Hexed

going to be so easy.
    “I can see where it is. I can take Iris and Camille through the Ionyc Sea and meet you there.” Smoky shrugged. “Easy enough.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Camille said. “I don’t fancy trying to work my way over that ice, and night is coming.”
    Howl gave him a nod. “That would be best. But let me go on ahead. My people would not welcome you kindly without my presence. Rozurial, how will you fare?”
    “I can travel through the Ionyc Sea, too. It’s easy with a visual marker.”
    And so it was settled.
    Howl leapt forward and, in midair, became a huge white wolf, transforming in the blink of an eye. He stood shoulder high to Smoky, gigantic and fierce with red eyes and a swishing tail. He gave us a long look, then turned and bounded across the ice as if it were nothing. Within minutes, he was standing at the edge of the cave, waving to us.
    Smoky wrapped his arms around Camille and me, and we flashed out of the snow, into the Ionyc Sea. The shift was abrupt, and if I had not experienced it before I might have been terribly frightened. It was like we were in a bubble, and the outer world had turned to smoke and fog around us. Before I could adjust my thoughts, though, we were standing near Howl, so quickly that Camille and I were both left breathless.
    Howl nodded as Rozurial appeared beside us. “Handy travel, it is. Come, follow me and do or say nothing until I have introduced you. You are in my home now, and you will show respect for my people and my ways. They are leery of dragon folk,” he added, looking at Smoky. “Dragons have been known to carry my wolves away and eat them.”
    “Wolves eat cattle, too, and sometimes people,” Smoky said. “It is the way of the world.”
    “Aye, it is the way of the world, but here we will all eat venison stew.” Howl smiled, then, ducking his head, led us into his world.
     
    AS WE FOLLOWED him into the cavern, a strange glow took hold of the walls—faint like blue topaz, sparkling with a cold magical fire. The cavern extended far back into the mountain, with a high ceiling, and glistening stalagmites and stalactites shimmered their way to meet in the center, forming walls and chambers.
    A rimstone pool sat in the center, but instead of being filled with hardened calcite, the water was clear and fresh, and warm—I could see the steam bubbling from it. Howl must have a way to heat it from below the floor.
    Eye catchers floated lazily throughout the chamber, and everywhere we looked, wolves of all sorts sat, resting, watching us. Several men sat among them, strong and bare-chested, with six-pack abs, long, flowing black hair, and eyes that glowed topaz like Morio’s—who was a youkai-kitsune. I looked for women but saw none. But scent on the wind told me they were here—females of the Pack. I had the feeling they were remaining in wolf form, protected from the sight of outsiders.
    “This is your court,” I said, suddenly understanding.
    “You are observant, Lady Iris.” Howl motioned to the men and they crossed their arms across their chests and knelt as the Great Winter Wolf Spirit passed by them. We followed in his wake, first me, then Smoky, then Camille and Roz behind her.
    Howl stopped by a stone worn smooth into a throne. He slid off the heavy fur and, bare-chested but with a wolf pelt around his neck, took his place on the dais. With the headdress and pelts off, he reminded me a little of the Autumn Lord. His hair was jet-black streaked with silver, now that I could see it, and his eyes were the color of chocolate, dripping with gold flecks.
    He was vivid in that unearthly way the Elemental Lords had, and as I gazed at him, surrounded by his people, I slowly dropped to the floor, kneeling. Beside me, Camille and Rozurial had done the same. Smoky stood tall but inclined his head.
    Howl rose, then looked around at his people who gathered to watch—in both wolf and human form. He held up the staff that had been lying by his throne, with a handle made of wood, inlaid with bone.
    “Listen well. These four are under my protection. Lord Iampaatar, Rozurial the incubus, Lady Camille, and Lady Iris walk under my cloak. Let no one who honors me lift paw or hand against them.”
    There was a collective shuffle, as if the Pack wasn’t sure what to think, but then—as one body—the men standing by him went down on their knees, heads thrown back, exposing their throats. The wolves in the hall rolled over, all of them, onto their