Sharon closed her eyes and started muttering to herself.

"What are you saying?" Chey asked. "A prayer?"

Sharon shook her head. "I'm trying to talk to my wolf. I'm telling it to tear your guts out for me when I'm not here."

Chey sighed. "They don't listen to us. They can't understand language."

Sharon shrugged. "It can't hurt."

The silver light came, and changed Chey's body.

But not her mind.

She sat up on the floor of the small room and blinked in confusion, unsure what had just happened. Her vision was blurred and the colors seemed washed out-but her nose was assaulted by a million smells she couldn't begin to process. She could smell wolves and silver and wood and metal and Varkanin's aftershave and ... and ...

She looked down and screamed. The sound came out of her throat like a squeal. She didn't have hands anymore. She had paws. Big furry paws with inch-long claws.

She had let her wolf inhabit her human body for the fight with Sharon. It had relished the opportunity and it had possessed her with glee, only to be horribly injured when it attacked Varkanin. Now it must be tucked away in some corner of the brain they shared, licking its wounds-and it had decided not to come out when the change occurred.

Chey felt as if her hands had been chopped off and her throat had been scrubbed out with sandpaper. She couldn't talk, couldn't make any human sounds at all, no matter how hard she tried. The body she was in felt alien and wrong and she barely knew how to coordinate its muscles to move at all. She started to panic and tried to fight against the silver collar holding her to the wall, but that was a bad mistake. When her body changed her clothes had fallen away, so now there was nothing between her skin and the silver but fur, fur that crinkled and died at the softest pressure from the collar. She felt her throat rub up against the metal as if acid were eating away at her skin.

From the far corner of the room-only two meters away-Sharon's wolf growled at her. It was a beautiful creature, but a terrifying one, almost all black except for a few patches of tan fur on its face and legs. Its teeth were enormous. Was that what Chey's wolf looked like? It had been so long since she'd seen a dire wolf that she was horrified all over again-as scared as she'd been when Powell's wolf attacked her and gave her the curse. She pressed herself tight against the wall of the little room to get away from Sharon's wolf, but that just put more pressure on the silver collar.

It wasn't long before Sharon's wolf realized there was something strange about Chey.

Whining and whimpering, Chey could only cringe away as Sharon's wolf lunged at her, again and again, jaws snapping. Sharon's paws swatted at the air as she pulled and yanked at her own collar, trying to get free, trying to attack, to kill- The only thing that saved Chey from madness, that night, was the fact that the moon set barely three hours after it rose. When the silver light came again, she had never been so grateful for the change.

She woke up on the floor. Human in shape. She touched her face, her skin. She was still in control of her own body. The silver collar had left a wide swath of burn tissue around her throat, but she could breathe. She could think, and even see colors again.

She remembered what had happened, though it had been so terrifying that she thought her brain had shut down at some point and spared her any further horror.

That was probably a blessing, she decided.

Sharon was nowhere to be seen. Her collar lay abandoned on the floor. It was a while before Chey figured out how to remove the cotter pin that held her own collar shut. Removing it meant burning her fingertips, but she was just glad to be free of the thing. She picked up her clothes from the floor and studied them. Her claws had torn her shirt in a couple places as she had scrabbled around on top of it in her panic, but it was still in one piece, as were her pants. She pulled them on and went to the door of the little room. It swung open easily when she pushed on it.

Outside of the little room was a kitchen. Sharon was leaning against the counter, running an electric razor over her head. Her eyes were wild.

"It keeps growing back," Sharon screamed. "Why the fuck does it grow back? I was overdue for a haircut when this happened. Now I'm stuck with long hair for all eternity, is that it?"

Chey shook her head. She didn't know what to say.

"I can't live like this! I won't! I'd rather be dead. What the fuck have you done to me?"

Chey took a step backward as Sharon waved the razor at her. It couldn't hurt her, of course, but she couldn't bear the weight of the accusation.

"What the fuck are you? Why couldn't you just die, the first time? He poisoned you, and you didn't die! He laid down land mines and you didn't even step on one! What the fuck are you?"

Chey could only run away in fear. She dashed into the parlor of Varkanin's little house-and got another surprise. This one was a little more pleasant.

Dzo was standing in the parlor, talking quietly with Varkanin.

"Ah, there you are," Varkanin said, gesturing for her to come in.

"Your friend," Varkanin said, gesturing at Dzo, "arrived a few minutes ago and asked to see you. I told him you were still sleeping and I didn't wish to disturb you, and he said he would wait. We've been having a very pleasant chat."

Chey stepped into the room without comment. She didn't know what to do, whether she should sit down on the couch or scream or ... something. "Hi, Dzo," she said, because it was the only thing that felt like something she ought to do.

