am sorry you got caught up in all this, young man,” the old witch said to him softly. “It is cowardly for her to use you like this.”
Inwardly Brent thanked her and offered up an unvoiced apology, but his mouth smiled again. “Just being careful.”
Together he and the old woman walked slowly toward a huge house overlooking the lake. People on the path smiled at them as they passed. Inwardly he raged, but outwardly he looked like solicitous young man helping his elderly grandmother to get some air. The Sorceress didn’t bother making him talk when there was really nothing that needed to be said, they all knew that she’d won this round, so they walked in silence.
“My name is Rose, by the way,” the woman said unexpectedly as they made their way up the stone stairs in front of the stately home. “I don’t believe I know you, young man.” Brent watched helplessly as his hand took the keys from Rose, unlocked the door, and ushered her inside.