Winter Wolf (11 page)

In front of the cameras with the two dogs at my side, I wondered if it was possible to feel any more insignificant. Yet, there was something empowering in the presence of both animals. No sane person would dream of messing with me while I was guarded by them. The director took his time, his gaze sliding over the crew. I settled in to wait, allowing myself to run my fingers through Rocky’s tan and gray fur. Their markings did look rather German shepherd in nature, although despite the tan cast to Rocky’s fur, neither had any real brown or black on them. I had thought all German shepherds had a lot dark colors.

Maybe that was what made both of them look an awful lot like wolves—very large, tail-wagging wolves.

They weren’t Fenerec; no one would ever bring someone capable of turning into a wolf onto a movie set. It was asking for humans to get eaten. Muttering under my breath about the stupidity of some people, I picked a spot on set with a good view of the fence and the scaffolding at my back.

I was safe. I kept telling myself that in the hopes I would believe it.

The dogs followed me without any fuss. I unclipped their leashes and tossed them to one of the production assistants.

Every eye focused on me and more than a few faces paled.

“Oh, come off it already,” I snapped, my raspy voice making me sound like a snarling animal. “There’s a
reason
people like German shepherds so much. Treat them right and they’ll treat you right. If these dogs wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt.” To prove my point, I stared at the dogs. “Sit,” I ordered.

They obeyed, their tails thumping the ground.

“See? Good, obedient dogs.”

The director dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. “Take it from the top. Remember, the hordes will be added behind the fence on the green screen, so don’t forget them.”

The cameras started recording, and before I could do anything, a woman staggered onto the set. So much blood covered her that I recoiled out of surprise, tightening my grip on the rifle and lifting it a little in wariness. A gun was holstered at her hip, some sort of pistol from what I could tell; it didn’t look to be in any better condition than my human co-star. Maybe it was the director’s attempt to get a natural reaction out of me, but it worked—almost too well. I didn’t quite jump out of my skin, but it was close. For a sickening moment, all I could think about was Scott. But the stuff coating the woman, matting her hair, and dripping to the green screen wasn’t real—it smelled sweet.

And my memory of Scott’s keener senses told me I wasn’t smelling blood. It was sugar or syrup, whatever they used to make the fake blood look good for the cameras.

It wasn’t real.

My dismay faded under anger at having been taken by surprise. “So you’ve returned.” I growled the words, taking her in from head to toe, then staring at the fence and the oncoming horde to be added to the film later. In a drier tone, I continued, “With friends, I see.”

Rocky growled and I made no move to silence him.

“I…I…” The woman swallowed, twisting around to stare at the fence and the horde massing behind it. Then she whispered, “You were right.”

Without having read the script, and without any idea who I was supposed to be, I said the first thing to come to mind, “If I’m saying something, it’s for a reason.”

A sick part of me wanted to laugh. Life wasn’t so simple and I envied the pretend person I was playing.

She was far more honest than me.

The woman flinched, lowering her head in a submissive gesture. “I understand that now.”

“Cut!” The director’s booming voice startled me. “That’ll do for the first screen test. We’ll do more cuts of the same scene with variations later. Ladies, strike us a pretty pose with those toys of yours, and try to look intense. Let’s capture some stills of you together with the dogs.”

Still capturing was a little like modeling, except better—we didn’t have to stand still quite as much. With so many cameras taking shots from different angles, the director could get the stills he liked without having to rely on traditional photography, though I expected we’d get plenty of time in front of regular cameras.

Some directors liked doing that for the publicity.

The dogs followed me, as quiet and calm as I could wish for. Animals on a set were always a tricky proposition. But if it meant I got to act in a role with lines and purpose, I’d gladly put up with a few hundred dogs.

“I’m Marie,” my co-actor said, finding a spot near the haphazard-looking scaffolding, standing with her feet apart, her small pistol pointed in the direction of the chain-linked fence.

“Nicole. Nice to meet you.”

“Your makeup’s great—really intense.”

I wouldn’t sigh—I’d offend Marie and likely get myself in trouble with the director and any of the crew who happened to be nearby and fancied the other actress. I wonder how she’d react when she learned the truth. I was about to find out. “Most of them are real. The scars, that is.”

“No shit! Really? Damn, you’re tough. I hope you killed the bastard who did that to you.”

“It was a car accident,” I replied, a little surprised and pleased at how she handled the fact my scars weren’t completely staged.

“You must have one hell of a story to tell. Over coffee sound good?”

