Page 79 of Blacktail

Blacktail did not jump. Instead he clamped down on his agony, forcing it far back into a distant corner of himself, and let the strength go out of his legs. In so doing he fell on Sarge, partially smothering him and, more important, spoiling the aim of his hind paws.

Sarge’s leg reflexively shot up toward the place where Blacktail’s jaw had been. Blacktail rolled to his side. The motion produced an agonizing tug in his guts, and a sick sensation of stretching flesh—this is what my prey feel before they die—but it also put his jaws in line with Sarge’s hind leg.

Blacktail bit down on the muscle of the leg, feeling his teeth sink through fur, feeling them catch deep in the flesh. In one smooth, fluid motion he twisted Sarge’s hip out of its socket. Then he ripped the leg from his body. Somewhere an artery gave way. Hot blood sprayed out, coating his muzzle.

Though Sarge was surely dying, he redoubled his efforts to disembowel Blacktail. But with Blacktail’s body pressing his head into the earth, he could no longer rear back far enough to do serious damage. His scrabbling first grew more frantic, then slowed. Finally it stopped altogether.

A number of the pack had taken advantage of Blacktail’s preoccupation and attempted to aid their champion. As Blacktail rose, he realized that there were quite a few lesser beasts dangling from his back by their jaws or claws. He shook his fur out as he might after fording a river. Half of his would-be killers fell away. He twisted his head back over his shoulders and dispatched the rest with a few quick snaps of his jaw.

Standing now, Blacktail swiveled his head to regard the remains of Mercy’s pack. A few still stood, but most were bleeding and broken. He expected them to run then, with their priest lying broken below the tree and their champion dead.

None did.

“Take him,” said the Great Dane. “All of us together now.” Her voice was utterly devoid of hope. The few who still could rushed him.

Blacktail, confused and a little dazed from his own pain, fought the lesser beasts by rote. Some he killed outright; some he wounded mortally. Others he merely hurt. Before long the clearing was covered with broken and bleeding bodies. In the center of this, Blacktail stood alone.

He sucked in a great lungful of the night, let it out slowly. He padded toward the mouth of House…and the witch that waited for him there.

vii

“You have slain Sarge,” said Larkspur.

“Are you surprised?”

“Surprised? No. Disappointed, perhaps. Your strength was never in question, but I hoped for more in the way of wisdom. This world was better when that dog lived. I had thought you might see that.”

Blacktail was silent for a moment. “Did he know what is said of me?”

“He knew.”

“And yet he fought anyway.” It was not a question.

“Sarge would have fought the Puppy of Darkness himself if he thought it would serve Mercy. He was magnificent.”

“What now? Will you make a spell?”

The cat purred and licked her paws. “I already have. You were listening earlier, weren’t you? When I spoke to Milo of time and mothers?”

“I was.”

“I thought so. Tell me, Blacktail. What do you know of magic?”

“Only what I am told by cats,” he said. “It doesn’t interest me.”

“No? Well, bear with me. Perhaps I’ll surprise you. You recall that I spoke of God’s first riddle—the one of time? How the moments seem to us to be a great many, but in truth there is only one? That is one of the principles relevant to this conversation. Here is another—perhaps you will find this one of more interest. Magic is bound by balance. They say witches can heal. It may look that way, but it is not exactly so. For one to recover, another must sicken.” The cat looked into his eyes. “Tell me, wolf, whom do you think I would choose to balance the scales of Mercy’s health? Who would I see sicken and die in her place?”

Blacktail drew back half a step, his eyes wide.

“Do you feel it? A stirring in your guts? A sharp pain in your lungs? No? Not yet? Well, be patient. It is coming,” the cat purred. “That much I warrant. That much I guarantee.”

“What have you done?” Blacktail growled.

“I have given you what you desire, wolf. I have come to the hunt with you. Not all of it is tooth and claw. Didn’t you know that? It won’t be much longer—one moon cycle, perhaps less—before you begin to feel her diseases in you. Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you haven’t already.”

Blacktail stepped forward until his snout was almost touching the cat. She made no attempt to move, only licked her paws. “What are you doing to me?” he hissed.

The cat met his gaze. Blacktail saw the certainty in her eyes. “Doing? I am doing nothing. It was done three winters ago, not long after you killed Hate. You are murdered, wolf.”