Dyre Read online

  But only for a moment. Then space seemed to rush past her, like flying. Like falling, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, but the sudden stop was an entire world rushing up to meet her and landing squarely on her shoulders. It was the weight of a body, and memories that were suddenly cumbersome after so long without them. It was itching and burning like the heat of a thousand suns, and how had she ever, ever felt that she was cold?

  It was agony.

  Almost too weak to take her first breath in what felt like forever, she surfaced—

  —to bright white light. To her body convulsing and screaming, as if every single cell of her was on fire. She screamed and thrashed and flailed but something stronger than herself held her down.

  It hurt.

  Everything hurt: the shrill, banshee-sound of her own scream, the feel of someone’s calloused hands clamped on her arms; the scents in the air, so distinct she could have damn near tasted each one separately. And the light. After so long in silver-stitched darkness, the light was the worst of all. She felt it battering her eyelids and burning her skin, eating at her in a way the Untamed never had.

  She flailed once more, hard, and threw off whatever was on her, only to find herself scrambling for purchase in something with slippery sides. It was only then she noticed that water, icy and stinging, was pelting her from above.

  “FUCK!” a voice roared, pained and angry. Then new agony blossomed on her face, like a flower opening to disclose sweet, blissful darkness.

  *

  They found Des panting over Ruby’s unconscious body in her bathtub, soaking wet and bleeding from a nasty gash on the back of her head. Ruby lay in a sodden heap in one corner of the shower. Blood leaked slowly from her now slightly crooked nose, which straightened and healed even as they watched.

  “Bitch is strong,” Des mumbled, stepping out of the tub, dazed and nearly slipping in a puddle of water. Nathan darted forward and grabbed her by one arm. She steadied herself and shook him off.

  “What the fuck, Des?” Jake asked into the stunned silence.

  “So say we all, Jacob,” Nathan sighed, his eyes ticking between Des and Ruby.

  Des looked them over: father and brother and, a few seconds later, her stepmother, breathing hard with one hand on her rounded stomach. Then Des reached up and gingerly touched her lip, bitten while trying to keep Ruby from braining herself in the bathtub. The blood on her fingers was a red, red spot in Des’s white, white bathroom. The brightest thing in it, aside from the sluggish trickle of red still coming from Ruby’s nose.

  Des grinned at her family. “Told you she’d survive,” she said jaggedly. Then: “Ow, fuck.”

  Des’s own pain and exhaustion hit her like a freight train. After three-plus days without sleep, spent stepping and fetching for Phil, she could barely keep herself conscious. In fact, she was drifting sideways into a soft, gray place, her cares and worries gone as Nathan hoisted her up in his strong arms. His somehow comforting scent surrounded her.

  “Ruby’s Fever has broken,” she heard Phil say from the vicinity of the bathtub, in a surprised, relieved voice. “Moon Above, I think she’s gonna make it.”

  Of course she is, Des said, or tried to say. Just then, the world was swallowed by silver-speckled darkness. Then, just darkness.

  Part II:

  The Dyre Father is Dead. . . .

  “Life is like a steering wheel, it only takes one small move to change your entire direction.”

  —Kellie Elmore

  Chapter Five

  When Des opened her eyes a full day later, she was lying alone in her own bed, dim sunlight spearing her eyes and making her blink until they teared up. Suddenly, someone moved into the light and blocked it. Des squinted, then blinked some more.

  “They tell me I gave you a concussion,” Ruby said slowly, her smoky voice solemn but uninflected. She looked wraithlike and queerly Victorian in what had to be one of Phil’s diaphanous, floor-length nightgowns. Her thick hair was unbound and curling tightly around her shoulders, framing a tired, rather woebegone dark face in which her round, brown eyes seemed huge.

  She licked her lips and began again. “While I was sick, they say I was tossing and turning, and threw you off me when you tried to hold me down in the shower. And you hit your head. Hard.” She licked her lips once more. “I apologize.”

