The Wolf & The Witch
Killing Coyotes

Ready for a 3 chapter fight? Seven-thousand words of fighting? And my favorite two chapters of the book?

Like? Share? Review? Comment? I appreciate it. Actually, I appreciate it so much I'll give you a hint: The titles of the next two chapters are the last eight words of one of my favorite poems.

Enjoy.

*

It was many hours later when Lestat heard guards coming for them. He woke Claire and they sat up. He reached around in the dark for the chains and wrapped them around his chest, then slipped his shirt back on, while Claire yawned in the black, kissed his cheek, and felt around for their packs with her right hand. They rolled their cloaks up, strapped them to their sides, threw their packs over their shoulders, and Lestat scooped her up in his arms, and they waited. In the pitch black.

The dingy stone hall brightened, black to gray to yellow, and the wolves came- armed, ten of them. The halls were just large enough for them to shift to werewolves, but barely so- they had to stoop. One wolf approached the cell door and studied the prisoners a moment- they didn’t look like much of a threat. He opened the door. “Follow us. When you enter the arena, walk to the center and stand still, and silent.”

Lestat followed the wolves, carrying Claire in his arms. They walked down the dark stone hall, up stone steps, and into a bright arcade. Lestat stopped a moment so their eyes could adjust when a wolf shoved him in the back. He turned around- the wolf had a skinny nose, and dark eyes, but broad shoulders, and he committed that wolf’s face to memory- he would be dead by the end of the day. Villagers and arena attendants watched as they passed, and rushed away to take their seats. A few villagers leaned against the stone walls, sick, and gray, and not in such a hurry.

The wolf and the witch heard Edward’s voice, booming and loud and echoing- he was giving a speech to those in attendance, and his voice bounced around the arena and through the arched and open walls of the arcade. Edward motioned towards Deth and Bethany as the wolf and the witch walked into the arena. “Do you have anything to say before we start?” he asked the couple. Deth looked back at them- dirty, bandaged, the witch in his arms- so she couldn’t even stand? This was sad. He turned back and felt Bethany reach out to steady herself. He looked down- she was pale; they were wearing white cotton pants, and shirts, with blue stitching, and her color was approaching that of the cotton. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she answered, and shook her head. She felt weak, and hot, and there was a white halo at the edge of her vision.

Deth turned and looked at the crowd that had gathered, filling the stands. “I regret to inform all of you that this will be a very fast fight. But I will make it up to you. Rest assured, my appointment as Alpha of the Land of Moss, and the Villages of Itthon, will serve to increase all our wealth. For too long there have been too many restrictions on trade with the Land of Streams. No longer. And when those restrictions are lifted, we all prosper.”

Cheers, and applause.

“As you know,” Bethany continued, looking out at the crowd. She started to speak again, then paused- the people looked blurry- all of them. She blinked her eyes. “Thank... thank you all for coming today.” She cleared her throat, and lost the words, and smiled a big blond, blue-eyed smile, and bowed just slightly.

Edward nodded, and motioned to the other couple.

The wolf held the witch in his arms, silent, unmoving. Blue banners rustled in the breeze. The sun warmed them, bright and white and high in the sky. A man in the crowd coughed.

“Am I to understand you have nothing to say?” Edward asked, his voice echoing around the arena.

“Your guard told us to stand still, and stay silent,” Claire answered. “Us standing perfectly still is the only way in hell golden boy over there is going to beat us.”

Edward scowled. “Other than smartass remarks, do you have anything to say? If not, let’s-“

“Sure. We’ll say something,” Lestat interrupted, and sat Claire down. He pulled the fake bandage off his arm, and she pulled the bandages off her legs, under her skirt. She bent down and laid the iron bar at her feet. Lestat still had the chains wrapped across his chest and back, and two water skins at his side; they both still had their packs on their backs, and their rolled cloaks on their sides, and that was all the armor, and all the weapons, they had.

Deth watched, now slightly concerned- they weren’t injured at all. Bethany raised a trembling left hand and wiped sweat off her forehead.

Claire grinned at the crowd- the poison was working- some of them were slumped in their seats, and splotched gray. She looked back at the wolves- a couple of them didn’t look so good. She looked at Bethany: that poor woman looked like sidewalk shit on a hot day. Perfect.

