The Wolf & The Witch

The city of Leiga dwarfed the forests. Lush fields, now asleep for the winter, surrounded the city on every side, and all the houses were tall, and all the lights were on, and they cast long shadows in the evening sun. The wolf and the witch left their horses tied to a tree in the forest a few miles away and entered the city on foot. Lestat wore leather pants, and a black cotton shirt, and Claire the same. Plus the dire wolf cloak. Plus the cotton strip of fabric she’d carried with her from Favoris. Wearing it around her neck to disguise a slave collar was not what she had in mind for the piece of fabric. She looked up at him and growled.

“I’m sorry. But drinking beer was not my idea.”

She glared at him. “It sure the fuck was your idea- did you not grab it off a goddamn shelf? I set a woman’s hair on fire for your ass to get that beer.” Claire pulled him to the side of the street and kicked a wooden barrel over as they walked past. Garbage spilled into the stone gutter. “Goddamnit- your ass is in trouble.”

Lestat felt bad and looked down. She was right- this was mostly his fault, although, in hindsight, he was certain the beer had been laced with something- maybe moss. It had too hard a bite for normal beer.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and was. But he knew apologies did not fix everything- he had to think of some way to make this up to her.

They walked to the only place they thought could help them: the slave auction house. It was an opulent building- five stories of stone, and glass windows, and all of them bright. The wolf and the witch looked at the sky before they entered- the city was so bright they could no longer see the stars.

Lestat’s home was about seventy miles south of here, and though this was one of the larger cities in the Land of Moss, he didn’t like it. “Ever been to this city before?”

“Once. You?”

“Once. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.”

Lestat squeezed her hand, and turned to face her, before they entered. “I am sorry. I just… thought the necklace was beautiful, and thought you were beautiful, and... sorry for grabbing at you.”

“It’s fine, goddamnit. Stop apologizing. But I’m never getting you drunk again, and you’re still in trouble. Come on.”

They walked up the steps to the auction house and were greeted by a young woman who led them to a side room and asked them to sit. Her skin, and her dress, were the same translucent yellow as the walls and the ceilings and the floor- everything was white but glowed with the strong yellow light of lanterns and reflected light from lanterns- each room had so many glowing lanterns on stands, hanging from the ceilings, that the light ceased flickering.

They did not sit as directed. Instead, Claire pulled the cotton fabric down and showed the woman her collar. “We need to talk to-“

“Oh my,” the woman gasped, at the sight of the collar. “That’s a… are you for sale?”

Claire growled and pulled her right hand back and slapped the woman hard enough to knock straight teeth crooked. She grabbed her by the front of her dress, and pulled her startled face around. A drop of blood ran from her nostril. “I will kill you, you prissy little bitch. Put someone in front of me right the fuck now who can remove this collar.”

“Um… um… We don’t condone…”

Claire shoved the woman away, pulled her bow off her side, notched an arrow, and leveled it point-blank at her face.

The woman scurried away, and a few minutes later a man came in, dressed in a maroon suit. He looked them over, ushered them out and down a glowing stone hallway, and into a side room. He shut the door and motioned for them to sit. The wolf and the witch sat. “How can I help you?”

“Remove this,” Claire ordered, and showed him the collar around her throat.

The owner of the auction house, Saden, had only seen a collar that impressive a few times before. It was a very loved slave who wore such a collar. “There is only one way to remove that collar.”

She growled. “How?” She was tempted to pull the knife off of her boot and start cutting people.

“You have to go up for auction. You have to stand inside the seal, and you will go to the highest bidder. At that point, he, or she, can release the collar if they choose to, with a simple incantation. But I-”

“And what happens to her if she never goes to auction?” Lestat asked.

Claire turned on him the way death does old people- a sickle sharpened to cut rickety bones, and sagging skin, and hollow eyes. Growls rumbled up her stomach, her chest, her throat. “I will kill your ass.”

Lestat made a mental note: she did not like collars.

