Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

My dream startled me awake. The candle had burnt out while I slept, leaving me in total darkness. I squinted in vain to see around the small space around me.

Though I didn’t feel alone, no one was there.

My slumbering limbs rose awkwardly to relight the candle. As I was up, I made water in the small basin provided in the corner. When I returned to bed, I stared at the shadows on the wall cast by the glow of the little flame, obsessed with the horror that had woken me.

The dream images were still fresh in my mind: the forest floor bathed in fresh snow; its gleam under the giant moon that broke through the clouds. I saw the faceless woman holding a candle at her breast. The savage growl that emanated all around me.

I knew from experience that I would lose the images in moments. I focused on replaying them in my mind, trying to hold on to the wild experience as long as I could.

A knock at the door stopped me.

I rose again and pulled it open sheepishly to find a Father Piero holding another tray, this time with a small bowl of porridge.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Good morning, Father,” I answered and took it as fast as I could.

When he nodded toward my dinner tray on the ground, I handed it to him with a humble nod. Without another word, the priest turned to leave me.

My appetite had returned, and I consumed my breakfast with such speed that I cleaned the bowl far before I was anywhere near sated.

What had she said in the dream said to me? I pondered this fruitlessly for some time before accepting that I no longer knew.

When the sky had barely turned a deep violet, another knock sounded at the door. I opened to find an older man with striking white hair under a simple brown hat.

“Good morning, signorina,” he smiled warmly. “I am Luca, the groundskeeper. Are you ready for our walk?”

His jolly smile placed my apprehension to rest. I had nothing to fear from this man. Even had he been young enough to care about lascivious matters, I could tell by his fatherly demeanor there was nothing devious about him.

I reached for my cowl to cover my head and blew out the candle. In the courtyard garden, Luca nodded and turned to lead me on.

“This is my favorite time day,” he told me with his melodic tenor after we reached the street. “Peaceful. No one is yet in a hurry.”

“It’s not daytime yet,” I answered with a smile.

“Precisely,” he returned with another boyish grin.

We made our way through the streets of Morbegno silently, then crossed the Torrente Bitto into the hills of farmland that lay in the west. Despite his advanced years, Luca was very fit and walked faster than I expected. I still felt the soreness between my legs, and the pain brought with it flashes of the attack. The sounds of my struggle; the smells of their fetid breath; their words filled with anger and hatred as they abused me.

I wanted so desperately to speak to my mother, the only person I could have told. I hadn’t uttered a word of the attack to Father Piero during my confession, and he didn’t ask me about it. What they had done to me was evident by the state of my ripped dress and the red marks on my throat. Instead, he had silently acknowledged the matter by insisting I bathe in the private darkness of the storage closet where he hid me.

I would never speak of it to anyone, I realized. Turning to Luca as he led us, I fancied for a moment that I might tell him. The kind, old man might hold me like a father and let me weep in his arms. But I knew this was folly. I was alone, and I would lock it all away in silence forever.

An hour passed before Luca turned off the central road, where he stopped at a break in a makeshift stone fence.

“This is where we shall work today,” he said and moved toward a shed standing a short distance ahead of us near the center of the field.

When he opened the old shed door, I noticed at once he had not unlocked it.

“It does not concern you to leave this unguarded?” I asked.

“This is the Church’s field,” he answered plainly, without so much as a pause for consideration. “Who would steal these tools?”

The morning passed quietly as Luca put me to work, harvesting from plots of wheat, barley, and vegetables. There were almost one hundred vines, most of which hung deeply from the burden of their enormous fruit. I had rarely seen such excellent growth and didn’t need to taste these grapes to know they were bursting with flavor.

At noon, Luca called to me and gestured that we should break under a gigantic oak tree standing near the field’s center. He had brought fresh bread and a jar of spring water for us. Luca also selected fresh berries and grapes from our morning’s toil to enjoy. As we ate, he broke the morning’s silence again.

“The men from Lozaro’s field usually come around mid-afternoon by wagon to collect the day’s yield. They will take it to the market, and the shopkeeper’s boy will deliver it to the rectory. The finest of the harvest will go for the priests’ evening’s meal. He will also bring them the previous day’s receipts.”

I didn’t answer but gave a nod as I ate in quiet. It didn’t surprise me that Father Piero would insist on the day’s best produce. In a moment of selfishness, I was glad that my meals would be so satisfying. It was one bright point within the darkness of this unexpected life.

When we had finished our lunch, Luca removed his jacket and used it as a pillow to lay back on the ground. He cocked his hat over his face and rested.

I realized he had meant his earlier conversation to note how we had hours before anyone might disturb us. I felt drowsy just to see him stretch out, but I couldn’t bring myself to do the same.

I didn’t want to close my eyes. Even though there was no one around us for at least half a mile, I still felt exposed. I wouldn’t risk sleeping here, even with Luca at my side.

After yawning several times from the heat, I laid back against the tree for comfort. I remained vigilant for some time that I wouldn’t sleep, hearing Luca’s breaths come rhythmically from his deep slumber.

My watering eyes must have closed while I was lost in thought.

I walked along the forest floor at night. The Chaste Moon guided my steps, lighting my path through the heavy terrain. Lost in the dark, it seemed as if She pulled me toward a destination only visible from Her heavenly height.

Danger.

I smelled it long before I heard it. Something drew toward me at a terrible speed. It’s footsteps landed like the beating base of a drum, and it startled me to feel its immense power shake the earth with each footfall.

When it arrived near where I stood, I flinched, guarding myself for the inevitable blow. I thought it might destroy me; barrel over me to leave my body broken scattered in its wake. Instead, it stopped and became deathly silent.

I opened my anxious eyes to behold a man standing barely ten feet before me. He was tall, nearly six feet in height with inky hair grown wild to his shoulders. His crystal blue eyes stared at me with perplexed fascination, as if I didn’t belong here. His gaze was so intense, I wondered if I was the first person he’d ever seen.

The man was stark naked. His robust and muscled physique stood unmoving like polished marble in the moonlight.

Who are you? his deep voice asked through unmoving lips.

I didn’t answer him—I couldn’t think what to say.

He took a few steps forward and came almost within arm’s reach.

Who are you? he asked again.

I didn’t withdraw. Instead, I walked forward to close the gap between us. Looking into the man’s eyes, I reached up to touch his face. I felt the silky texture of his beard, cut close to the skin, and the shape of his powerful jaw beneath it. I wanted to kiss those sensuous lips, which seemed to speak to me without moving.

“I don’t know,” I whispered to him.

The man’s eyes shifted in suspicion, and they took on a wave of sharp anger. His pale face darkened, falling into shadow, and in seconds I could only see his eyes. Their crystal blue color changed, growing immense, and his irises became dark honey that seemed to emanate light from within. He rose in stature, and I stepped back from the shock of his alteration. From his chest, I heard a deep rumble, the sound of a beast growling in anger.

I was in danger. Everything told me to run away, but I stood frozen with fear.

His shoulders rose, and his head lowered with sharp focus as if he meant to fly forward to strike me.

I somehow turned to flee, but he grabbed hold of me with a stone’s strength, locking the very air within my lungs as I tried to scream in vain.