Lillian slowly made her way toward the southeast side of the great city, searching for any of Arthur’s pack. She’d begun her assignment with enthusiasm, confidence, and the thrill of being selected for such an important assignment.
“Seek out any of Arthur’s followers, my dear,” the Patriarch had said. “Find them and give them a message from me. Tell them that I would like a truce between our packs. This constant sniping at one another will generate only mistrust and more death between us. We can sustain more losses than they, but I do not wish to lose any more of my followers. We must have peace.”
She knew she’d looked and sounded just a little doubtful. “Of course, my lord. I will accomplish this task for you.”
He’d leaned down and gently placed his hands on her upper arms. “Fear not, my dear Lillian. They will not harm you any more than one of our own would harm you. Remember, you carry my child within you. You are therefore inviolate.”
The Patriarch’s assurances had carried her about halfway to her target neighborhood, but her doubts had crept in again as she went her way. Arthur’s pack members were all renegades, were they not? And would renegades honor the ancient ban against harming a gravid female? Was she truly as safe as the Patriarch had assured her she would be?
Lillian was one of the youngest and smallest of the werewolves in the Patriarch’s group. Her status as his primary mate gave her some stature and prevented much of the harassment she might otherwise have suffered, but during feedings she often came away with the leavings from the others.
The raid on the warehouse and its aftermath, however, had provided her with her first truly filling meal in several weeks. She had quickly found a liver which was almost intact, and because of the cornucopia of food available, none had tried to take it from her. She could still taste the nectar of that wonderful meal. For the sake of her unborn pup, she hoped it was a harbinger of better times ahead. Certainly she’d been treated more gently once her pregnancy had become common knowledge.
But reflecting on her recent good fortune would not protect her from danger.
Her steps grew more cautious, her eyes darting from side to side. She was the first female of the pack in sixteen years to have a child quicken in her womb. The Patriarch would not risk his own offspring’s life, even for such an urgent and important mission. She had to trust him, believe in him, know that she was safe.
Of course, taking unnecessary chances was still unwise. Many fates might befall her in this part of the city, fates that were not visited upon her by Arthur’s pack.
She glanced around her and moved toward one side of the alley where the wall seemed more solid and continuous. It was wise to limit the potential avenues of attack an enemy might—
A sudden metallic clanging startled her and she spun to face the threat, her hands extended like claws. They would not catch her unawares and take her without—
And then an orange tabby cat leaped from an open trash can and sprinted to a broken basement window. It was apparent that the cat had dislodged the lid and sent it crashing to the asphalt below. It was hunting, just as Lillian’s packmates had been. It had a small rat in its mouth which was still trying to get away from the hunter.
She smiled and shook her head. That would be a good story to tell to her cub when it was old enough to understand. He or she would laugh at Mother’s silliness at being afraid of a feral cat. Even one so small and weak as she could not be hurt—
The sudden blow to the back of her head stopped all thought and she collapsed boneless to the concrete.
*****
Pain returned first.
Lillian’s head ached abominably and her mouth tasted fuzzy. She tried to swallow and found that she could not do so around the cloth between her teeth. She lifted her hands to free it from—
The stabbing pains in her neck and the sudden wetness on her skin frightened her.
She tried moving her legs very slowly, but the stabbing pains returned. Even turning her head was a bad idea. The small punctures would bleed for a short time, she knew, but if her injuries did not worsen she would heal quickly. But why was she in this position? Who had restrained—
Someone grabbed her upper arm and yanked her to a seated position. The spikes around her neck probed for and found more blood. She blinked to clear her vision and glanced around her.
There were three of them. One man and two women.
The blonde woman with broad shoulders and a fierce cast to her face grabbed her hair and pulled her upward slightly. The man said, “Teresa, please. We cannot communicate with a corpse. We must allow her to tell us why she is here.”
Teresa snarled once, then dropped Lillian back to the hard surface. The tall, slender woman with long dark hair knelt down before her. “Will you permit me to remove your gag? I must tell you that we can’t allow you to shout for backup or for the police. If you are determined to call for assistance, you won’t survive long. Do you understand?”