“If she never goes to auction-“ Claire pulled her hand back to slap the man and Lestat caught her. He continued. “The collar will weaken her to the point that she has no choice but to find an owner in order to survive.”

The man approached Claire to take her hand and Lestat shoved him back into his chair. “Sir… we will take her to her room, and give her suitable clothes, until the sell.”

“You will not lay a hand on her. When’s the sell?”

“We have auctions daily, at ten in the morning.”

That gave Lestat less than twelve hours. He looked at Claire- she was furious, but she also looked nervous. He turned to her. “I’m sorry, Claire. I will fix this. Relax, and rest tonight. I will not fail you.”

She looked up at him, glaring, but released some of her anger. This wasn’t entirely his fault. She huffed, and squeezed his hand.

They followed Saden out and to the second floor, and down the hall to her temporary room. He opened the door and Claire stepped inside, and Lestat followed, when Saden put his hand out, to stop him. “Sir, no men are allowed in the rooms of unsold slaves. Please wait outside.”

Lestat pushed the man into the wall, and took the door key from his hand, and leaned in- “Let me make something very clear to you- she is my mate, both today, and tomorrow. Neither you, nor a collar, nor a locked door, will keep me from her. Treat her like the queen she is, and I will make you a very rich man. Treat her any other way and I’ll kill you and your family, and burn this auction house to the fucking ground.”

Claire heard those words, and the rest of her anger fell to the floor, and the ribbons of her heart fluttered, and her breath caught. She is my mate. Queen.

Lestat walked into the room, and put his arms around her, from behind. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he whispered, and squeezed her. She turned, and looked at him- slightly scared, and a little nervous. He kissed her forehead and was gone.

*

What was Claire’s dollar value, Lestat wondered, as he crept across the manicured lawn of one of the largest mansions in town. He had asked a few workers on his way out what the most gold spent on a slave was- their answer: eight-hundred gold coins; most sold for a few hundred or less. But if Lestat owned so much gold that wooden floors and support beams couldn’t hold its weight, how much of that would he spend on Claire? He knew the answer: He missed her smell, he missed the sound of her voice, and her cussing, and ridiculous questions, and his hand missed hers- small and warm, and his eyes missed her blushing cheeks, and crinkled nose when she smiled and laughed, but it was his heart that missed her the most. His heart was weighed down with worry. And so the answer was easy: all the gold.

He walked to the back of the stone house, knelt down, and placed his palms on the ground and his ear on the wall, and waited. He could feel through the vibrations multiple people moving around inside. But he didn’t smell wolves. He hadn’t smelled a wolf since entering this city. Through the vibrations he counted ten people, some women. And surely some others were asleep already. He looked up at the windows- many of them were bright with the light from lanterns and mirrors. He drew his sword, pushed the back door open, and entered. He would rather not kill if he didn’t have to, but that wasn’t going to work- the first maid screamed, and he killed her. Guards came running and he killed them as well. So be it. He walked through the house, and up the steps, killing as they came, until finally the head of the house- a pudgy man, with fat jowls and a red face, appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Wh-what do you want. Stay back.” He held a sword up and pointed it at Lestat.

“All your gold, or you, and everyone else in this house, dies.”

“You can go to hell. Guards! Guards!”

Lestat stomped up the steps, knocked the sword out of his hand and put the tip of his own sword at the man’s throat. “Last chance. I don’t have all night.”

Lestat left the house with gold weighing down his pockets, and another lie to add to his heap of sins: he could not leave these people alive- none of them. He killed every person in the house, set it on fire, and walked to the next mansion.

Three hours later and Lestat had killed over a hundred people. City guards and a few trained soldiers roamed the streets, and his pack was so full of gold that he had to use a sturdy wooden box to carry more, and over the next hour that box continued to fill.

