I See Myself in Your Eyes

Summary: Remy isn’t out of danger yet. He finds unlikely protectors, or rather, they find him. Read on.

Author’s Note: You no doubt found a little Easter egg in the last chapter about another familiar face. Or, maybe I just gave all of you a pounding headache from beating you about with metaphors and clunky foreshadowing, but what the heck.

Remy woke up with a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. His throat was sore and his mouth chafed from the sensation of a gag wedged between his lips. He stared groggily around him and realized the ground was moving beneath him. He was inside a covered wagon, and his hands and feet were bound.

He whimpered, fear clutching his heart. No! He saw sunlight streaming in through gaps in the wagon’s shabby tarp, and he was laying up against bundles and baggage, being treated like cargo himself. Remy heard guttural, harsh voices above him, perhaps behind him.

“Bet the brat’s wakin’ up by now.”

“Best t’give ‘im another dose.”

“Nah. Shaw likes ‘em t’have a little life when he parades ‘em about. This one’s feisty.” They barked laughter that chilled him, once Remy realized they were talking about him. The horses’ hooves were no longer traveling over soft snow; Remy heard the clops of cobblestones and the sounds of traffic. Were they in town?

Remy had made few visits into the village with his father, who didn’t want to tempt mischief from anyone who would attack him or his son, if his subjects found fault with his rule. Jean-Luc traveled with a troop of knights and bodyguards; Raven seldom went into town at all aside from her shopping excursions. Much she cared if Jean-Luc took Remy with her, as long as he got the little bastard out of her hair.

Remy felt them turn down the road, into what sounded like an alley. He heard the ominous drip of water sluicing down from eaves and gutters, and the sound of the wheels changed; the movement of the wagon grew smoother once they were rolling over packed dirt. Remy heard more voices swarming around them. There was a flurry of activity, of people shuffling in and out of doorways and unloading boxes.

“Let’s get ‘im out,” one of his captors ordered impatiently. “I need a pint.”

“You always need a pint!”

“Gleanin’ the kings’ woods is thirsty work. I’ve had a full day,” the man argued. Remy heard him hock disgustingly, launching a wad of tobacco pulp into the street. He winced, sickened.

All he could remember was something closing over his mouth and nose and being told to suck it in, and to come along like a good lad. The hands on him were harsh, hurting him more than Victor’s, and this time, Remy was truly petrified. They didn’t see his eyes or their unearthly glow before he went down. Remy descended into darkness, and woke to madness.

He jerked, startled, as the tarp was jerked away. Remy realized in horror that one of the bundles he lay next to was another child. It was a young boy, who had been sleeping peacefully, or perhaps lying in a drugged stupor like Remy had. The boy looked no older than ten. His blue eyes widened in confusion, then horror once he got a good look at Remy and the gag over his mouth.

The men were scurvy looking and had jagged, blackened teeth, grinning in satisfaction at the trussed up young boys. “Tasty lil’ morsels, eh, Jase?”

“Get ‘em out already, Donal’,” barked the one with the weasly looking mustache and greasy dark hair sticking out from a woolen cap. He wore a dirty gray duster and rough brown mitts. He reached in and dragged Remy up to his knees by his bound wrists. “You’re big enough to walk. Get the fuck up!” he snapped. Remy recoiled at his foul breath and the scent of sour, old whisky that clung to the man. When the man jerked him close, he saw the ugly pock marks in his skin and the circles beneath his eyes. This one was Jase, short for Jason Wingarde, one of the village’s most thriving poachers.

Remy was dragged into the back door of the alehouse, made to climb the steep, rickety stairs. He heard the pitiful whimpers of the little blond boy that shared the wagon with him and feared for him more than himself. Why did they bring them here? Did Victor let them take him?

No. It made no sense. Victor sent him off alone, and he was headed back toward the palace. Why tell him to head home? Why didn’t he just hand him off to these men himself? Remy puzzled it out while he was lead up to a small room at the end of the corridor. He noticed with dismay that there was no window overlooking the street, or even the alley. Remy was truly at their mercy.

