“Assume your positions,” Olympia commanded. “Active powers in front. Secondaries guard Fable. Third line grab the arsenal.”

  Seth and Artemis took the front lines, standing in the foyer by the stairs, poised for attack. Of them all, they had the most active powers in the family, besides Olympia, but Olympia would be the last line of defense. Her age and agility were too precarious to risk at the front. Behind them stood Yasmine, taking aim at the door with a metal rod attached to the canister of acid strapped to her shoulder. Demitra and Beryl stood guard around Fable. Zelda brandished the gun, and Olympia armed herself with her father’s sword.

  “We should’a done a protection spell on the house,” Zelda whispered as they heard the porch creak underneath Patric’s footsteps.

  “No,” Olympia whispered back. “We have to face him and stop him. We need him to enter.”

  The entire house was still. Everyone stood breathless as every second felt like an hour waiting for Patric to approach the door. An army of witches standing, fight ready, for the battle of their lives against a ferocious beast. They listened as a threatening laughter penetrated the door and echoed in the foyer.

  “You are all fools,” he said from behind the door. His voice was deep and menacing, but it was definitely Patric’s voice, not the growls of his wolf form. “Let me take the one I have come for.”

  “Never!” Demitra shouted back.

  Before the word was out of her mouth, a hole opened where the front door previously stood--pulled from its hinges so cleanly and efficiently as if it had been merely the door of a doll house. Patric stood heaving with a strength he had never displayed before. He panted before them like the wild animal surging beneath his flesh.

  “You cannot stop me!” he bellowed thunderously.

  “You are not immortal,” Seth cried defiantly. “You can be killed.”

  “As can you,” sneered Patric.

  As his words hit the air, any bravado the family had possessed was doused as they turned their horrified eyes to a pack of gray wolves lining up on the porch steps just behind him. Their teeth, razor-sharp and jagged, protruded beneath their gums as drops of saliva dripped from the points of their fangs. These beasts were on the ready, awaiting their master’s command to shred anyone to bits.

  “You see,” Patric mocked, “I have my army as well.” With that, he charged inside the door.

  Instinctively, Seth outstretched his hand toward the living room whereupon a side window shattered with a strong current of wind sending a winged-back chair sailing across the floor to knock Patric onto his back. As Patric landed on the floor, one of the wolves leapt high over him toward Seth. Yasmine jumped forward to Seth’s defense, her fingers squeezing the trigger of the canister spray, releasing streams of searing, burning acid into the face of the wolf. The animal let out an excruciating cry as he fell to his side, writhing in pitiful agony. The fur on his face, as well as the flesh itself, sizzled and deteriorated, leaving only bare bone and melting tissue. It was dead by the time Seth understood what had happened.

  “Beautiful, Yasmina,” Patric snarled from the floor, seemingly impressed with her achievement. “So brave, so strong, so fearless. But you have no real power. Would you like to have power? Would you like to join me? I can make you invincible.”

  “I’d rather die!” she shouted.

  “What would be the fun in that?” Patric teased. “You could learn much from me. Watch this!” Suddenly the remaining wolves, eight in all, came rushing forward, too many to stop at once.

  Artemis had only seconds to react. She envisioned the wolves being impaled on spears and instantaneously a patch of boards from the foyer’s hardwood floors broke away and stabbed into three of the creatures, impaling them completely—the wide boards inserted into their bodies shattering their rib cages, practically splitting the animals in half. The remaining five wolves managed to evade the planks and were now inside the house.

  One of the five made a dive at Seth. Before he had time to defend himself, the gray predator locked its razor jaws into Seth’s arm, severing it so brutally that it hung now by only muscle and a bit of bone. Unable to wield his arms to unleash his power, Seth crumpled to the floor, thrashing in unbearable pain. The wolf then pounced on Artemis, throwing her backwards to the floor. She held onto the wolf as she fell in a desperate attempt to hold it arm’s-length from her body as its snapping jaws inched closer and closer to her face. It was too strong for her. She was losing ground and the fierce beast was poised for the death bite. Olympia sprang forward like a medieval warrior, impaling the wolf on her sword. The wound was not mortal. The wolf sounded a shrill cry from its gullet and then snapped back into action. It was only Artemis’ lightning-fast reflexes, jerking her head to the side, that saved her from the terrible bite. The wolf’s snout slammed into the hard floor, but he reared up to inflict another blow. Olympia pulled the sword free from the animal’s chest and with the strength her frail old body had not summoned in 30 years, she slung the blade around her body and sliced the head from the wolf’s shoulders.

  Artemis scurried to her feet with her mother’s assistance to face the four remaining wolves. Patric stood back to observe like a General giving orders to his troops. Fable stared at him behind the wall of Beryl and Demitra’s protection. It was beyond her mental capabilities to process everything that was happening before her and that it was all happening because of the man she thought she loved. She wanted to do something, to help her family. She tried with all her might to communicate with the remaining wolves now standing still, awaiting new directions from their commander. It was the first time in her life that Fable could not reach an animal. These wolves belonged to Patric, and his mental control over them was far more powerful than even Fable could compete with.

