Where You Go ― Jason Grace

xviii. lupus interfectorem (and other not-so-fun nicknames)

OPHELIA KNEW INSTANTLY that these wolves weren't like the ones she'd been dreaming about. The sound of their howls made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her hands tense, clenching into fists.

She stood up from her spot next to Piper, immediately pulling her compass out and summoning her sword.

Piper tried to stand up with the rest of them, but she faltered, still weak from hypothermia. 

"Stay there," Ophelia told her. "We've got you."

Ophelia knew she hated it, but Piper didn't protest. Especially not when they all spotted a pair of red eyes glowing in the dark outside of the cave.

More wolves edged into the firelight—black beasts bigger than Great Danes, with ice and snow caked on their fur. Their fangs gleamed, and their glowing red eyes looked disturbingly intelligent. The wolf in front was nearly as tall as a horse, his mouth stained red.

Ophelia stepped forward, looking the tallest wolf—the alpha—in the eye. "You have no business here. Leave before it's too late."

The alpha wolf curled his lip, his fur standing up along his spine. One of his lieutenants tried to advance, snarling at Ophelia, but the alpha wolf snapped at his ear. Then all of the wolves backed away into the darkness.

"Dude, I gotta study Latin," Leo said. "What'd you say, Phee?"

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

The wolves were coming back, but the alpha wasn't with them. There were at least a dozen now, in a rough semicircle just outside the firelight, blocking the cave exit. They didn't attack, though—they just stood there, watching, waiting.

The coach hefted his club. "Here's the plan. I'll kill them all, and you guys escape."

"Coach, they'll rip you apart," Piper said.

"Nah, I'm good."

A man came through the storm, wading through the wolf pack.

"Stick together," Ophelia ordered. "They respect a pack."

"Hedge, no crazy stuff," Jason said. "We're not leaving you or anyone else behind."

The wolves parted and the man stepped into the firelight. His hair was greasy and ragged, topped with a crown of what looked like bones. His robes were made up of tattered fur—wolf, rabbit, raccoon, deer, and several others Ophelia couldn't identify. His teeth were sharpened into fangs, his eyes glowing bright red like his wolves'—and they were shifting between Jason and Ophelia with pure hatred.

"Ecce," he said, "filii Romani."

"Speak English, wolf man!" Hedge yelled.

The wolf man snarled. "Tell your faun to mind his tongue, daughter of Rome. Or he'll be my first snack." He studied their little group for a moment, his nostrils twitching. "So it's true," he mused. "A child of Aphrodite. A son of Hephaestus. A faun. And two children of Rome, one of Lord Jupiter, no less. All together, without killing each other. How interesting."

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

The man snarled a laugh. "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." He smiled, the sight sickening. "I am Lycaon, king of the wolves. And my pack is hungry."

The other wolves snarled in agreement. Ophelia kept her chin up, refusing to show fear or weakness. 

She raised her sword high and steady, her free arm spread out behind her to keep Leo close to their huddle. Lycaon glared at her sword and Jason's. He moved to each side as if looking for an opening, but there was none.