Page 8 of Bewitching the Wolf

I startle out of my thoughts as the elevator judders to a halt and the doors open.

I’m in a very different part of the Labyrinth now. Dens stretch out in front of me, tunneled into the rock walls. Huge fires burn in wider caverns, and wolfen guys with beards and tattoos laugh as they lounge around, chatting. Further away, there is the sound of hammering in workshops, and I walk past another group in a large cave who are in training, jumping around obstacle courses. All of them are in human form, but the wolf within is evident in their strong build and acrobatic moves.

Some of them wave as I pass. The Trojans have, for the most part, accepted me. I guess that’s one thing that’s easier now that I’ve shifted. I’d always felt something of an outsider down here, but the added muscle and agility I’ve acquired recently makes me look more wolfen by the day.

Soon, I reach the biggest den, in the center of the complex.

A woman raises her head from a large, engraved desk in the reception area as I enter. “Traggar’s waiting.”

It’s Louisa, Traggar’s receptionist, a beautiful, mature wolfen woman, her thick silver hair plaited around her head. She smiles, her long incisors flashing. Wolfen women are fierce and strong and… not my type.

Give me a pert little wixen with wide amber eyes…

My wolf snorts, but I ignore it, not wanting to rouse its ire just before a hypnotherapy session.

I take a seat and before long, Traggar appears. He pats me on the back with a muscular arm that I know could rip me apart if he chose to.

He leads me into his consulting room. The smell of incense is calming and the sconces are dimmed. There’s a large leather couch in the center of the room, slung with thick furs and velvet cushions. Dutifully, I lie on it and try to calm my breathing.

Finally, he senses I am ready.

“I want you to focus on events that led up to the chip being placed in your neck. I think it’s important…”

I nod. It’s an event I have no memory of, and all previous attempts have failed to bring it back to consciousness, even though hypnotherapy has successfully taken me back to childhood. To when Clem and I were just normal happy human kids, going to school, playing with our friends. Until our mom just disappeared one day. She went to work in her cleaning job and never came back, leaving our world shattered.

My therapy has accessed how I kept trying to find Mom, how I got put in remand school for being unruly, badgering the authorities to help find her and trying to tunnel through the dome walls.

But the events around how I became a programmed human; that memory still evades me.

Traggar takes me through the rituals that put me into a deep state of relaxation. Wolfen words wash over me, ancient and somehow familiar even though I don’t have a clue as to their meaning.

“Raise your hand when you are ready,” Traggar says.

Already, the memories are nipping at my consciousness. I frown, focusing.

I’m a teenager again, a sharp implement in my tight fist. I’m hacking at the hard internal wall of Sparkle’s dome.

Suddenly, strong hands grab me, pulling me roughly backward.

I must have screamed, because Traggar’s voice cuts into the scene. “Describe what’s happening.”

The memory gets clearer.

I squirm away from the arms that hold me and escape, ducking between the guy’s legs. I hear my voice, as if coming down a wind tunnel. “They’re gaining on me, they’re pulling me down.”

“Who are they?”

I shake my head, eyes screwed up. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by darkness. It feels like I’m suffocating.

“There’s something over my head, like a—a sack, it smells like a dirty sack.”

Then comes a hard thump to my stomach from a large fist. “Arghhhhhhh!” I flinch.

“Has someone hit you?”

“Yeah.”