The Sleeping Girl

Chapter Twelve

The man-wolf laughs. "Well you're a melodramatic little monster."

It's the amused glint in his eyes that does it. Like he's making fun of my pain. Mocking the terrible memories that his kind brought on. Infuriated, I instinctively pull in some magic and fling it at him. He crouches down and the bolt hits a tree behind him, exploding in a shower of sparks and engulfing the tree in flames. The tree burns, like the fire of my hatred.

The smile is gone from the wolf's face now. He crouches down and launches himself at me. After a half a second of shock, I throw up my arms, willing the air around me to harden. It does, and the wolf bounces off a shield. Mouth curling in a smile, I grab my knife and try to aim it straight into his chest.

I think I have it, but his arm comes up to stop me. He's fast, very fast. And then he's growling there's a tangle of arms and limbs on me both mine and his. I feel a sudden gust of wind and then a sharp dart of pain in my head as it crashes against a tree trunk. The pain is quickly followed by a slow dull one. Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes from the pain, and I force myself to will them away. 

I get up to see Mike wrestling the beast to the ground. Carmela stands above them, shaking slightly, holding the silver gun. I remember her telling me that her weapon of choice is a sword and figure that she's not too comfortable with the pistol. I'm not very comfortable with a pistol either, but I can manage with everything and I daresay that she can too.

As quickly as I can manage without blacking out, I peel myself off the ground and rush over to them. I wriggle in between Mike and the wolf and punch him in the jaw. Hard. As in, superhumanly magically hard. He howls in pain, sounding more animal than man. If I didn't know that werewolves can only shift forms in the light of a full moon, I would be terrified. 

The werewolf flinches for a mere second, just long enough for Mike to pin him down to the ground. Carmela moves directly above him and presses the gun to his forehead.

"Talk," she says. "Or die." The three of us glare at the werewolf. I expect him to refuse to speak, but to my surprise, he doesn't. 

He licks his lips, saliva dripping off. "Alright, Girl."

I'm surprised. "Why are you talking?" I ask, confused. I'm in the mood for a fight. But I suppose this is better. Just unexpected.

"I'm a solitary wolf," he says. "I'm just interested in protecting my own skin. I'm not loyal to their organization. I'm just faithful to anyone keeping me alive."

I hear Mike draw his breath in. "What organization?"

The wolf sneers. "Now there's the thing. Now I have information that you want. And if you kill me, you won't get it."

I snatch the gun from Carmela and press it harder into his forehead, so hard that I'm sure it will leave a read mark later. If he's alive later, anyways. "We shall get it from someone else, should you not talk. If you value your own life, you will talk." In the moment, I realize that I'm slipping back into my old way of speech, but I care not.

The werewolf shakes his head. "Everyone likes Ebony. You won't find another willing to talk."

"You're in for a surprise if you think I am one to cower," I say. "I'm ruthless. Everyone says so. I'm not afraid to kill. In fact, it brings me pleasure. Your kind killed my sister. I want to kill your kind. Mostly, I want to kill you."

"Foreword, much?" asks the wolf with a sneer.

"Keela, don't make him mad," says Mike suddenly, shooting me an apologetic look. "Wolf. Who is Ebony?"

Internally I curse myself. He just gave something away, this Ebony, and I totally missed it because of my hot temper. I really need to work on that. I am suddenly grateful that Mike and Carmela are here to keep me on track.