  “Uh, no problemo,” Des said, though she honestly couldn’t remember much about what had happened after carrying a half-dead Ruby into her bathroom. It was mostly a haze of white light, red splotches, and darkness. Shaking her head, she sat up carefully but didn’t experience the dizziness or weakness she half-expected. In fact, she felt better than she had in a very long time.

  Des threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed without thinking about whether or not she was clothed. Ruby blushed but Des noted with relief she was wearing a t-shirt and boxers. The same ones from before everything went dark and fuzzy.

  “Maybe you should take it slow,” Ruby ventured, reaching out to take Des’s arm as she stood. Des huffed at this reversal of positions, Ruby worrying over her. “You’ve been out for a long time.”

  “Not as long as you were.”

  Frowning, Ruby looked away. “And how long would you say that was?”

  Des opened her mouth to answer, then did some frowning of her own. “What have you been told?”

  Ruby took a breath and looked back at Des. Tears stood in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She swiped them away impatiently before they could, but they eventually overflowed.

  “Nothing!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking. “No one tells me anything, except that I’ve been sick, but that I’m well now, and among friends.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Among friends who won’t tell me how or why I’m here, or where here is, or who any of you are!”

  Des groaned and ran a hand through her hair. It was still standing up in spikes in the front, but flat in the back. “I see. Other than that, have they been treating you okay?”

  Ruby sniffled and wiped her face. “Yeah. I get free run of the wing and meals whenever I want, whatever I want.” She sat down on the bed and Des sat next to her after a moment. “I’ve been all over the wing trying to find out something—anything—about where I am, but the only clue I’ve got is you.” Now she looked at Des almost accusingly. “I had this awful dream, and you were in it. You said some pretty weird things, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in this room, in a bed that’s not mine, with you wrapped around me, snoring in my ear.”

  Des blushed again and cleared her throat. “Ah.”

  Ruby rolled her wet eyes and laughed shakily. “Ah? Is that all you have to say?” She stood up again and paced to the window, twitching aside the curtains so she could look out. “Are you a prisoner, too, or one of my jailors?”

  “Neither,” Des said softly. “And you’re not being jailed here, I promise. You’re being kept here for your own good, till we can explain what’s happened to you, and what’s going to happen to you.”

  Ruby glanced back at Des defiantly. “Don’t I get a say in what happens to me?”

  Des looked away from that fierce, tear-shiny gaze. “To a certain extent. But the decisions you make don’t just affect you anymore. They need to be informed.”

  “About what?”

  “I think you know what, subconsciously. Maybe a little consciously, too,” Des murmured.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she said, her voice full of anger and frustration. “None of you people make any sense! Just tell me why you’re holding me here!” She crossed the room again, stopping a few feet shy of Des, who still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Please, I’m begging you. Tell me what’s going on!”

  Des sighed again but nodded. This was probably not the best idea, but she couldn’t stand the helpless, fearful, frustrated look in Ruby’s eyes. No Loup, let alone the Dyre, should look like that. “I’ll do better than that, Ruby, I’ll show you. But you have to promise me
that no matter what you see, you won’t freak out.”

  Ruby shook her head. “I can’t promise that. But I’ll try. Just, please don’t show me anything too weird.”

  Des smiled sadly. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna get pretty weird. And kinda scary. And gross. But I promise you won’t be hurt.”

  Ruby stared at Des hard for a few seconds, then nodded, wiping at her eyes again. “Okay. Show me—no, wait! What’s your name?” Ruby almost smiled. “It’s just—I mean, you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  Pleased for some reason she couldn’t name, Des answered, “Jennifer Desiderio. But everyone calls me Des.”

  “Des.” Ruby took a deep breath, let it out, and smoothed her hands across the front of the nightgown. “Okay. Show me whatever you need to show me, Des.”

  Standing up, Des stretched again till her joints cracked. Then she gripped the hem of her t-shirt and quickly shucked it. Ruby blushed, but didn’t look away as Des hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her boxers and shoved them down.

