Luna Proxy #6, Page 2

  "We slept fine-in separate beds," I told him.

  Quill shrugged and shook his head. "An opportunity lost, and speaking of losing things-" He jerked his thumb in the direction from which we'd traveled. The looming clouds had crept closer. "Looks like we might lose our good weather here pretty soon. How much farther do we have?"

  Vincent swept his eyes over the small town and the valley that lay beyond. He nodded at the gently flowing river. "We follow the river."

  Quill raised an eyebrow. "That's a little vague. How far?"

  Vincent shook his head. "I don't know, but I'll know when we get there."

  Quill sighed and shrugged. "All right. That makes as much sense as anything else that's happened. Let's get this party started before the rain puts a damper on the fun."

  The main road crossed the river rather than followed it, so we were forced to first follow a dike and then a narrow dirt bike path. The houses gave way to fields, and even those were forced away from the river by the jungle of wild softwoods that marked the riverbank and the river flood plain as their own.

  We followed Vincent one-by-one along the shaded route as the sky between the canopy told us the weather was worsening. The dark clouds flowed into the valley and covered large swaths in the shadows of their thunderheads.

  We stopped briefly for a bite and continued on. Approaching mid-afternoon the town was far behind us, and around us was only the wilderness of untamed country. The softwoods melded into a jungle of pine and oak, and stretched into the distance as far as the thick foliage would allow us to see.

  Bram brought up the rear with Quill behind me. He stopped and leaned against the trunk of a tree. "We've been walking for miles. Are we there yet?"

  Quill rubbed Bram's head. "Come on, Pipsqueak. You said you were a werewolf, so get moving."

  Bram pushed away Quill's hand and glared at him. "I'm still just a kid, and you guys have longer legs."

  "We're almost there," Vincent assured him. He glanced down the path and nodded at a curve some fifty feet from us. "There's something around that corner. I just know it."

  We trudged to the corner. The path curved away from the river and into a thick patch of trees. The area was so dense with trunks that we couldn't see a yard into the jungle. We walked another fifty feet before there was another turn, and this time the path opened to present us with a strange view.

  There, nestled in the midst of the thick forest, stood a large colonial house. The white, three-floor mansion stood in the center of a green oasis of grass. Two columns flanked the front double-doors and stretched to the roof. The soft, soothing gurgle of the river skirted the far side of the lawn to our left. To our right was a narrow gravel road that disappeared into the dense forest. Above our heads floated black clouds, and a far-off rumble warned us of the strength of the coming storm.

  We all stood there dumbfounded for a moment before I glanced at Vincent. His eyes were wide as they swept over the building. "What's your feeling telling you now?"

  His whispered voice trembled. "It's. . .it's telling me I'm home."

  Bram whistled. "So this is your digs?"

  Vincent swallowed and shook his head. His eyes never left the majestic abode. "I. . .I don't know."

  "Then let's find out," I suggested.

  Vincent and I led the across the lawn to the stone path that guided us to the large front stoop. The dark skies required that a few lights shone through the windows, but we saw no one. A Marley knocker hung on the door. I grabbed the handle and gave a few firm knocks. The sound echoed through the house.

  The sound of footsteps shuffled towards the door, and the entrance opened. The answerer was a man of forty with jet-black hair and a frown on his face. His eyes were devoid of emotion and he stooped so he was nearly as short as Bram. He wore a butler's uniform complete with black coat and well-shined shoes. A fancy watch with an illuminated face was wrapped around his right-hand wrist.

  Behind him was an elegant entrance hall with a waxed marble floor and white walls. A curved staircase disappeared unto the ceiling, and on either side were archways leading to the wings. The centerpiece to the room was a large grandfather clock situated against the wall opposite the front doors.

  The man's empty eyes swept over our party and lingered on me. Even his voice lacked the intonation of humanity. "Yes?"

  I stepped forward. "We were in the area and were wondering who owned this wonderful house."

  "Who's that, Black?" a voice spoke up.