Lillian felt her eyes bulge. They were not going to honor the covenant! Even if she delivered her message as her lord wished, they might kill her and leave her to rot. Her only chance at survival was to do exactly what they told her to do.
After a terror-filled moment, she managed a small nod that did not force the sharp points around her neck into her flesh once again. The kneeling woman untied the wrapping around her mouth, then slowly tugged the cloth out of her mouth. Lillian coughed twice, then took several deeper breaths to calm herself.
It almost worked.
The man took the tall woman’s place on the ground in front of her. “Now, young lady, you will tell us your name.”
Her eyes flickered between the man and the brunette woman. She softly said, “My name is Lillian.”
The man nodded. “Good. Lillian, I would like to introduce you to our little group.” He indicated the blonde woman. “Teresa you have already met. This is Jane, and my name is Lancelot. Would you tell us why you are wandering around this part of town?”
She shifted her feet to a slightly less awkward position. “I was not wandering, sir. I have been looking for either Arthur or Guinevere. I have a message for them.”
Lancelot smiled. “I see. You may deliver your message to us. We will make certain that Arthur hears it.”
She licked her lips for a moment, then decided that she had little choice in the matter. “I – I bring an offer of a truce from the Patriarch.”
Jane tilted her head and crossed her arms. “A truce from the Patriarch? How noble is he to grant us this boon. Please, tell of this most generous offer of truce from such a great one.”
Lillian heard the woman’s sarcasm but didn’t understand it. Perhaps she’d misheard or misunderstood Jane’s meaning. She stared at the tall brunette, trying to read her expression.
Lancelot reached out and tapped her nose once. “You might communicate telepathically with others in your pack, Lillian, but we have no such faculty. Please tell us what the great and powerful Patriarch is offering.”
Sarcasm again, but less biting. Perhaps it was less of a threat, perhaps it was deliberately understated to reinforce Jane’s sharp comment. Either way, it didn’t matter.
She composed herself and began. “To Arthur, leader of his pack, from the Patriarch, the leader of his pack, greetings. The recent unpleasantness between us need not continue, and in fact must end if we are both to continue to rule our respective peoples. We propose, therefore, that Arthur and any two of his packmates he might choose meet with the Patriarch and two packmates chosen by him at a neutral location to discuss the issues separating us from our brothers. We wish to live in peace and harmony with all Rougarou in and around the city of New Orleans. The losses we have inflicted on each other must end now. More deaths would benefit neither of us. We await your answer with the anticipation of peace between us.”
Lancelot stood and looked at his companions. “Well, now we know. What do you think Arthur’s response will be?”
Jane frowned at Lillian and inhaled deeply through her nose. Then her eyes widened.
Before Jane could speak, Teresa snatched Lillian almost upright by the hair once again. The inward spikes on the collar created fresh wounds on her neck and she moaned in pain.
“Truce?” Teresa snarled. “The Patriarch suggests a truce between our packs? What would the conditions of this truce be? Who would enforce them? Would the mighty Patriarch forebear to murder and consume human beings? Would he protect them from the danger of other werewolves? Would he consume only wild animals brought down by a pack hunt?” She slammed the girl’s head against the bricks behind her without releasing the hold on her hair. “Tell me how many you killed in that warehouse massacre! Tell me of the throats you tore out, the beating hearts you clawed from the chests of the living, the limbs you severed and whose marrow you sucked! Tell me that you considered how many families would mourn their deaths! Tell me that you have thought about the lives you and your packmates ended that night!”
Jane put her hand on Teresa’s shoulder. “Teresa, wait—”
“I will not wait! I say we should release her from her restraints and let her run! We will then hunt her as she hunted those people! We will rend her—”
“She’s pregnant!” shouted Jane.
Teresa dropped Lillian as if pregnancy were a communicable disease, then took two steps back and turned away. She stood breathing deeply and flexing her hands into claw shapes as Lancelot knelt before Lillian again. “The Patriarch was wise to send you to meet us. We will not harm you. When we leave, you will be no more injured than you are at this moment. And I personally apologize for your pain and fear. Had we known of your condition earlier, none of this would have taken place.” He reached out and touched her chin. “Do you understand what I have said to you?”