I was so surprised by her offer I found myself accepting before I had a chance to really think about it. The director made an impatient waving gesture in my direction, so I scrambled to find a pose suitable for an intense shot. While I was short, Marie wasn’t much taller than me, so I decided to start from a crouched position in front of her, one knee on the ground. I held the rifle like I meant to use it, trigger finger against the guard so I wouldn’t accidentally shoot someone, even though I knew it was loaded with blanks and the safety was on.

I stared at the fence and the green screen behind it. There was always something awkward about staring at nothing, pretending like something was there. I narrowed my eyes while clenching my teeth. Words didn’t work in still photography, so I hoped the tension in my muscles would convey the feeling I was ready to act—and fire if necessary.

I don’t know who gave Rocky and Silver their cues, but the dogs flanked me, their teeth bared in silent snarls, their attention also focused on the chain-linked fence and the green screen beyond it. I don’t know why I did it, but I held the rifle with one hand and worked my fingers into Rocky’s fur. It was thick, soft, and warm. I could easily imagine curling up on the floor with him as a pillow.

The creak of metal drew my attention away from the dog and my posing for the cameras. Things made noises on movie sets, but I never liked when anything
grinded
—especially not with me beneath it. Marie’s knee jabbed my spine as she too looked upwards.

“What was that?” There was a waver in her voice.

I wasn’t the only one who had morbid thoughts of the lighting system collapsing, apparently.

“Ladies,” the director chided.

It was hard to ignore the groan of strained metal, but I did my best, focusing my stare back on the fence—and whatever would lurk behind it when the digital artists were finished with the film. Shadows moved across the set and I felt the scaffolding sway against me.

Rocky growled a low warning sound. He stood with his tail tucked between his legs, his ears pinned back, and his teeth bared. Silver crouched, his belly pressed to the floor. His ears were also turned back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the director jump to his feet, shouting something, but his words were lost under the groan of metal and the crash of a light fixture hitting the ground near the fence.

Marie screamed.

The set came crashing down.

Chapter Seven

I tried to remember how I made it across the smoke shrouded set, but the memory eluded me. I wasn’t near the scaffolding anymore. Twisted metal formed a barricade of debris around me. I remembered the lighting coming down despite the safeties the studio had to prevent such a thing from happening, but the rest was a hazy blur.

My arm ached as though someone—or something—had tried to rip it off. Maybe something had. My forearm was ringed with multiple bloody gashes. I stared at the marks, unable to comprehend where they had come from.

Rocky shoved his nose under my chin, dragging his wet tongue over my face. With my uninjured hand, I took hold of his collar. I meant to push him away, but I barely had the strength to curl my fingers around the leather band.

That bothered me. I wasn’t that weak, was I?

I stared at the destruction of mangled metal and broken glass around me, and wondered how I hadn’t been crushed. There hadn’t been time to move—or had there been?

Why couldn’t I remember?

Rocky whined and licked my cheek again, pulling free of my hold on his collar. I tried swatting him away, but he ignored my efforts.

A splash of red on Rocky’s muzzle focused my attention on him. It took me several long moments to realize blood stained his fur. I stared at my injured arm, then at the dog’s nose again.
Rocky
had bit me?

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t force any words out. My head felt as though someone had poured concrete into my skull, smothering my ability to think. My ears rang. Worst of all, I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be doing—or why.

So I sat still, and tried to force myself to remember. Marie and I had been posing for the cameras when I had heard the groaning of stressed metal. I remembered reacting; I had tried to shove Marie out of the way of the falling metal scaffolding. Everything was a blur after that.

I went cold, my whole body shuddering. What had happened to Marie? Looking around proved fruitless; my eyes didn’t focus quite right, and dust—maybe some smoke too from the smell of it—obscured my vision.

Rocky whined again, pushing me with his nose. There was something pathetic about the way he ducked his head with ears drooped that forced my attention to him. Then my brain decided it was time to work, and I realized he must have pulled me out of the way. Feeling a little guilty over swatting at him, I scratched behind his ears. “Good boy.”

“Nicole?” Marie gasped out.

I twisted around, glass crunching beneath me. With her voice as a guide, I was able to find Marie through the haze. My co-star lay in a tangle of wires and warped metal. I couldn’t tell if the blood covering her face was real or not. She curled into a ball, and her arms were protectively cradling her head. Scratches criss-crossed her skin. Silver was crouched beside her, his ears pinned back.

My head cleared at the sight of Marie. I took in the wreckage, my mouth hanging open.

