The End Of The Wolf

I smiled and handed him a glass of water and a couple of pain-killers. He seemed to relax a little. Good. "I'm Gina, can you tell me your name?"

"It's Lee. Lee Walters. Where am I? How did I get here? I need to call my mum!"

"Calm down and take the tablets first. Your head must be pounding. You'll be home very soon, no need to worry. I will explain."

"Okay?" He seemed shaken, but he did as he was told. A sweet boy, reasonable, following instructions. This was important. We couldn't very well release a wannabe thug with the knowledge he might turn into a murderous beast at night, and expect him to lock himself in responsibly.

I started with the standard questions, took his date of birth and address and entered them in my tablet. Our tech geeks would check him out and make sure he hadn't shown signs of anti-social behavior. Better safe than sorry. If he had, he would be sent for a less-than-pleasant training into a jail-style facility. If not, it would be relocation for now, and army in a few years.

They would also contact the family, so that they would be there for the big reveal. For the moment, I told him he had been found wandering in the park at night and was unable to tell us who he was. Which was true, sort of.

He took it well. Turned out he had been waking up in his garden for the past few days, which he had attributed to sleep walking. He had seen a physician, who had booked him for a sleep study. This was one appointment he could cancel.

While waiting for everyone to arrive, I popped out for donuts and coffee, and a hot chocolate for my ward. Inflicting canteen food on him would be adding insult to injury.

I was licking my fingers when his mum walked in. Her name was Lily, a petite, energetic woman. His stepfather came with her, but my questions for her were not for his ears. I sent him to fill forms while I lead his wife into a meeting room. She would be in better spirits now than after hearing the news.

After proper introductions, I opened the hostilities. "Can you give me the name of Lee's father?"

She frowned. "Ask him yourself, he is just outside."

I pulled my 'patiently suffering' face. "His biological father."

"Oh..." she winced. "How do you..."

I interrupted. "I'm not judging, but I hope he is aware."

"No, I mean, I was pregnant when I married him. I discovered it later, when I was putting on weight, it shouldn't have been possible, I was on the pill, and he was so happy, he would have been devastated. Lee was born overdue, Harry was over the moon with his son and the dates fitted. Please don't tell him!"

"I'm afraid this ship has sailed. The best we can do is damage limitation."

"What does it matter to you? Why destroy my marriage?"

"Trust me, I'm sorry. You'll understand later there is no way around it. But I might be able to help if you are honest with me."

Her shoulders slumped. "Ask away."

"What do you remember of your encounter with Lee's genitor?"

"It was my hen's night, a couple of weeks before the wedding. I was at the Camogie bar downtown with my bridesmaids and we had a few drinks. I wasn't drunk, just in a happy buzz. I went to the bathroom and when I came out there was this guy in the corridor, and I still can't believe what happened next..." Her cheeks were on fire and tears were pooling in her eyes.

"Take a minute. Can you describe him?"

She shook her head vehemently. "I can't. I wish I could, I would feel less of a slut. I cheated on my husband-to-be with some bloke I can't even remember, and I don't know why." She sniffled and I handed her a tissue.

"Try anyway. There has to be something." I was grasping at straws; I had heard that story a dozen times.

"He was... tall, strong. I think he was handsome, but I can't picture his face, it's blurred, somehow. His voice was devastatingly sexy. He stood in my way, asked me to come with him, held out his hand, and suddenly I was on fire, I wanted him more than anything in the world, I could think of nothing else. He led me outside, he had a limo parked close, we climbed in and he..."

I nodded sympathetically. "He raped you?"

She stared at her fidgeting hands, and took a deep breath. "No," she admitted, "he did nothing I didn't want. To be honest, it was unbelievable, out there. He ruined me for any other man. I just can't fathom why I did it. I'm not the kind of woman who has sex with strangers, I have principles, I go to church, I love my husband. That night made no sense, I am so ashamed. When we were done he brought me back to the bar, and it wasn't until after he left that I came to my senses and the guilt hit me. It was horrible. I wanted to come clean to Harry, but he would have left me, and I love him so much..."

I really felt sorry for her. She had fallen prey to the Original's pheromones, she didn't stand a chance. Her son would soon become a chick magnet too, just a tad less intoxicating.