She let her own breathing slow before she answered. “Yes. I – understand.”
“Good,” he said. “I assume your master wishes that you carry a reply back to him.”
“Yes, please.”
Jane lifted a finger. “Just a minute. Are you carrying the Patriarch’s child?”
“I am,” she replied with a touch of pride. “It is the first child to be quickened within the pack for sixteen years.”
Jane gave her a cold glare. “I advise you to guard your cub closely when he is born. Not all in the pack will be as pleased as you obviously are.”
Lillian didn’t know how to respond, so she turned her face back to Lancelot. “Sir, are you authorized to give me a reply on this matter?”
His slight smile puzzled her for a moment, then he began speaking. “My companions and I are authorized to respond.” He leaned closer to her, his face still wearing that odd smile. “You may inform your lord that there will be no truce between us. There will be no peace unless and until he either publicly renounces any future plans to hunt and consume humans or he leads his pack away from this city. Until one of these eventualities comes to pass, we will continue to resist his predations and his atrocities.” His mouth lost the smile and he showed his teeth. “Give him that message, girl! Understand?”
Lillian was shocked. It was not the reply she had expected, nor was it the one her lord had advised her to prepare for. It was tantamount to a declaration of all-out war between the packs, one which Arthur’s band could not possibly win. Hostilities would surely end with their group wiped out to the last member.
Of course there would be casualties on the Patriarch’s side too. And Lillian might become one of them, along with her cub. The prospect of her child’s death frightened her more than the thought of her own mortality.
Lancelot stood and walked to Teresa’s side and muttered something to her that Lillian didn’t catch. Jane squatted before her and said, “We aren’t going to injure you, Lillian, but we can’t let you follow us back to our den or alert others in your pack that we’re here. I’m certain someone will come along soon and let you out of that restraint, and then you can go home with little or no damage. Nothing permanent, at any rate.”
Teresa spun around and came back. “Do you know where we acquired the restraint you now wear? Do you?” She knelt and brought her face close to Lillian’s ear. “It was on the young member of our pack who gave his life rather than tell your fellow carrion hunters anything they could use against us. His name was Gawain. Did you know him?”
Fear lanced through Lillian’s heart again. “N-no! I did not!”
“He was brave enough to change to wolf form while wearing this device. It killed him in seconds. So if you think you can escape by shifting form, you are fatally mistaken. Someone must deliberately release you.” She stood and growled at the girl. “And none of us will perform that service for you. Let us hope, for the sake of the message you carry back to your lord, that the someone in question is favorably disposed to your continued existence.”
Teresa spun and marched away. Lancelot and Jane shrugged at each other and set off after her. They caught up within a few strides and stalked to the next intersection, where they turned and vanished from Lillian’s sight.
*****
Lillian was uncomfortable, and no amount of shifting in place gave her any kind of real relief. The sun was far past its zenith and her thirst was becoming acute. Once again she directed her mental attention to her cub, and once again she was satisfied that there was no immediate danger. Of course, she needed to be released from her restraints as soon as possible.
Movement to her right caught her attention. She hoped it was the orange tabby coming back for seconds. Or one or more of its cousins hunting for an early dinner. If so, she was in little danger – a cat that size would hesitate to attack her even if she did not move to defend herself.
Then she saw one of them emerge from cover. Two more followed close behind.
They were feral poodles.
Poodles had been bred in Germany as waterfowl hunters and retrievers. Their narrow muzzles could fasten onto any exposed flesh, and its bite would penetrate the thickest skin or heaviest feathers. They were not to be ignored as individuals and could be deadly when hunting in a pack, even one as small as this.
They appeared to be an all-female pack. The largest one, the leader, might have topped the scales at thirty pounds after a hearty meal. The other two were slightly smaller but still armed with sharp teeth and a powerful bite force for their size. They were underweight and malnourished but still dangerous.