"Hi, Chey. I've come to rescue you," he said, with a big smile.

"Thanks," she told him.

For a while no one spoke. Dzo just stood there, smiling, looking very proud of himself. Varkanin waited patiently. He had one hand in his pocket and he didn't take it out, even as he moved over toward the couch and sat down.

"Alright," he said, finally. "If no one else will ask, I will. How do you plan on doing that?"

Dzo squinted for a second as if trying to remember something. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I'm supposed to say that Chey and I are going to walk out of here right now and there's nothing you can do to stop us. You can't hurt me, um," he thought about it for a second. "Because ... you can't hurt me because I'm an immortal animal spirit and none of your weapons will affect me. Is it affect or effect? I can never remember."

"You got it right," Chey said.

"Oh! There was one more thing. If you hurt Chey, Powell will kill you. He'll hunt you down for the rest of his life. Or maybe it was the rest of your life. But anyway, he won't stop. Ever." He looked over at Chey and gave her a wink.

Something in her chest started to flutter like a bird taking wing. It was hope, which she thought had died inside her. "What do you have to say to that, Varkanin? Can I go?"

The blue man shook his head in apology. "Let us not be foolish. Not now. Of course you can't go. You are my prisoner, and you will remain so until I decide on your disposition. Now, Mr. Dzo. I'll give you a chance to leave my house peacefully. Alone."

"Not going to happen," Dzo told him.

"I was afraid so. Alright. Let's discuss another matter, then. I've been studying you, my friend."

"Really?" Dzo asked. He looked flattered.

"Indeed. After my plans were thwarted by your friend Nanuq, I requested all the information the Canadian government had on you and the other animal spirits. There wasn't much. The government's position is that you do not exist. That you are only a story told by less sophisticated people. A bit of folklore."

"Kinda, sure," Dzo said. He shrugged.

Varkanin smiled warmly. "However, there was a very thin report on you dating back to the events at Port Radium. You may remember that incident, Ms. Clark-that was when you and Montgomery Powell killed Robert Fenech and his associates."

"I remember about half of it," she agreed. The half that she'd experienced as a human being. "It's not something I like to dwell on."

"Understandable. I'm not interested so much in rousing feelings of guilt, however. I was far more interested in learning about Mr. Dzo's participation in those events."

"I wasn't even at Port Radium!" Dzo said. "I can't even go there. Just can't-if I tried, it wouldn't work. The water there is too polluted for me to swim in."

"I know," Varkanin confirmed. "Specifically it's polluted with radionuclides. Tailings and runoff from the former uranium mining operations there. You would have liked to go there, to help your friends, I'm sure. But the background radiation that pervades the Port Radium site precluded this."

"Yeah," Dzo agreed. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Varkanin took his hand out of his pocket. There was a square little gun there. It didn't look like it had much stopping power, but Chey felt terrified at the sight of it anyway. Was it loaded with silver bullets? Was this the moment he was going to kill her-as he'd promised, when she least expected it?

"Put that away," Dzo said. "You know it can't-"

Varkanin shot Dzo in the stomach. The noise of the gunshot was enormous in the small parlor and it made Chey jump. Dzo stopped talking to grimace in annoyance, but he didn't even take a step backward. The bullet seemed to ruffle his furs, but there was no blood, nor any other sign of an injury.

Varkanin ejected the gun's clip. Then he placed gun and magazine on a side table. "I apologize. I assure you it was necessary."

"Oh, come on," Dzo said. "That was just silly. Bullets can't hurt me. I told you that already! I'm immortal. I'm-"

Chey felt her face go slack in terror. She watched as Dzo grew pale and some of his fur started to fall out. He looked like he might throw up.

"I-I don't know what-you hoped-to." Dzo couldn't seem to finish his sentence. He blinked rapidly and looked around the room as if he was having trouble seeing straight. "Chey? What-was-"

"No," she said. She shook her head violently. "No, no, he couldn't have ..."

A thread of blood erupted from Dzo's mouth. "Pitchblende?" he asked.

Chey remembered Raven's story. How the Sivullir had used pitchblende to poison Amuruq and make her vulnerable. How even its presence could trap a spirit and leave it defenseless.

"A little more than that. Pitchblende is the ore from which uranium is processed," Varkanin told him. "The bullet I shot you with is made of depleted uranium. It is mildly radioactive. Much like the water around Port Radium."

Dzo dropped to his knees. "I have to get out of here. I have to find-oh, boy."

"Dzo," Chey said, rushing over to hold his shoulders. "Dzo? Are you okay?"

