Dusty racks of old clothes hang along one wall, there’s a water-stained sink in a corner. This does look like a dressing room. Like the kind we had at our school’s theater, or the ones I’ve sat in with Aisha as she did her makeup before a performance.
Walter sits before me at what would be a mirror, his head bowed, his hands clasped under his chin. He looks like he’s concentrating, waiting.
I’m close enough to touch him. Close enough that I can hear his breathing. Smell the stale musk of the room, and the pheromones oozing out of him.
Then, like a scary clown, he lifts his head and our eyes meet.
Before he can make any more sudden moves, I bring to mind the memories of Alpha Jericho being transferred from his sickbed to the gurney, picture him being wheeled into the back of his transport, his feet and the healers moving around his room at the pack retreat. I show Walter images of the empty summer camp, the abandoned cabins, the unused canoes. I feed him all this along with whispers of our fake plan, our troops stationed across Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs. I let him read me like a book of lies. Hoping he buys what I’m selling.
When I’m done, I release the connection between us with a gasp, drifting back slightly, but not leaving this vision.
Walter is still staring straight at me, and slowly, painfully, his lips stretch into a sickening grin.
“Thank you, Max,” he says, like he’s right here with me, as if he somehow, impossibly is talking from the real world and into the Lunar Plane. “Stay for the show, won’t you?”
Walter presses into the dusty counter and stands, moving to the door. Like a ghost I drift behind him, terrified but curious.He can’t hurt me here, a mantra I repeat to myself.
I follow Walter as he passes into the dark backstage area of a dilapidated theater. Sandbags hang from strained ropes, electric wires are exposed, a rat scurries along the edge of the wall. We move between two threadbare curtains and suddenly I’m blinded by a bright light.
Blinking as my eyes adjust, I realize I’m standing on a stage, a hot spotlight right in my face. Above me sits a crumbling proscenium, red velvet curtains hanging in tattered strips on either side. Walter is to my right, bathing in the spotlight with both arms held out wide, and in the auditorium in front of us, though it’s hard to see through the intense light, are hundreds of wolves, their eyes yellow pinpricks in the dark.
“Axis Pack!” Walter cries. “Our time has come!”
An enormous cheer rises from the audience. I do a quick scan, trying to scent out who these wolves are, and I’m overwhelmed by an intense and powerful stench. These wolves are alphas, betas, powerful warriors, and rogues. A whole mismatched crowd of scents and vibes. But with a few things in common.
These wolves are strong, powerful, and angry.
Thirsty for blood.
“Just as I predicted, our enemy has given themselves away.” Walter glances in my direction, and even though I know the other wolves can’t see me, I swear he can, because he smirks and winks. I feel like throwing up. “I know where their alphais stationed, and I know where we will stage our attack. Wolves of the Axis Pack, you have placed your trust in me, and soon you will be rewarded tenfold. This is a dawning. And you are the wolves who will forge this new world from the blood of our enemies. The blue moon is upon us. Tomorrow, we move out, and when the war is done, we will build a new world in our image, a world where the righteous are given their due. Axis Pack, are you with me?!”
Like thunder the crowd erupts, sending me back a step or two.
“ARE YOU WITH ME?!” Walter bellows once more.
And as the cheers and bellows of his followers rise to the rafters, filling the space, so loud I worry the roof of this derelict theater might cave in, Walter turns to me and says, quietly enough that no one except me can hear,
“See you soon, Blood Wolf.”
THE CAVALRY ARRIVES
With a gasp I return to the waking world.
“Max!”
Jasper is up instantly, coming to support me before I collapse onto the damp boards of the amphitheater stage. Omar hangs back, watching me with a look of concern and curiosity.
“Are you okay?” Jasper asks, holding me to his chest.
“I’m fine,” I say through panting breaths. “I’m fine. It’s done.”
“It’s done?” Jasper asks.
“Walter knows we’re here, and he thinks we’re alone.”
“It worked?” Omar asks.
I nod. “It worked, but ...” I stare into Jasper’s wide green eyes, worry etched all over his face. Worry he’s right to feel. “I saw ... It was only a fraction of the numbers he’s accumulated, the officers of his army maybe, but they were strong, and they want our blood. They want to kill us all. Jasper, they’re coming for us.”