Had she been free, they would have fled from her appearance. But she wasn’t free and they seemed to know it. Lillian would make an excellent meal for them, and the rest of her corpse would attract all sorts of scavengers. She might even feed the cats she had hoped to see.
The lead poodle cautiously crept closer, testing the scents in the area. It seemed to sense the spoors of the three who had bound her here, and it backed away for a long moment. Then it appeared to decide that the scents were old and she was alone.
It inched closer, holding its head low and growling deep in its throat. The other two followed in jerky fashion, apparently still somewhat spooked by the old scents. But the trio made slow but sure progress toward her, and she knew they wouldn’t help her by chewing on the leather portions of her bindings.
The leader stopped perhaps ten feet away and stared at her, its mouth open and its tongue licking its lips. It seemed to brace itself for a final rush and attack, and that’s when Lillian snarled at them and jerked her hands in their direction.
It seemed to work for a moment. The dogs scampered back and stopped halfway to their original hiding place. Lillian hoped desperately that the fresh scratches she’d inflicted on her neck would not tempt them to ignore her warning.
Then the leader barked twice and retraced its steps toward her. The trio came faster this time, and when she growled and stamped one foot they stopped for a moment but didn’t retreat. They came closer, creeping almost side by side, their eyes lit up for the feast to come.
Lillian was close to panic when they finally charged.
She was sure she and her cub were about to die.
Then a huge wolf appeared as if out of nowhere and snarled at the approaching pack.
The poodles panicked. The leader fell over itself trying to stop, then scrambled away at frantic top speed. The other two had peeled off in opposite directions, yipping in fear.
The wolf turned to her and tilted its head as if making a decision to either kill her or allow her to live. Then it shifted form and Andre appeared before Lillian’s eyes.
His only garment was a pair of spandex shorts that fit him quite closely. He sat back on his heels and looked at her again, then smiled and shook his head.
“You are fortunate that I found you in time, Lillian,” he said. “It would have been difficult to tell the Patriarch that you had been slain by poodles.” He smiled and shook his head at her. “A most embarrassing fate.”
She exhaled with relief. “I thank you, Andre. Would you mind releasing me from my bindings?”
He took a small canteen from his hip and placed it on the ground. “Let me free your hands so that you may drink. Then you will tell me what Arthur said to you in return.”
As soon as her hands were free, she grabbed the canteen and pulled the top off. The water inside was lukewarm and tasted a bit stale, but it was more than she’d had all day. Half of the contents were gone when Andre gently took it from her and capped it.
“You must not drink too much at once, Lillian, lest your stomach rebel. Please, tell me now what Arthur’s response was.”
Her eyes found the concrete between them. “I did not speak to Arthur himself. I was assaulted by three of his pack before I could find him.”
“Three, you say. Did you get their names?”
“Yes. The man was Lancelot and the two women were called Jane and Teresa. Teresa threatened to slay me until Jane told her I was with child.”
“I see. What did Teresa do then?”
“She turned and walked away from me. She was violently angry over our feeding last night. She made viscous accusations to me, and I believe she was trying to justify my death to herself. She also mentioned someone called Gawain who she said had died at the hands of some of our pack.”
“Very well. Did you deliver the Patriarch’s message to them?”
“Yes. I—” She coughed once. “May I have another drink, please?”
“Of course. Not too much, now. It might upset your stomach, remember.”
“Thank you.” She tipped the canteen up again and took two more gulps, then swished the last mouthful around before swallowing. “That is much better.”
“Good. Please resume your narrative.”
“Of course. Um – might you release this collar for me? I do not know how it is fastened and I cannot see it.”
“In a moment. Tell me how they responded to the offer of a truce.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She turned her head away from Andre and said, “They emphatically – almost violently – declined any offer of truce, any offer to meet and discuss conditions, or any offer of peace. Lancelot said that the war would go on until the Patriarch either renounced human prey or left the city. The women did not voice their opinions on the offer, but neither of them disagreed with Lancelot’s response either by word or deed.” She sighed. “I fear that the conflict between our packs will continue.”
