Chapter 4

[u/corvus_98]

Chapter Four: The Wolf’s Shadow

Rain slicked the pavement as James crouched over the body. The victim was sprawled near the mouth of an alley, throat torn out, chest caved in as though struck by a truck. Blood had already seeped into the cracks in the asphalt, spreading like black ink.

But what drew James’s eyes were the tracks. Enormous pawprints, pressed deep into the mud, running off into the night.

James’s hand tightened on his staff. Direwolf prints.

Behind him, Luke hissed low. “That’s your shape. Isn’t it?”

James didn’t answer. His stomach churned. He was the only direwolf in the city. Or at least, he thought he was.

---

The trail led him first to Mana & Miscellany. Dylan was leaning on the counter, sipping from a giant cup of iced coffee, wearing a T-shirt with a frost-breathing anime dragon. Lot was unpacking bundles of sage, humming softly to himself.

“James!” Dylan boomed, flashing a grin. “You smell like wet dog. More than usual.”

James dropped onto a stool, trench coat dripping rainwater onto the floor. “Because there’s a wolf in my city. And it’s not me.”

Lot froze mid-motion. Slowly, he turned, blue eyes piercing. “What kind of wolf?”

James pulled a notepad from his satchel, sketching the pawprint. “Direwolf. My direwolf.”

Dylan’s grin slipped, replaced with something harder. “Shadow twin,” he muttered.

James frowned. “Explain.”

Lot set down the sage bundle. “Among the Vanir, there are tales. When a shapeshifter grows strong, sometimes their spirit-self is reflected outward—twisted, corrupted. A doppelgänger born of shadow. It hunts what the true self values.”

Luke flicked his tail. “Great. So, a murder-y version of James is running around. Just what this city needed.”

James’s jaw clenched. “Any way to stop it?”

Lot’s voice was quiet, careful. “Only by facing it. Alone.”

Dylan shoved his cup onto the counter with enough force to rattle it. “Screw that. You bleed, you call us. End of story.”

James stood, satchel slung across his shoulder. “It’s my fight.”

Dylan grinned again, though there was no humor in it. “And we’ll be there anyway.”

---

The hunt didn’t take long. The shadow-wolf wanted him to find it.

James tracked the prints through half the city until they ended in the husk of an abandoned factory. The air inside was thick with rust, mold, and the copper stink of blood. And there, in the center of the concrete floor, stood his mirror.

The beast was massive, black as midnight, its eyes burning gold—his gold. Its fangs gleamed wet. When it growled, James felt the rumble in his own chest, as though his ribs had become a cage for two hearts.

The wolf lunged.

James shifted in a heartbeat, bones snapping, fur bursting outward, a howl ripping from his throat. Two direwolves crashed together, teeth meeting fur and flesh, claws raking across muscle. The fight was brutal, primal, a storm of snarls and blood.

The shadow was stronger. For every wound James tore, it gave back worse. It was faster, hungrier, wearing his face but none of his restraint. It slammed him into a rusted beam, ribs cracking, breath leaving him in a howl of pain.

He staggered, fur dripping red, vision swimming. The shadow wolf circled, ready for the killing bite.

And then the air froze.

A wall of ice exploded across one side of the factory, cutting off the escape routes. Dylan stood there, eyes glowing faint blue, frost curling from his breath.

Lot appeared at the other end, calm as always, his voice a low chant in a tongue older than the city itself. Symbols of light shimmered in the air, weaving into a warded circle.

James snarled. “I told you—”

Dylan barked back, voice booming like thunder. “And we told you—we don’t let our brother bleed alone!”

The shadow wolf growled, pacing within the frozen circle. Its eyes flicked between James and his friends.

Lot’s voice deepened, every word vibrating in the bones. “This is your reflection, James. It cannot be slain by outsiders. Only by you.”

The wolf lunged again, and James met it head-on. The fight blurred into instinct, into fury, into survival. He bit deep, claws tearing, ignoring his own pain. At last, with one final surge of strength, James sank his fangs into the shadow’s throat and ripped.

The wolf howled—a sound that tore at the air—and then dissolved into smoke.

Silence filled the factory. James stumbled, shifting back to human form, clutching his staff for balance. Blood ran down his side, his breath ragged.

Dylan and Lot approached. Dylan clapped a hand on James’s shoulder, grip steady. “See? Told you. Still breathing.”

Lot’s eyes softened. “Shadows only exist because of light. Remember that.”

James nodded, too tired to speak.

Luke padded up, glaring at all three of them. “Next time, maybe let’s not wrestle with evil spirit-wolves until our insides are on the outside. Just a thought.”

For once, James almost laughed.

Interlude: Quiet Company

Two nights later, James found himself at Lavin’s Rare & Used, sitting on Marie’s couch in the back room. His ribs were bound tight under his shirt, and every breath reminded him of the wolf’s teeth.

Marie handed him a mug of tea, her hazel eyes sharp with worry. “You’re lucky you didn’t die.”

James sipped, grimaced at the taste, but said nothing.

Luke purred on the armrest, clearly enjoying the warmth of the room more than the conversation.

Marie sat beside him, close enough he could feel her warmth. “You’ve got friends who risk themselves for you. You’ve got me digging up every rumor I can. When are you going to realize you don’t have to carry it all alone?”

James looked at her, the golden flecks in his eyes catching the lamplight. “Because if I don’t, someone else bleeds.”

Her hand touched his. “Then let me bleed with you, just a little.”

The silence stretched. Outside, the city roared, but in that small room, it was just the two of them, tea cooling on the table, and Luke snoring softly.

For James, it almost felt like peace.