  Taking a deep breath of her own, Des closed her eyes and called to the Loup within. As always, she never had to call loud or long. It was right there, seemingly just under her skin, waiting to break free.

  Alright, cabrónito. Time to come out and play again. But this time, be nice, she added. The reply she got was a sly, snickering growl.

  And then, the Change began.

  *

  As Ruby watched, Des seemed to blur, then sharpen, as if the universe had applied CGI special effects to her. Her face seemed to cave in a little, and Ruby heard the sounds of cracking bones.

  The breaking and snapping seemed to be coming from all over Des as she shuddered and crashed to the floor on all fours, moaning in a pain-distorted voice. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the carpet pile. Instinctively, Ruby stepped forward to help her, but Des threw one shaking hand up, head still hanging. “Don’t! Stay back!”

  “But there’s something wrong with you. I should get help.” Ruby turned toward the door, suddenly scared that this person—the only one who’d even begun to answer Ruby’s many questions, the one who had been vulnerable in Ruby’s presence and thus was at least somewhat sympathetic—was about to keel over and die in agony.

  She was turning the doorknob when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and glanced back to see some misshapen thing that bore a passing resemblance to Des. Ruby could see the bones of its face warping as she watched, and she could hear that awful, unmistakable sound of bones cracking and grinding together.

  The thing opened its mouth and tried to speak.

  “Wait,” it struggled to say, its voice a low, rumbling growl emitted from a maw absolutely crowded with teeth. With fangs. “Wait, Ruuuu . . . wait.”

  Ruby was the one to shudder this time. Only her father had ever called her “Ru,” and as for the wait, that, too, struck a familiar chord. She let go of the knob and turned to face the creature just as it fell to the floor again, whining and coughing. As Ruby watched, its skin began to writhe and sprout patches of thick, bristling black fur.

  Ruby stared at the dark eyes in its unnaturally elongated face, filled with wariness and pain and hunger. And hadn’t Ruby seen something very similar to this in a thousand B-movies? A person, turning into some sort of monster? Yes, she had. The only question was what monster lurked inside of Jennifer Desiderio?

  Ruby didn’t want to know.

  So she wasn’t waiting around to find out.

  *

  She ran.

  With a frightened little scream, Ruby turned to the door, yanked it open, and ran.

  This was not exactly unexpected by either the Loup or Des. And when the Change was over, Des prodded her Loup impatiently.

  Well? What are we waiting for? she demanded. Let’s get after her before she does something stupid!

  The Loup didn’t need to be told, as it was already loping out of the room, fast on the fear-scent left in Ruby’s wake. To the Loup, it smelled entrancing—a perfect mix of female-purity-sweet-sweat-musk. The idea of letting that scent get away was patently ridiculous as far as the Loup was concerned. Especially when all it wanted to do was make that scent its own: to roll around in it and drown in it. To be immersed in this olfactory version of Moon’s Light.

  The Loup took them around to the back hall, and found the owner of that scent, shaking and sobbing in the arms of another of the Garoul. The one the Loup identified as sibling, and Pack-brother, and Des identified as Jake. Which was the only reason the Loup didn’t leap on him, and try to tear his throat out and drink down his power for touching what belonged to it.

  “—and—and—then she was c-changing, and she had these teeth and—” Ruby let out another high, desperate sob as she looked over her shoulder and saw the Loup there, watching her with its teeth bared and hackles up.

  “It’s okay, Ruby,” Pack-brother Jake soothed, grasping Ruby’s upper arms and shaking her a little. The Loup growled a deep warning and stepped forward warily. Ruby screamed and shoved the Pack-brother away from her. He fell backwards with a squawk that pleased the Loup.

  Served him right for daring to touch Her.

  And that Her was strong.

  That Her was also bolting, again, the white nightgown flapping behind her as she sprinted on near-noiseless feet, unknowingly toward the back staircase.

  Barking once more, the closest to a laugh it would ever get, the Loup leapt over its fallen Pack-brother—“Heyya, Des, what the hell?” he demanded querulously—and gave chase.