Andre shook his head. “I thought that would be their response. It is unfortunate for you that you were the one chosen to communicate the offer to Arthur. Of course, anyone else would surely be dead already. I cannot imagine that anyone in your place would have been left alive.”
“I agree with you.” She gestured at the collar again. “Would you release the collar, please? It is most uncomfortable.”
“Let me take a look at it. Ah, yes, I see it now.”
“Thank you. The spikes on the inside – wait, what are you – Andre, you are hurting – Ahhh! No! Please!”
The last word came out bubbly, accompanied by blood that was draining into her throat and forced out of her mouth. Her grabs at her attacker’s wrists were ineffective. Andre’s twisting grip on the collar forced the spikes into her neck and through her esophagus. The tight fit of the collar choked off her breathing and shoved the long points on the sides into her carotid artery and jugular vein. She bled out in slightly more than half a minute.
He held his grip for two long breaths after she’d slumped limply to the sidewalk and stopped breathing. Then he tenderly unfastened the collar, the waist restraints, and the ankle bindings. She had, in his mind, died poorly, without trying to shift to wolf form – not that it would have saved her, of course.
Andre rehearsed in his mind how he would tearfully bear the torn and bloody body of the Patriarch’s lover to the pack. He would tell them that Arthur’s pack had ignored the ancient covenant that pregnant females were safe from attack and had killed her without mercy. He would insist that Lillian’s murder was Arthur’s answer to the Patriarch’s offer of a truce. And he had would have her dead body in his arms as proof of their perfidy.
The killing would infuriate the pack and force the Patriarch to act. He might give in to his natural anger and order Arthur’s pack found and wiped out, or he might have enough self-control to issue a mortal challenge to Arthur or his designated champion. Either way, Andre would have the opportunity to overthrow the Patriarch almost at his leisure. If the pack were to swarm after Arthur’s group, the Patriarch might be injured or even mortally wounded during the battle. A werewolf on werewolf single battle would almost surely result in Arthur’s death, although he was cunning enough to strike some telling blows of his own before succumbing.
Even if the Patriarch retained enough control over both himself and the pack and repeated his offer of truce, it would be his undoing. Lillian’s death would push the tide of pack opinion against any treaty or truce with Arthur’s band. It was an ideal plan, one which offered almost no risk to himself. All he needed to do was to wait for the opportune time to execute it.
It was a shame that she had to die in this way. Had she survived the coming coup, he would have slain the Patriarch’s issue when it was born and impregnated her himself as soon as possible. By that time, he would have taken at least five other females as mates and fathered cubs on them. Like an African lion, he would rule his pride from a position of strength and not by negotiation and coddling of the weak. His rule would be spectacular and history-making.
He could taste the victory already. It was sweeter than any taste of blood.
*****
Lois’ midday nap in Clark’s arms had been heavenly, but there was something else she needed to try. And she didn’t think her husband would approve.
Think, nothing. She was dead solid certain he’d forbid her furiously.
So she stretched reached for the ceiling with one hand, then turned a smiling face to Clark. “Hi. That was heavenly.”
“You were asleep for about two hours. Will you be okay for a while?”
Her lips found his nose and playfully nipped at it. “Sure. You have someplace you need to be?”
“I’m afraid so. Superman made an appointment with Bill Henderson to meet with him about a gang that’s selling protection on the South side. Clark dug up some information about a possible Intergang connection.” He sat up. “I’ll probably be there for a little over an hour, and then I’ll have to go over to STAR Labs and check with Bernie. He’ll probably have some preliminary results by then.”
Her smile faded a bit. “It must be maddening to talk about yourself in the third person so often. Do you ever wish you really were two people?”
“No, not really. If I were, you’d have two handsome and aggressive men wanting to sleep with you. And I’m not sure you could handle two of me.”
She laughed. “You’re right, one Clark is all I want or need. Or can keep up with.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “Now go and keep your appointment. I’ll wait for you here.”
“Promise?”
This time she smiled and touched his cheek. “There’s no one else I want to be with, so yes, I’ll wait for you. That’s a promise.”