"He drugged you with an airborne product. We have heard of this man, it's how he operates. You were not yourself. Emphasize that to your hubby when you confess, he might be able to forgive you. Tell him you were raped, because you were."

I had little hope on this front. Add it to the whole 'werewolf' situation, and it would be a miracle if Harry didn't run for the hills. Fortunately, being the bearer of hairy news was the job of our psychologist, not mine. So I directed the dejected mum to her office, where her life would be turned upside-down. Not the most glamorous part of the work.

I hadn't learned anything new, same story, different location. I'd see if there was a chance to unearth a video surveillance tape of the place at the right date, but thirteen years was a long time. I would add it to the list of the Original's haunts, look for similarities, without high expectations. It had all been done before, we always ended up empty handed. Maybe I should go after the car, track contemporary owners and rentals. Limousines weren't so common, it might lead me somewhere. If I had the make or model I could narrow it down, but it was not something horny women usually notice.

Well, better get going.

***

Predictably, I dug up a whole lot of nothing, despite spending most of my afternoon making phone calls and badgering our techs. The trail was polar cold.

I was sulking over my plate when Susan plopped down on the bench beside me. As usual, she was annoyingly cheery.

"Hello there, sourpuss! What crawled up yours on this glorious day?" she chipped, shoveling her meal like it were her favorite dish, making me wonder whether it was. A warped and weird colored hamburger might be a gourmet dinner compared to newt eyes and toad warts. Whatever was witch edible.

I groaned as I swallowed a mouthful. The cook ought to be an asshole, literally, because he had just as much taste buds. "You would be if you had wasted daylight working for naught. Might as well have taken a nap, for the good it did. Bloody Original Fur is as immaterial as a ghost!"

"That's who you are after? Gosh, if you need to get laid, I'm sure one of the guys will sacrifice his virtue to your sanity."

"Not funny," I grumbled, "you should try cleaning his mess for once. Might change your perspective on the beast."

She tilted her head, staring at me as if weighing whether I'd taste better than her food. I probably would. "What will you do if you locate him? Methinks he is far out of your league."

I shrugged. "That's what backup is for, captain obvious. We'll capture him and put him somewhere he won't be able to reproduce. A remote island, I guess." Or we'd discreetly shoot him and be rid of the issue, but that would be illegal. Oh well, accidents happened. Some army freaks might throw a hissy fit though. No more fresh meat for them.

"Mmm. Meet me outside when you're done. I might be able to help," she whispered. She winked and picked up her empty tray, leaving me scowling at mine.

***

She was waiting for me at the main entrance of the building, and dragged me up to the corner shop to get coffee. We sat outside and she cast a spell that hid us from sight and ears. I was starting to believe she had become paranoid when she announced: "You need to meet Brighid."

Her tone implied the name should ring a bell, yet it fell flat.

"Sure, who is she?"

"Brighid!"

I raised my hands and asked: "Sorry, I'm missing something here. Brighid who?"

She sighed and leaned closer. "The Celtic Goddess, Brighid. She negotiated the treaty for the Furs, don't tell me you didn't know?"

"Nope, I didn't. A goddess you say? Are you joking me?"

"Well, she isn't, not really. She was a powerful witch, who locked a crazy amount of magic in her body to become immortal, hence the Goddess status. Nowadays she is a focus witch, a very strong one. And she hates Hunters..."

Lovely.

There are two kinds of witches: Channel, who can pull magical energy from their surroundings, and Focus, who have to store it into physical objects, such as potions and parchments. Channel witches can use focus magic, but tend to look down on it and its practitioners. I beg to differ. A focus, or hedge witch, while limited by the power she can stack, is just as dangerous. She can hex a letter, a candle, a bouquet of flowers, and it won't activate until the intended recipient reads, lights, or smells it, therefore breezing through bodyguards and security systems undetected. A channel witch has to be close enough for the energy to carry, or use a familiar as a relay.

Brighid's 'inferior' status wasn't good news at all. She would have no shortage of options to harm me.

I had no idea what beef she had with our kind. We didn't hunt witches, they had a Council and Enforcers of their own. They had been bereft of power for the past sixteen hundred years, since Myrrdin sucked out all magic in his bid to extract Avalon from our plane. Since its return, our relations with the Council had been silky smooth. I just hoped she wouldn't blast me to smithereens on sight.

"Why would she agree to speak to me then?"