These men lacked it.

“Here’s yer lil’ playmate, brat,” said Donald Pierce, the homely, skinny blond with a prominent, bulbous nose and a wicked red scar over his left eye that cut all the way up into his hairline. He shoved the younger boy into the room with Remy, not caring how he landed. The boy collapsed against Remy and let out a mournful wail, partially stifled by his gag. “Shut UP!” he bellowed.

“Ease up on the lil’ blighters,” Jase told him, chuckling. “Bound t’wet his pants. Shaw wouldn’t like that.”

“Folks he caters to will likely make these mites do a lot worse. Scared shitless, ain’t they?”

“Aye. Don’t worry, boys, you’ll learn t’sing fer yer supper, soon enough!” They laughed raucously and slammed the door, and Remy heard the click of a lock. Despair swept over him, and he longed for his father and beloved nanny. He wondered if Victor knew where he was, or if the huntsman could even do anything to help Remy out of this predicament.

The little blond beside him sobbed. His tears softened Remy and appealed to him, distracting himself from his own plight, since it was shared. This child was smaller and weaker, and therefore needed his reassurance, for all the good it would do. Remy worried the gag, trying to spit it out. The boy reached up with his own bound hands; his were bound in front of him, which made little sense to Remy, even at his own young age. They must not have considered the smaller fellow a threat. The boy hunkered close and fiddled with the gag, tugging on it. Remy twisted his face, working his mouth loose, wanting to cheer when his teeth were no longer forced open by the rag.

“…nnnngh…ouch,” he spat. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” the boy sniffled. “I’m Douglas.”

“Remy,” he offered. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too. I want my mama.”

“Well, I want my papa, too.”

“Can…can you get us out of here?” Douglas said hopefully.

“I don’t know. We have to try. Except…I don’t know where we’ll even go if I do.”

“Get us out! You have to,” Douglas insisted mournfully.

“Shhhhhhhhh…take it easy. Sit with me. You’re cold, right?” They huddled closely together, and Remy realized they’d taken Victor’s spare coat. The room was drafty and poorly lit. It wasn’t furnished except for a hard little cot and rickety wooden chair. The walls showed sign of termite damage, and Remy swore he saw rat feces littering a nearby throw rug.

“It smells bad.”

“You’re right.”

“I want my dog,” Douglas complained.

“Me too. My papa has hunting hounds. I like showing them tricks.”

“You know tricks?” Remy welcomed the distraction to his own fear.

“They do,” he corrected him, warming to the topic. “They fetch, and if you give them the scent of something, they can find it.”

“Hey…what’s the matter with your eyes? They look funny.”

“They’re just different. I don’t know why.” Remy looked away from Douglas briefly, not wanting him to study them too closely. Remy knew that his being a prince made some people look more generously upon his odd gift; even though he was handsome, his eyes weren’t common, or even natural. Raven never tested this theory for herself, of whether her subjects would still look favorably upon her in her true, blue state just because of wealth and status, or if they would curse and revile her.

Remy was about to find out firsthand how his appearance would be treated without the aid of his crown. Without his royal garments, Remy was a commoner. He wore no family crest or jewelry; he wasn’t even dressed in his realm’s colors. The lock on the door squeaked in protest as a key was jiggled in it, and someone kicked it open again for the sheer pleasure of startling the frightened boys.

“Oy! That one’s worked himself loose!”

“Lil’ troublemaker,” Jase told Donald, elbowing him. “Gonna hafta watch this one.”

“He’s got spunk. Shaw’ll get a kick out of it, he will.”

“Take ‘em down.”

Remy was forced to his feet. He struggled against their grip this time, no longer addled by the sedatives, and he was cuffed across the ear for his trouble. “Unless ya wanna taste me fist, ya lil’ bastard, ya won’t try anything else!”

“We’ll feed this lil’ snot to the bloody dogs, we will!” They jerked Douglas by his ear, making him wail. Tears ran down his plump, reddened cheeks. Both boys were dragged back downstairs and into another small room. This one appeared to be an office, and it was full of tobacco reek and piled with crates.

