Ali - Seven For a Secret

Wolf shook Wendell again, but the king threw off Wolf’s hold more violently than before. His eyes tracked the dragon’s movements across the sky as a flower turns to the sun. Wolf snarled disgustedly.

“Huff-puff,” he muttered, “What to do?” There was the fallen coachman to see to, covered with Wolf’s grey coat and just beginning to stir; there was Wendell, oblivious to everything. Above all, there was the course Wolf had promised himself he would take – leaving Kissingtown as soon as he got there and going after his family.

But now he’d seen the destruction for himself. Seen the dragon. It made him want to tuck his tail between his legs and run away; it terrified him. The high singing it made hurt Wolf’s ears; the sonics, out of the range of normal human hearing, went right through his head. He saw the firefighting chain scatter screaming as the dragon dived, flaming them with pinpoint accuracy. The sour, off-scent of sulphur hit him strongly as the immense wings slapped the air on the downbeat that powered the beast back upwards. It’s playing with them, Wolf realised suddenly. It could have finished the kingdom the first day it appeared, so why is it still here? Why would it want to destroy Kissingtown in the first place? What does a dragon want?

One of the firefighters, still running, caught his foot in a hole in the street and went down with an audible crack as his head hit the melted cobbles. The dragon, having reached the top of its arc, turned elegantly. Wolf saw the muscles bunch in the narrow, sinuous neck.

He ran. He was aware, as he raced toward the fallen man,that the dragon was diving again. He could hear the whistle of air under its wings, the painful shriek of its song. Time slowed; he couldn’t run fast enough. Sulphur washed from behind him over his shoulder; a shadow like the mountain falling on his head dropped out of the already dark sky. Virginia, he thought. He hit the ground, grabbing out with both hands and hauling the firefighter bodily after him, rolling over and over on the ashy slush till they hit something solid, as a wall of blue flame seared after them. Wolf scrambled to his feet, expecting any moment the burst of fire that would end it all, leave his cub without a father, leave Virginia without her mate, but it never came.

Shaking, soaking wet, covered in ash, he turned around. A few of the townsfolk, grubby and sweating like him, were running over to them to help the fallen firefighter. The rest raced out of their hiding places and resumed the water-chain. There was a groan of struts and beams giving way and the ruined clock tower crashed to the ground, sending sparks and flaming spars of wood in all directions. The dragon had gone just as suddenly as it had arrived. Wolf looked over to where Wendell was scanning the skies, desperately searching for another glimpse of the beast.

“This just stinks of magic,” he muttered, angrily.

He limped back to the king, trying not to hear the greedy crackle of the fire behind him, but he knew it was too late. Having seen this, he could not, now, go after Virginia. After all, he thought, she’s safe, Tony’s with her, they’re probably back at Wendell’s castle by now, waiting for us to come home. He knew Virginia would expect him to help.

He saw Silver standing beside Wendell and something about her nagged at his attention. Now where did she go? Wolf wondered. Wendell had transferred his obsessive fascination from the dragon to her, and as Wolf watched, the king took her hand, talking earnestly to her as if reassuring her. Wolf thought he had never seen a woman who needed reassurance less. Though her stance was taut, it was not with fear. Rather, as she nodded and smiled at Wendell, her sparse gestures, her fierce, angular profile, reminded him of a bird of prey. He came up to them and the wind shifted. He caught a faint trace of sulphur. Silver looked up at his arrival and her smile faded.

Wendell turned around. “Wolf! My dear chap, I was just telling Silver how she missed seeing the dragon, telling her how beautiful it is.”

Silver dropped her pale eyes as Wolf went up to her. He ignored Wendell’s inane prattling, concentrating on the thrill of terror that smell had driven through his spine. He leaned in close to her and scented her. There was no more scent of burning on her than there was on him. He frowned, puzzled. His nose was seldom mistaken. She drew back, putting Wendell between them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Wolf heard the hostility in Wendell’s tone. He said mildly to the king, “I thought I smelled something. I was wrong.”