"She might not, I am yet to contact her. IF you want me to."

"Well, I'm not exactly swamped with leads. Do it."

"It's risky."

"I am aware. Do it. Go girl."

She grabbed her phone and fiddled with it for a while. Then there was a bing and she announced: "She will meet you. I'll forward you the time and location."

"Great."

"And I'll give you a detection amulet. It will vibrate if a focus is activated nearby."

"Thanks." It wouldn't save me, just warn me 'hey, you're doomed'. "You wouldn't have a protection one too? Might come in handy."

"It would only work against a specific curse, and honestly, I couldn't make it strong enough to counter one of HER spells. Sorry."

"You tried. I hope you'll still love me as a frog."

"I promise to find you a nice pond and kiss you every morning."

"That makes me feel so much better." Not.

Oh well.

***

My hate date with Brighid was set to mid-afternoon the next day, in the lounge of a high end hotel. My black-leather-and-steel-cap-boots attire raised a few posh eyebrows as I steered towards the most secluded booth.

I spotted her immediately when she made her entrance. Me and every male present. Brighid was an average height, late twenties blonde, with a sophisticated updo and an elegant blue dress showcasing her hourglass figure. She glided towards me with the poise of a queen, which she used to be.

The air around her shimmered with power, a scalding aura invisible to humans but not to Hunters. She sat regally in the armchair facing me, setting her designer clutch on the low table. A waiter instantly appeared at her side, the magical effect of visible wealth. I had been thoroughly ignored until then.

She ordered two cappuccinos, which annoyed me. Okay, I wanted one, but she could have asked. And I couldn't tell if she had read my mind or guessed I'd like one, which was worse. Anyway, not a good start.

We waited for our drinks in prudent silence, studying each other for weaknesses. For some reason, I felt speaking first would be a mistake.

Our beverages arrived and she took a prudent sip of hers, then set it down. She muttered, and the amulet buzzed on my chest. I tensed. One of the stones in her stunning sapphire necklace shone brightly, then turned dull. A focus. I relaxed when ambient sounds became muffled. Privacy spell. Benign.

"So you are Gina Malone, The Huntress."

"I am Gina Malone, a huntress. And you are Brighid, Celtic Goddess of...?"

"Arts, War, Magic, Medicine, and many others not worth citing. Allegedly. It didn't take a lot to attain divinity status in my youth."

"Immortality and witchcraft might have sealed the deal," I offered, trying to keep sarcasm to a minimum.

"Why did you request this meeting, huntress?"

Abrupt end of small talk. Check.

"I was told you represented the Furs for the Supernaturals Treaty?"

"Indeed."

"Did you have any contact with their Original?"

Her face hardened. "Why do you want to know?"

Diplomacy, Gina. You can do it.

"We caught many of his offspring recently. It would help if we could locate him, convince him to use condoms, or at least take responsibility for them. He leaves the mothers to raise them on their own, it's not very gentlemanly of him."

She had a harsh laugh. "Do I look like a fool? You want to kill him, don't you?"

"Capture him, if we can. Killing him would be a last resort. It's illegal, you made sure of it." I was getting antsy. This wasn't going well.

Brighid seemed to grow. Her aura expanded. My answer didn't make her happy. "Since when do hunters care about legal, or fair, or right when it comes to Fomoire kin? All you want is their blood."

The temperature inside our little bubble was steadily rising. I had to think fast.

Before our meeting, I had done my homework. I searched her name, online. Don't judge me.

Fomoire. Her husband's people. Her son was Fomoire. Fomoire weren't human, according to the legend. They had dog heads in the paintings. Could they be...?

"Wait a minute. You were married to a Fur?"

She scoffed. "Took you long enough. Hunters murdered my son."

I was getting warmer. At this rate, her rage was going to roast me alive. The magic inside her was reaching boiling point.

"But I read he was slaughtered by the Smithing God?"

"You can't believe everything in the tales. We were at war. My son was sent to the Fomoire camp by his father, to spy on them. They had weapons even my husband had never seen. The man crafting them was a hunter they had captured and enslaved. Ruadan tried to steal one and paid with his life. He shouldn't have. Fomoire were kin, they would never have harmed him. Take him hostage, maybe, but not harm him. We never thought he could die..." Her fists clenched so tight her knuckles whitened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"You do now." She glared at me. I was sweating buckets.