  A beautiful woman of thirty with square spectacles walked down the stairs. She wore a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. The whole attire showed off her tall, slim figure Her long black hair hung down her back and her glistening emerald-green eyes swept over us with interest.

  Black stepped aside so she had a clear view of us. "Visitors, ma'am."

  She reached the bottom of the steps and paused. Her gaze fell on Vincent and her eyes widened. A wide smile slipped onto her lips as she opened her arms. "My love!"

  She rushed forward and embraced him in a tight hug. He stumbled back and held his hands out on either side. The woman pulled herself away and smiled up at his face that was full of confusion. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  "You've returned! You've finally returned!" she exclaimed. She studied him for a moment and the smile slipped from her lips. "My love, what's wrong? Why don't you embrace me?"

  Vincent studied her face and furrowed his brow. "Do I. . .I know you, don't I?"

  Her face fell and her eyes widened. She gave his shoulders a shake. "My love, it's me, Variel. Your mate."

  Bram started back. "Seriously?"

  Quill glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "What's that mean for us normals?"

  Bram grinned and wagged his eyebrows. "It means they got in on like wolves."

  Variel glanced at each of us and smiled. "Darling, who are your friends?"

  Vincent stepped out of her hold and closer to me. His gaze never left the woman as he shook his head. "I. . .I can't quite remember you."

  Variel's lips parted. She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. "You. . .you're not joking, are you? You truly don't remember me, don't you?"

  Vincent shook his head. "No. I mean, I feel I know you, but I don't recognize you."

  She reached up a trembling hand and cupped his cheek in her palm. Her eyes searched his face and glistened with tears. "My love, what has happened? How could you forget so many years? How could you forget me?"

  Vincent grasped her hand and removed it from his cheek. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I. . .I just can't remember."

  Quill stepped closer to the party and looked to Variel. "We were hoping you could give us the scoop on Vincent here since he's lost all his memories."

  Variel's lips parted in a gasp. She looked from Quill and back to Vincent. "Is this true? You've forgotten everything?"

  Vincent nodded. "Yes."

  Variel pursed her lips and clasped her hands together. "I see. Do you know how you lost them?"

  Vincent shook his head. "No."

  She sighed and stepped aside. "I see. Under such circumstances we should step inside. It looks like it's going to rain."

  CHAPTER 4

  We stepped into the entrance hall and Black shut the door behind us. Variel gestured to the doorway to our right and smiled. "Please this way."

  She guided us to a large sitting room where two couches and a pair of chairs awaited us. A coffee table stood between the assorted furniture, and on the wall opposite the entrance was a large hearth with a crackling fire. On the wall to our left were a pair of open doors that led into an adjoining pool room and library that stretched to the rear of the house.

  Variel nodded in the direction of the two couches. "If you would please take a seat, and I will tell you what I know. Perhaps that will bring back some of his memories."

  Bram and Quill occupied one couch, and I took a cushion on the other. Variel smiled at Vincent and gestured to one of the chairs. He instead took the cushion
beside me.

  Variel pursed her lips and seated herself in one of the chairs. Her eyes swept over our little group and stopped on Vincent. "What would you like to know?"

  Quill raised his hand. "How about you start at the beginning and we see if anything clicks?"

  She bowed her head. "Very well. Vincent and I have known each other for a very, very long time. I've lost count of the exact years, but it was perhaps three thousand and six hundred."

  Vincent's eyes widened. "How old?"

  Quill snorted. "This sounds like a load of bull."

  Variel raised an eyebrow. "I assure you Vincent and I are that old."

  Bram looked her over. "You smell like a werewolf, but I've never heard of one that lived that long. Not even the alphas can get that old."

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. "We are what's generally called Prime werewolves. We were the first ones blessed with the gift of the wolf by our ancient goddess. It was she who commanded us to spread the blessing to others, and those others became the werewolves who inhabit the world today."

  "I think Bram would know if werewolves lived forever," Quill pointed out.