  Patric’s eyes gleamed red as he flicked his hand toward the pack of wolves, as if signaling the next play. The largest of the four wolves, a black beast with muscled legs and ivory white claws, locked eyes with Demitra. She seemed to understand. Patric was coming for Fable, and he was sending his most powerful champion to disarm and destroy Fable’s guard. A strange, survivalist instinct surged through Demitra. Suddenly she stopped playing defense and took the offense, dashing forward to attack the beast first! The black wolf seemed almost as surprised as Demitra herself as she landed on top of him. Beast and beauty thrashed on the floor, Demitra firmly straddling his back, her arms wrapped in a vice around his torso. His jaws snapping back at her but unable to get a proper angle to reach her throat. Pinning him to the floor, Demitra released her grip around his body to take her mortal chance. She grasped the beast’s head in her hands and twisted with all her might, winding his head around as hard and as far as she could until the animal met her face to face--even then she kept twisting until his head was almost facing its original direction. She heard every bone in its neck shatter as it fell limp in her hands. Rising from the where she left the great beast dead on the floor, Demitra walked to face Patric in the entryway. He looked stunned, shaken—for the first time, unsure he could win.

  “A Mother’s love,” she told him, staring him eye to eye. “It is the strongest power of them all. You cannot have my daughter. Nothing on earth will stop me from stopping you!”

  Patric’s hand shot forward like a cannon and clutched Demitra by the throat. Possessing the strength of the ages, he lifted her off the ground with almost no effort expelled. As she dangled there, suspended in air, more battles were being waged around the room.

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  Beryl successively dodged her way past two of the charging wolves and crouched beside Seth’s profusely bleeding body. The foyer floor was a sea of blood now, and Seth it’s only island. He was nearly unconscious as his severed arm had bled him out almost completely. The healer took action placing her hands on her cousin’s arm. Within seconds, bone was renewing before her eyes, muscles were reattaching, pulling the hanging arm back into place at the socket. She held onto him until the wound was closed and the scar was gone. Seth was intact again. His powerful hand was restored, but vast blood loss still kept him too weak to resume the fight.

  On the staircase, Artemis and Olympia were battling another wolf. They backed slowly up the treads of the stairs as it stalked, slowly creeping towards them. Olympia swung her blade forward only for the fiend to swipe his deadly paw across her frail hand, slashing it open, sending the sword flying over the railing to the floor below. Artemis tried to envision the sword rising up and stabbing into the great beast, but before she could manage the task, Zelda tramped forward to the stairs, took aim at the head of the wolf and blasted the gun. Once again, her aim was poor. The bullet entered the wolf’s back and was not a fatal shot. However, the impact, and the pain, sent the wolf reeling backwards down the stairs and into the hole left in the floor from the removed boards.

  Artemis saw her sister struggling for air in Patric’s grip, as he slowly continued crushing her throat. Quickly she envisioned a gust of wind, summoning it instantly, which rushed through the doorless doorway, sweeping up the injured wolf and sending it crashing into Patric. The gust injured neither Patric nor the wounded wolf, but it did successfully break Patric’s hold of Demitra, and Demitra crawled to safety toward the hall.

  “Where are the other wolves?” Zelda cried, surveying the room. Only Patric--now getting back up from his fall--and the Blanchards were in Zelda’s line of sight. The wolves were nowhere to be found. Tension filled the room as no one knew from which direction the next attack might stem. The wolves were hiding, biding their time for the perfect strike.

  Suddenly, the injured wolf Zelda had shot pounced from the hole in the floor where the boards had killed his brethren. It charged forward toward the woman who had shot him. Zelda spun around just in time to see him coming and shot him dead between the eyes.

  “Oh, there’s one,” she said.

  “That leaves three more!” Yasmine shouted. She held the acid tank firmly as she jerked around in circles bracing for the next attack. A faint, sinister collection of growls came all at once, and from all directions, but no wolf was in sight. “Where are they!”

  “They could be anywhere,” laughed Patric. “You have such a large home. They could be around any corner. But don’t worry. They will find you.”

  “Don’t worry about it now,” Olympia shouted to her family. “Get the kettle.”

  Artemis dashed for the kitchen where she found Demitra still trying to catch her breath. The two of them lifted the cauldron from the table and made their way into the foyer.

  “Fable,” Patric beckoned softly. “Fable, you will not let them harm me.”

  Yasmine stepped in front of Fable, blocking Patric from her. “Leave her alone!” she shouted, shaking, afraid, but determined to save her cousin. “You know you can’t kill us. If you could have, it would have already happened. The Blanchard’s have defeated most of your army. And we will also defeat you.” She pointed the nozzle of her acid tank toward Patric.

  “You would not hurt me, Yasmina,” he said, taking an emboldened step closer towards her.

  “I mean it,” she said. “I will cover you in acid.”

  “Do it,” he laughed. “Go ahead.”

  “Spray him Yazzy!” Beryl screamed.