Lestat looked out at the crowds- if these idiots wanted words, then he would give them words: “We're going to Itthon to kill every goddamn person from one side of that fucking land to the other. And then we’re going to burn the entire fucking forest to the ground, villages and all. Open the gates, and step aside, or else..." he paused, and looked at those in the stands, and at James, and Beverly, and his wives, and the alpha, Edward. “All of you will die.”

“Hell yeah,” Claire agreed, and nodded approval, and squeezed his hand. But she was starting to get excited- they had a little bit more to do than that: packing their things, she wanted to see his house, cooking, going on a date. She shook with excitement and looked at Edward- his seat was closest to the arena floor, right up front. “We have killed every person- every goddamn wolf and witch, soldier, and guard- entire packs, outposts, villages- everyone who has stood in our way has died, and right now- all of you motherfuckers are standing in our way.” She looked from Edward, to his personal guard, to the crowds behind them- they all looked sickly except for James and his wives- interesting.

Their voices echoed around the arena, off the carved stones, down the empty halls, and the sun shone on them, and the breeze drifted peacefully over their shoulders, and no one spoke. The crowd was as silent, and quiet, as carved marble.

Bev and Soph and Olive all looked at each other, then at James. He cleared his throat- that might’ve been the worst thing they could’ve said. Even if they won, there was no way Edward would let them live. And even if they managed to kill Edward, it would be very unlikely any of his men would let them live- not after saying that.

The witch looked up at the wolf. He was strong, and handsome in the sunlight, and there was no fear, and no doubt on his eyes, but it looked like he was lost in thought. She leaned up, and took his ear, and whispered, “Don’t forget- I belong to you, and you belong to me; let’s finish this, and go home together.”

Lestat looked at Edward, and his ten elite guards- all wolves, and James and his witch wives, and then he turned and looked at the ten wolves behind them, who had guided them from the cell, then at the twenty armed men surrounding the bitch and the bastard- Bethany looked close to death, and he scanned the crowd- they all looked sick, including some of the wolves. Splotches here and there. Grey sweat ran from their temples. They were surrounded, and by his count, they had potentially forty people to fight, with over half of them being wolves. So be it. He looked down at Claire and smiled, and kissed her forehead, and nodded. “Let’s go home, together,” he agreed.

Deth’s men were hired for a reason- they formed a circle and Lestat charged them. The nearest stepped forward, brought his sword up in his right hand, and swiped across, as the other men flanked. Lestat pulled Claire to a sudden stop and she reached out and caught the man’s right wrist as the sword passed, and Lestat stepped forward and grabbed his right shoulder, and they drove their cuffed hands through his extended elbow, shattering it. The man and his sword fell to the ground. Claire picked the sword up, tossed it into the air, and Lestat caught it and hurled it to the left, beheading the nearest man and removing the arm of another. He pulled Claire back and ducked another sword and brought his left fist up and shattered a guard’s jaw. Another sword fell, and again Claire picked it up, and again Lestat caught it and hurled it to the left, taking out two more.

Lestat sidestepped a sword, sidestepped another, then kicked a man in his balls, grabbed his jaw and flung his face sideways, snapping his neck. The dead man wobbled on his feet for half a second, lost in the act of crumpling to the ground, when Lestat caught him and used him as a shield. He took two hits, and kicked him into the other men; he held Claire in his right arm and lowered his left shoulder and plowed into four men, knocking them back and the blades of two swords got him- one cut his shoulder, one his thigh. He grabbed one of the men by the hair, and flung him to the side, into more guards.

Deth drew his sword, and pulled Bethany close, and stepped back. She pulled her hand up. She struggled to pull her hand up. She dropped her hand, breathing heavy.

Lestat pulled Claire back as the razors edge of a longsword just missed her- close enough to shave the peachfuzz off her arms. He dodged another swipe, kicked a sword out of the nearest man’s hand, and threw the handful of hair he was still holding at the two nearest men. Claire lit the hair on fire just as it hit their face, and they recoiled from burning hair in their eyes, and noses. Claire reached down, retrieved another sword, tossed it up and Lestat caught it out of the air and beheaded the two that recoiled, then spun and threw the blade straight at Deth’s face.

Deth was just barely fast enough to dodge the sword- he bent his knees and the blade just missed Bethany’s shoulder. It clipped the strap holding her leather armor to her arms and killed the man behind her. “You want to do something?”

Bethany looked at the wolf and the witch, and the margins vibrated white, and gray. She raised her arm and felt exhausted from the effort, and ran magic out of her fingers and flung a wall of fire across the arena.

