Free Right Hand Magic by Nancy A. Collins Page B

is upon a werewolf, it can be slaked only by blood, and that the only thing that can kill a werewolf, besides silver, is another shape-shifter.” He lowered his head in shame, unable to continue.
    Inside the crystal, Lukas and Rufus battled to the death as the heartless bastards who took delight in their suffering wagered handfuls of money on which friend would die. In the end it was Lukas who was triumphant, tearing out Rufus’s throat in a single bite.
    “It’s not your fault,” I assured him, hoping to assuage the agony the poor kid was feeling. “It’s not as if you wanted to kill him. And he would have killed you, too—you said so yourself. It was self-defense.”
    “I know.” Lukas’s voice was a ragged whisper when he finally spoke. “But I should have tried to escape before they made me fight him. I might not be able to run, but I can walk, sort of. I should have attacked one of the croggies and forced them to kill me. But I didn’t, and now I have Rufus’s blood on my claws, because I was afraid to fight back.”
    As the guards escorted Lukas back to his cage, it was obvious they were too busy talking to pay proper attention to their prisoner. Suddenly Lukas lashed out, launching a surprise attack on the one holding the zapper. Lukas grabbed the arm holding the remote and twisted it until it came out of the guard’s shoulder like a roasted chicken wing. The severed arm was still holding the remote control in its hand as it hit the ground. Lukas picked up the zapper and smashed it to bits on the floor.
    The second guard just stared in shock at his pal who was writhing at his feet, clawing at the bloody stump where his arm used to be. Lukas took him down with a quick snap to the throat. After that the picture got blurry again. There were glimpses of Lukas running through an underground complex full of caged creatures, both natural and supernatural, followed by partial images of street signs and what looked like the wall surrounding Hexe’s garden.
    “I don’t remember much after attacking the guard. Just a dim recollection of wandering the streets, sniffing the air in hopes of catching the scent of grass, dirt, plants . . . something of nature. That’s how I ended up in your garden. I simply followed my nose.” Lukas turned toward me, a heart-stricken look on his young face. “I behaved like an animal toward you, Miss Tate. Can you possibly forgive me?”
    “Of course I forgive you, Lukas!” No one was more surprised than I to hear those words coming out my mouth, but I figured the poor kid had enough on his conscience already—the least I could do was make him feel better about trying to kill me while under the influence of mind-warping drugs.
    “So, now that you know the whole truth—are you going to hand me back over to Boss Marz?”
    “Of course not!” Hexe replied. “I’m going to do exactly what I said I’d do—nurse you back to health, and then make sure you’re returned to your people. You don’t have to be scared anymore, Lukas.” He patted him on the head, ruffling his sandy hair. “You are among friends now. Get some rest.”
    “Aren’t you scared of Boss Marz?” Lukas asked in surprise.
    “No, I’m not.”
    “You should be,” the were-cougar said darkly.

Chapter 9
    It was a couple of days after my misadventure in the garden maze, and I had gone out to buy art supplies. While standing on the front step, fishing around in my purse for my house keys, I heard someone behind me cough. I looked over my shoulder and saw a paunchy, middle-aged stranger with thinning hair standing on the stoop. Oh, yes, and he was wearing a kilt. That, in and of itself, would not have seemed too odd, save that from the waist up he was wearing two-thirds of a three-piece business suit. As I stared at him, it suddenly occurred to me that he was the first human I’d seen in Golgotham outside of the Rookery since I’d moved here.
    “Excuse me,” the man in the kilt said, without the