Master of Smoke

asked, sipping from her own glass as she sat down next to her daughter.
    “Actually, he’s kind of a werecat. And he works spells.”
    “I knew there was something weird about him. And did you just say you know King Arthur?” Bill demanded. There was a familiar gleam in his eyes.
    Charlotte choked on her drink and sputtered, “Oh, God, he’s starting to geek out!”

    “We are not running a halfway house for mortals, Smoke.” On the screen of the enchanted iPhone, Arthur glowered.
    “I’m aware of that, but these particular mortals are in danger because their daughter helped me when I needed it most.”
    “Good point.” The vampire rubbed his temple, grimacing as if he had a headache. With his duties, it was probably perpetual. “And I’m aware of how much I owe you. My son’s life, for one thing—a dozen times over.”
    David’s lips twitched. “The boy did have an interesting childhood.”
    “Yeah, in the sense of the old Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.’ But your friends can’t stay here forever, Smoke. And there’s no way of knowing how long it’s going to take to wrap up this mess with Warlock.”
    “Oh, I fully intend to take care of Warlock as soon as possible.” David curled a lip in a snarl. “I owe him. And I’m going to pay him back.”

    The white stag raced through the forest in huge bounds, barely one leap ahead of the enormous wolf that snapped at his flanks. Zephyr could feel waves of magic and rage and sheer madness radiating from the creature. They sent blind panic careening through the stag part of him.
    Perhaps remaining in the body of a prey animal hadn’t been the best choice after all.
    He thought about calling for Smoke. His friend would have fought for him, but the future he’d seen along that path had ended with the death of both Smoke and his mate. And Zephyr’s fate had not been changed.
    The only hope he’d seen had lain on this path—and it was not one that would save him. He was fated for the destruction of all he was, his power drained to feed the wolf’s madness, ambition, and hate.
    Helpless fury surged through him at that thought. He spotted a tree up ahead, and he shot around it. The wolf didn’t turn in time, allowing Zephyr to circle behind it. He drove his antlers into the beast’s white haunches, impaling the creature and sending a death spell blasting into it.
    With a heave of his head, he picked the wolf up and sent it flying. It yelped in agony as it landed, tumbling through the leaves to slam into a tree trunk. He felt its magic rise, fighting his spell.
    “I am no easy prey, you foul bastard!” Zephyr bugled in fury and charged, head lowered, another death spell sizzling on the points of his antlers. The wolf whirled and fled around the tree with a single startled yip. Vast satisfaction surged through Zephyr, and he pursued his foe, head still lowered. The wolf ran from him, weaving through the trees, forcing the stag to slow his furious pursuit as he followed. The creature disappeared through a pair of enormous bushes standing side by side. Zephyr had to stop to force his greater bulk through them.
    A blast of magic exploded just beyond the thick brush. It was too late to stop.
    The creature had transformed into an enormous werewolf. He held a double-bladed battle-axe in one hand, sparks spilling from the great gem implanted in the spiked tip. Zephyr planted his cloven hooves and tried to twist away, but the axe was already swinging.
    The blade bit into the stag’s muscled neck, and the spell blasted after it. Zephyr felt it rip into him, dragging his power and essence from the stag and sending it funneling into the werewolf’s greedy brain. He fought the pull with all his strength, tried to shield, but the stag was dying, its blood running red as its legs buckled under it. Without the animal to anchor his magic, Zephyr couldn’t hold on.
    The werewolf dragged him under like a riptide, slashed at him with the power the stag’s death had given him. Used it to rip him into pieces and keep what he wanted.
    And then he hurled the core of Zephyr’s spirit into the dark.

    Much better, Warlock thought, as the elemental ceased to fight his will. The notes he’d taken based on the cat’s memories had suggested the stag was vulnerable. And just as Smoke had suspected, without a human host’s intelligence, Zephyr didn’t have the resources to fight him off. The psychic core been comparably easy to discard, leaving