Wolves in the Shadows, Page 2

  “I am the natural child of Lord Reginald and his wife, Lady Anya daughter of Aldo the Silversmith,” said Marcus. “When I was in my early twenties, he turned me at my request. So he is my father and my father.” There was a hardness in his face as he spoke that made Elizabeth shudder. His expression was one of pain mingled with burning anger and hatred and something that Elizabeth could not quite identify. She did not have the courage to ask him why he had asked to be turned. She could tell instinctively that it was a horrible story, and she doubted that she would be able to hear it.

  “So vampires can have actual children?” She asked instead, hoping to steer the conversation towards something less frightening. “Or did Lord Reginald become a vampire after you were born?”

  Marcus’ expression softened a bit. “My father was turned hundreds of years before I was born.” He seemed slightly amused by her ignorance. “It is possible for a mortal woman to become pregnant by a vampire, but it is very rare. Often the child is stillborn or too weak to survive beyond the first few days of life. Or more often, the father or his clan will kill the child themselves.”

  “But not you.”

  “No, I was strong enough to survive, and my father would have rather died than allow me to be harmed by his clan.” His eyes seemed to be looking far into the distant past as he continued. “The fact that my mother was able to bear two children for my father that survived to adulthood is nothing short of miraculous.”

  “You had a brother? Or a sister?” Elizabeth asked. She always loved hearing about people’s families, perhaps because she had no family of her own.

  “My sister, Mallory.” Marcus’ face brightened as he said her name. “She was thirteen years younger than me and the apple of my eye. She was beautiful and gentle, like my mother. She did not deserve-” He trailed off into a brooding sort of silence.

  “I always wanted a sister,” Elizabeth said with a sad smile. She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking more questions. It was clear that Marcus was done answering for now.

  “We should go,” He said. “Father is waiting.”

  They walked in silence, both deep in their own thoughts as they went further into the grove. After awhile, the lines of trees parted and a wooden shack surrounded by tall weeds came into view. Elizabeth guessed that it must have been an old storeroom from back when the grove had been thriving. Romulus led them down a rocky dirt path to the weather beaten door. Before Sir Marcus opened the door, he turned to Elizabeth and said, “Be careful in here. My father can be overwhelming.”

  “More overwhelming than you?”

  Marcus gave a little snort. “Much more.”

  Elizabeth swallowed nervously and rubbed her hands on her jeans. Her palms had suddenly become uncomfortably sweaty. “I’m pretty scared right now, Sir Marcus,” she said. It felt good to be able to admit it.

  “Just be yourself,” said Marcus with a wry smile. Elizabeth could have sworn that he gave her a little wink when he added. “And remember not to run away screaming.”

  Elizabeth mustered up a small smile in return. There would be no running possible. She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.

  Chapter 3

  Sir Marcus’s father was indeed overwhelming. Elizabeth felt a wave of power crash into her the instant that she stepped through the door. It was like being swept out to sea by a riptide but warmer and wilder. Like falling into a bottomless pit filled with swirling shadows. She had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out at the immensity of his presence. Surely this was the very embodiment of fear, but it was not merely fear that rooted her to the spot. No. It was awe.

  He stood regally in the middle of a small room filled with empty orange crates. He was not as tall as Marcus. His hair was darker and coarser and pulled back at the nape of his neck into a long braid. His features were more sharply defined. A thin scar that ran from under the corner of his left eye down to his chin was the only imperfection on his otherwise smooth face. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and silk shirt that brought out the steely grey of his eyes.

  Elizabeth hardly noticed any of this. She was caught up in the steadiness and wisdom of his gaze that spoke of long years of memories. He was old, soul crushingly old. She could feel herself being pulled into his eyes, but she could not look away. She was a fragile moth being drawn inescapably towards a flame. There was no escape possible now or ever. It was as if his gaze could not merely pierce through her as Marcus’ could. It could rip into her very soul and lay bare every secret thought and desire and fear that she kept hidden within herself. She felt as if the room was spinning around her as images of things long forgotten came floating to the surface of her mind. Old dreams that had faded from memory. Childhood fears that had been outgrown. Nightmares that had haunted her in her youth came to life and reached out to her with withered hands. The smell of burning flesh and twisted metal filled her nostrils as she heard agonized screaming.

  She could hardly breathe or even think. Her senses were filled to overflowing as she felt herself being pulled down into the deepest, darkest part of her memory.

  But Elizabeth was not one to surrender. Even as she felt the last vestiges of herself threaten to slip into the darkness, something woke up inside her. Something fierce and bestial. She clawed her way towards the pair of eyes that watched her from the shadows.

  “Let me out!” Her own voice echoed inside her head though she did not speak. She blinked and the darkness had vanished, and she once again standing still before Sir Marcus’ father. It took her a moment to realize that whatever had just happened to her had been in her own mind.

  “Father, I have brought you Elizabeth Morden as you requested.” Elizabeth heard Sir Marcus say, though she hardly realized that he was speaking at first. His voice seemed to bring her back into reality.

