Daughter of Wine

Piper

"Wolves." I say. "They're close." 

Jason rises to his feet and summons his sword. Leo, Calli, and Coach Hedge do the same. I try, but black spots dance before my eyes. 

"Stay there." Jason tells me. "We'll protect you." 

I grit my teeth. I hate feeling helpless. 

Just outside the firelight at the entrance of the cave, I see a pair of red eyes, glowing in the dark. 

More wolves edge into the firelight. Black beasts bigger than Great Danes, with ice and snow caked on their fur. Their fangs gleam, and their glowing red eyes look disturbingly intelligent. The wolf in front is almost as tall as a horse, his mouth stained as if he's just made a fresh kill. 

I pull my dagger out of my sheath. 

Then, Jason steps forwards and says something in Latin. 

I don't think a dead language will have much effect on wild animals, but the alpha wolf curls his lip. The fur stands up along his spine. One of his lieutenants tries to advance, but the alpha wolf snaps at his ear. Then, all the wolves back into the dark. 

"Dude, I gotta study Latin." Leo's hammer shakes in his hand. "What'd you say, Jason?" 

Hedge curses. "Whatever it was, it wasn't enough. Look." 

The wolves are coming back, but the alpha wolf isn't with them. They don't attack. They wait, at least a dozen now, in a rough semicircle just outside the firelight, blocking the cave exit. 

Coach hefts his club. "Here's the plan. I'll kill them all, and you guys escape."

"Dude, they'll rip you apart into tiny pieces." Calli tells him. She's got her knife in one hand, and the thyrsus in the other. She holds it a little gingerly, as if she's unsure how to use it. Her bandaged arm isn't raised as high as it normally is. 

"Nah, I'm good." 

I see the silhouette of a man coming through the storm, wading through the wolf pack. 

"Stick together," Jason says. "They respect a pack. And Hedge, no crazy stuff. We're not leaving you or anyone else behind."

I get a lump in my throat. I'm the weak link in our "pack" right now. No doubt the wolves can smell my fear. 

The wolves part, and the man steps into the firelight. His hair is greasy and ragged, the color of fireplace soot, topped with a crown of what looks like finger bones. His robes are tattered fur. They don't look cured, and from the smell, they're not very fresh. His frame is lithe and muscular, like a distance runner's. But the horrible thing is his face. His thin pale skin is pulled tight over his skull. His teeth are sharpened like fangs. His eyes glow bright red like his wolves', and they fix on Jason with absolute hatred. 

"Ecce," he says. "filli Romani." 

"Speak English, wolf man!" Hedge bellows. 

"And take a shower." Calli offers, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

The wolf man snarls. "Tell your faun to mind his tongue, son of Rome. Or he'll be my first snack." He studies our little group. His nostrils twitch. "So it's true." He muses. "A child of Aphrodite. A son of Hephaestus. A daughter of Dionysus. A faun. And a child of Rome, of Lord Jupiter, no less. All together, without killing each other. How interesting."

"You were told about us?" Jason asks. "By whom?"

The man snarls. Perhaps a laugh, perhaps a challenge. "Oh, we've been patrolling for you all across the west, demigod, hoping we'd be the first to find you. The giant king will reward me well when he rises. I am Lycaon, king of the wolves. And my pack is hungry."