Wendell, frowning, rounded on Wolf, but whatever he had been about to say was lost. They heard a ragged cheer from behind them, and when Wolf turned, he saw a string of townsfolk coming to meet them, shouting, “King Wendell, hip, hip hooray!”

“Huff-puff.” Wolf was disgusted. “That’s typical.”

They spent the night in the charred remains of the Ho-Ho Hotel. It was one of the few buildings still with a roof. Wendell insisted that Silver come with them, and Wolf, despite his misgivings, could not find a good argument to change the king’s mind. It was apparent that Wendell was totally smitten with her. The cheering townsfolk raided their small store of food and blankets for them and cared for the injured coachman. It all made Wolf feel uncomfortable. They seemed to think that Wendell had chased off the dragon by mere force of his royal presence. Wendell didn’t seem to be thinking at all. Wolf watched him sit attentively with Silver, gallantly anticipating her every need.

“Shouldn’t we be looking for her husband?” he said to Wendell quietly.

Wendell waved a hand airily. “Tomorrow, Wolf. We couldn’t possibly find him tonight.”

“You’d think if he were here, he’d come forward when he saw his wife with the king,” Wolf said. Wendell frowned. “And what are we gonna do about that dragon, Wendy? That spear of yours is gonna be as much use as a sharpened pencil against that thing. You should get some help.”

Wendell said, “You are being such a bore, Wolf. Stop worrying. We’ll deal with it all tomorrow. I’m formulating a plan right now.” He turned back to Silver. She tugged her white shawl closer round her narrow shoulders, and her eyes met Wolf’s solemnly over the king’s head. Wolf dropped his gaze first; muttering to himself worriedly, he went to bed.

Wolf was up early the following morning. Truth be told, he’d hardly slept at all. He was too used now to a comfortable bed and a blanket on the floor was no substitute for Virginia’s warm body next to his own. His mind seesawed - did-I? didn’t-I? - over the incident with Silver. He didn’t trust her; it was apparent she was gaining influence over Wendell, and that the king was obsessed with her.

In the long hours of the night, in between missing his pregnant wife and doubting his own senses, Wolf came to the conclusion that fighting the dragon was just about the most stupid plan anyone could come up with. The only thing we can do is track it to its den, and then try to block it in. Maybe I can persuade Wendell. He shrugged on his grubby, still damp coat. But, huff-puff, if I can’t, then what? I mean, I’m not the king around here.

His stomach rumbled alarmingly as he stepped out onto the street. It was obvious that the townsfolk had provided Wendell and himself with the best they had last night, and Wolf was embarrassed to be so hungry now when he had probably eaten better than most of them.

Four magpies landed like blown washing at his feet at once. “Cripes!” he jumped back in and slammed the door. He caught a familiar scent and then heard the scrape of feet behind him and said, without looking around, “Ah ... morning, We ... your Majesty.” He used Wendell’s title in the hope that not irritating him might make the king more likely to listen to reason.

“Wolf, up bright and early I see. Good.”

Wolf turned around. The king was disgustingly cheerful as he paused, obviously waiting for Wolf to move from the door. His footman waited blandly behind. Wolf furrowed his brow and licked his lips, flicking his eyes from side to side, wondering how he could prevent Wendell from going out.

“You can come on the progress with me this morning, before my speech this afternoon.”

Wolf gaped. “The what before the which when?”

“The progress. I’m going to make a royal visit, you know, hand-shaking, saying ‘how terribly brave’ a lot; to whip up a bit of a crowd for when I make my Dragon Policy Speech after lunch. I’ve been working on it all night. Since you’re up you can come with me.”

Wolf moved blankly aside from the door.

“Wendy, you’re obviously already mad so going outside can’t possibly damage your sanity any further.”

The king stared at him as the footman came forward to open the door. Wolf followed them out, peeking between his fingers. Wendell lifted a regal brow; the wind ruffled his blond curls.

“What are you doing?”