  “Son.” His voice was deeper than his son’s. Elizabeth was not sure if it was just her imagination, but she was certain that the floor beneath her feet shook as he spoke again. “Do not be afraid, young Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth could not respond. Her mouth was dry with fear, and she felt as if she had somehow been turned into a statue, rigid and unmoving. Marcus guided to a crate that had been draped with soft black velvet and sat her down. She must have been able to walk, but she could hardly feel herself move. Everything seemed to be strangely shimmering around the edges.

  “I am Lord Reginald Wolfrick.” She had neither seen nor heard him move, but suddenly he was sitting beside her. His grey eyes studied her delicate features.

  Elizabeth nodded, still unable to speak. Of course she knew his name, but nothing that Sir Marcus had said could have possibly prepared her for this presence, this unbearable power.

  “Thank you for coming to me.” He pronounced each syllable with the slow deliberation of someone who was not accustomed to having to say thank you, someone whose every word was to be heard and obeyed without question. The effect was somehow both charming and terrifying. “It was a brave thing to do.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Elizabeth managed to croak out at last. She did not feel remotely brave. She felt weak and insignificant beside him, somehow even smaller than Sir Marcus made her feel. Her worn jeans and sweater and tangled hair made her feel so shabby next to his chiseled features. Even his scar somehow added to the unearthly beauty of his appearance. Elizabeth was certain that she was about to embarrass herself forever by passing out as he looked at her.

  Mercifully, the waves of power that still sought to wash her away to nothingness began to recede, and Elizabeth found that she could breathe easily once again. Feeling rushed back into her body and everything around her seemed to become solid and real.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, taking in great gulps of air. It might have been musty and stale but at least it was air. She would never take breathing for granted ever agai
n. The smells of rotting wood and orange peel filled Elizabeth’s nostrils, along with another bittersweet smell that she could not identify.

  “Forgive me, young one,” Lord Reginald’s voice was like a warm blanket beginning wrapped around her shoulders. “I will restrain myself as best I can until you become more accustomed to my presence.”

  Elizabeth had to bite her tongue yet again. The idea of becoming used to such a presence was laughable, but she didn’t think that this ancient vampire would appreciate being laughed at. Not that she would be laughing at him of course, but he might not understand. He seemed far more solemn than Sir Marcus. And absolutely more dangerous.

  “I did warn you,” Sir Marcus said with a touch of a smirk. He gave Elizabeth a sly wink.

  Lord Reginald shot him a withering glare.

  “What?” Sir Marcus asked. His expression was impossibly innocent.

  The ghost of what might have been a smile flitted across Lord Reginald’s aristocratic features.

  “Lord Reginald,” Elizabeth said, feeling compelled to speak. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life, but at the same time, some part of me feels like I’m perfectly safe. It doesn’t make any sense. Especially considering what you just did to me. I don’t even know what it was, but it was like I was trapped inside my own head with you.” She shuddered as she spoke. She hadn’t thought it was possible for any power to tear into her psyche like that and make her see and feel such terrible things. She knew that she would never be the same. “And I don’t know how I was able to get out.”

  Romulus, who Elizabeth had almost forgotten about at this point, rested his head on her leg. She could feel his hot breath on her thigh through her jeans. It was strangely comforting. She patted him on the head.

  “It was a test, young Elizabeth,” Lord Reginald’s voice was filled with remorse. “Forgive me, but I needed to look inside your mind without taking it over completely.”

  “You could have warned me.” Elizabeth was surprised at her own daring. She desperately hoped that she hadn’t offended him.

  Lord Reginald shook his head. “It would have been more painful for both of us because you would have resisted me.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “It was painful for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you see everything that I saw?”

  “Yes.”

  Elizabeth looked down at Romulus and tried to gather her thoughts and keep her composure. It was horrible to think that this complete stranger had so easily seen into her mind. She hated how exposed and vulnerable she felt, but wondered how she was able to feel as calm as she felt. Up until an hour ago vampires and psychic powers and centuries old whatever Romulus was were just things that she might read about in one of those novels that her roommate loved so much or watch on some TV show or movie, but here she was. Before she even realized it, she was gushing to Lord Reginald how confused she was about her own response to meeting him and Sir Marcus and Romulus. “It makes no sense,” she said shaking her head as she finished sharing her thoughts. “Hell, it makes negative sense. How can anyone be so scared and not scared and calm but totally confused at the same time? Part of me is certain that I’m going to wake up and find that this is all a dream, but I know it’s real.”

  “You know that it is real, because deep down, you always knew that we existed.” Lord Reginald said after she had finished. “You are afraid because you have never encountered such dangerous creatures, but not afraid because you also know deep down that we will not hurt you.”

  “But how do I know?” Elizabeth asked. Part of her was screaming at her to stop talking. Was she really questioning a vampire lord who had already shown how easily he could rip into her mind? Was she crazy or did she just have a death wish?

  Lord Reginald frowned slightly, but Elizabeth got the distinct impression that Sir Marcus was trying to hold back a smile.