It was nearing three in the morning when he assumed he had wiped out the majority of the wealth in this city. Multiple fires burned, and large numbers of men were working on putting them out. He had stolen from every large house in the city, and left a wake of dead bodies, and he only stopped because he was at his physical limit- he was carrying a sturdy wooden box with nearly two-hundred pounds of gold coins and the pack on his back felt like another seventy, and he was sleepy, and he missed Claire. And if this wasn't enough gold, he would kill everyone in this entire fucking town, and be the only bidder left standing. He walked up to the auction house- most of the windows still bright with the light of lanterns, and entered. He didn’t bother speaking to the employees, but walked straight to Claire’s room, unlocked the door, and stepped in.

She shot up at the sound, her heart beating fast, then breathed a sigh of relief.

He sat the box down with a thud, and his pack, and his sword, and draped his cloak overtop, and turned, and she was in his arms.

“I… I missed you,” she said, and looked up at him. Claire could tell- the collar was weakening her. She could tell by her magic.

She looked nervous, and worried, and Lestat could see it in her eyes, even in the dark- she was scared. “I missed you, too. I thought you would be asleep.”

“Not… not without…” and Claire pulled her lip in and felt tears threatening, and put her head on his chest. “Don’t ever leave me like that again. Ok? Promise.”

Lestat sighed- putting that stupid collar on her ended up resulting in tears. He locked the door, and carried her to bed, and laid her down. He slipped his boots off, and his shirt, laid beside her, and held her. “I promise you I will not leave you again.”

She clutched tightly to him. Claire had not realized how much her body, and heart, needed him. She couldn’t sleep, and her emotions became more and more frazzled with each passing hour he had been gone, and she had spent the entire time locked in a room, looking out the window, not knowing if he would ever be back. She didn’t care about the collar, or the priestess, or anything else- she just wanted him; she needed him.

He held her close, and tugged her shirt off, and scratched her back, and the long, quiet minutes settled around them, the way dust motes settle in the still air on dull afternoons.

“I miss the cuff,” she said, her voice very low; she was embarrassed to say such a stupid thing. They could actually use the bathroom in private now, and eat food with both hands. They could fight with both hands, and he could shift, and she could use more magic, and they finally had some freedom, but the reality for Claire was that, if they had still been cuffed it would’ve been impossible for him to put that collar on her; if they had still been cuffed together she would not have spent the last six hours alone in a cold, quiet room. She had been worried about missing the cuff, which is why she brought the strip of cotton fabric in the first place, but thought she was being stupid.

“I miss it, too,” he said, quietly, and held her on his chest. Such a stupid thing to say, but he felt it in his heart- the need to have her close, in his hands, in his arms, by his side, at all times.

She could not hold him tight enough, and he scratched her, and petted her, and held her close the rest of the night.

*

Lestat was ushered out of her room the next morning. He took his box of gold with him, and walked to the auction floor and took a seat in the back. He eventually grabbed a worker, and asked about removing the collar from a purchased slave, and she taught him the incantation- fairly simple, but he wrote it down and practiced it as more men came and the seats slowly filled. Lanterns and mirrors were brought to the auction stage, and positioned so that every slave brought forward would be fully illuminated. There was a large circular seal etched into the stage- a contract seal.

And then the auction started. The first slave brought into the light was a short, petite brunette. The amount of clothing she wore could fit in a glass jar: a thin, white cotton top cut so that the curves of her breasts were visible underneath, and a thin chain around her waist, holding a small piece of fabric over her sex. The bidding started, and she was purchased for eighty gold. Her new owner walked up, took a chain from Saben, and clicked the chain in place, and the woman was now an owned slave. The magic seal on the floor transferred ownership of her body to her new owner, and he led her away.

Three more women were brought to the stage, all wearing the same- not much. Two of them had shackles on their wrists and ankles, and a chain running to each. They could move, but running, or fighting, or protecting themselves from rape, would be a challenge.

Claire refused to change clothes- fuck no. No way in hell was she wearing such skimpy clothing onto a stage in front of men. The older women tried to force her, but they finally gave up once she started setting their eyebrows on fire, and so she was led down the hall, down the steps, and out to the stage. The lights were bright, and the old women guided her to center so that she was standing in the middle of a large circular seal. She couldn’t see who was in the audience- the lights were too bright, but she assumed it was all men. She looked for Lestat and couldn’t see him and worried. What if he wasn’t here? She chewed on her upper lip, squirming under the light.