Wolf put his hands in his pockets, crossly. “Nothin’”

The king shrugged and set off down the street with the footman a discreet pace behind and two to the left, saying, “Now normally, one would do this on horseback, of course, but needs must...”

“Hmmm,” Wolf replied, following him, distractedly. He looked back over his shoulder at the wintry street and the same four magpies flapped quite deliberately from one side to the other. He clapped one hand over his eyes and scratched his temple anxiously with the other.

“Can’t see you,” he hissed and hurried after the king.

Living in a magic love town had quite obviously addled the wits of every citizen of Kissingtown. The situation was desperate, the buildings on the point of collapse, the food scarce. One of the officials of what remained of Kissingtown’s council joined them on the ridiculous ‘progress’ and reported other problems to Wendell.

“The main problem is water, your Majesty. The ash has mixed with the recent snow and what with the dragonfire and all, when it melted, it contaminated all the surface water sources hereabouts. There’s a well that’s still pure, but ... ” the man shrugged, his unwashed and unshaven appearance told it’s own story. And his smell alone was enough, Wolf thought.

And yet, despite all this, the people were stupidly glad to see Wendell. They cheered whenever they saw him, and rushed to shake his hand. It occurred to Wolf that he’d never understood just how popular a monarch Wendell was. Or how practical. The king discussed at length a plan for melting snow through cloth to separate ash from the water, and ordered the official to assemble a group to work on it as the next priority after firefighting. Over the morning, Wolf began to feel a grudging respect for the king.

Which made it all the harder for him to understand Wendell’s complete refusal to listen to any word of caution regarding Silver, or any plan of Wolf’s about how to deal with the dragon. They were walking slowly toward the ruined town square, where Wendell planned to make his speech, and many of the townsfolk followed them or thronged the cold streets, patting Wendell on the back and cheering him. Wendell nodded graciously, talking to Wolf out of the corner of his mouth.

“Block it in its lair? That seems very uncivilised. I’m sure we can do better than that. I don’t think Silver would approve,” he said when Wolf tried to talk about it.

“Wendy, you wanted to kill the thing a couple of days ago. What’s going on? What’s it gotta do with her anyway?”

“Wolf, I’m getting very tired of your manner with Silver. She said to me last night she found you very ... threatening and I can see why.” Wendell sounded angry, though he was smiling and waving regally at the bedraggled crowd.

“SAID? She SAID to you last night she found me threatening? I thought she couldn’t speak?”

“She can’t. I understand her perfectly. I need only look at her to know at once what she’s thinking. It’s a communication I’ve never had with anyone else. She’s so intelligent, so beautiful...”

Wolf said, “Can’t you see there’s something odd about her? She doesn’t smell right...”

Wendell interrupted, frowning, “I hope you’re not accusing her of anything. I shouldn’t like to hear that at all.”

“Grrr,” Wolf stamped his foot. “She makes me nervous is all I’m saying, Wendy; and wolfies trust their instincts.”

“Well, luckily for me, I don’t need to rely on animal traits like that,” Wendell said, a smug expression on his face as he allowed one giggling, pretty girl to steal a royal kiss. The thoughtless arrogance of the king’s words stopped Wolf in his tracks, his hackles up. Wendell and the footman entered the square ahead of him.

“You’re completely wrong, Wendell,” Wolf muttered to the king’s back. “I wish I knew what to do about it.” He heard a flutter by his ear, and risked a sideways glance. “Cripes!” The magpies were roosted on the singed eaves of what had clearly been a shop. Half of its sign still hung lopsided over the door, ‘...URES FORETOLD, LOVES PREDICTED by appt to...’.

The birds huddled together, their plumage ruffled by the wind. He flinched, but the one closest to him called, ‘ack’ almost gently.

“Oh, that’s no help at all,” he said, exasperated. They took off with a noisy rattle of wings, flying over the square and toward the mountains. They were out of sight even as he followed them.