It looked like a war had broken out on the set. Figures moved through the haze of dust and smoke. As the ringing in my ears subsided, I could hear people calling out—some in alarm, while others gave orders. I heard our names, but when I opened my mouth to reply, a body-wracking cough tore through me.

Rocky whined again, shoving me with his nose. I fought the coughs by drawing slow, deep breaths. It worked well enough I managed to choke out a few words, “Don’t move, Marie. You hurt?”

She shook her head. Glass shards fell out of her hair. “I’m okay. Silver saved me. A little bruised. You?”

When I was sure I wouldn’t cough, I replied, “I’ve been through worse. Could have been a truck.” A hysterical giggle threatened to work its way out of me. I let it slip.

If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.

“Rocky, a semi… not much difference,” Marie replied, her voice wavering.

“Good boy,” I told the dog again, jerkily patting the top of his head. My arm throbbed and blood oozed out of gouges.

“Nicole!” Dominic’s bellow drowned out the other calls. He sounded close, though I couldn’t see far through the stinging smoke. Bursts of light above drew my eye. With a faint whirring and a hiss, the overhead sprinklers kicked on. Within moments, I was soaked. Marie made a startled, unhappy sound.

“Here,” I croaked out, feeling like a toad between the drenching and my voice.

“Thank God. Are you all right? And Marie?”

“We’re fine,” Marie called out, her voice louder and stronger than mine. “There’s a lot of broken glass back here.”

“Don’t move, we’ll get you out. Either of you hurt?”

“Nicole’s arm’s ripped up. I’m fine.”

“Nicole? What happened to your arm?” The sharp edge of alarm was in Dominic’s voice.

“Rocky pulled me out of the way. I’ll be fine. Nothing a few bandages won’t fix.” It hurt to talk, but there was something soothing about the water raining down on me. It chilled me to the bone, but it smothered the dust and smoke. It made breathing easier and cleared the air.

I checked the ceiling in a perverse need to know if anything else was going to come falling down on our heads. There was nothing left in the rafters where the lights had once been mounted. There were, however, broken cables, including the severed remains of the steel safety lines meant to keep the lighting fixtures from falling on anyone. As soon as I saw them, I felt my awareness of electricity flare back to life.

The collapse and resulting power surges should have flipped the breakers, a safety measure done to help prevent accidents from turning lethal. But I could feel the hum in the broken cables; the wires were live, and it roused my need for its energy. My body tingled in anticipation of claiming the power.

It would be so easy, if I wanted to steal it for myself.

I shook my head to remove the temptation and focus on the real problem: the wires above were live, and if they fell down, Marie and I would be deep fried and fast. I had no idea if being a wizard would protect me from death by electrocution.

It wasn’t something I intended to find out. Not now or ever, if I could avoid it.

But why hadn’t the power cut off? I closed my eyes and focused my attention on the surging wires overhead. The sources of electricity in my field of vision appeared as afterimages, sort of like staring at a bright like in the dark. Unlike afterimages, I could follow where the electricity went by thinking about.  I was able to trace it back to the breaker box.

Something was forcing electricity through the breaker; as intended, it had tripped, but something—
someone—
was bypassing the breaker to force power through the lines. With my anger surging, I focused all of my attention on the energies in the cable and forced it through the breaker box.

I felt the main breaker to the studio trip as a jolt through my entire body. The electricity to the cables died away to nothing. I drew a long, deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

We were safe—for the moment. With the main breaker tripped, the only sources of electricity I could pinpoint were smaller devices; flashlights, hungry cell phones, and a myriad of other electronics. There weren’t any signs left that someone had tried to manipulate the wires—using magic.

My
type of magic.

The thought of another wizard nearby chilled me. The thought of anyone capable of pulling my sort of tricks, with the intent to kill people, was enough to make me sweat. Bile worked its way up my throat and I swallowed it back.

“Nicole?” Marie’s voice cut through my thoughts and I opened my eyes to stare at her. She was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry. Head hurts, and I don’t want to move because of all of this glass.” My voice cracked, its hoarseness amplified by the smoke I’d breathed in. I consoled myself with the fact I wasn’t really lying—much.

“Yeah, I get that,” my co-star replied wryly.

At least she wasn’t screaming or panicking. I wanted to do both, but I somehow managed to keep myself together. If Marie lost it, I’d join her. I didn’t cry in public; I splotched, my eyes turned red, and I suspected my wails would burst ear drums or drive people mad.

