Unleashed

SIXTEEN

IT FELT LIKE I WAS BEING TORN APART, AND FOR a long moment I feared I’d been tricked, murdered by the Wendigo for some obscure motive of his own. But then the world stabilized around me, and I found myself lying facedown in dirt.

It was cold. I had my leather jacket and a heavy shirt, but I felt the cold anyway, and the dirt beneath my hands was rock hard. I sat up and looked around. It was dark when I’d been pushed into the energy pool, but it was daylight now. No signs of civilization. Trees, stretching out for as far as I could see, scattered far enough apart to give a good idea of the landscape. Low-spreading conifers dominated, with only the occasional towering tree to break the pattern.

Lou was nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t expected I would just drop down in his lap, though. Things are never that easy. And there was still the possibility that the Wendigo had sent me on a wild-goose chase, for whatever reason.

My first priority was to find out whether talent operated here, wherever here was. I broke off a few twigs from a nearby tree branch, set them on the ground, and tried a basic ignition spell, the default operation I always use when I’m trying to assess the magical climate of a place. It worked, all too well. The twigs went up in flames, instantly alight as if they’d been wrapped in flash paper, and a few seconds later all that remained was ashes.

This was an unexpected and not unwelcome development. If this held up, I was suddenly a powerful talent, no longer dependent on cleverness and guile. With a wave of my hand, all opposition would wither before my awesome power. There was bound to be a catch, though. There always is.

But one thing was worrisome. If this place enhanced rather than blocked talent, why hadn’t Lou been able to find his way back? The more I thought about it, the more troubling it became. The chew toy I’d brought, which I thought so clever, now seemed irrelevant. Come to think of it, Lou should have been able to find his way back home based on his connection to me-we were more strongly bonded than any rawhide strip. Hopefully.

But as long as my power had been enhanced, I was going to take advantage of it. I’ve never been very good at locating people or things; that’s a specialized talent.

Still, if I had enhanced power, it was worth a try. I pulled out the rawhide toy, concentrated on it, and concentrated on Lou at the same time. Immediately I could feel something, partly like the heat of a campfire on your face when your eyes are closed, partly like a puff of wind blowing from the north, and partly like neither of those things. But it gave me a direction, and there was no doubt about it.

I started walking, always uphill, and as the elevation increased, spotty areas of snow sprang up around the bases of trees, like a late-spring thaw breaking through a winter landscape. Soon I found myself slipping and sliding on the now-unavoidable snow cover.

I was walking as quietly as I could, but there was nothing to be done about the snow crunching under my feet. But whatever sound I was making was soon drowned out by a commotion coming from just over a small ridge. I heard animal snarls, which is never good, and some loud thumping as if someone was beating on a drum. The pressure that indicated Lou’s presence was increased, which meant it was a good bet that whatever was happening up ahead had something to do with him.

I crested the ridge, almost running now, and emerged through the trees. Below, a small clearing opened out in the middle of tangled brush and trees. The impulse to rush down and see what was happening was strong, but I held back. It wouldn’t do either Lou or me any good to blindly charge ahead and blunder into something I wasn’t prepared for.

I slid behind the cover of a tree and peered around. At the far end of the clearing, I saw a large animal standing at the end of a huge log, two or three feet in diameter. For a moment I thought it was a bear, but when it turned sideways I saw a thin elongated muzzle with a familiar anteater profile. A shape-shifter.

The log it guarded must have been partially hollow, and from its actions it looked like something was trapped inside of it. I had a feeling I knew who it was. Wood splinters littered the ground nearby, and there were long score marks where the creature had tried unsuccessfully to rip open the log.

It prowled from one end of the log to the other, then pounced on one end, pounding and roaring. Then it ran around to the other end, waiting for the terrified prey to rush out the other end, like a cat trying to outwit a panicked mouse. Lou was no mouse, though, and though he was probably scared, he wasn’t one to panic. He hunched down farther back in the log, safe for the moment. He wasn’t going anywhere.