  “You can’t,” Patric smiled, holding her gaze with his own. “You are devoid of will and movement. You will obey everything I say.” His glare was bordering on maniacal as his grin spread wider and wider across his face.

  “Shoot him Yaz!” Seth shouted from where he lay in the foyer. He tried to stand but was too weak to manage it. “Shoot him!”

  A low growl began to rise over the sound of the shouting. No one knew which direction it was coming from, but everyone braced for another wolf to pounce. Yasmine’s eyes moved slowly to her right as she caught sight of a wolf poised for attack underneath the console table behind the sofa. She tried to move, tried to break free from her place on the floor, but she couldn’t. Patric said she was devoid of movement, and he was right. She could not move at all. He held her still in some kind of paralyzed state.

  All at once, the wolf shot out from under the table and leapt high into the air towards Yasmine. Its jaws open, its claws outstretched, ready to devour and destroy her. She knew this was how she was going to meet her end. As the wolf flew ever closer towards her, Yasmine knew this was goodbye. But suddenly Patric hurled himself forward with all his beastly dexterity, knocking the wolf from Yasmine’s path with his chest.

  “Not her!” he bellowed. The wolf fell to the floor and slunk backward, whimpering like a frightened dog. Patric turned to look at Yasmine. “You will join me, Yasmina.”

  “Get away from her!” Seth shouted, forcing his feet to support him. Yasmine, now free of the hypnotic hold Patric gripped her with, rushed to Seth’s side.

  “You have no power now,” Patric laughed. “You may be healed of your injuries, but in your weakened condition you are unable to be a threat to me.” Patric marched toward Seth and punched him, sending Seth falling backwards to the floor once again.

  “Now!” Olympia screamed.

  Demitra and Artemis tipped the cauldron over so that the liquid potion bubbling inside poured across the floor. As the brew rushed across Patric’s feet, the sisters chanted.

  “Blood of your chosen

  Herbs of defeat

  Power of our coven

  Weaken this beast.

  Creature of night

  Vanquished by day

  Stilled by the blood

  Of the object you crave”

  As the potion flowed over Patric’s feet, he felt a slight tingling sensation. Olympia walked fearlessly across the room to face him. She wielded an air of victory around her as if this one final liquid weapon sealed his fate.

  “It’s done. You are unable to move. Your very obsession with Fable is your undoing,” she said triumphantly. Her eyes sparkled and her head lifted to an angle that could only be described as arrogant. In that moment, she no longer looked like the aged woman she was. You could almost glimpse the warrior she must have been in her youth. “If I am correct in my estimation, I believe you will be unable to control your body for about two minutes. That gives us plenty of time to end you and this reign of terror you’ve unleashed on humanity.”

  “Do you really think so?” Patric laughed. He took a surprising step forward. Olympia was bewildered. The triumph in her face dissolved quickly. Patric noticed the change and chided, “You’re not as powerful as you imagined, now are you?”

  The family encircled him. Seth, Beryl, Fable, Yasmine, Zelda, Artemis, Demitra, Olympia. Each with their power or their weapon of choice. Patric was trapped by the coven. The remaining wolves now revealed themselves and stalked around the circle, growling at the witches encompassing their master. Instinctively Yasmine whirled around and sprayed the two wolves closest to her with the acid. Like the one that died of the same means before, they writhed and howled in agony before crumpling onto the floor. The third one pounced only to meet the end of Olympia’s sword.

  “Looks like that finishes off your army,” Beryl smirked. “Now let’s finish you.”

  In the blink of an eye, Patric lurched into the air and jumped against the wall. His hands, now transitioning into claws, dug into the sheetrock, holding him perched in place. His face was morphing as well, changing faster than anyone could register, into the face of a beast. He leapt across the room back into the foyer, out of range of the Blanchard circle. The Blanchards stood more mesmerized than afraid at how complete and instantaneous his transformation had been. Patric now was a grotesque amalgamation of man and wolf, too much like both but not enough of like either. He stood in the foyer, slowly backing towards the doorway.

  “This was an interesting first round. An exploratory study of sorts. Now I know what I am up against. I’ll be better prepared for our next battle.” With that he bolted on all fours away from the house. By the time Seth reached the window to look outside, there was no trace of Patric at all.

  The family stood in silence for quite a while. None of them quite knowing what to make of the events they had just been through. Beryl healed the minor injuries while the others began dragging wolf carcasses out into the yard to burn. Yasmine got out the mop and pail and began cleaning up the potion puddled on the floor.

  “I don’t understand why the spell didn’t work,” Demitra said, breaking the silence.

  “Maybe it wasn’t strong enough,” Artemis suggested.

  “No, that wasn’t it,” Olympia declared. “He seemed to know it wouldn’t work. As if there is something we are not accounting for. He should have been frozen for two minutes. I have worked this spell before, a long time ago—not on a wolf, but something equally as devilish. The spell was not the problem. There is something we are missing.”

  “Well, we better figure it out fast,” Beryl stated. “Because he made it very clear, he will be back.”