All the rest of the townsfolk had gathered to hear Wendell‘s speech, and Wolf thought the whole scene a sorry sight. It was another dark, overcast day and Wolf thought he understood now why Brock had cowered under the heavy skies. He saw many others glancing nervously upwards, their breath steaming in the cold afternoon. He still couldn’t get used to the devastation - the square was scorched, some people were perched on piles of rubble. They all cheered when Wendell climbed up on a hastily erected trestle table in the centre and raised his hands modestly. A hush fell.

Wolf edged his way through to Wendell by using his elbows. “’Scuse me, thank you miss.” He tugged nervously at his nose. He didn’t like crowds.

“My dear subjects,” Wendell began, “it pains me deeply to see you in such extremity. I have come to help.”

Cheering broke out from the townsfolk, and Wendell beamed. But before he could continue, someone shouted, “So did you bring an army, your Majesty?”

The cheering trailed off raggedly, and Wolf saw Brock shoving to the front, in much the same way he had. The bulky vintner looked even worse than he had before. His face was haggard, and his skin was grey. Wolf noted the man’s hands constantly trembled.

“Just how are you going to help us, kingling? What did you bring with you? Food? Money? Soldiers?” Brock tugged at the front of his grimy jacket and opened his arms, indicating the ruined town. “No. You brought your armour and a spear, a woman and a half-wolf.” Some of the folk nodded thoughtfully, and a low chatter began to spread. “How is that going to help us against the dragon that can do this? Who do you think you are, little king? Snow White? Do you think you can come back from the dead to help us?”

Wolf watched tensely as the chatter grew louder, and climbed up beside the king on the trestle table. If someone decided to get angry with Wendell, Wolf knew he would have no choice but to defend the pompous oaf. He growled low in his throat with frustration. But he knew too, none better, how a mob felt. At Little Lamb Village, a mob had nearly executed him, and this crowd was beginning to feel frighteningly similar. One half-wolf against a mob would not save Wendell and then they’d both be killed and then what good was that to anyone...

“Least of all me,” he muttered. “Huff-puff, gotta think of a way out of this.”

“No, I didn’t bring an army,” Wendell was saying in surprise.

“But there’s one coming, oh yes!” Wolf interjected, giving Wendell a significant nod.

Brock laughed. “What army? Wendell doesn’t have an army, do you, little king? That’s why the trolls could nearly destroy us.”

Wendell frowned at Wolf. “Yes, what army?”

The big, dumb, lovestruck idiot doesn’t even have the sense to save his own skin, not to mention mine, Wolf thought.

“Yeah, army. Ermm someone else’s, lotsa soldiers,” he offered weakly, wishing he’d thought more about what he was going to say first.

Wendell tutted and ignored him. He turned back to face the townsfolk. The annoyed murmur died away.

“It is traditional in these circumstances for the lone hero to face the dragon and that is my intent.”

Brock giggled and Wolf’s hackles went up for the second time that day. The sound went right through him like the sound the dragon made.

“Yourself, against the dragon?”

Wendell actually did look vaguely heroic as he pulled up his shoulders and turned his profile to the right. His scarlet uniform was looking a little rumpled, but Wolf had to admit he sort of looked the part.

“Do you doubt me, Brock? Did I not defeat the Evil Queen?”

“No,” Wolf began, “that was Virgi...ow.” Wendell stood on Wolf’s foot and ground in his heel.

This time the crowd’s murmur was approving. It was obvious even to Brock, as he looked around wildly, that he’d lost them. They began to applaud.

These people are idiots, Wolf thought. Most likely he’ll just get cooked. How can they believe Wendy can defeat the dragon? If that’s even what he means. He realised belatedly Wendell had not said he would fight the dragon.

The vehemence of hate in Brock’s expression made Wolf take an involuntary step closer to the king.

“We’ll see if they still applaud after you face the dragon, little king,” he spat. He began to fight his way back out of the crowd, who had erupted into spontaneous cheers. “King Wendell! Dragonkiller!”

Wendell soaked up the adulation graciously for a few moments and then said out of the corner of his mouth to Wolf, “Do try to keep your head next time, old chap. You nearly got us killed there.”