A hard-looking, massively built man with dark hair and narrow, shrewd blue eyes looked the boys over as they were dragged inside. “What’ve ya got, lads?”

“They look promising, guv,” Jase told him. The man rose from his seat and circled his desk, tipping Douglas’ chin up.

“Not bad. Might be able to sell him to the work house on Salem Street.”

“Bloody waste,” Jase sneered. “Sweet lil’ thing. Someone might want a fresh, pretty boy. Look at his curls. Sweet as a lil’ girl, Shaw.”

“Bastards yer showin’ ‘em to won’t know the difference,” Donald guffawed.

“Hush!” Shaw bade him. “Hold your tongue, Pierce, or I’ll be forced to cut it out.” Donald stiffened, then tucked a nip of tobacco into his cheek. He stared sullenly into the corner while Jase described their prospects.

“This one looks pretty ripe. He could work the rooms here, or at the Painted Lady. Look ‘im over. Look at that fuckin’ hair. A redhead, this one is.” Shaw made a sound of appreciation, then peered more closely at him.

“What’s this?” he murmured, tipping Remy’s chin up. His dark, heavy brows rose as he regarded Remy’s eyes, finally realizing what was wrong with this boy, who was too calm, too silent.

“You’ve brought a demon into my place!” Shaw hissed, backing away.

“What the hell’re ya goin’ on about, Shaw!” Donald accused.

“LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT HIS DAMNED EYES!”

“Shit,” Jase murmured. He pointed. Donald’s mouth fell open.

“Oy!”

“Please,” Remy bade them, “let us go?”

They answered him by cuffing him neatly on the back of the head. Remy blacked out.

*


The three traffickers pondered their options once the boys were bound and tossed upstairs once more.

“Madelyne likes unusual things. Her customers prefer the exotic.”

“Not much exotic about her girls, Don. Except their nasty diseases,” Jase joked, but he was still unsettled by Remy’s eyes. They’d haunt him in his sleep.

“This one’s unique,” Shaw considered as he sipped his ale. “He was a pretty thing. Demon’s eyes or not, we’d get top dollar for him. He’s young. Fresh.”

“Doesn’t look a day over fifteen.”

“He’s younger’n that, Jase!”

“Go up and see,” Jason challenged his friend. Donald scoffed, then rubbed his crotch.

“Oh, I’ll check ‘im, all right!”

“No.” Shaw got up and calmly hovered over Pierce. “Lay one hand on that boy,” he promised as he clutched his collar, “and you’ll answer to me.” He lifted him from his chair and flung him against the opposite wall like a bag of garbage. “He’s merchandise, now. I only sell new goods. You know that by now.”

“What about our take?”

“Once I sell him. Not before.” Jase knew the game well. Donald would have nodded his agreement, but his head collapsed against the floor.

*

“RAHNE!”

*RAHNE! RAHNE MARIAH SINCLAIR! ANSWER US!*

“RAHNEY! COME ON, GIRL!”

They screamed themselves hoarse as they searched the thicket. The girl’s scent was diminished by the snow and the length of time she’d been gone.

“I hate this,” Henry growled.

“Me, too,” Warren agreed. “What happens if we don’t find her?”

“Nay, lad. What you mean is, what happens to whomever ran off with her when we find THEM? I won’t suffer the likes of anyone who would kidnap a child,” he snapped.

Warren said nothing. He ruffled his feathers briefly beneath his long coat to stay warm; he had difficulty staying warm due to his hollow bones and scarce body fat, and standing in the snow wasn’t helping matters any.

*RAHNE! ANSWER US! COME HOME!*

Betsy hurried down the path, fingertips pressed against her temples as she mustered her psychic energy. She searched for Rahne’s psychic footprints, while Henry tracked her physical ones. Her brows were beetled with worry, and Warren thought he heard her sob moments before.

She continued to cry out through the forest with her thoughts, attempting to reach the barely pubescent girl.

“I told her I wanted to go with her!” Dani complained, not for the first time that morning.