  *

  Ruby ran and ran, and still she could hear the—it—the wolf—panting behind her.

  She could smell it following, a scent like wet dog and wild things. So she kept on, till her sides were in stitches, and her lungs were filled with battery acid. She flew down a curving, narrow staircase that ended in a huge kitchen of spotted white marble, dark wood, and gleaming chrome. There seemed to be a million doors to choose from, even if there were only three, but Ruby didn’t hesitate. She picked the one directly across from the staircase, darted to it, undid the latch, and pulled it open.

  She found herself at a dead end in a huge pantry-like room, filled with cans and barrels and jars. It was, in fact, a pantry. She moaned high in her throat and turned around, hoping like Hell it wasn’t too late to backtrack.

  It was.

  The wolf was sitting at the foot of the staircase, tongue lolling out of its mouth in a grin. And why wouldn’t it grin? Dinner was served. Ruby backed deeper into the pantry among the empty lower shelves. The wolf barked like a dog, getting to its feet and obviously preparing to leap.

  Ruby screamed. It was suddenly airborne, flying toward her like a shadow brought to life, mouth still lolling open. Ruby could see, beyond its tongue, fangs that made her flinch backward, though she had no more back to flinch to. She crouched down to make herself a smaller target, sobbing.

  The wolf landed at Ruby’s feet and bounced up on its hind legs, paws landing on her shoulders, and it licked her face. Ruby screamed again, and got a mouth full of wet wolf-tongue for her troubles.

  “Augh! God! Yuck!” she shrilled, turning her face away. Seeming not to be put off by this, the wolf licked her neck, her shoulders, her breasts—any part of her it could reach.

  “Stop!” Ruby yelped, sitting hard on the bottom shelf, which gave away under her weight and spilled them both to the floor. The wolf landed heavily on Ruby and continued to lick and paw at her, barking like an overgrown puppy.

  Ruby scrambled backward on her aching ass, wedging herself under the shelves and against the wall. The wolf followed her, cramming itself in with her. It whined once then licked the hands she held out to ward it off.

  “Des!”

  Both Ruby and the wolf started at the sound coming from nearby. Too nearby for the wolf, who growled as it turned to face the door, hackles raised once more. Three figures appeared in the doorway:

  The first was a woman seemingly of Ruby’s own height and age, dark-s
kinned and lovely in an old-fashioned floral maternity dress, watching her with compassionate eyes. This woman had answered Ruby’s questions about her illness and even about Des’s injury, but not about where Ruby was, why she was there, or when she could leave.

  She was accompanied by a man who could have been as young as thirty-five or as old as fifty, Ruby honestly couldn’t tell. But he was dressed in an even more old fashioned linen suit. But for his age and gender, he and Des could have been identical twins.

  Last was a tall, lanky young man, perhaps a few years younger than Ruby, standing with his hands in his pockets until he raised one to wave at her cheerily. He was dressed in an Acapulco shirt and cargo shorts. His face was pleasantly forgettable but for his striking hazel eyes. He was the young man she’d run into when she was being chased. Or had thought she was being chased.

  Sniffling and wiping her spit-and-tears wet face, Ruby touched the wolf’s back with a shaking hand, instinctively seeking comfort. Its fur was spiky but soft, its pointed ears laying back toward her.

  “D-Des?”

  The wolf looked back at her with intelligent dark eyes and barked once. Ruby yelped again, more tears leaking out. Tears that once more got licked away.

  “You’re Des?”

  Another bark.

  “And you’re not gonna eat me?”

  Two barks.

  Ruby sniffled again and sighed. “I hope that’s a ‘no’.”

  The wolf—Des—whined again and faced Ruby, burying its warm, furry muzzle between her breasts. Great, dark, strangely gentle eyes stared up at her, and she couldn’t look away.

  Without thinking about it, Ruby reached up and patted the wolf’s head. It barked that happy, puppy-bark again.