Wolf stared incredulously at the king. “ME? What about you? What’s this mob going to do when you fail to kill the dragon? Send flowers?”

Wendell put his hand on Wolf shoulder and guided him off the trestle, acknowledging the dying cheers with a wave of his hand.

“My dear Wolf, I shall negotiate with the dragon. There’s surely room in the Nine Kingdoms for people of all kinds?”

“Wendy, it burned Kissingtown! How many are dead? Has it popped by to say ‘oops, sorry about accidentally setting your town on fire over and over again and killing you all’?” He took hold of the king’s lapels and gave him a shake. “I think we can safely say it’s not a creature with good intentions.”

Wendell tutted disapprovingly. “Prejudice, from you of all people Wolf. I’m surprised at you.” He gestured to his footman and strolled off.

Wolf scratched agitatedly at his temple. “Grrrrr!” He was torn between following Wendell in case he got into more trouble or Brock. “Someone’s gotta show some sense around here,” he said to himself finally. He raised his head, and sniffed the air and caught, above the smoke and char of Kissingtown, the sour/angry/fear scent of the vintner.

Brock had followed a twisting path, almost as if he expected to be followed. That made Wolf cautious. He let the vintner stay well out of sight, tracking him by scent alone, till the scent he followed went out of the town. The cover was sparse, and Wolf knew he would show up too well against the grimy snow on the hills. But it was not hard to guess where Brock was going. Wolf took a different route and saw his guess had been well made. Brock was on the hill where Snow White’s coffin had been. He sneaked up patiently on the stocky man, and then stopped with a quiet hiss.

The destruction had not ended with the town itself. It was clear the dragon had been here too. The glass coffin was shattered; fragments of blackened and warped glass lay strewn over the frozen hilltop. Brock was holding a jagged piece, and the sunlight bounced off it into Wolf’s eyes. Wolf watched the clumsy, dark shape of the man yards away on the hill and recognised with a shudder exactly what he was doing. Because he himself had done it. Brock was talking to someone in the reflection.

“Cripes! But she’s dead,” he hissed, sliding on his belly back down the hill. Wolf trudged over the ruts of ashy slush that had formed in the streets, finally reaching the ruined Ho-Ho Hotel. “Huff-puff, this is terrible,” he whined. He caught sight of Wendell, waking out of the hotel, arm in arm with Silver.

“Oh my goodness, Wendell, it’s even worse that we thought; excuse us,” he grinned toothily at Silver and pulled Wendell away. She kept her hold on his arm, her eyes chips of pure ice, so that Wendell was pulled in two directions at once.

“I said ‘excuse me’, miss,” Wolf tugged again at Wendell’s arm until Wendell angrily shrugged him off.

“Wolf, let go of me.”

“Wendy, I really need to talk to you and I really, really need to do it without her around.”

Wendell rounded on him, “That’s it! I’m sorry Wolf but you give me no choice. If you won’t behave courteously to Silver, I’ll have to order you to leave my presence forever."

Wolf’s temper snapped. He snarled at the king, “That’s it?! That’s it?! I’ve saved the kingdom for you once already y’know Dog-boy, and I don’t have to do it again! You can deal with dragons and Evil Queens and mysterious silent women and angry mobs all on your on, your Majesty. I’m going back to my wife!”

Three magpies skimmed suddenly out of the dull sky, fast and low, curving around on their flight path till they formed a circle. A fourth came from the other direction, calling a rapid, magpie warning and joined the circle. Wolf and Wendell froze mid-argument as the air shimmered in the circle and Tony and Virginia fell out on their knees in the snow. The magpies broke away to the four cardinal directions; one made Wolf duck as it zipped by his ear, screeching as it went.

“Virginia!” Wolf went joyfully to hug his wife, but she scrambled to her feet and backed away, her eyes wide.

“Don’t ... don’t touch me!”

“Wha..? Virginia what’s wrong?” Wolf was still smiling but a sick feeling was congealing in his chest.

Virginia touched her cheek briefly - Wolf could see nothing wrong with it.

“You - you bit me!”