“You had your own chores, and the two of you always stay out too long.”

“She stayed out too long, anyway, and now we don’t know where she is!” Dani railed, dark eyes blazing with anger. “I can’t feel her! I know something’s happened to her!”

“Hush, child!” Henry scolded. “You can’t always rely solely on the bond you share.”

“She’s my soul sister!” Danielle insisted indignantly. “Why can’t I rely on it? It’s never led me wrong before, and I always know when she needs me!”

“We all know that now, gal,” Sam huffed. “She ain’t been back yet. Rahney knows better than t’stay out all night.” He wasn’t intimidated by the hand she raised to clout him; Henry grabbed her wrist and made her drop the matter.

“Someone left meat behind,” Dani pointed out. “And someone fought with her for it.”

“Not necessarily,” Henry corrected her. “Look. Those tracks are hers. They’re smaller. There were a couple of horses.”

“But no one attacked them,” Dani argued. “We would have found them by now, hurt. Or something big enough to hurt a horse would have killed it by now.”

“That’s using your head,” Henry encouraged, tugging on one of the girl’s long black plaits.

“There were more than two humans here. I can still feel their psychic imprint,” Betty informed Henry.

“How many?”

“About a half dozen. Aside from Rahne, there were two more youngsters.”

“That’s odd.”

“This leaves a bad taste in my mouth, Hank.”

“I assure you, my dear, so do I, and it has nothing at all to do with this morning’s biscuits, well intended but a bit well done.” Henry had a bad habit of joking when things took a turn for the worst. Betsy swatted his rump and continued her scan.

“The worst part of it is, I can’t tell whose blood was whose.”

“None of it’s Rahne’s,” Henry reassured her. “The nose knows. Just the second wolf, poor wretch.” He sniffed along the ground and ran his fingers over the dried ichor staining a tall pine. “Handprints. Someone killed the beast, then wiped their hands here, or just held onto the tree for support.”

“Must’ve been some fight.”

“The youngster I can smell, now that I’m close enough.”

“Rahne?”

“No. A boy. Older than Rahne, perhaps. This blood’s not his, thank heavens.”

“Problem is, where is he?” Warren demanded. “Hank, let me up. I can look for them easier when I’m off the ground!”

“We can’t risk it,” Henry reminded him impatiently. “Whoever found Rahne and took her could just as easily set you in their sights if you draw too much attention to yourself, lad.”

“It’s not fair,” he complained, marring his beautiful face with his scowl.

“Don’t stick your lip out at me, young man. No back talk.” Henry’s fur along his ruff bristled and he bared his fangs at the oldest of his charges.

“HENRY!” Danielle’s eyes went wide. She grabbed his sleeve and shook him. “I feel her! She’s okay!” Then her enthusiasm waned. “She’s scared, Henry! We have to go get her!”

“What do you see?”

“She’s hiding,” Dani informed him.

“Show me,” Betsy interrupted, going to her and gently taking Dani’s shoulders. She bade her to close her eyes and relax. Betsy leaned her forehead against Dani’s and closed her eyes as well, letting her mind “see” what Rahne saw, using Dani’s mind as her conduit.

She gently crept through her psyche, passing by images of thoughts that weren’t her affair, for the moment, respecting her privacy. She looked only for sign of Rahne and followed the girl’s aura. The two young girls were linked from the moment that they met, the bond forged between them stronger than it could have even been had they been born from the same womb. Dani shared a unique kinship with animals, literally able to hear their thoughts and feel what they felt. The bond extended to Rahne while she was in her lupine state. Henry took in the young metamorph when she was just a mite, when her parents were about to leave her for dead. What Henry thought was a young wolf cub was actually a one-year-old girl, howling and wailing for her mother. He made soothing, low growls in his throat, crept up to her calmly and collected her against his chest, tucking her inside his coat.