"It was a long time ago. Things are different nowadays..."

She sighed and the air cooled down slightly. "It hurts as if it happened yesterday. You have never lost a child, you couldn't possibly understand."

I nodded. "You're right, I couldn't."

A pause followed, allowing us to chill.

"It cost me more than my son. Bres, the love of my life, was devastated by his loss. He became withdrawn, bitter. He, who used to enjoy spreading wealth, started hoarding the Tuatha's gold. The men turned against him, and finally deposed him. I stood by him as a dutiful wife. He wish for more offspring to fill the gaping wound in his heart. I tried to give him another child, but the 'life eternal' curse had rendered me barren. How ironic that I had performed it to remain at my immortal husband's side forever. Its price caused him to leave me."

Brighid's eyes met mine, so filled with agonizing pain I had to resist the urge to hug her.

I drank my coffee instead. It worked. My heat stroked brain was shocked back to life.

"Did you say your husband was immortal?" I might have heard wrong. I had to. Furs were mortal. All but one.

She had regained her composure. "I did," she confirmed with a wicked smile.

She had been playing with me, like a tiger with a very naive monkey. Told me her sob story to build my trust and then revealed she sided with the enemy.

This woman had wed the Original, sacrificed her magic and her fertility for him. She admitted to loving him more than everything. And here I was, sitting pretty in front of her, having confessed my desire to capture and maybe kill him.

Way to go, girl. Now get out of here, fast.

I tried to stand up and found out I couldn't. The spell she cast wasn't just for privacy. I should have suspected it. Gems could store large amounts of power and she used a full one. Stupid, gullible me.

I went for my taser and my hand picked my cup. Great. My movements were limited to inoffensive gestures in a sitting position. Enough not to raise suspicion amongst observers, while leaving me unable to protect myself. Brilliant. A fly in a web. And no one would hear my calls for help.

Yet she did enjoy her twisted game. I had to keep her talking. Villains don't kill their audience until they are done gloating, in the movies at least.

Let's hope she watched them.

"So did he contact you about the negotiations, or did you go on your own?" I might as well go back to business.

"He did."

"How?" I was imagining a dark room with a scrying mirror, tarot cards, a talking raven...

"He called me. On my phone."

Perhaps she COULD read my mind.

"So... You have his number?" I blurted. And morally face-palmed myself. I should have been voted 'less likely to become an interrogator' in high school. Subtlety was never my forte.

"I do, but it would be of no use to you. It was a burner phone and has been disconnected for years."

The satisfaction in her voice betrayed her joy at crushing my hopes.

"And how did he get yours?"

She shrugged. "Same as you did, through a witch. I'm not all that difficult to find, if you know how."

"That witch has a name?" Forget subtlety. Might as well burn all of them bridges.

"She does."

She was really pushing my buttons. She had elusive down to an E.

"Which is?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..." She cackled at my frustrated pout and added: "The girl wouldn't remember anything useful. Side effect of the pheromones."

My eyebrows shot up. "He bred her?"

"He did. He got his information first but why pass on a pristine womb?"

Her tone was light but there was no mistaking the bitterness underneath. It must suck to watch your beloved ex-husband running around jumping everything with a skirt, giving them the children you couldn't have.

She was right though. The woman would have no clear memories.

"So how can I find him?"

"You can't. Forget about it."

"I won't. I'm stubborn like that."

She stared me down with sadistic glee. "I'm tempted," she purred, "to put you down a peg. Or I could actually give you a clue. Offer you a solid chance to achieve your goal, because should you succeed, you will end up dead, or even better, pregnant with Fomoire spawn. I'm sure even you can see the irony."

I shrugged. "You are so last millennia. There are ways around it. I certainly wouldn't hesitate to terminate a Beast."

Her laughter bounced on invisible sound-blocking walls, adding to the comic villain feel. "Hunters aren't picked for their brains, aren't they? Don't you think it has been tried before? The only way to abort a Fomoire pregnancy is to kill the mother. Which happened to those who tried. A satisfying issue either way, as far you're concerned."

A cold shiver zinged down my spine. Should I reconsider? She seemed so certain I was doomed. Or was she toying with me?

"I could give up the child."

Her expression shifted to commiseration. "You try that, see how it works for you."