No wonder he hadn’t been able to find his way back. God knows how long he’d been trapped there. As I watched, I realized the beast was exactly that-a beast. It was a clever animal, nothing more. In its own dimension it was a natural predator like a bear or a lion. Only when it entered our world did it morph into the shape-shfter it was, stealing not only bodies but memory and personality and intelligence as well. And although it was resistant to talent back home, there was no reason it would be resistant here, especially with my newly minted strength. For once, I wasn’t worried.

I calmed my mind as best I could and concentrated on gathering the elements of a spell. Use its massive physical strength against it. Use the patches of snow dotting the ground, and the cold in the air. I gathered up the cold, added in some essence of grit from the sandy forest soil, used my nervousness to add a dollop of paralysis, and let my strength flow into the mixture.

“Louie! Lou!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the chill sunlight. “To me, now!”

If there’s one thing Lou doesn’t lack, it’s decisiveness. In a similar situation I might well have stood there for a moment gawking, until it was too late to move. Sometimes Lou acts without thinking and ends up getting himself in trouble. But all in all, the ability to act quickly is a good quality. Anytime you deal with violence and danger it’s better to be wrong than indecisive.

He bolted from the log and flew up the slope toward me. The creature had looked up at the sound of my voice, and by the time it looked back toward Lou, it was too late. So far, so good. Only, as usual, there was something I hadn’t counted on. Goddamn it! I’d forgotten what the Wendigo had said. They operated in pairs, and just like Ruby, there were two of them here.

The second one burst out of a thicket to the left, and in a few ground-eating bounds it was right on him. Lou dodged left, then right, but the thing was also quick, and it reached out one powerful arm and sunk its six-inch claw right above Lou’s right haunch. It lifted him up off the ground and brought him up toward its mouth.

Now what? If I cast out the spell I’d been preparing, it would catch Lou as well. But if I didn’t, he’d be dead in about a second, so there really wasn’t much thought involved. Maybe his natural Ifrit resistance to talent would provide him some protection, and it wasn’t precisely a killing spell anyway. I cast my spell hastily outward. With any luck, the creature’s joints would now seize up like a piston deprived of oil, and when it tried to move it would simply topple over like an ancient dinosaur with paralyzed feet.

The creature had turned slightly sideways, inadvertently protecting Lou with its body as it reached toward his skull, stretching out its long neck for the killing bite. When the spell hit, it froze in midstride. It stood there, unmoving, like a grotesque statue. Lou squirmed his way out of the thing’s grasp, giving a sharp yelp of pain as he did so. He dropped onto the ground and staggered, unsteady on his feet. It wasn’t just the wound that was affecting him. A light layer of hoarfrost rimed his fur, and he shook himself vigorously trying to shake it off, then collapsed on the ground. The motionless creature above him was rapidly glazing over with ice, as was the ground around him.

Spells are mostly about accessing power, and my spells usually employ some form of similarity for their effectiveness. Not everyone does it that way, but it works for me. Every culture from the ancient Sumerians to current voodoo priests acknowledges the power of similarity in magic. It’s one of the few things they have right, although you do have to possess some inborn talent to make it work. But it’s not supposed to be literal. The cold was a template for the spell, enabling me to metaphorically freeze the creature where it stood, but it wasn’t supposed to literally freeze it solid. Unfortunately, my newly enhanced talent wasn’t entirely under my control. I’d let loose with a broad wave of unbelievable cold, close to absolute zero I’d guess, and if Lou hadn’t been shielded by the creature’s body as well as being naturally resistant, he would have ended up as stiff as a frozen trout himself. Even so, he must have been suffering from frostbite at a minimum.

Before I could decide what to do next, a gust of wind breezed through the clearing. It caught the frozen creature, toppling it ever so slowly onto the hard ground, almost on top of Lou. With a tinkling shivery sound, it broke into a thousand pieces, as if it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. Shards of frozen creature scattered everywhere.