All of them were foundlings, abandoned or cast out of their homes, or rescued from traffickers who would exploit them for ill gains. Henry freed Warren from a cult who thought his wings marked him as an angel, but who kept him bound, captive above an obscene altar. He was starving, filthy and emaciated when Henry found him. He still didn’t trust many adults or anyone claiming that they were there to help him. Betsy was an accused witch from the village she escaped one night, when the thoughts that kept invading her consciousness turned out to belong to the people around her. She started having fits of hysteria when she couldn’t shut them out.

Henry’s mind was a calm, tranquil place. His thoughts were organized and he was kind and non-threatening despite his appearance. Betsy still smiled when she thought back to the moment they met. She screamed at his fanged smile and blue fur, and he jumped back, shouting in surprise, dropping the bushel of apples he’d picked.

Danielle’s plight was similar to Betsy’s. Her second gift was to divine the greatest fear or desire of those around her. Sometimes she pulled the thoughts from their minds when her control of her own emotions weakened, and the images displayed themselves for all to see, often to the individual’s shame or embarrassment. She, too, had been driven out; Betsy discovered her cowering in a cave, petrified and babbling that she couldn’t shut out the pictures in her head, that they wouldn’t stop. She was barely old enough to begin losing her baby teeth. When Betsy took her back to the cottage, she soothed her to sleep and laid her in the same cot with Rahne that night. They realized that the girls had a bond when Dani began giving them reports of Rahne’s antics whenever they were separated.

They never slept in separate beds as they grew, even when Henry offered them two new ones. It began to dawn on him and Betsy that their relationship perhaps ran much deeper than sisterhood. But they were young yet, and they had all the time in the world to work things out and make up their minds.

Sam lost his father at an early age, and he was the only surviving child in his home when robbers broke in and killed his mother and six siblings. He huddled out in the barn, hidden in the hay loft; Betsy discovered his thoughts when Henry brought her to investigate word of a deserted cottage. Henry took Bobby away from his abusive foster home when he found him beaten and half-naked by the river, trying to rinse and dress his own wound. Even though it was blistering cold, he didn’t shiver one bit.

Henry worried over the fate of this child, too, if they didn’t find him, or worse, find Rahne in time, either.

Betsy felt Rahne’s psyche, sharing the same substance as Dani’s, and suddenly, she saw the world through the younger were-girl’s eyes. From what she could tell, Rahne was in an alley, and the ground was covered with mud and snow. Betsy shivered; she could tell that Rahne was freezing, wherever she was. “Damn it,” she muttered aloud. “Why didn’t she wear her coat?”

“Because of her fur,” Sam guessed, shrugging. “You know Rahney.”

“She’s getting such a spanking,” Betsy grumbled. She continued to scan Rahne’s thoughts. “She saw the boy and the man who were here. The man threatened her.”

“Hunter?”

“Maybe. Odd…he didn’t seem like he was hunting Rahne; not really. Just taunting her.”

“Not very sporting,” Henry muttered.

“She was worried about the boy. He was afraid. They were shouting at each other,” Betsy said. “The man pulled out a knife.” Henry growled. “But he didn’t cut him. You were right, Henry, that wasn’t his blood.”

“He better be thankful that it wasn’t, or I’d flay his hide.”

“She followed them.”

“The man and the boy?”

“No. The men in the wagon. They took the boy.”

“There aren’t any wagon tracks here.”

“They went on foot first. Then out to the road, a mile from here. Poachers, I’m guessing.”

“So Rahne followed them?” Warren asked incredulously.

“She was worried about him,” Henry reasoned. “Foolish, stubborn little girl!”

“Find her, first. Then, we give her what-for,” Sam promised grimly.

“She’s in town,” Betsy told them. “Hiding. Close to what looks like an alehouse.”

*


Rahne snuffled and sneezed from where she hid, trying to burrow further into the cart of goods. She wrapped herself in a large, empty flour sack to keep warm.

The two nasty smelling men took the boy into the seedy, two-story building, along with another child who looked her age. The poor wee bairn was frightened, and she growled under her breath that adults would treat him so poorly.

