Wild Sign (Alpha & Omega #6)(92)

The hunting song was an effect of the pack bonds, connecting all of the wolves who had a common goal into a tighter team, allowing them to share knowledge, power, and strategy in real time until the object of the hunt was achieved.

Anna glanced at Charles. “It can mess with your short-term memory, too. I lost about fifteen minutes the first time we drove to our hotel.”

“You didn’t tell me,” he said softly, and she knew she’d hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It felt like just a glitch. Over and done.” She looked at Tag and Leah, because they didn’t have time to waste with her guilt. “It might cause you to falter. Maybe if you know it’s coming, you can push through it.”

“Did you see the Singer? What does it look like?” Charles asked. “Best-case scenario, we bring this down to a physical fight, because that is where our weapons lie.”

Anna looked at Leah, who was resolutely not looking at Anna or Charles.

“Uh,” Anna said. “I never saw it. But from what I overheard . . . and I know this sounds really stupid out here—but I think that it is some kind of cave squid. Or cave octopus.”

Tag froze. “Cthulhu? We’re fighting Cthulhu? Up in these mountains?”

His incredulity forced Leah to speak. “I saw him,” she told them in a low voice. “Before I found Anna in the caves. I couldn’t be sure of his size because it was dark and some of his body was underwater—and at the time I needed him not to be aware of me. She’s right about the tentacles. I also think he’s huge.”

“Cthulhu,” said Tag happily, discarding the last of his clothes. Apparently his incredulity had not signified reluctance. His eyes were wolf eyes and slightly unfocused in a way that, under other circumstances, would have made Anna nervous.

Charles turned to look at the pit. His head tilted and Brother Wolf said intently, “Listen.”

Leah frowned and then drew in a breath. “The pit is filling with water. Smells like salt water. Ocean water.”

No one asked aloud where the salt water was coming from, but Anna figured that they were all thinking about it—and what that said about the thing they were facing.

“Cthulhu,” chortled Tag as a popping sound signaled the start of his change. “I get to fight Cthulhu. Asil is going to be so jealous.” His smile, like his eyes, looked a little wild.

“Cthulhu,” Anna murmured, because that was an interesting observation.

“It’s not Cthulhu,” Charles said dryly. “That’s a character from a book.”

Well, yes. Anna thought that actually might be the point.

“Leah?” Anna asked. “Did it have tentacles when you were here? Before?”

“I don’t remember,” Leah said. Then she held up a hand, asking them to wait. She turned her face into the rain for a moment, closing her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she said, “No. The Singer looked like one of us—human, I mean. He was”—she shook her head—“he looked like someone you could trust. I don’t know where the tentacles came from.”

“I think I do,” said Anna grimly. “Do you remember when Zander said the people who settled Wild Sign gave it form?”

“Yes,” Leah said.

Charles’s eyes became suddenly intent. “That bookshelf,” he said.

“The big yurt in Wild Sign has a bookshelf of Lovecraft-themed books,” Anna told the others. “Not just cheap paperbacks or that all-in-one leather-bound collection you can buy for twenty bucks around Christmas. Original editions of Lovecraft and Chambers. Nineteen-thirties editions of Weird Tales. I think one of the first Wild Sign people was a Lovecraft fan. And that’s why we have a cave squid. Or possibly a cave octopus.”

“Not Cthulhu,” said Charles slowly, “but inspired by those tales.”

There was a short, appalled silence punctuated by the sounds of Tag’s ongoing change.

“It could be worse,” Anna said. “At least it’s not the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

Charles grinned suddenly. “A pop culture reference I know.” He looked at Leah, his smile lingering around the edges of his mouth and eyes. “Anything you can add?”

“If he could sing, we would be in a lot more trouble,” she said. “But Sherwood ripped out his tongue.” There was satisfaction in her voice, but Anna felt a sudden stab of concern. Leah looked tired and cold—and about fifteen pounds underweight. Running from Montana had burned calories.

“Zander implied that the Singer had not healed from that,” Leah continued. “I don’t know if that means he can’t still attack us with music, but he can’t sing.”

She scuffed her bare foot in the dirt and gave them a grim smile. “And that’s all well and good. But what I don’t know is how to kill him so that he stays dead. I don’t know that he is something that can be killed.”

“Asil told me that the only way to kill something immortal is to remind it what death is,” Charles said. “Da is bringing the sword that killed Jonesy—an immortal fae. The Dark Smith’s weapons carry the memories of the deaths that they have brought.”

Leah rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “Good. All we have to do is stay alive until he gets here. I wonder what’s taking the Singer so long.” She frowned thoughtfully—as if, Anna thought, she might have a clue about what that was. But instead of telling them, she looked toward the pit, where the sound of rushing water had quieted now that the water was deeper. “Don’t let him pull you into the water.”