I looked over to where the first creature had been standing at the other end of the log, but it was gone. It might not possess intelligence here, but it had enough animal cunning to understand that I was a danger. But like any true predator, whether a tiger or wolf or an other-worldly creature, it was still dangerous. I had no doubt it was lurking nearby, waiting for a careless moment on my part. We needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

I ran over to check on Lou. He lifted his head and fixed me with a ferocious glare. You’d think he would have been jumping up and down slobbering with gratitude at being saved, but I hadn’t done such a great job of it. He’s not that way, anyway. It was a compliment, actually. He assumed that if he was in trouble, sooner or later I’d show up to help. After all, that’s what he would do. But he expected more from me than almost letting him get eaten and then freezing his tail off, almost literally. If my blast of cold had been just a little stronger, he’d now be a miniature dogsicle himself. He knew that, and he didn’t appreciate it.

“Sorry,” I said, bending down to examine him. “It got out of control.”

The layer of frost had dissipated from his coat, but he was still shivering. Considering what had just happened, I was afraid to try a warming spell. It might end up incinerating him by mistake. His right side was covered in blood, and when he tried to stand he had trouble staying on his feet. I needed Campbell; I’m not that skilled in the healing arts, and with my out-of-control power I was afraid to try anything in that direction, either.

I stripped off a couple of broad, coarse leaves from a nearby bush and used them to staunch the bleeding from his wound. The leaves were distinctive, bright red along the edges, thick and serrated. I hoped they weren’t this world’s version of poison oak. After I’d stopped the bleeding, I stuffed them into a pocket. I didn’t want to leave any of Lou’s blood in this place-it’s never a good idea, and blood could help something track us, even all the way back home.

I picked him up and put him under my coat, using body heat to warm him. The wound from the creature’s claw looked serious, and I had to get him out of here, back home where it could be taken care of. The problem was, I had been depending on him to find the way back, and the way he does that involves a lot of physical movement.

When he’d warmed up some, I put him down and offered the ham sandwich from my pocket-he must be starving by now. He probably hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours-he could survive on the streets of any city with no problem at all, but the wilderness was not his thing. After a brief sniff he turned away, though. Not good. Not good at all. I would have put money on him eating even on his death bed.

Lou was sitting quietly now, watching me, listing slightly to one side as he tried to keep the weight off the injured side of his body. If we stayed here, he might not recover. I didn’t want to push him, but there was no hope for it otherwise.

“Can you get us back home?” I asked.

He gave a little doggy sigh, pushed himself slowly to his feet, and started off back the way I’d come, limping badly. There was a path of sorts, but after a few minutes he began to lag. There was no way he was going to be able to lead us back; he was too badly hurt.

I wasn’t skilled enough to try healing him, but the other option was an infusion of magical energy. That I could do; it’s a relatively straightforward process, and the enhanced power I had would make it easy. But that comes with its own price. It would be like pumping a bunch of painkill ers and meth into a sick and exhausted person. Useful in an emergency, and it will keep them going, but it takes a serious toll. When the body is pushed to its limits it eventually collapses, but when it’s magically pushed beyond those limits, the consequences can be serious and even deadly. If we didn’t get back soon enough, it could easily push Lou over the edge. But if we stayed here, he might not make it, either. And there were the creatures to consider. I doubted that the two we’d seen were the only ones around.

So either way we might end up screwed, and in that situation it’s always better to do something than nothing. I called him and he limped over, unsteady on his legs. I reached out and gathered living energy and life force from the trees around us. At least the natural base of the energy boost would make it less toxic. I directed the flow into him, as the needles on several surrounding trees turned brown. It took only a few moments before he perked up considerably, gave a bark both confident and halfhearted, and took off down the path again.

At first he was fine, trotting down the path with only a slight limp, but as time passed the limp became more pronounced and he was getting noticeably more tired, stopping every few minutes. I was beginning to think it was hopeless when he suddenly took a detour straight through the underbrush. This was more like it. We were lower in elevation now, and thick bushes were beginning to clog the path. Tired and injured as he was, he slipped through the massed thickets as easily as a greased seal. I stumbled behind him, with branches whipping across my face and tree roots grabbing at my feet. He seemed to be describing a large circle, and sure enough we eventually arrived back on the path. He sat down to rest, then five minutes later, he took off through the brush again and repeated the entire procedure.

