Wolf for Hire

Chapter Thirty Four

The wolf tried to run forward, but our feet only flailed uselessly in the air.

And not just us—Coy and Boden too had been caught in Eugene's levitation spell. He'd targeted all three of us.

"What the hell? What is this?" I snapped, trying to take control back from the wolf.

"Magic," Eugene said matter-of-factly.

No shit, Sherlock, I thought.

"What gives? You promised you wouldn't do anything!" I barked angrily.

"And true to my word, I've neither harmed nor shot any of you."

"You knew what I meant. This is just semantic bullshit."

"You're absolutely correct. But with this kind of magic—these spoken promises—the words matter more than the intention."

There was a smirk on his face now. Like this was a game to him, and he'd finally gotten the upper hand.

"And… if you remember my exact words, I only promised not to harm your dogs. Not you. All I said was that I wouldn't shoot you."

Panic twisted in my gut.

He'd gotten me with classic contractual ambiguity. Despite getting a promise out of him, I hadn't actually allotted myself any protection.

"You really should pay more attention to these things in the future."

Just have to rub it in, don't you?

The wolf snarled and snapped in the air, furious at being denied her power.

I could handle communications, but this tantrum wasn't helping. So I tried to order her to calm down.

She wasn't having it.

She wanted to charge. To claw. To bite into something. To take this conversation of the minds and return it to one of might. Wanted to take on this twerp of a wizard and teach him his place.

I just wanted her to stop embarrassing us.

I had to escalate—negotiating with my own instincts—while physically using one hand to clamp down on our muzzle to keep her from making us look more foolish.

Let me do the talking. Trying to intimidate him now will only make this worse. I know how to handle this. He just wants to talk.

At least, I hoped he just wanted to talk.

Eugene watched me thrash around with myself, his expression shifting to something almost amused.

"You seem to be at odds with yourself. Who are you talking to?"

Butt out, Eugene! This is an internal matter! I projected at him, loud and forceful.

He winced and held a hand to his temple.

Guess he'd been listening a little too closely.

Maybe, if I was lucky, I'd just given him a touch of telepathic tinnitus for his trouble.

At some point during all of this, the three of us must have broken eye contact with Coy.

I heard a soft pop—and he was gone.

Abandoning us for the Abandon.

Now, it was just Boden and myself left in the air.

Boden, who'd been near Eugene when he floated, had somehow swum his way closer. Or maybe he'd propelled himself with his tail, which was wagging violently and stirring up a storm.

Seemed he was really enjoying the weightlessness.

Nose and tongue made contact with the side of Eugene's face.

Eugene pushed away the Boden-blimp.

I'd gotten my act together by this point, wrestling control back from the wolf. I even managed to orient myself in a seated position, arms crossed as I glared down at Eugene.

"Alright. What is it you want?" I asked.

Eugene planted his staff on the ground, leaning forward on it.

"I think it's my turn to ask questions, don't you?"

"I do believe you've already asked several questions."

"Several of which you've either neglected to answer sufficiently or outright refused. And I'd really like to address the wolf in the room. Or, should I say... the werewolf."

"Oh? What gave it away? The moon? The fur? Or the way my tail wags? It was the tail, wasn't it?"

Eugene wasn't smiling.

"What I mean is... I find it a little too coincidental that a werewolf with the ability to telepathically compel animals just happens to be wandering around the city at the same time as a bunch of mind-control dogs."

His tone was calm, yet with an edge to it. He wasn't buying the innocent bystander act.

"Or," I shot back, "it could just be a series of unfortunate events. I just happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Ever think of that? How about extending me the benefit of the doubt? I helped you. Didn't kill you. That's worth something."

"In my line of work, we have a saying: Trust, but verify."

"Well, clearly you can see I'm not the David you're looking for," I replied, gesturing at my chest as if to say, "Behold, breasts."

"No," Eugene agreed, "but you could still be part of his crew."

I arched an eyebrow.

"Oh? So you think I'm some wolf for hire?"

"Well, you see, I've encountered Kirkland before. I know what he's capable of. Aside from slipping through the Abandon and being quick on his feet, he's barely more than a two-bit mage."

"Know what that's like to be a two-bit mage, I take it?"

"I—" Eugene almost retorted to comment, but caught himself. I'd almost gotten him, but he'd realized I was trying to bait him. Trying to throw him off his game

"My point is, the thralls and their curse aren't skills within his wheelhouse. He'd need help."

"So now you think I'm cursing dogs and siccing them on you?"

"A curse that spreads by bite and induces rage sounds like pretty classic lycanthropy to me."

"Then why would I kill my own thralls and stop to chat instead of just tearing your throat out?"

"To cover your tracks. Earn my trust, learn what I know, then eventually kill me."