  “You are a strange creature, young Elizabeth,” Lord Reginald said after what felt like an eternity to her, but was surely only an infinitesimally short period of time to one as old as he was. “You are far braver that you think you are and honest to the point of impertinence, but I do not blame you for that. You are both ignorant and innocent, but hungry for answers. The pursuit of knowledge is always admirable.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile his words. “Thank you, I’m usually not this brutally honest about how I feel, but I can’t help it right now. It’s like-I don’t know what it’s like-it’s just strange.”

  Lord Reginald smiled slowly, as if she had reminded him of some pleasant memory, but there was something else in his expression that Elizabeth could not quite read. Pride? Sorrow? Regret? She had no way to tell.

  “Father,” Sir Marcus said softly. “You should tell her why you summoned her here.”

  Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair nervously.

  Lord Reginald seemed to rouse from whatever his thoughts might be nodded and said. “Young Elizabeth, I wish to tell you a story from my youth. Would you like to hear it?” He said it with so much gravity that Elizabeth knew she could not refuse. Though there was no way that she would pass up such an opportunity anyways. After all, how often does one get to talk to someone who’s lived through so many centuries?

  Chapter 4

  “It was not love at first sight,” Lord Reginald’s voice was rich and sonorous as he spoke. “Nor was it lust at first sight. Indeed I hardly noticed her when fate first brought our paths together. I imagine that it was their youthful naivety that gave them the courage to walk home without an escort on that dark night. Anya and Elise, two of the most beautiful mortal women to ever walk the earth. They were sisters and best friends, the daughters of Aldo who would later be known far and wide simply as Der Siberschmeid, or in English, the Silversmith. They were both slender and fair, with clear blue eyes and flowing golden hair. Anya was the eldest, wise far beyond her years, but Elise was reckless and impulsive. Quicker than her older sister to bouts of passion and anger, quicker to laugh and smile but also quicker to folly. She was forever filled with excitement and emotion that she could hardly contain. It was a good thing for her that her beloved sister was so gentle and patient. Anya was the calm at the center of the hurricane that was Elise.

  “It once pained me to admit that it was Elise that first caught my eye that night. She was laughing loudly and telling Anya of the many young men that were madly in love with her and the many games that she would play with her suitors before she would chose one to marry. She had the radiance of youth that made her feel invincible.

  “Anya was listening but ever on the alert for anything or anyone that might disturb them as they walked. She was armed with a small dagger that she always carried up her sleeve when they walked at night. Not that it would have done any good against the likes of me.

  “She loved her sister dearly, and she did not care that she was neither as beautiful nor as beloved as her sister. Her features where not as perfect, her lips not as full, her teeth not as straight. Her quiet nature made her easily overshadowed by her sister’s gregarious personality. Indeed, there were some who were even a little intimidated by Anya, mistaking her silence for arrogance, but those who knew her quickly saw that she was gentle and kind. There was no malice in her heart, and as the years went by, she would grow more and more beautiful while her sister’s beauty faded along with her youth. She was truly the more beautiful of the two though few could see it at first.” Lord Reginald trailed off into a thoughtful silence. His grey eyes were looking into a faraway place as he recalled their first meeting all those centuries ago. Elizabeth found that when he spoke, she was able see the sisters before her on that dark road. She had heard Elise prattling on unaware of anything around her as she walked while Anya’s eyes continually darted here and there. She had been able feel the blood coursing through their veins, so fresh and warm. Now that
he was silent, the sisters faded from view, and she was again sitting on an old orange crate.

  “I was hunting alone as I often did in the days of my youth,” Lord Reginald continued, and Elizabeth plunged back into the vision that his words created. “I had only been with the Wolf Clan for perhaps two hundred years, but I was already so high in the esteem of Lady Selina, the master of the clan, that she had named me as her heir, much to the displeasure of some of the older and more powerful members. This will be important later, as you will see, but at the time it was of little consequence to me. Like Elise, the carelessness of youth was ever present.

  “As I roamed the countryside, cloaked in shadows and hungry for blood, I saw them dancing gracefully even as they walked in the moonlight. How could I resist such creatures? So pure and young and delectable. I could taste their blood on my lips as I swept down upon them and took them by surprise.

  “I weaved the most incredible fantasies before their eyes. They deserved at least the illusion of happiness before I took away their lives, for I was certain that once I tasted their blood, I would not be satisfied until I had drunk every last drop. Such was my gluttonous appetite in those years. I showed them a life within the most beautiful of palaces with the finest servants and the richest furnishings. I showed them a banquet with the most succulent of meats and more decadent of wines. They were dressed in the softest of silks and bathed in the choicest perfumes. I showed them a glorious world where they would always be safe and happy.

  “Elise was utterly mesmerized and within my power, but Anya, sweet Anya, proved to be far more resilient to my charms than anyone I had ever encountered. Anya, who at first had seemed to be less fair that her sister, proved to be stronger and more beautiful than I had ever thought possible.

  “‘My lord,’ she said as she stood before me without fear. ‘Do whatever you will with me, but I beg you to let my sister go. I have seen her destiny, and I know that she will bring a lasting peace though it might be through terrible destruction and a river of blood.’

  “I was amazed. Never had any mortal thwarted my power so completely and cooled my desire for blood. I could feel her life force clash against mine and sate my hunger. It was beyond anything that I thought possible.