He sighed. “I can’t wait to get back to Metropolis with you. We’ll probably have to take some personal time off to make up for being celibate here.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Now go so you can get back here fast!”
He rose and spun from sleep shorts into the Suit, then peeked out the door of the suite before super-speeding to the stairs. A moment later, Lois heard what sounded like a small clap of thunder. He was gone.
And she had her opportunity.
She threw back the covers and took off her T-shirt and shorts. The middle of the room was a good place to do this.
She bent down and ended up on all fours, then willed herself to shift into her wolf form.
It was easier this time. It took less than fifteen seconds for Lois to vanish into her lupine guise. She sat down and experimentally wagged her tail.
It tickled.
She looked around and was once again amazed at what she could see as a wolf. Her color perception was skewed a bit – she couldn’t see colors as brightly – but her vision was sharper, able to pick out details of things at further distances than she normally could. Her hearing was more acute, too – the squeaky wheels on one of the maid’s carts on the floor above drew her attention for a moment.
Her head was heavier now than as a human, but the thicker neck easily supported the extra weight. She thought it would also help her if she decided to hunt small game in this form.
The thought to hunt for fresh meat was tempting, but that wasn’t her purpose at the moment. It was time for the experiment.
She shifted back to human form and stood erect. She noticed she was breathing deeply, probably as a result of the stress of the change, but after a few breaths her respiration returned to normal. She thought back over her impressions as she changed form, and she realized that there seemed to be a point in the human-to-wolf process where there was a – a fork in the road, so to speak. It was as if she could have altered the process and changed into something else.
Lois wondered briefly if any of the other Turned had ever noticed that little bump, but then she decided that they either hadn’t noticed or had decided to ignore it. They’d either been told too often that there was only one wolf form or it never occurred to any of them to play with their new skills. There was risk in experimenting with the process so soon in her experience as a Rougarou, but there wasn’t time to explore it at her leisure.
So she remained upright, shut her eyes to concentrate, and started the change again.
When she got to the fork in the road – the decision point – she pushed herself on the second track. This time she didn’t fall to all fours. This time she stayed upright.
This time she added height and muscle.
It finally ended. She lifted her head, her eyes still closed, and took a deep breath. She could feel her chest expanding, and she lifted her arms to her sides.
Her eyes opened to a riot of color and fine definition. It was as if the best of both human and wolf vision was blended together into her sight. She brought her arms in front of her to see long, powerful fingers tipped with what appeared to be razor-sharp talons. A glance to the floor showed wide, almost prehensile toes on size eighteen feet.
She turned and looked into the mirror on the wall.
Yep, she mused, I look like Ray Harryhausen and Tim Burton collaborated on a werewolf movie and came up with a truly scary specimen. She estimated her height at about six feet, three inches. There was no telling how much she weighed – it was as if all the non-essential tissue in her body had been transformed into bone, muscle, and sinew.
Her head was elongated and her jaws were long and firm. She wondered if she could cleave through bone with one bite.
Almost on its own, her muzzle opened and snapped shut. Yep, she thought, right through solid bone.
Her ears were the most wolf-like feature she bore, aside from the thick fur. That fur covering hid her skin, but she still looked female from the front. She wondered for a moment if her rear end still looked great. A brief but revealing costume would be in order to keep her from having to strip naked in public.
She tried some slow-motion Tae Kwando moves. They felt smooth and powerful, strong and controlled. She was willing to bet real money that none of the werewolves she might meet were black belts.
I bet no one would spar with me now, she thought to herself. The image of Lin Chou squaring off against Lois in this form was almost funny.
The little slice of humor relaxed her and reminded her that she was in control, not the beast she presented.
This would be the form she’d assume if she ever had to fight one of the Naturals. According to Jane, what she’d just accomplished was impossible. There was no way a regular werewolf could stand up to her in this form.
It was time to be human again.
The reverse transition was a bit painful, but easier than assuming the beast form. In seconds, a naked Lois Lane stood in the middle of her hotel room, sweaty and a little ripe from her exertions. A shower was in order.
She didn’t dare let Clark figure out what she’d been doing.
