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My spine pulled endlessly taller as I turned to stare up the long road that led newcomers in through the big gate, then down here to the square. Dark things moved on the road beyond, but I couldn’t see if it was him yet. I heard the women moving around me, linking up hands, caging me and the boys within. Then more footsteps came. Arelia, the woman I’d met at the playground, and her sisters approached on one side.
“Let the mothers in,” an imperious little voice said, and the circle parted to admit Kiralee, one of my son’s friends.
“Sweetheart,” I said, walking over, feeling my claws recede, my voice softening. “This is not the place for you.”
“Isn’t it?” He
r eyes flashed red in the darkness, something that raised a flurry of splutters from the circle. “Crone, mother, maiden. That’s how it’s done.”
“So it is.” The elderly woman, who had spoken before, hobbled forward with Ophelia at her side. “You know the words?”
“I heard them in the beat of my mother’s heart, before I was born.”
“So you did,” the woman said. “I am Flora, child. Your mother will bring you to me after this?”
Arelia nodded stiffly, but her eyes shone in the low light.
“But you don’t know the words, do you, Lady Mother?” Flora said, eyeing me. “Nonetheless, we have enough power within us. From death comes rebirth.” Flora grinned, her lined face transforming into a skull. “I’ll go first.”
The woman’s voice ripped through the still of the night in a hoarse and ragged tone. It wasn’t precisely a song. There was no regular cadence, no determinable rhythm, the sound more a mix between an inarticulate cry and a rasping scream. The guys clustered close to me, and I felt them brush against my skin as my claws reformed.
“So how does this go down?” Aidan asked in a hushed whisper.
“We back her play,” Noah replied.
“Fan out. Flank her. We ring this cunt and bring him down,” Sen said.
“No, we catch her when she falls,” Peter said.
“What he said,” I said, and strode forward, the circle fanning out, forming an honour guard as I went. The same ugly beautiful sounds erupted from their throats as I passed, joined by the crystal-clear notes of a young girl’s.
I wasn’t staying still, waiting for my prey to come to me. I was the motherfucking hunter, and I was taking the threat to my home down. I ran with shadow light feet, my mates at my back, until I sighted him.
My nightmare made flesh waited under the gate of Sanctuary, his eyes gleaming red. But mine did too. We were each the Black Wolf’s puppets, and we were about to see who was gonna come out on top. He shifted until he stood under a streetlight, the illumination unkind, picking out the ravages his excess had wrought as well as my violence.
“Hello, Felicity,” he said in his best bad guy purr.
I narrowed my eyes, noted his fingers twitching in time with mine, and then did the only thing reasonable—I laughed.
Many have said it was the laughter of women that drove abuse. That we could see all that an abuser was, with his puffed-up facsimile of real masculinity, and find it amusing. But rather than find actual strength in themselves, they used it against us, as if that would stop the world laughing.
I circled Rick, moving in a lazy loop, inspecting every inch of him. Had he always been so small, flabby flesh with muscles lurking below? Those hands seemed fragile now, not capable of smashing into me, not capable of doing anything, despite the rings of rusty blood under his nails.
But he did, that was the bitch. So many men got up each day, looked themselves in the mirror, and decided they were OK after hurting, lying, brutalising their partners and kids. I didn’t say “not all men”, that was obvious. I had four of them at my back and a network of them roaming the streets, ready to take down anything that got in the way of their loved ones, and there were millions who’d do the same in your everyday suburban street. But that men like this could be allowed to exist…
His lips pulled back in a pathetic attempt at a snarl. He had some of what we were inside him, I could see that in the longer fangs, the gleaming eyes, but not enough.
As always, Rick was gonna fall short.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” he screamed at me, his voice so shrill.
Right, so we were back to that then.
I slid out of the way of his clumsy swipe, leaving him to go careening into Peter, who met him head on and slammed that boulder sized fist into my husband’s face, sending him flying backwards. I watched the moment his skull bounced on the tarmac with a cocked head, but the red in his eyes flared harder, and he was scrambling to his feet moments later. I licked my lips when I saw blood trickle down the side of his face.
“You dumb slut. You think these fucks you’ve managed to lure in with your sloppy cunt will be enough to stop me?”
He lunged, then lunged again, which I sidestepped effortlessly. I drove my elbow into his exposed back, arrowing in on the kidneys so he dropped like a stone.