“Bidding starts at fifty gold,” Saben announced, and walked up to stand beside Claire.

“Fifty-five.”

“Seventy.”

Claire looked into the crowd, but couldn’t see the men, no matter how she squinted or blocked her eyes. She was still wearing tight leather pants, and her flannel shirt, and reached up and tugged it closed over her cleavage. But none of the voices so far were Lestat’s, and even though this had just started, she worried. Was he late? Did someone steal his gold? Or arrest him? Lestat… please… She was no longer mad at him- she couldn’t be. He did not intend for any of this to happen, and all her anger had turned to worry. What if another man bought her?

“One-hundred.”

“One-fifty.”

Claire had realized something about herself in the long hours last night spent without him- at some point along the way she had started changing, because of him. She tried to keep her spirit quiet, and locked away, but he had a way of pulling fire out of her, and he was ok with all of it- he was able to handle her at her hottest. And she knew she was braver than she would normally be around him. She cussed more, and smiled more, and laughed more, and she badly needed him. Her heart was full of worry, and fear, and doubt, as she stood on the stage, alone, being bid on as if she were an animal- an object. Which only served to remind her of one very large truth: Lestat was the only person in her life who had not, and did not, treat her like an object. He treated her like she was very precious to him. Lestat… please…

“One-seventy.”

“Going once, twice-“

“Two-hundred.”

“Three-hundred.”

“Four.”

Different men, all with different voices, none Lestat’s.

“Going once, tw-“

“Five-thousand.”

Silence fell over the room, and all eyes turned.

Lestat stood, and picked up his large crate of gold coins, and his pack, and approached the floor. He climbed the steps, dropped the box and it shattered; a mountain of gold coins spilled out over the wood beams. He turned back to face the other men. “Shows over,” he said, to the attendants. “Go the fuck home. Now. While you still can.” He took the chain from Saben, who was looking at the heap of coins in awe, and walked to Claire.

“Took you long enough,” she said, smiling, with a tear in the corner of her eye.

He clicked the chain in place around the metal loop on her collar, enslaving her. “Sorry. But I wanted you to know your value to me.”

“So just five-thousand gold?”

He smiled, and shook his head. No. Not just five-thousand gold. Lestat cleared his throat, and pulled her out of the circle on the floor, and out of the light, and held her hands, and looked at her: her face was round, with soft, round cheeks, and eyebrows that slanted down over big, honey-colored round eyes; she had full lips, but a small mouth, and for the thousandth time in the last few months he was reminded of how very beautiful she was. But her face and body were only the smallest portion of her beauty- the rest was the trust in her eyes, and the acceptance. It was the smile at the corners of her mouth, and the warmth of her hand in his, and her fiery spirit. He swallowed, and held her eyes, and said, “Rimitto te; iam non es mues,” and he hugged her, and added: “But I love you with all my heart.”

The collar unhinged, and fell from her neck and clanked off the wooden floor. And Claire’s eyes went wide and she nearly fell into him. She knew the incantation. She knew the full sentence he just said to her, and she pinched her upper lip in and smiled, with tears in her eyes: I release you; you no longer belong to me… but I love you with all my heart, and she heard his words from their bath, as if he had said them yesterday: when I say those words it will be the same as a proposal, and when you say them to me… She swallowed, and reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tight as she could, then pulled back enough to look at his eyes. Her voice caught in her throat, and tears caught in her eyes, and she blinked them away, and said, “I love you with all of my heart, Lestat, and I still belong to you- nothing will change that.”

He picked her up in his arms and held her tight. “My house is closer. And, for what it's worth, it does have a kiln.”

She smiled, and grinned, and sniffled, and leaned up and kissed his lips, and the small, gentle kiss turned into a deeper one, and they forgot where they were for a moment.

A short moment- the auction house door shattered off its hinges, and a black and silver werewolf entered, with ten other wolves behind him, and five wives at his side.