Page 4 of Wolf Trap

Atrickle of ice ran down my back. The clanging of chains rang out through the stone walls and the heavy footsteps drew closer.

Arched passageways surrounded me in the courtyard, and whatever was coming, was hidden in the shadows.

I wanted to shout at Adara, to challenge them. Why was my death so important to them that they’d go to such lengths, just because I was with Lycaon, really?

For a second, I craned my neck, staring up at the masked spectators that lined the walkway above. Was Mattie here? Was she that cold-hearted, that indoctrinated?

It emerged slowly from behind an archway, metal grating on stone as it dragged a heavy sword. Towering high above me, its face looked part angel, part beast. A perversion of werewolf and angel. Twisted, broken wings hung from its shoulders in a mockery of the divine being it had been. Silver-white hair splattered with blood, a small snout-like face. But its eyes were what made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

As they stole right through me, dead, soulless. Cruel.

I sprung back as the creature immediately lunged at me with the precision of a warrior and the savagery of a beast.

My heart was in my throat. I didn’t want to look. I wanted to close my eyes and realise that this was all a nightmare. But its overpowering scent of blood and earth was no dream. I barely had time to prepare. I’d shed my blood and fumbled as I ran away from it, pulling a card from my pocket.

From the card in my hand, I could feel its magic surging through me, in my blood.

This place, their power, was heavy, and the magic from the monster before me was oppressive, his ear-splitting wail.

The card was the Tower. Envisioning myself on the card, hearing the collapse of the Tower, feeling reverberations beneath my feet, the place shook. Murmurings above me, I glimpsed Adara as they whispered, some nodding, others gripped at the turret edges as they stared down from above.

Casting aside The Tower card I fumbled in my pocket. The card I wanted was The Magician. From the magic in the tarot, I channelled in a gale, making it circle and sweep up around the beast. He roared and stumbled, confused. Calming my fear, I concentrated on pulling up earth energy beneath my feet, feeling it move up through my legs, my torso, an emerald light. As nature’s energy flooded my body, I pulled energy down from above, imagining a golden stream of light flooding my body. The green and gold mixed. In my mind, I saw a brilliant light and felt the heat swell through me. My breathing slowed and as the light increased, it radiated from me, growing more intense as it spilled into the keep surrounding everything.

A gasp echoed. Adara stood back whilst I lowered one arm, palm facing the ground and with my fingers splayed and the other held aloft, I shouted, “As above, so below!”

Lightning bolted down just before the beast.

A surge of heat shot through me. My heart warmed. This was magic, my magic used with blood and the elements and a touch of enchantment from the cards.

Stumbling backwards, the wereangel fell hard. I watched as its face smacked the ground. Still with my fingers splayed, I rushed to it, crouching over, close to its ears.

I only knew a little Latin. It was rough at best. But I had a hunch.

Whispering a prayer, perhaps I could reach the angel inside of the monster.

Recoiling, it rolled to its side, wailing as it covered its face. I felt a dozen eyes on me, watching from behind the masks. The sect leaned over the wooden railings, some whispered amongst themselves, and I caught my face, wrinkled, worried in their mirrored masks.

Groaning, the beast curled, drawing its knees to its chest, shaking as I continued the prayer. His cry tore through my heart as he suddenly jolted, moving onto his hands and knees, convulsing.

I edged back as an angel fought to free itself from the fur and muscle of the werewolf. The stench of blood and flesh filled my senses as his skin tore open. I grimaced at the sound of his bones snapping as the beast disappeared and the angel was free.

As his screaming continued, Adara stood deathly still. He was left shrieking, his voice hollow before the surrounding air thickened. A shimmering cloud of silver shrouded him. Then he became silent.

Standing before me, his face resembled a Renaissance statue. High, smooth cheekbones, straight nose and rounded chin. A tumble of white curls hugged his ears. His body was taut, lean like a warrior, fast on his feet. Small plump lips parted, but his eyes, the colour of spun gold, stared forward, lifeless. Soulless. Just like a statue. And what looked like hoarfrost on his lashes,on his fair brows, and twinkled in his hair. His wings were still bent and torn. He made no move. More like an automaton waiting to be plugged in.

Mesmerised by his beauty, aside from his wings, his perfection, I found I was almost frozen.

So I had unlocked the angel from the monster. What now?

I jumped as a voice shouted above me.

“Nunc!”

I knew that nunc was Latin for now and just like that, the dead angel sprung to life…

Hollow gold eyes bore into me. A glint of light gleamed from his blade. Wasting no time, I pulled the cards. Knight of Swords.

In seconds, I closed my eyes, visualising the power of the knight, as the sound of metal scraping on the ground screeched through me. The angel held his sword low, dragging the blade across the stone floor. It juddered across the metal grating.