He shook his head. "This really hurts. I can't remember the last time something hurt. I guess when Raven took my fur. Chey, I'm sorry." He staggered back up to his feet and rushed for the kitchen, where Sharon Minik was boiling a pot of water.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and then he dove into the pot. He seemed to hang in the air for a moment, a kind of furry blur across Chey's vision, and then he shrank down to nothing and was gone.

"You killed him," Chey said, turning to stare at Varkanin. "You killed Dzo."

She shouted in outrage. She stormed around the room. She wanted to attack Varkanin, beat him down with her fists, but she didn't dare. It would just break her bones and burn her skin. So she raced back and forth like a wild creature stuck in a cage. "Do you even understand what you just did?" she demanded.

"I fear I may have doomed the muskrat to extinction," Varkanin said. There was a deep sadness in his voice that startled her. "That is how it works, is it not?" He shook his head. "I don't enjoy doing these things."

"Then stop," she screamed. "Just stop! Let us go. Let us go and we will never bother you again. Please! Please just stop this!"

He opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden noise made him stop.

It was a gunshot. A distant gunshot. Somewhere out in the town someone had just fired a gun.

"Oh, God, no," Chey said. "No-Powell!"

Powell and Lucie must be coming for her. They must have realized that Dzo's rescue attempt had failed-or maybe they just thought it was taking too long. So they had come to Umiaq to do it themselves. To save her.

And now they were going to die.

"Please," she begged. She dropped to her knees and clenched her hands together in front of her chest. "Please! I've never asked anyone for anything before. I've never done anything to hurt you!"

"Not me, perhaps," Varkanin said. "But Sharon-"

"Keep begging," Sharon said, stepping into the parlor. "Come on. Tell me what you'll do for me if we let you live."

"Please," Chey said. It was all she could manage.

Another gunshot sounded out in the town. A cell phone in Varkanin's pocket started ringing out the strains of Tchaikovsky, a quiet, tinny music that made mockery of Chey's horror. She stared at him as he answered it. He spoke quietly into the mouthpiece for a few seconds.

"Very good," he said, and closed the phone. "Montgomery Powell is near the community center. Now it is only a matter of time. There has been no sign of Lucie yet." He sat down on a low bench and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Sharon? Could you bring me a mineral water?"

"I'm not done with her yet," Sharon told him. She looked down at Chey. "I think I told you to beg some more."

Chey swallowed with some difficulty. "Please," she said. "I will do anything you ask."

"Like what?" Sharon said. "Will you give me money? Huh?" She kicked Chey in the ribs. Chey flinched but managed not to fall over. "Are you going to offer to have sex with me or something? Or maybe him. You gonna suck his silver-plated dick?"

Chey blinked away tears. "Anything. Just-just tell me. Please. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Anything, if you stop this."

"There's one thing I actually want," Sharon admitted.

Outside they heard another gunshot. Then three more, one after the other.

"Whatever it is, I-"

"I want to be human again," Sharon said. She kicked Chey again, this time in the leg. Chey slumped down to sit on the floor. She started another kick, aimed at Chey's head. Chey reeled backward and Sharon laughed, putting her foot down. "I want to be human. All human, none of this wolf bullshit. You gonna make that happen? You think you can do that for me, you little bitch?"

Chey's eyes went wide.

"Yes," she said.

Varkanin's phone rang again. He stepped into the kitchen to answer it. Outside the sound of gunshots was almost constant now.

"Yes," Chey said again. "I can do that. There's a cure."

"Bullshit," Sharon said, and grabbed Chey by the hair. She hauled Chey across the room and smashed her face into one leg of the couch. "No fucking way you can do that! Don't lie to me, bitch!"

"It's what we've been looking for," Chey insisted. "Why do you think we came so far north? There's nothing to eat up here! Why else would we come?"

"Don't," Sharon said, "you," she grabbed the back of Chey's head, "fucking," drew it back, "lie," and shoved it hard into the wooden frame of the couch.

"I swear it!" Chey moaned. Blood erupted from her nose where it had shattered from the repeated blows. "I'm telling the truth! There's a cure! There is a cure! It's on Victoria Island!"

Varkanin leaned in from the kitchen. "Sharon, please. I really think that's enough."

Sharon grabbed Chey's hair and hauled her up to a sitting position. "It's enough when she dies! That's the only way it will ever be enough!"

Varkanin's phone rang once more, but Chey could barely hear it for all the gunshots.

"On Victoria Island," she whimpered, her voice broken by the blood pouring down the back of her throat and the sobbing tears coming from her eyes. "Victoria-Island, it's there-the silver ulu-Raven-Raven told us, he took-took Powell's eyes, and-and told us-told us about the-the silver ulu-and-and Amuruq, the-the wolf spirit, and-"

Sharon released her. Chey fell in a heap on the floor.