I wasn’t sure what he was doing-it was typical of how he finds his way, the way he operates, but I’d never seen his path so convoluted. By the fourth go-round he was panting heavily. I was just about to bend down and pick him up when I noticed that the landscape had subtly altered. The path looked the same, but the scattered patches of snow were gone and the trees surrounding us were different.

The next time he angled off the path, the undergrowth had become less tangled and the bushes now seemed more like broad-leafed plants and less like low-spreading conifers. It was definitely growing warmer, and Lou started moving faster. Soon I was loping awkwardly, having trouble keeping up with him despite his injuries. I yelled at him to slow down before he killed himself, but he didn’t even turn his head. Maybe the pace was as important as the twists and turns.

Soon, he located a small ravine and plunged in. By the time we reached the bottom, it was so overgrown I couldn’t even see the sky above me, and the tangle of undergrowth made moving fast impossible, at least for me. Lou pulled himself up the opposite side and, when he reached the top, gave a couple of weary barks and collapsed. Pushing my way on up, I emerged onto a scene of broad hills dotted with spruce and fir.

A deep breath brought the faint but unmistakable stink of diesel fumes. A constant rumble from my left caught my attention and when I turned my head, I could see, a half mile away, a line of cars and trucks headed up a freeway incline. I was back, but I wasn’t sure exactly where I was.

The sun let me know it was late afternoon. I picked Lou up and headed over to the highway, hoping to find out where I was, and maybe catch a ride. Most of the passing vehicles had California license plates, so coupled with the landscape and the familiar freeway, it was a good bet I was looking at I-80 as it wound through the Sierras. As far as I could tell I was on the west side of the summit, maybe twenty miles from Soda Springs, where Campbell lived. That made sense, too; if Lou hadn’t been able to find the exact way home, he might have found a way to a place he was familiar with, somewhere similar to where we had been. And Campbell’s was the best possible place we could end up. Maybe that had something to do with it as well.

I stood by the side of the road and stuck out my thumb, trying to look harmless. Trying to hitch a ride on the interstate is never the easiest thing to do, and the leather jacket and my disheveled appearance weren’t going to help. I might have to try a masking spell that would make me seem clean-cut and harmless. It turned out to not be necessary-not a whole lot of drivers will stop for a solitary male alongside the road, but add a very small dog, pitifully curled up in his owner’s arms, and you have to beat them off with a stick.

In less than five minutes a young couple pulled over, the wife obviously being the one who insisted they stop. Lou of course climbed into the woman’s lap and looked up at her adoringly. He was trembling from exhaustion and the dried blood on his coat shocked her.

“What happened to him?” she asked, face wrinkling up in concern. “Is he hurt?”

“We were out hiking,” I said. “He ran off and tangled with something, maybe a bobcat. By the time I found him I’d got turned around and couldn’t find my way back to my car.”

“Doesn’t he need a vet?”

“There’s one in Soda Springs,” I said. “If you could drop me off there, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she said. “Poor baby.”

The husband was curt and barely civil until he heard we were going only as far as Soda Springs, at which point he warmed up considerably. He was so relieved to be rid of us quickly that he detoured off the highway, followed my directions, and dropped me off right at the driveway leading up to Campbell’s cabin.

The first time I’d ever seen Campbell’s cabin it had been wintertime, surrounded by snow, and that was the way I always saw it in my mind’s eye. Snug and warm, smoke coming from the vent connected to the old iron wood-burning fireplace, windows frosted up like an old-time Christmas card. We’d had our problems, but some very fond memories lived there.

But today it was surrounded by greenery, with scattered alpine wildflowers tucked in the shadow of the building. Campbell was sitting on the front porch, looking down curiously at the unfamiliar car dropping off its passengers. When she saw me climb out carrying Lou, she rushed down the driveway.

“What happened?” she asked. “Was it that creature-the one that tore up Victor’s leg?”

“No, something else. It’s a long story. He got caught by a much larger creature-it caught him with its claw.”

She took him out of my arms and started back up the driveway. Lou didn’t protest-despite his dislike of being carried. He was now beyond caring.

