Lupi 08 - Death Magic

her mouth, hadn’t said it to those who heard with their ears, and she knew what she agreed to—knew without hearing or sight or senses or words, knew in a way that didn’t impinge on her physical self at all, that would leave no trace behind on her brain to be later retrieved through memory.
    She reached up, gripped the back of Ruben’s neck with one hand. Pushed herself up with her other arm. And breathed into his mouth.
    Magic moved through her, a smooth, tickly, tingling wave of pine and fur and midnight and song—song she could taste but not hear as it rolled out of her gut, up her throat, into her mouth . . . and out. Into Ruben.
    Who jerked back, eyes wide, mouth a round oh! of amazement before it stretched, contorting along with the rest of his face in a grimace of pain, then froze in that contortion for a second, two, three . . .
    He clutched at his chest. Tried to shove to his feet, but fell over, screaming. A scream cut off as the reality he’d been born to and lived in all his life splintered—reality contorting as his face had, a sundering of flesh and form that shuffled rules and shapes and meaning into Other.
    As he began to Change.

TWENTY-FOUR
     

     
    LILY had watched the Change many times. She had never truly seen it. Her eyes couldn’t track or her brain process events that were only partway of her space. But she recognized it, oh yes, and scrambled back. Away from the place where a man was being ripped apart.
    “What the hell!”
    That was Scott, clearly audible over Deborah’s panting, wordless exclamation as she reached for Ruben.
    Lily knocked her hand away. “Stay back. Stay back.”
    “What have you done!” Deborah screamed. “What did you do to him?”
    It was taking Ruben so long . The Change didn’t drag on for this long. Or it never had when Lily saw it, but she’d never seen First Change.
    Dear God. First Change.
    “Lily,” Scott cried, “I can’t—I can’t fight it.”
    Lily’s head jerked around. Scott’s eyes were almost wholly black, with only tiny triangles of white tucked into the corners. Ruben was dragging him into the Change. He was a mantle-holder. He could do that—would do that, willy-nilly, since he had no control himself.
    “Let go!” she cried. Let it happen. It couldn’t be stopped, so don’t fight it, and maybe if Scott stopped fighting, Ruben’s Change could complete itself.
    Reality went tap-dancing where Scott stood, folding and twisting itself like a Möbius strip on speed. Scott’s clothes fell to the floor, unsupported by a body that briefly failed to conform to the usual dimensions. Then a large gray wolf panted in Deborah’s kitchen.
    And a large black wolf lay on her floor.
    The black wolf’s sides heaved as if he’d been running. He raised his head, gave it a little shake. Tried to rise, but fell back. Slowly gathered himself for another try.
    “Ruben,” Deborah whispered, and started forward.
    Lily stepped in front of her. “Stay back. It’s First Change. He’s not safe.”
    As if her voice loosed some spurt of energy or focus in the wolf, he heaved to his feet, then stood with his head hanging.
    “Scott,” Lily said softly, “how much danger are we in?”
    The gray wolf answered by moving between the women and the other wolf ... who raised his head to look at them. His eyes were bright and fierce and yellow. A low growl rumbled up from his chest. His hackles rose.
    “But it’s Ruben.” Deborah sounded numb and baffled. “Whatever you did to him, it’s still Ruben.” She tried to move around Lily.
    The wolf’s lips peeled back from a fearsome set of teeth, and the growl grew louder.
    Lily seized Deborah’s arm and pulled her back. “He doesn’t know you because he doesn’t know himself. He doesn’t remember being a man. He’s beast-lost, and he’s scared, and you—”
    Clumsy but fast, the black wolf charged.
    The gray wolf blocked him and the two of them fell to the floor in a tangle of fur and snapping jaws. Scott twisted free and placed himself in front of the women again, his own hackles raised, teeth exposed. Dominance posture.
    “Back,” Lily hissed, pulling Deborah with her. The woman’s breath came in scared little pants.
    Ruben should have been intimidated by the confident adult wolf. Instead he charged.
    Lily bumped into one of the chairs at the table. No place to go. She looked around quickly for a weapon. She wasn’t about to start shooting, but she had to get Deborah away from the