“Bit you? Virginia, I’ve never bitten you. Well, alright, I might have nibbled here and there but...”

“In the mirror, you bit me,” she interrupted.

Wolf looked at Tony.

“Tone, what’s going on? What mirror?” He heard his voice go up in a whine. This was going to be bad.

Tony was still brushing futilely at the wet ash stuck to the nap of his velvet coat but to Wolf’s eyes he looked just as worried as Wolf felt.

“All I know is we got to the Swamp Witch’s cottage and she was gone and Virginia looked in a mirror and Virginia must rescue herself this time, because you both must trust her own strength.” Tony slumped, hearing his own voice running on without his conscious control. Wolf thought he looked weary and defeated. “And don’t think I don’t know what you were planning, Furry. You don’t get to be an Oracle if you can’t see what’s going on. You follow your nose instead of your heart, for once.”

Wendell chimed in smugly, “I knew it! I told you so!” and patted Silver’s hand.

“Tone,” he exclaimed, grabbing the taller man by his upper arms, “what’s wrong with her?”

“She saw Christine in the mirror and she thinks she’s going crazy. Oh Wolf,” Tony’s face crumpled and he sat down suddenly on a pile of rubble, pulling Wolf down to his knees. “I’m so scared. I watched Christine go farther and farther away in her head and I couldn’t stop it and my god, what if I can’t stop it now either?”

“She saw her mother?”

“Yeah,” Tony wiped his eyes, “Who told her the baby was going to be a monster and three magpies only she could see, and a young swamp witch, and you bit her on the cheek and not only is there no mark but you’ve been here the whole time and I’ve been with her the whole time and when I pointed that out to her she began to think she’s imagined everything that’s happened to her for months and that she’s been crazy all along.” He took a deep breath and let it out.

Wolf got up and began pacing again, a great relief coming over him, “But Tone, I’ve been seeing four magpies all day, so that makes sense.” He scratched shamefacedly at his eyebrow. “I’ve been trying to avoid them. Four means ‘a boy’ so if they’ve been showing themselves to me there’s something they want from me, and all I really wanted to do was get back to Virginia.” He paced back the other way, excitedly, “And if she saw three, there’s something they want from her too. You’re in the Kingdoms, remember. Magic, this is all about magic. Things aren’t the same here as they are in New York, but it’s easy to forget that.”

The downward folds on Tony’s face smoothed out. “That’s the first time I’ve ever been glad we’re in this screwy place. We’ve got to tell her.”

“Of course,” Wolf went on worriedly, “That still leaves the problem of everything she saw in the mirror that made her scared of me...”

Tony jumped up and shook him, “Forget that! Just get in there and tell her she didn’t imagine those birds! We can sort the rest out later!”

Wolf gripped his father-in-law’s hands, puzzled by Tony’s vehemence. “Tone?”

After a moment Tony dropped his eyes.

“I don’t want you to go through what I did, son.” Tony pulled Wolf into a hug and said in his ear, “Go to your wife.”

Startled, Wolf hugged Tony back. Then he walked to the door. He paused there, wanting to say something - he didn’t know what - to Tony. But Tony had pulled up a rickety bar stool, and as Wolf watched, he gently set the overturned glass upright. So Wolf went to find Virginia.

She was sitting in the room he and Wendell had slept in the previous night, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It was getting dark outside, and the setting sun flared briefly. When it went down, it would be very dark in this room.

“Hello?” he said hesitantly, tapping on the doorframe, “Would you like to be rescued?”

She gave him an uneasy smile. “Wolf...”

“No, listen Virginia, I need to tell you this, please don’t make me go away until I’ve told you.” He saw her shrinking back so, although it tore at his heart to do so, he stopped short of her and sat on the floor just out of touching distance. She bit her lip, but said nothing else, so he took it as encouragement. He explained carefully about the magpies.

“...so you see, my little lambchop, you haven’t been imagining things.”

He wasn’t sure what his mistake was. She had been listening, he knew, and he could see the tension start to go out of her, but then, she jumped as if she had been stung.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why?”