"Right. Sure. Makes perfect sense. Let you rearm yourself and get the drop on me—because I like giving myself a challenge."

"Maybe you're a Richard Connell fan," Eugene said.

"Ah, yes. I'm Countess Zaroff, this is my deaf mutt Ivan," I gestured toward Boden. "And I'd like to play a game. A dangerous one."

My rant seemed to amuse Eugene instead of annoy him, as I intended.

I'd hoped to wear down his patience and force him into a rash decision.

But, instead, I think he appreciated that I got his reference.

Time to switch tactics.

"Come on, Eugene. You're grasping at straws. I think you've hit a dead end and you're desperate enough to coerce a random werewolf."

"Yeah, except I don't think this was random."

"I don't know what to tell you. Ask Boden. He's the only reason we even crossed paths."

Eugene turned toward Boden, who floated beside him.

Boden's ears perked at the mention of his name. Beneath him, his feet paddled in the air.

If Boden had been playing some diabolical mastermind in all this, I doubted he knew any more about it than either of us.

Eugene refocused on me.

"How do you know you're not cursed?"

"Because I wasn't bitten," I said.

"Are you sure that's the only way it spreads?"

"That's what it looks like. The thralls afflict other dogs through bites."

"What about the thralls themselves? How do you think they're cursed?"

"No idea," I muttered, crossing my arms tighter and breaking eye contact.

"You know," Eugene said dryly, "I don't need to eavesdrop on your telepathy to know when you're lying. Not with a poker face like yours."

Right. Transparency was my defense.

"Alright, fine. But this is just speculation. I think the puppeteer made them consume some kind of blood. Maybe his own."

"How do you know that?" Eugene asked, his expression turning pensive again.

I pointed toward one of the dead dogs—the last one I'd killed.

"I looked into his memories with this... telepathy, as you call it. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the puppeteer's face, but instead I saw what looked like the dog's owner. Or someone pretending to be. They made the dog swallow something. Tasted like blood. The magic reeks of it. And it lingers in them even after they die. Even now if I get close to them, I can feel the curse. Like it's in their actual blood. Is that like a thing? Blood magic?"

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Eugene nodded.

"It is. But how did you know you were seeing the dog's owner? Have you met them?"

"No. It was the dog who recognized them as his owner—or believed it was. I think it was magic. They looked right, sounded right, but smelled wrong. I don't think it was really them."

"Sounds like glamour."

"Glamour?"

"An illusion. It tricks the mind into seeing what the caster wants. Though usually it has limits—like not replicating touch or smell."

"Like psychic paper."

"What?"

"Doctor Who. It shows people what they expect to see."

Eugene blinked. "...Sure. Let's go with that."

"Can I go now?" I asked, hopeful.

"No."

"For fuck's sake. I told you everything I know about the thralls."

"Yes," Eugene agreed. "But you haven't told me anything about yourself. I can't exactly turn a blind eye to a werewolf running loose in Charleston. I'm obligated to report these kinds of things to the DOA. It's literally in my contract."

"And I'm not obligated to assist a wizard detective, but maybe I'll make an exception."

"What is your name?" Eugene asked, ignoring my comment.

"Oh, this far into the conversation and you finally want proper introductions?"

"Considering you introduced yourself with a blow to the back of my head, I think I can be excused for the faux pas."

Shame I didn't hit you harder.

"Did I mention you also broke my nose?"

"I think we established that that was on you."

"A name, if you would."

Yeah, sure. Like I was going to give him my real name. He could probably do all kinds of things with it—wizard spells or public records, either way, bad news for me.

I debated using Sandy's name again, as I had on the church membership form, but that name seemed to have bit of a reputation preceding it. One that Eugene might be able to trace back to Sandy's house, and to me.

Better to come up with something else.

"Andy," I said at last.

What can I say? I couldn't always be creative under pressure.

"Right. Tell me, Andy... who is your progenitor?"

"You mean, like, how I was turned into a werewolf?"

"Precisely."

"No fucking idea. Don't even think I was ever actually bitten."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, one night I got blackout drunk and woke up three days later in the woods. No bites, no injuries. Just a new tattoo. After that, the changes started."

"The tattoo may be the source?"

"That's my guess."

"Can you show me?"

"The tattoo? Yeah, good luck with that. Kind of hard to see right now, on account of the fur."

"So you can't back up your claim."

"If you really care, we can wait here until morning. You can see it then—it's just above my ass, by the way."

Eugene pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly running out of patience. Either that, or I'd finally given him a headache.

About fucking time.

"Let's move on," he said tightly. "What kind of person hires a werewolf to watch their dogs?"

"Well, they don't know about the werewolf part. Wasn't a question on the job application."

"Your employer seems to have animals with magical properties. Why is that?"

I shrugged. "Surprised me too."

