Page 50 of Curse of the Wolf
“Maybe its programming to heal cuts lined with poison overrides its distaste for werewolves,” he said.
“It could also only feel distaste for werewolves when they’re in one of their furry forms,” Mom, who’d been listening in, suggested.
“Or the bipedfuris form specifically.” I nodded. “That’s the only time a werewolf is in danger of spreading lycanthropy through its bite. The translation specifically mentioned protecting against that. One does wonder, if our kind aren’t meant to have it, why the case has ended up here though.”
Mom shrugged. “Happenstance, I imagine. You said your ex-husband found it, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t…” I paused. I’d had visions that had suggested the artifact or some other magical or maybe even divine force had orchestrated that, but did I want to admit that?In front of my mother? “I’m not sure that was only chance,” I said with a shrug.
“What else would it be?” Mom squinted at me.
Thinking I was nuts? Or would she not bat an eye at talk of visions? She’d mentioned the magical cave and sent me to it, so maybe she’d experienced such things herself.
“I’ll give it a try.” Duncan, eyes focused on the case as he wrestled with his own doubts, might or might not have been listening to us. “But if I turn furry, then run off into the woods yipping, you’ll know it’s doing something to me.”
“Or maybe I’ll think you’re being drawn by squeaking marmots,” I said as a few more barks drifted to us.
What kind of wolvesbarkedlike that? They sounded like mindless dogs.
“Well, one does enjoy a hunt, though I prefer larger and more dangerous game.” Duncan smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Because he thought turning into the bipedfuris while near the case again was a bad idea?
“You don’t have to do it,” I said. “We can try other things. Maybe Rue will come up with something. Or want to study you further.”
“Save me from that,” Duncan murmured, then stepped back and started removing his clothing. “It’s my life that’s in the balance. I’d better try anything we can think of to save it.”
“Okay.” I didn’t suggest he might be open to trying anything he could think of to avoid spending more time being scrutinized by an alchemist with giant needles and syringes.
Leaving only the medallion on, Duncan draped his clothing on the railing. Then he gripped the wolf head, looking off into the woods as he did whatever mental tricks were necessary to convince his savage side to come forth without the moon’s call.
It might have been another round of yips from the woods that did it, a promise of lupine fun to be had if one came tothe marmot area. Duncan grew broader and taller, fur sprouting as his limbs thickened and fingernails and toenails turned into claws.
The lid on the case flew open, intense light shining out, as it had before in this situation. Growling, Duncan took several steps back from it, arms spreading, clawed fingers flexing. The talisman, still lying on the railing, skidded toward the case, only stopping when it clunked against it. The chain around Duncan’s neck lifted into the air, also pulled in that direction. Mom’s medallion shifted in her hand. Only her grip kept it from flying over to attach itself to the side of the case—or the glowing artifact inside.
All four of us stood still, only Duncan shifting and growling. Feeling the artifact’s agitation, as he’d described it, toward him?
I didn’t feel anything like that, but I did sense the great magical power emanating from it. I crossed my fingers, hoping it could do something to help. All this power and magichadto be able to break a curse, right?
Despite their attraction toward the artifact, the medallions didn’t glow themselves. Nor did I receive any visions. Would it help if I touched one?
I lifted a finger toward Mom’s medallion, thinking to try, but Duncan swayed, arms spreading, as if he was trying to retain his balance.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
The bipedfuris bared his teeth in a grimace and swayed again. There weren’t any magical beams lancing toward him—no attacks of any kind that I could detect—but he looked like he was in pain. Then he crumpled, landing on his side on the wooden porch.
Alarmed, I sprang toward Duncan, kneeling and touching him. I glanced at the case, afraid the artifact was attacking himin some way I couldn’t sense. It continued to glow, but it didn’t do anything more threatening.
“Duncan?” I touched his furred torso.
His eyes closed, as if in sleep. Or in death. The thought scaring me, I shifted my fingers to his throat to search for his pulse.
His heart was still beating—that was something, anyway—but he didn’t stir at my touch. He lay unresponsive.
16
“What happened to him?”Mom asked.
My hand on Duncan’s furred chest, I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