  She sighed and shook her head. "Unfortunately, our children were flawed as we were. The generations below us were not gifted with a lifespan any longer than that of a human. They were also weaker than us and susceptible to such things as silver to which we are immune."

  My eyes flickered to Vincent. "That explains how you're able to wear my necklace."

  Variel tilted her head to one side and glanced from one of us to the other. "Necklace?"

  Vincent reached into his collar and pulled out the silver necklace. "This one."

  She frowned and whipped her head to me. Her voice was sharp. "Where did you get that?"

  I raised an eyebrow. "It's a family heirloom. Does it mean something?"

  Her smile reappeared and she sat back against her chair. "I'm sorry. I thought perhaps that was one of my necklaces Vincent took with him before he went away."

  "Why did I go away?" Vincent asked her.

  She sighed and gestured to the room around us. "You grew tired of all of this and hungered for adventure. That spirit took you away from me, and it appears in more ways than one."

  I raised an eyebrow. "So he wasn't looking for you?"

  She frowned. "No. What makes you say that?"

  "Vincent mentioned something like that," I told her.

  Her eyes flickered to Vincent. "I thought he couldn't remember anything."

  "I've had flashes of memories, but I can't quite piece them together," he admitted.

  "Could we get back to that whole immortality gig?" Quill pleaded.

  Variel's eyes fell on Quill and her lips curled up in a smile. "I don't believe we've had the proper introductions for me to expound further on the secrets of werewolves, and from your scent I know you're not one of us."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Vincent spoke up. He gestured to our companions. "This is Devin Quill, a reporter for the Fama Front Report."

  Variel raised an eyebrow. "The newspaper?"

  Quill grinned. "So you've heard of it?"

  She shrugged. "Vague reports. The city is not too far away as the crow flies, nor the news travels."

  Vincent continued his introductions. "And this is Bram."

  Bram leaned forward and gave her a sniff. "Nice to meet you."

  She laughed and bowed her head. "A pleasure."

  Vincent finished with me. "And this is Leila Ulric."

  She smiled and bowed. "I'm very glad to make your acquaintance."

  I returned the gesture. "Likewise."

  Quill coughed into his hand. "Now that that's done, what about this ancient god and immortality?"

  Variel chuckled. "You are an honor to your trade, sir."

  "And a good judge of when somebody's trying to run around the question," he retorted.

  Variel leaned back and sighed. "Very well. As I said before, Vincent and I, and a dozen others, were chosen to be the Prime wolves by our ancient goddess. We were tasked to spread the religion across the known world, and the worship of the goddess would echo around the world."

  "That didn't seem to work out much," Quill quipped.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No. We were persecuted, and the younger worshipers were destroyed by adherents to other faiths. Even some of the Primes were killed."

  My eyes flickered to Vincent. "Then they're weak to something?"

  Variel nodded. "Yes. Obsidian is our weakness, though fortunately in ages past the rock was very rare. As it was, our once-mighty faith dwindled, but did not die. The gift, or some would say curse, was passed down through generations, and through the millenia we abdicated our position and gave way to the younger generation." She gestured to Bram. "This boy here is an excellent example of the current werewolf's strength and weaknesses."

  He glared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Quill rubbed his head. "It means you shouldn't go into stealing silver spoons, Pipsqueak."

  "What can you tell us about Proxies?" I spoke up.

  The woman turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "Where did you here that word?"

  "Latin class," Quill quipped.

  I shot him a glare before I returned my attention to our hostess. "I've been told I'm a Proxy for Vincent, and that's why he's able to change without a full moon."

  Variel leaned back and studied me for a long while before she spoke. "How interesting. I can't tell you for sure whether you're a Proxy or not, but I can tell you that what you described is the role of a Proxy. It's an individual towards whom a werewolf feels such a strong bond that they overcome the limitations of their gift and achieve a complete mastery over their god-like form."

  "So what you're saying here is our boy Vincent's been made into a god by Leila?" Quill spoke up.

