Trader halted his soldiers at the end of Main Street. They stood in line across the road, a few mounted on unearthly horses summoned from the grave, others positioned alongside. All shared the pallor of the umbrae, a weak monotone, as though a painter hadn’t bothered properly rinsing his brush in clean water before taking it once again to the paper.

I’d bundled the baby in his patchwork blanket, and rushed him back into the bar. Violet took him from me, promising a safe hiding place. Now I was back to watch the oncoming army, peeking out from the doorway, John to my right, his Winchester loaded and ready to fire.

“John Wolfe!” Trader’s voice skirted the breezes until it found us. Then it rushed the porch, and hit our ears like the bellow of a bull. I jumped back. John stood strong, resolute.

I risked another look at our enemy.

Trader stood a full head taller than the closest man to him. In one hand was a black whip seething and hissing with the heads of a dozen snakes. In the other, he carried a large silver pistol that caught the sun, dazzling my eyes.

Despite the heat, his thick beaver fur coat whirled and blurred around him, everything in motion, seen, but not seen. He’d pulled his short top hat, also dyed black, low over one eye at a jaunty angle. It elongated his tall form still further. This was no ethereal shade. This man was as solid as I.

“John Wolfe! I know you.” His voice dropped low to resemble the snarl of a wild beast, “I’ve heard your voice, dog! You cannot hide from me.”

John sucked in a breath, and glanced at his feet.

I gulped the air myself then. “When did you speak to him?” I blurted out.

John frowned, and shook his head, “It’s a long tale we do not have time for. Do not let him hear you, Sowilo.”

The voice came again; it grated on my soul. “The coachman will not come, boy. He is with us now. He gave up his life so easily.” His laugh echoed up the street. “Hand over the baby, John, and I will let you live—and the whore by your side.”

Energy rippled from John, a current of anger that forced my skin to gooseflesh. I slipped my hand into his and he squeezed it. Without taking his eyes from the road, he whispered, “If the coach isn’t coming, we must escape to the south. Take the baby to the old mine. You can hide there. You’ll be untouchable amongst the lead slag. Seams still run through the pits, so go deep.”

“And you?” God help me, I already knew he would have a notion of bravery to feed me!

“I’ll give myself up. Distract him. Then call for help as soon as the moon changes.”

“You can change at any time…”

“Trader is predictable. He’ll use silver to drain me: rope, cuffs, net… The snake venom runs silver if he sets the whip on me. I’ll need the moon to get the help of others of my kind and that won’t rise for another eight hours.”

“Why wait? Call now!”

“They aren’t like me, Wilo. They can’t change at will. They’ll be useless against the umbrae unless their teeth are set for the kill.”

“I… I…”

“Why are you arguing with me?” He turned to face me, and hissed, “This is the only way! God has willed it—”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare quote your fucking holy quest at me!”

John’s face relaxed into a smile. He took my chin in his fingers, “Can you not trust me?”

The request grated almost as much as his allegiance to his Cause. I’d heard it far too often from men. I held my temper long enough to fake an unconcerned shrug, “We are stronger together, that’s all.”

Why had I attached myself to this man? After years of solitary searching, I was every bit capable of taking the child and running. I’d made my escape many times, there was no doubt I could do it again. And yet I didn’t want to leave him. For once I wanted company.

“Not this time—”

“Children! I am growing impatient, and so are my men. Time to hand the baby over, Wolfe.” Trader stood, arms crossed, while men and horses alike pawed the ground.

We looked at each other in silence. I nodded.

John sighed, no doubt thankful that my resistance was done with. “I’ll distract him. Then tonight, we’ll meet at the mine.”

I nodded again, but could not bring myself to talk. Perhaps it was not only Trader I did not wish to know me.

“I’m coming out!” John shouted, and giving the Winchester to me, he made the sign of the cross over his chest, kissed his medallion, and took a step outside onto the porch.

I didn’t want to see what would happen next. How Trader would treat my wolf. I couldn’t guarantee my obedience if I did. Instead, I turned back into the saloon to seek Violet and the babe. But I couldn’t avoid the sounds that spilled from the street and into the bar. There rose the thunder of stamping feet, the shades becoming warlike in their excitement at seeing John’s surrender. I forced my heart back to the stone it once was.

* * *

Inside, I found Violet crouched in the corner of a back bedroom, beside the wash-stand. She’d tucked herself far as she could get into the corner, her arms over her head, whimpering.

I bent beside her, and put my hand on her back. She flinched. “Violet? It’s me, Sowilo. What happened? Where’s the child?”

Her whimpering changed to full on tears. Between sobs she spoke, “I’m so sorry, Wilo… He took the wee one. I couldn’t… defend him and myself. I did my best.” She lowered her arms and turned her head to me. Blood trickled from a deep cut in her hair line and from her nose. Her eyes had almost swollen shut, bruised flesh already turning purple. A rip in the back of her dress revealed a long red welt across her ribs. The marks of a stick. “Once I couldn’t see anymore, he took him from me.”

My stone heart grew colder. “The baby?”

“Yes…”

“Who took him?”

“Old Pete. Said he was taking the bairn to Trader…” Tears dripped down her cheeks, pink with the blood.

“Hush, Violet. Don’t fret. Stop crying!” There was betrayal, here, but not her fault. Not everyone can be as strong as me. I tempered the irritation, “If you don’t, you’ll not be able to breathe.”

It was down to me now. The brothel-keeper must have wanted something badly to have made a deal with Trader. Riches maybe, or a pretty young wife. If I hurried, I could get to him first. He wasn’t immune to my enchantments, I could give him his heart’s desire instead of the demon.

I rushed back into the bar just as Old Pete returned. He had a bottle of fifty-year-old whiskey in his hands, and was turning it over to examine the label, a smile of joy on his face.

I blocked his way, pointing the Winchester at him. “What did you do with the baby?”

“My baby’s right here, girl. Right here.” He stroked the bottle from its elegant corked tip down to its swollen base, and gave me a vapid grin.

I shoved the rifle into his chest. “I said, where’s the babe?”

He looked from the bottle to the end of the gun, and smirked. “In the hands of Trader, my dear. Just where a demon dog should be, right enough.” He straightened himself. “The man paid me to look away, but I knows my duty to the good Lord—”

“So you took his money, then betrayed him?”

“A wolf in the house! Couldn’t ignore it. Then that damn yipping bubby at his side. For the love of all that’s holy, the howls it made. Beyond any human thing. Demon, girl. It were a demon.”

“So, in exchange for a life—a soul—you took a bottle of whiskey? That was your price?” What a low-minded snake! Of all the men I’d bargained with, he was the worst.

I lowered the gun to push past him, and check to see whether John and the baby were out of view yet, but he grabbed at the barrel and held it rigid. “Where are you going, whore?”

“To save them!”

Pete laughed. “They’re already gone. Trader put silver cuffs on the wolf man. He were so weak when I took the pup out, he could barely stand. They shoved the kid in a cage. The little bastard won’t make it through the night. You’d be best to remember who gives you a roof over your head, Sowilo.”

He released the gun, put the whiskey bottle carefully on the bar top, as though it was a fragile ostrich egg, pulled off his suspenders, and unbuttoned his trousers. “I’ll be reminding you now of the man you should be grateful to.”

I brought the Winchester round to his chest, and shot him dead.