She knew she risked discovery and persecution in her transitional form, but she needed to reach out to Dani, and this was the only way of contacting her over such distance. Her skin was covered with a light coat of russet fur, not as substantial as it was in her full lupine state. The day was bitter cold and more snow began to fall, hardening slushy puddles and fortifying mean-looking icicles hanging over the nearby doorway.

Rahne was petite for her age and slight of build. At ten, she was wily and curious, and her inquisitiveness frequently got her into trouble. She had a grown wolf’s natural inclination to hunt, but Henry took great pains to enforce that she was a girl first, and that she needed to recognize the limitations and duties of that life first, including that her gift didn’t make her immune to harm. Rahne had a wild streak and enjoyed changing into a cub, loved running down prey like small rabbits, squirrels and voles, and enjoyed rolling in the dirt and dried leaves. Betsy recognized that it was hopeless trying to keep her clean and well-groomed.

She had brutally short hair, coppery red, and it had an odd, rough texture, not unlike fur. In her human form, her eyes were a soft, deep green that resembled emeralds. She was adorable, or would have been, in Betsy’s mind, if she didn’t come home from her jaunts looking like a ragamuffin.

Rahne saw the two men leaving the alehouse what seemed like hours later. One of them was holding a cloth to his head while the other one laughed, a nasty, brutish sound that made Rahne shiver.

*


He was cold.

That was his only thought as he woke again in the dark. He heard sniffling.

“H-hey…you awake?”

“Nnnnn…” He moaned pitifully and his head throbbed. He couldn’t think straight or remember how he ended up lying on the floor, without so much as a blanket. His wrists chafed.

“Wake up! Please, before they come back!”

“Who…who’s gonna come back?” he slurred.

“Don’t you remember? The two men who took us in the wagon!”

“Can’t…just…give me a minute,” he complained. “Head hurts…”

“They hit you,” the little boy whimpered as he peered down into his face. His blue eyes were red-rimmed and teary.

“Who…who are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m Douglas.”

“Don’t…know any Douglas.”

“You know me!”

“Sorry…” Remy rolled to a sitting position. Douglas looked horrified. The older boy didn’t remember him. Surely it wasn’t possible. Remy crawled toward the east-facing wall, toward something shiny. There was a long, cracked mirror standing in the corner of the room. He pulled himself close enough to it to look himself over, letting his breath fog the glass.

Red-on-black eyes stared back at him, widening in surprise. Were those his eyes?

“Why do they look like that?” he murmured.

“Your eyes? They just do,” Douglas explained. “I don’t think they’re scary,” he offered, trying to make him feel better. “Those men did. That’s why they hit you.”

“Someone hit me?” He was baffled. What had he done to deserve being beaten? Was he being punished, being sent away to this dark, cold little space? Why would they punish the little boy, too? He didn’t look like he could harm a fly. He was currently weeping pitifully and rocking himself.

They quieted at the sound of footsteps in the corridor and new voices, one that was female. “This better be worth my while. I’m losing money out here, when I could be handling customers in my parlor.”

“Have a care, now, Madelyne. Have I ever led you wrong?” Shaw unlocked the door and let the tall, slender, red-haired woman inside first. She wore black from head to toe, from her flouncy hat trimmed in ostrich feathers to her ten-button kid boots. Her skin was creamy and pale, creating a sharp contrast. What was otherwise a beautiful face only looked cruel. She appraised both boys with a sigh.

“Where did you find these two, a snake pit? Ugh…filthy.”

“They’ll clean up nicely enough,” Shaw promised. Madelyne tsked. Her high-heeled boots clumped across the floor planks as she crossed the room, approaching Douglas first. He didn’t back away, wondering if she would be any gentler with him because she was female. But her green eyes were hard and cold. She bent down and lifted his chin up, turning his face this way and that.

“Decent,” she pronounced. “Some of my clients like the cherubic-looking ones like this. They’re a dime a dozen, but they make me money. I can even put a dress on him. At his age, it won’t matter.”

“Sure will when they lift his skirt,” Jase guffawed.

“All they’ll do is bend him over,” Donald agreed.