  Variel chuckled. "Something like that, if that's the case."

  Quill snorted. "Believe me, lady, I've seen it with my own two eyes. They've got something going on together that makes a perfectly nice guy like Vincent go full primal mode."

  I glared at him before I turned my attention to Variel. "Well, thank you for the information. I was also wondering what do you do here."

  Variel swept her eyes over the room and sighed. "We exist, and, on occasion, we go out into the world. It was during one of those outings that Vincent lost his memories."

  Vincent clutched his temple in one hand and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember any of this."

  Variel smiled and moved to kneel before us. She put her hand on Vincent's knee and looked up into his face. "It's fine, my love. I'm sure the memories will return to you in time. In the meantime, why don't you rest? You must be weary from your long travels."

  Vincent nodded. He slipped his hand into mine and stood. "Yes, we all are. I'd like my friends to remain here, as well. That is-" he turned to us, and his eyes settled on my face, "-if they'd like to stay."

  Quill stood and folded his arms. He closed his eyes and shrugged. "Why not? I'm not ready to write my story yet."

  Bram jumped to his feet. "If there's free food I'm staying."

  Variel laughed. "As much as you can eat, and then some."

  Vincent kept his eyes on me. His voice was low and soft. "Will you stay?"

  I smiled and shook his arm. "I'm not going anywhere."

  Variel clapped her hands and swept her eyes over our united group. "Excellent! Would you like to be shown to your rooms or would you first prefer a tour of the house?"

  Quill raised his hand. "I vote for the house. Something might job Vincent's memory."

  "If there's a kitchen to see, I'm all for it," Bram chimed in.

  Variel stepped over to the archway and gestured to the entrance to the room. "Then let's begin in the entrance hall."

  Bram strode out of the room followed by Quill. Our reporter friend paused and looked Variel over. She leaned back and the smile on her lips grew strained. "Is there something the matter?"

>   He squinted. "You look really familiar. Haven't we met somewhere before?"

  She laughed. "I can't think of where. I hardly leave the estate."

  He smiled and shrugged. "Must be my imagination."

  He slipped into the hall, and Vincent and I passed by Variel. Her eyes fell on Vincent's hand that held mine and her smile tensed, but didn't disappear. A heavy feeling of foreboding sank into my bones. There was something not quite right in this place of smiles and bright lights.

  Outside the storm brewed, and inside a mystery simmered.

  CHAPTER 5

  Variel moved to the head of our little party and led us through the house. There was nothing particularly noteworthy until we reached the kitchen. The large, white space with its stone floor and wood stove were a throwback to a thrown-away time. A modern refrigerator ruined the final effort at recreating the lost time.

  Black stood beside the center island. In front of him was a cutting board, and around him were stacks of cut vegetables. He looked up at our entrance, and I found his eyes settled on me again.

  Variel moved to stand beside him and she put a hand on his shoulder. "I hired a new servant while you were away, my love. This is Cain Black, a young werewolf who caught my eye. Black, say hello."

  Black bowed his head to us, but when he raised his eyes they were still stuck on me. "Hello."

  She laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "He's not one for words, but he is very reliable. Now let's continue."

  Long halls connected all the wing rooms together and curved around the house to the rear. We reached the back and returned to the front through a central hallway. Quill paused beside a plain white door that stood in the wall beneath the staircase.

  He jerked his thumb at the entrance. "What's in here?"

  We all stopped and turned. Variel smiled and shook her head. "It's just a junk room for my trinkets. After so many centuries I can't put most of my valuables on display, so I place them in there for safe-keeping."

  Quill grasped the knob. "Might if I take a look?"

  Variel smiled and wagged a finger at him. "Curiosity killed the cat, my friend. Besides, the room really is a mess, and not fit for anyone to go inside unless you wish to ingest dangerous spores from mummies and such."

  Bram slipped beside Quill and leaned forward to give the door a good sniff. "Doesn't smell dangerous to me." He frowned and sniffed again. "Actually, I don't smell anything."