“You called me that name ... after you bit me. It was so real, Wolf. I felt it happen and now there’s nothing there, no mark, nothing.” She touched her unmarked cheek, and her voice shook. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Wolf forgot himself and reached out to put his fingers over hers.

“Oh no,” he said earnestly, “I would never hurt you...” He trailed off as Virginia, plainly trying not to, shivered when he touched her. He let his hand drop to his lap and saw what she was thinking just by the expression on her face. Her grandmother’s apartment. Little Lamb Village.

“I feel like I’ve been dreaming, Wolf,” she whispered, her eyes huge and bruised in her white face, “and now I’ve woken up in a nightmare.”

It hurt him to breathe, his throat was tight. “But ... don’t you love me or the cub anymore Virginia?”

She moved back from him almost imperceptibly. He could scent her fear. The last of the daylight had leached away. Wolf could see clouds over the moon through the broken windows, still nearly two weeks away from the full that would bring his change with it.

“I think I did, I do. But I’m not sure of anything anymore. I don’t know who I am or who you are,” her voice scaled up, “or whether right now I’m drugged insensible in some hospital talking to a figment of my imagination I dreamed up to fulfil my fantasies. I mean, Mom was crazy, why not me?” She put her shaking hands to her mouth. Automatically, he reached to comfort her, but she said, “Don’t. Don’t. I can’t bear it if you hold me and I can’t tell if I’m shaking because I’m hysterical or because I’m frightened of you.”

“No,” he breathed, numbly, “I couldn’t bear that either.”

He got to his feet and walked to the door, emptied, hollow.

“Wolf.”

He hunched his shoulders, able to deny her nothing, not even another opportunity to wound him.

“I’m sorry. Please just give me some time.”

He swallowed. “Of course, Virginia. I’ll always be here.”

Wolf walked a way down the passage, and then stopped to lean his aching head against the cracked wooden panelling, trying to compose himself. So he heard her break into the terrible, gulping sobs she had been suppressing. His hands curled into fists. All he wanted to do was destroy something because he couldn’t go back to hold her. I can’t bring her any comfort. She doesn’t believe I exist. He stumbled blindly away from the wall, trying to grasp the concept. He had been labelled many things - animal, convict and once, wrongly, murderer; but no one had ever before accused him of being a figment of their imagination. How do you prove you exist? he thought dizzily. Unable to find an answer, he went back to the bar for Tony. Maybe he could calm Virginia where her husband could not.

Tony was not in the bar. Nor was he in the lobby. “Tone?” Wolf called. He went outside and walked down the empty, frozen street a little way, wondering if his father-in-law had gone out for some air.

Something flashed, catching his eye. Wolf frowned, drawing back easily into the shadows. He saw Silver slip quietly out of the hotel door and the light of the evening star glittered momentarily on her hair. She moved back at once to the dark, rubble-strewn alley and the glint of her hair was doused, but the furtive way she glanced around alerted all his instincts. Huff-puff what’s this? he thought. He stayed very still, keeping his breathing shallow. A waft of sulphur floated through the night air. Four for a boy. There’s something I have to do, he thought. Follow your nose instead of your heart, the Oracle had said. Wolf did.

Silver moved very quickly. To his surprise, Wolf had trouble keeping up with her. He let her get out of sight, confident in his ability to follow the smell of sulphur as she left the ruined town and struck out for the mountain range, as he had followed Brock earlier that day. But on the lower slopes, in the full dark of night, Wolf paused, confused. The scent had grown too strong; it seemed to be all around him. The moon came out from behind a cloud, high above his head, and for once he was grateful to it, for by its light he might see where he had gone wrong. Then he froze.

It was not the moon. It was one huge orb of a white dragon eye. High on the mountain the other eye blinked open. He looked again, his heart thudding. Then, like a trick of perspective, Wolf saw it. The mountain came alive around him, stone becoming scales. Dragon Mountain had not been named because dragons had lived there, as he had always assumed. The dragon was the mountain.