“Victor told me about another Ifrit that had been attacked-that’s why I thought of it. An Ifrit named Jackie-do you know him?” I did. Jackie was a weasel, or maybe a stoat.

“Sure,” I said. Vikki’s Ifrit. “Is he okay?” I asked.

“Apparently. He was too quick for the creature, I guess. Escaped out a window. But Victor was worried because for the first time that thing actually came right into a practitioner’s house, I guess. That practitioner wasn’t home at the time, but still…”

That was disturbing. It was getting bolder. Right now I had more important things to worry about, though.

Inside Campbell’s cabin, all was calm. The sun streamed though the windows, lighting up dust motes in the air, sending them twinkling and sparkling throughout the room. Campbell’s collection of colored-glass jars where she kept her herbs and plants glowed merrily as the sunlight hit them, deep blues and greens and ambers. The patterned spread on the corner futon was new and colorful, and as always, the room was neat and tidy without being anal. In comparison, my own little basement apartment, scattered and disorganized, was sad indeed.

Campbell set Lou down on a coir mat on the floor and ran her hands over him. When she glanced up at me I put my hands out, palms up, in that universal gesture that asks a question.

“He’ll be all right,” she said. “The injury’s bad, but not as bad as I thought. Lou’s tougher than he looks. But he’s almost completely used up.”

I explained why that was, and she briefly pursed her lips in disapproval.

“No choice,” I said.

Campbell busied herself among the jars of plants, choosing a few at what seemed like random, although I knew it wasn’t.

“I can heal most of the damage,” she said, “but after that energy boost, to really heal up he’s going to need an awful lot of rest.” She started a kettle on the stove, laid out a small collection of the plants and herbs, and shot me a brief look. “You look tired, too. Coffee?”

“Bless you, yes.”

I threw my jacket in a corner and sat by the window, watching as she measured out coffee into the coffeemaker and poured water over the plants she had mixed, steeping them like tea. As she moved back and forth, the sun coming through the window struck her blond hair and lit it like a halo. It was such a scene of domestic tranquility that it made me nostalgic, and a bit regretful. I could live here, I thought. I could live with this woman.

Well, maybe not. After all, it hadn’t worked out the last time. Still, a lot had happened since then, to both of us. I wasn’t the same person, and neither was she.

Campbell turned to ask me something and caught me staring.

“What?” she said. I shook my head.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

She regarded me for a long moment. “Yeah. Sometimes I do some of that thinking myself.” She smiled thoughtfully, but not sadly at all.

When her concoction of herbs was ready, she put it aside to cool, then looked down doubtfully at Lou.

“He needs to drink this, but it’s bitter. Downright nasty, in fact. How are we going to get it down him?”

“Not a problem,” I said. “I’ll trick him into thinking it’s a plate of your pancakes.”

Campbell’s pancakes were a special treat, Lou’s favorite. Mine were definitely second-rate in comparison. Campbell looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“You’ll what?”

“Just kidding. He’ll drink if I tell him it will make him well. It’s not like he’s only a dog, you know.”

“Ah, yes. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”

As we drank coffee, waiting for the infusion to cool, I filled her in on everything that had happened. She listened intently, leaning forward in her usual position, elbow on the table, chin in hand.

“So Ruby wasn’t really Ruby? She was this shape-shifting creature?”

“So it would seem.”

“When did that happen? Before I met her at Mama Yara’s store, or after?”

“Before, I think. But I don’t really know.”

“Weird,” she said. “And creepy.”

“Very,” I agreed. She thought for a moment.

“And there’s still another one of these things running around?”

“Apparently.”

“And it can look like anyone?”

“Pretty much. Although to become a perfect copy, it has to kill and eat part of its victim.”

“Yuck.” She was silent again, turning it over in her mind. “So what if this isn’t really you sitting here? I wouldn’t be able to tell, right? It’s hard to wrap my mind around that.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s very existential.”

“Must be hell on someone with trust issues to begin with.”

“Well, don’t worry,” I said. “Lou wouldn’t be fooled, not about me. Besides, if I were a monster, I’d have already killed and eaten you.”

“Very reassuring,” she said, “but I wasn’t talking about me.” She looked at me pointedly until I got whom she meant.