“We’ll have you out soon,” Dominic called out. He hovered near the edge of the wreckage, his suit clinging to him. All of his attention was on the mangled girders and cables, searching for a way through the mess to get to us. Several members of the crew approached, burdened with tarps, which they started laying down over the debris.

All I could do was hope they hurried. Sitting in a growing puddle of water and blood, I understood what a mouse hunted by a cat felt like. But why would anyone want to kill me or Marie?

I shuddered and shook my head. Glass shards tumbled out of my hair.

Dominic and the crew worked tirelessly, making a path without disturbing the ruins of the set all that much. When they reached me, Rocky growled a little, but quieted at a wave of my hand. My agent picked glass shards out of my hair, muttering things I couldn’t understand. When he finished brushing me off, he grabbed me under my arms and lifted me up.

“Easy,” Dominic warned.

I answered him with a nod. While the tarp kept the metal and glass off of me, it hampered my ability to crawl over the debris without falling through the gaps. I slipped through several times, biting back the desire to curse. Rocky followed behind me and he struggled even more than I did.

When I reached the end, I sighed out my relief. The sound of sirens startled me and a stream of police and EMTs streamed onto the set. Before I could protest, I was swarmed. I fought them a little, twisting around to make sure Marie made it out of the wreckage.

She had and I almost cried from relief.

No one had died in a situation where it would’ve been all too easy to have been crushed, skewered, burned, or electrocuted. I hadn’t failed.

Not this time.

~~*~~

My patience with the paramedics ended when they wanted to take me to the hospital.

“You need to be observed for smoke inhalation, and you really should go have blood tests taken,” the paramedic repeated, his tone sharp with his annoyance. Any other time, his youthful appearance and his confidence might have been attractive, but all he was doing was irritating me—probably as much as I was irritating him.

“My tetanus booster was done last year, and Rocky doesn’t have rabies,” I countered yet again, my voice so hoarse it sounded like I had graduated from sandpaper to chewing on glass and nails. “I have chronic laryngitis, sir.”

“Smoke inhalation is nothing to laugh at. Nor is rabies or tetanus.”

Rocky, who refused to leave my side, put his ears back and growled at the paramedic. I should have corrected him, but I didn’t. The dog’s protective instincts had saved my life once, and unless it looked like he was going to take a bite out of someone, I wasn’t going to discourage it.

It wasn’t Rocky’s fault he was a dog. It certainly wasn’t his fault that he liked me, either.

Animals were smarter than most people gave them credit for, and I figured Rocky understood I was on his side. I didn’t like the thought, but it felt like I’d been adopted into Rocky’s pack. It reminded me too much of the Fenerec, but I smothered my dismay at the thought by allowing myself to stay annoyed at the paramedic.

“If I have any problems, I’ll go to the hospital.”

The poor man admitted defeat with a sigh. “I can’t force you. But you really should. Bandaging only goes so far and one of those gashes would be better stitched.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Dominic promised, startling me as he approached from behind.

Rocky growled, twisting around to face my agent. With my uninjured arm, I held the dog back. “Sit, Rocky.”

To my relief, the dog obeyed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” my agent said, crouching down and holding his hand out to the over-sized German shepherd. There was a breathless moment where I worried Rocky viewed Dominic’s hand as a living dog treat. But then everything was okay. Rocky licked at Dominic’s fingers, wagging his tail.

I relaxed a little, though I was still worried. It was surprising enough no one had cried out for Rocky to be put down for biting me. Some people were petty that way, even though the dog had saved my life—and Silver had saved Marie’s, although he hadn’t taken a chunk out of her to get the job done.

I hid my grimace behind a movie-star smile. “Quite okay, Dominic.”

“Go to the hospital if it looks like there’s any infection, okay?”

I nodded to the paramedic. “Sure, I’ll do that.”

It was a lie. I wouldn’t. The paramedic stared at me and I figured he had heard the lie in my voice. He shook his head, sighed, packed up his things, and headed back to his ambulance.

I bit my lip and tried to ignore my guilt. It didn’t work. Hospitals were scary enough without my worrying whether or not I’d cause chaos in a place so full of electronics. People needed those to fight for their lives.

If I lost control, if I broke something, people would die as a result.

Hospitals and I didn’t mix, and I intended on never stepping foot inside of one, if I had a choice in the matter. They were scary, but they were also sacred. Someone like me had no business tarnishing them. Lives started and ended in hospitals. My life had been saved in one, before I had become a wizard.