Lestat grabbed the nearest guard, headbutted him, and turned him into the flames, and pulled Claire behind him. The flames rolled past, killing a few of their own men, including the one he was holding. Lestat kicked the half-blackened man to the ground.

Bethany stumbled to her knees, and brought her hand to her face. What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn’t focus, and she had no energy, but she could not die here. She brought her hand up again, and all the margins were white, and all the colors were fading to gray. She saw the wolf and the witch coming, charging, killing more of their men, and she wove magic down her arm, along her fingers, and flung stalactites at them.

Lestat saw the stones coming and could do nothing more than turn and shield Claire- his back was pelted and gouged with rocks, and though the chains protected him, he was sent flying across the arena. He rolled to a stop, and stood slowly.

Edward motioned for his nearest guard and whispered something in his ear. A moment later five stood, and left.

Claire noticed, and opened his palm, and with her finger wrote: 5 Coming, and both she, and Lestat knew- it was time to finish this. Lestat picked up a nearby sword and ran.

Four men stood to Deth’s left, and five to his right. He leveled his sword at Lestat as the idiot charged straight for him- what a fool. Deth paused, and allowed his guard to flank left, and motioned two to the right. He saw through every motion this idiot wolf made and Deth easily deflected the incoming attack and kicked him to the ground. Lestat hit the stone floor, nearly cracked a rib, bounced twice and rolled to a stop to within a foot of where Claire had dropped the iron crutch. He coughed, and struggled to his knees, and Claire grabbed the bar and used it to pry them to their feet, and no sooner had they stood then three men were on them, swords falling on their heads. The witch blocked the swords with the bar but they were driven backwards.

Lestat brought his knee up and folded one of the men in half then the other two were on him and drove him back, to the ground. Claire blocked the swords again with the crutch and Lestat grabbed the sword on the ground when one of the men caught his forearm and cut a deep gash. Lestat ignored it.

The wolf and the witch scooted back, and back further, positioning themselves in line with Deth and Edward. Lestat swiped up with his sword and the throat of the nearest man fell to strings. He swiped again and removed a head, then blocked another attack and fell backwards. He saw the five elite guards coming- werewolves. He saw the other ten wondering what to do, and he also saw- some of them looked sick. Lestat regained his footing, and the nearest man swiped and the blade glanced off the chains on his chest and Lestat went flying back as if seriously injured, taking Claire with him.

Claire had the iron crutch tight in her hand, and they had fallen back to exactly where they needed to be.

Lestat feigned injury, and Deth saw an opportunity to kill; he ran and leapt into the air with a sword in one hand, and Bethany clutched tight to his left side.

Claire missed the first time she threw an iron bar at a coyote, but not the second- she hit that goddamn dog in the side and broke its hip. And as her fingers tightened around the iron crutch she knew- she would not miss this time. Lestat jumped to his feet and with his right arm pulled Claire up, angled her body, and swung her forward. She aimed, and ran magic down her arm, and scorched the vines off the iron pike as she, and momentum, and Lestat hurled her forward. She threw the pike with all her strength, and the smoking, sharpened iron bar shot through the air, missing Deth’s handsome face by half an inch.

Deth shifted in the air, and brought his sword down, and Lestat had nothing to block with but the chains- he angled his body and the blade shattered against his chest and he was driven to the ground by a broken sword and the weight of Deth and Bethany.

Deth raised what was left of his sword, to finish this fucking wolf off.

The iron pike whistled through the air and flew straight, and true, and went first through Edward’s extended hand- palm first, then part of his arm, then his sternum, his heart, his spine, then the solid oak chair behind his spine, and then into the low stone wall behind that.

And the arena turned as white, and quiet, as the soft rustle of laundry on the line. His personal guard went white, and slowed their steps, and fell silent. And the sun shone yellow, and the blue banners whispered in the breeze.

Edward gasped, and choked blood, and put his hands on the pike, and inch, by inch, drew it out of his heart. Hand over hand. James backed away with his wives. Edward looked into the stands- some of his people were dead, some slumped, some sweating and gray, some standing, some not. How? How had this happened? He pulled the pike free, smoking white in his bloody red hands, and it clanged off the stones. Edward stood, to attack, and then fell over the low arena wall to the white stones, dead.

Deth had his sword raised; he had Lestat pinned to the ground, but he turned, and watched Edward’s death, red inch by slow, red inch.

Bethany slumped against him, a whiter shade of pale in the yellow sunlight.

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