“Oh.”

Now I remembered one of the reasons we’d broken up. Campbell was a lot quicker on the uptake than I was, and that sometimes made me uneasy. But that no longer bothered me. I couldn’t remember why it ever had.

Campbell got up from the table and tested the liquid she’d prepared, then poured it into a bowl. It looked vile, and I wondered if I had spoken too soon about convincing Lou to drink it. She put the bowl down next to him, and he looked at it without interest. I crouched down next to him and pulled gently on an ear.

“Lou,” I said. “It’s medicine. Drink it. It’ll make you better.” He appeared unconvinced.

“It’s not that bad.” I put a finger into the bowl and took a taste. It was that bad. “You really want to die?” I said. “There’s no bacon in heaven, you know.” That might be an exaggeration, at least the part about dying, but I couldn’t afford to have him out of commission for a month. And with things like infection lurking, it might even be true.

He hauled himself to his feet, took a couple of weak licks at it, retched convincingly, and then started lapping it down like it was beef gravy. He got about three quarters of it down before he stopped and retched again. I was afraid he was going to throw up, which would make the entire ordeal useless, but he managed to keep it down. He looked at the rest and turned away. Clearly he would sooner die than drink another drop.

“That should be enough,” Campbell said, took the bowl away, and sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him.

She placed her hands over the wounded part and slowly stroked it with a circular motion. As she did, she softly hummed a wordless tune. Lou’s eyes half closed, then his muzzle sank down on the floor, then his eyes closed the rest of the way. Campbell continued on for about a minute more, then gently removed her hands and carefully stood up. She smiled at him and suddenly clapped her hands together, making me jump.

Lou jumped as well. One second he was snoozing on the mat; the next he was standing on all fours. He took a couple of steps forward, stopped to assess things, and then walked deliberately across the room and back. He still had a slight limp, but other than that he seemed fine. He lay down and closed his eyes again.

“He’ll need to sleep for at least twenty-four hours before he’ll be back to normal,” Campbell said. “It took a lot out of him.”

“What about you?” I asked. I knew Campbell would be worn-out as well, since healing can take a lot of energy, especially when it’s something major.

“Me? I’m fine. Remember, he’s not very big, so it didn’t take all that much energy.”

“Good,” I said. “And thanks.” I got up and stretched. “We hate to eat and run, but we’ve got to get back to the city. While we’re sitting here in the sunshine, one of those shape-shifters is stalking the streets back in the city. Any chance you could drive me back?”

“Sure,” she said. “But it’s too late for a long round trip. I’d have to stay over.”

“Of course. My clever plan is working.”

“You mean all this drama was just a cover to get me to stay overnight? How flattering.”

Interesting. Somehow, Campbell and I had started flirting again. I wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything.

“You do remember there’s only one bed?” I said.

“How could I forget? But I’m not worried. Lou will protect me.”

Indeed he would. His usual place to sleep is under the covers-he’s cold-blooded and San Francisco gets chilly at night, even in summer. If I’m lucky enough to have company, his favored position is to be wedged between me and my guest, a living bundling board. He’ll discreetly withdraw if things start to get serious, but it can make spontaneity difficult.

Campbell threw a few necessities into an overnight bag. I called Eli, got his voice mail, and let him know I’d found Lou. Ten minutes later, we were in Campbell’s old Land Cruiser, headed to San Francisco. By the time we made it back to my place it was just past nine.

Campbell unpacked her travel bag and settled in. Lou was still dead to the world but I had managed to catch a few winks on the way back, so I was awake enough that we could go out and grab a late bite to eat. Lou attempted to come along with us, bleary-eyed and yawning, but it didn’t take much convincing to get him to go back to sleep.

Dinner was fun, even with the specter of the second shape-shifter hanging around the corners of my mind. We talked about this and that, nothing heavy, comfortable and at ease, connected in that way you can sometimes be with an old girlfriend when the post-breakup tension is finally gone.

When we got back to my place, I did wonder if it was going to lead anywhere, but the inevitable ringing of the phone made the issue moot. It was Victor, and he had news.