“Want…m-my mama,” Douglas whimpered. Madelyne sharply released his cheek, then slapped it briskly.

“None of that!” she cried. “I won’t have sniveling! Not in my house, wretch!”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Remy cried out. His eyes blazed with anger on Douglas’ behalf.

“So you’ll consider him?” Shaw said hopefully, ignoring Remy’s words.

“Aye. But he’ll need breaking in, and quickly. Now what about you?” Remy reared back in disgust.

“Get away from me!” he hissed.

“Don’t you spit at me, you little shit!” Madelyne warned him. She stomped over to him and jerked him up by the arm. Remy was surprised at her strength. The hardness in her face reminded him of someone, another woman in his life, he wagered, who was supposed to be loving, but who was incapable of it.

“Let me go! I’ll tell my papa!” Remy croaked.

“And who’s that, then? Don’t make me laugh! You have no father. None of the trash that Shaw shows me ever has. You’re no different. You’re just here because no one wanted you. Shabby little baggage,” she sneered. She reached around and grasped his long, frayed plait, then slapped his cheek with it. “You’re pretty enough, I’ll give you that, but-“ Madelyne paused, then sucked in a breath.

Remy’s red irises burned with inner fire, brilliant as jewels. She saw her own fascinated, almost horrified reflection in their depths.

“Oh, my,” she breathed. “You, now…you ARE special, child. Wild, pretty thing,” she mused. She stroked his cheek, and Remy shrank back from her touch, which burned. “I can offer you a place in my house. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she purred.

“Ain’t like he’s got a choice,” Donald jeered.

“QUIET!” she snapped, spinning on him. His impertinence drove hectic color into her cheeks, and her green eyes blazed. Jase and Donald felt various body parts shrivel in response.

Madelyne straightened and dusted off her coat. “I’ll take them. Pack them up into my carriage.”

“Excellent choice.”

“Don’t pander to me, Shaw.” Two of her valets passed her going through the doorway, skirting around her to collect the boys. They struggled and were struck for their troubles and then marched back downstairs. Remy and Douglas shivered at the sudden shock of cold as they were dragged through the snow to a carriage in the alley.

“NO! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” Remy cried, unwilling to go easily. Douglas added his shrill cries and tried to tug himself free, but the passerby from the street didn’t pay attention. It wasn’t the first time they’d seen skirmishes between people coming and going from the alehouse, and Shaw wasn’t a reputable man.

Rahne saw the boy she recognized from the tree, and he was dirty, looked as cold as she did. This time, he had another little boy with him, and she could tell he’d been crying again. She growled and tensed. She had to help them.

In a twinkling, she transformed into a wolf. She bound across the cobblestones, abandoning the flour sack she’d used as a makeshift shawl. Her own clothing always vanished when she changed, only to reappear whenever she returned to human form. Rahne growled and snarled as she skittered through the snow. The townsfolk paid her more attention than they had the boys in the alley, this time terrified of the wild wolf in their midst.

“WOLF! WILD BEAST!”

“RUN!”

Several people scrambled out of her way, to her satisfaction, but Rahne knew her real work was still ahead of her. She bound up to the two men attempting to force them into the carriage and snapped her jaws around the blond one’s wrist.

“GET OFF! BLOODY GET OFF, BITCH!”

He shook himself, trying to snap her off of him with broad whips of his arm. She wasn’t a particularly large wolf, possibly a juvenile. Where the devil had she come from? This wasn’t someone’s pet!

Remy realized that the wolf somehow looked familiar. He’d seen her russet fur before, recognized her markings and green-yellow eyes. Donald succeeded in shaking himself free, only to have the wolf bound back up and claw at his face. She managed to catch his cheek between her teeth, making him roar in pain.

Jase scurried back, still holding on to Douglas, pushing the boy out in front of himself as a shield. Rahne saw this and leapt at him instead, jumping right over the boy’s head to latch her teeth around Jase’s throat. She knocked them both down, but Douglas rolled aside, sobbing and whimpering in the slushy snow that was soaking through his pants. Rahne worried his throat savagely, black-rimmed lips frothing with saliva and the first hint of the man’s foul blood. She barked and snarled, clawing at him, and Shaw shielded Madelyne from a likely attack.