"Who are they?"

"Someone I met in college."

"And this someone can bind spirits? That's necromancy."

"What are you talking about?" This question had caught me a little off guard. Wasn't sure what he meant.

"The raven—Nevermore—is a bound spirit. A type of familiar known as a spirit-tuner. They take an act of necromancy to create."

"Oh. Okay, that part's not on her. That was her aunt's doing."

"Her aunt is a necromancer?"

"I don't know. Maybe? Look, I never met her. I just got hired to watch her niece's pets."

Besides, aunt Ellenore was also dead.

"And who is this niece?"

"A witch, alright? One who needed someone to watch her familiars while she was out of town. I took the job without realizing some of the animals weren't normal. Some of them escaped, I've been tracking them down, and one of them found you. That's it. You know the rest."

Eugene pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging his forehead.

Seemed his headache had officially evolved into a migraine.

Yes, let the pain flow through you.

"Last question," he said. "How is it that you're in control right now? With the moon this full?"

"Because I convinced my wolf that attacking you wasn't the best option. She can be quite reasonable after she's had something to eat."

"Dare I ask... what exactly did she eat?"

"Well, aside from a dumpster dive behind this chicken wing place, there was a deer. She ate most of it last night and went back for leftovers this evening. By then, it was pretty bloated and there were flies everywhere, but—"

"That's enough," Eugene interrupted, face twisting in disgust. "I get the point."

"Hey, you asked."

I intentionally left out my impulsive raid of the culinary district. No need to volunteer evidence that I was a little short on self-control.

"Can I go now, Mr. Detective Wizard?" I asked, already tired of the back-and-forth.

"Yes... but one more thing."

"Oh? Pray tell."

"I need you to show me who you really are."

"Excuse me?"

"I meant it when I said I can't let a werewolf wander loose in the city," Eugene said, his tone hardening. "Infectious or not. Not only can I tell you're new to all this, but someone out there is spreading a curse. One you might be susceptible to. Since I can't deal with you tonight, I need a way to keep tabs on you."

"Well, hate to disappoint, but I can't return to my normal form until the moon sets. You know how it is with the moon."

"I do, actually." Eugene's voice softened slightly, as though giving a lecture. "Many shapeshifters have that problem. Full moons mess with their ability to transform, often forcing them to reveal their true form—or the true nature of their abilities."

A smile had returned to his face. A devious little smile. It made the wolf stir. She didn't like it.

And neither did I.

"But I have a way around that."

Eugene reached behind his ear and, of all things, drew a coin.

"Really? Was the showmanship necessary?" I asked flatly.

"What can I say? It's a trademark flourish."

I barely heard him.

My attention zeroed in on the coin in his fingers. Not just any coin—a silver dollar. An honest-to-God American Silver Eagle. Not pocket change. A bullion coin. Pure silver. Worth about thirty-five bucks on the open market. Not the kind of thing you'd find dropped between couch cushions.

But Eugene wasn't holding it for investment purposes.

I could feel it.

Magic.

It radiated off the coin in waves of heat, searing far more intensely than any mundane silver should. This burned.

It wasn't supposed to burn.

Enchanted silver?

I felt a sinking, sickening sensation in my stomach. A new fear, freshly minted: Cuprolaminophobia.

"So, uh... what's with the coin?" I asked, aiming for a casual tone.

"It's a tool," Eugene said simply, "for disrupting certain forms of magic. It's particularly effective against shapeshifters."

"And it just happens to be silver?"

"No. It was an intentional choice. Silver has useful metaphysical properties," he replied, rolling the coin across his fingers with practiced ease.

"Metaphysical?" I asked, glancing around for any way out of my floating predicament. I didn't know what Eugene planned to do with the coin—and I didn't want to find out.

"It ties back to the moon," he explained, his tone shifting subtly. Less like an interrogation, more like a lecture. "Silver has long been linked to moonlight. Some ancient beliefs even held that silver was forged from pieces of the moon itself. Or perhaps a physical manifestation of the light itself. This belief is the reason why silver exhibits properties associated with moonlight and can even sequester its power."

Of course the wizard detective was also bit of a magical geek. But that was good—if I could keep him talking, maybe I could buy myself time.

The key was to keep him monologuing.

"Okay, but if the moon gives me my powers, how does moonlight force me to change back?" I pressed.

That seemed to hit the nerve. Eugene's eyes practically sparkled.

"Because while the moon itself transforms, the full moon's light reveals," he said, clearly pleased with the question. "It doesn't just empower—it exposes. Full moonlight has been tied to both transformation and revelation since long before humans. It illuminates that which the night hides, exposing hidden things. Forces them into the open. That's why shapeshifters like lycanthropes get stuck in their non-human forms during the full moon. It's not the power—it's the unveiling."