“Where the hell did that thing come from?”

“Who the hell cares? Kill it!” Madelyne scolded. He found one of the clubs Jase kept in their rickety wagon and brandished it, raising it up.

Rahne felt a sharp blow that forced her to let go of the kidnapper, making her stagger on her paws. She let out a small whimper and collapsed on the hard-packed, dirty snow.

“Damn,” Shaw cursed as he watched the creature’s body warp and change.

“Well, well,” Madelyne purred with a smile, “what have we here?”

*


“NO! RAHNEY!”

“Hank, they’ve taken her!” Betsy cried. She held fast to Dani, who was screaming hysterically, trying to break free and run down the path.

“Hank, let me fly! Please!” Warren cried. “I can still see their tracks from the sky! My eyes are good enough, I know I can do it!”

“Aye,” he nodded. “Go. Betsy will stay with you, in here.” He tapped Warren’s temple. “Stay quick.”

“I will.” Warren shed the bulky coat and shook out his large, brilliant white wings, pure and downy as an eagle’s. He crouched, leapt and launched himself into the sky, flapping the glorious appendages in sweeping arcs. His makeshift family suddenly resembled ants below him as he followed the tracks that wouldn’t have been discernible to a common man’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” Henry barked.

“Let me fly, too, Hank!” Sam demanded.

“Take me!” Dani cried.

“Fine! GO!” Sam gathered Dani up against him, raised his hand, and streaked off into the sky, leaving a trail of fire and smoke after him that appeared to devour his lanky lower body. Like Warren, Sam was special, owning the gift of flight, but with much less grace. “Watch that landing, boy! You’ve got a passenger!”

“I will!” he called back.

“What about us?” Bobby complained.

“We ride,” Henry told him, “and you glide.” The boy nodded, pleased, and he closed his eyes. Bobby concentrated on the air around him, and Henry felt the shift in the air around him as it managed to grow even more frigid where they stood. Inches at a time, Bobby’s slight body encased itself in ice crystals, drawing them up from the ground. They spun around him in a charged, frantic dance, clinging to him, even fortifying him. When he opened his eyes again, he almost resembled a sculpture given the breath of life.

“Let’s go,” he told his guardians, and cold, frosty gusts of wind shot from his hand, hardening the snow ahead of him into crystalline sheets of ice.

“I want to come, too!” a feminine voice beckoned. Henry spun on its source, giving the child a grim look.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this, child. Not if you-“

“Let me help.” Determined eyes stared him down, blue as robin’s eggs. “You let Dani go.”

“She had to, child. She was the one best able to find Rahne.”

“I can help you get there,” she reminded him. “I need to do this, Henry. Don’t make me stay behind.”

As always, her voice held calm, cool reasoning far beyond her years. Henry sighed in exasperation.

“These aren’t kind men, child. They’re like the ones who hurt you. You don’t have to go through that again.”

“They’ll do the same to Rahne and the boy if I don’t go, Henry.” She thumped her first against her chest. “I feel it.”

“Stay behind me. Stay with Betsy.” Henry let go of his mare’s bridle and retied it to the tree. Now that Ororo was going with them on their trek, they wouldn’t need the animal after all.

*


The children rode across town toward the docks. Remy huddled protectively against the girl in an attempt to keep her from buffeting back and forth between himself and the carriage wall. She still wasn’t conscious, and her wan complexion troubled him. He was still shaken from seeing her change, unable to believe that she’d been a wolf only minutes before.

Madelyne watched them in amusement. “What’re you staring at, brat? Eyes down!”

“He ain’t listenin’, milady.”

“Do something about it.” Her valet reached into his pocket and grabbed what looked like a second gag, but he used it instead to bind Remy’s eyes shut, blindfolding him. He gave Remy’s cheek a playful slap. “Much better.” Remy fumed and fretted, squirming uncomfortably until she snarled at him to stop.