While he lectured, Boden drifted closer again. Eugene paused just long enough to steady the dog with his free hand. He absentmindedly began to stroke Boden.

I listened, because it sounded useful. But my mind stayed busy. I had heard Coy reappear somewhere behind the Bronco with that soft pop—air forced aside by the sudden manifestation of a dog-like entity. Followed by the sound of him slipping beneath the truck. I could hear him breathing, probably watching us and waiting.

Maybe, if I played this right, I could use him. I just needed a way to communicate without Eugene hearing.

Meanwhile, Eugene kept going.

"The moon's power facilitates transformation. Think of its shifting phases or how it affects the ocean tides—these cycles of change. This power enables abilities like shapeshifting and similar magics. Yet, its light can also force the truth. And silver—properly enchanted—lets me borrow that power, even shape it. Which is why this coin can reveal... or reset... whatever it is you are."

"Wait—you mean this will return me to my human form?" I asked, suddenly very interested.

If the detective had something that could force me back to normal even after moonrise...

That would be fucking fantastic.

In fact, it was exactly what I'd been hoping for: a way to reliably control my lycanthropy. Get myself a little enchanted silver—maybe a ring or necklace—and finally be free from the constant fear of losing control every time the moon waxed.

No more waking up in strangers' yards and getting arrested. No more trashing my apartment and getting evicted. No more worrying if I'd eaten someone's cat.

I could work normal hours again. Live like a normal person.

And if I got really lucky, I wouldn't have to shave so much. I could enjoy having smooth legs again.

Yeah—I was definitely getting ahead of myself. But damn, I had to know.

"That's right," Eugene said. "The enchantment on this coin lets it absorb moonlight until it oversaturates. I can then release that energy in a pulse strong enough to disrupt a spell—or force someone out of their transformation."

"But how does that even work? Moonlight fuels my transformation, doesn't it? Wouldn't hitting me with extra moonlight just juice me up or something?"

"Not in this case. Think of it like this," Eugene said, slipping into lecturer mode again. "Our hearts beat thanks to electrical impulses—but those can be interrupted or restarted with a shock. The same principle applies here. The coin's pulse can disrupt the magic that's keeping you transformed. Like a magic AED."

I opened my mouth to ask if he could make something like that to suppress transformations instead of just resetting them...

But then my brain caught up.

"Wait. Are you seriously planning to taze me with that coin?"

"Taze?" Eugene gave a thoughtful shrug. "No. Nothing like that."

Oh. Good.

"If anything, it's more like a cross between a cattle prod and a branding iron."

I immediately regretted asking.

"Nope, nope. I'm out. Look—I'd be more than happy to touch base later. Really. I'd love to discuss control methods that don't involve branding me like livestock. But right now? Hard pass. How about we just trade phone numbers and call it a night?"

Eugene smirked and shook his head slowly.

"Sorry. Non-negotiable. But I'll give you a choice."

He stopped petting Boden and resumed rolling the coin between his fingers.

"Heads or tails?"

I glared. Hard.

"You just want to humiliate me."

"I take no more joy in this than you did humiliating me," Eugene said mildly.

"Really selling it there, wizard boy."

"Look on the bright side," he said. "At least this way, I can see this tattoo of yours."

"You know what?" I snapped, baring my teeth. "Go fuck yourself, Eugene. You bring that coin anywhere near me, and I'll break your other hand."

Eugene paused, considering. Then he nodded sagely.

"Very well. Tails it is."

With a swipe-right gesture, Eugene spun me midair so my back—and, more importantly, my tail—faced him.

Which meant he was planning to jab me with the coin, it would be right on my—

"Wait! No—Not like this!"

Panic shot through me. I'd been stalling for as long as possible, hoping to find a way out of this. But now I was out of time.

Coy! Now! Stop him. Take his coin!

I didn't care if Eugene overheard. These were desperate times.

Coy sprang from beneath the Bronco, eyes locked on Eugene.

"Sit," Eugene said casually.

And Coy sat.

It hadn't even been a magical command. Eugene didn't need magic. He had something far more effective.

A treat.

With practiced sleight of hand, he vanished the coin and, in the same smooth motion, produced another Milk-Bone.

Coy, you traitorous sell out! I thought furiously. Even the wolf raged at the betrayal—her pack, bribed into submission. Not just hurtful. It was shameful.

But, fortunately, I wasn't out of options. Coy had just been the distraction.

He'd given me enough time for me to reorient myself and reach a clawed hand into my thick mane and find a certain stowaway nestled within.

If Eugene wanted to make a fool out of me...

Then I was damn well going to return the favor.

Elmo! I choose you!

I scooped up the massive, fuzzy spider and hurled him—right at Eugene's face.

The result?

Let's just say Ridley Scott would be proud.