Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

Maximo had been my loving partner and husband, in practice and pretense, for so long that it was a challenge to remember my life before him. He bore every quality I respect and admire in a man, and very few that I didn’t.

And he had been a magnificent lover. After the abuses I suffered before arriving at Castello Palatino, I held his patience and tenderness solely accountable for allowing sexuality back into my life.

The very idea that anyone might find fault in Maximo to explain my behavior in New York was preposterous. He had never failed me. I had never grown bored with him, even if I’d grown disinterested in the frequent sexual play of our youths. I adored Max, plain and simple. But our relationship had evolved over so much time that it was now a wholly different brand of love.

Sexuality hadn’t been a presence in our marriage in decades—it no longer drove us and wasn’t a factor of our commitment to each other. At least, it hadn’t driven me or my devotion to Maximo. Sex itself was a facet of life I no longer cared about very much.

Perhaps I take too much liberty on his behalf. Instead, let me say that if Maximo had ever taken lovers during our time together, he had the courtesy and respect to make sure I knew nothing about them. Indeed, my betrayal had nothing to do with Maximo in any sense. Even applying the word ‘betrayal’ to my decision seems somehow false and misleading.

Part of me believed that if I explained myself, Maximo would be the first person in the world to understand and agree to my taking a lover. But whether the notion had real merit or was pure delusion, I knew Maximo would never accept who I’d chosen as my lover.

Duccio had changed some part of me. I can’t say for sure how or why this happened. He hadn’t filled a vacancy in my heart left barren by a sea of time. Instead, I experienced something I’d never before known with him: overwhelming lust—something purely biological and beyond reason. It was a raw, dangerous, and illogical form of carnal desire. There was nothing about Duccio that filled any other need, and my attraction made no sense to me, but I couldn’t turn away from it. Or, at least, I didn’t.

The train pulled into Washington D.C. shortly after sunset.

I had cabled home with word of my arrival. I said Vivian had died and to ask that Richards make arrangements with Callahan Brothers to receive her coffin.

Stepping down from the train, I quickly found Richards standing on the platform with the undertaker. They needed to wait for the other passengers to disembark, after which the attendants would release any deceased they carried aboard.

“Mistress,” Richards said before stepping away to oversee the transfer.

Maximo was also waiting, and he gave my cheek a small kiss.

“You’re all right, then?” Maximo asked me.

“I’m fine. I’m grateful to be home.”

“We’ll see you at the house,” he called to Richards, who nodded his goodbye to us.

Once in our carriage, Maximo patiently sat beside me. He wanted to understand how such a thing might have happened but would never pull it out of me before I was ready.

“I’m so distraught,” I started. “I’ve hardly slept since it happened.”

Again, Maximo kissed my cheek.

“She made friends with a pair of women sleeping on her floor and asked me if she might have that afternoon off to go see the town with them. Of course, I said it would be all right. I’d already made appointments with agents and wouldn’t be going to viewings until the next day. And what young girl wants to sit in a hotel room in a place like New York?”

I exhaled and paused, staring out the window at the sidewalks filled with evening pedestrians as we passed by them.

“When I didn’t hear from her that night, I honestly thought nothing of it. No, that’s not true—I was happy for her. A young mother finally alone for one night of frivolity. Let Vivian kick up her shoes and discover some joy, I said to myself.”

Did tears fill my eyes as I told Maximo these lies?

“In the morning, I received an early visit from the hotel manager, who brought the police to my room. After verifying who I was and that Vivian was in my employ, they told me they’d found her murdered in her bed. Someone had cut her throat from ear to ear. The officer confirmed that the other girls had brought her back safely to the hotel. But they also said a group of vulgar men had accosted them on the street only a block from the hotel. Independently, both women thought those men must have followed them.

“And I thought… God, what have I let happen?”

Maximo took my hand, and I closed my eyes, acting as if I couldn’t speak another word about the matter.

“Dreadful,” he said with a sigh. “But that wasn’t your fault. We’ve seen enough of this world to know what a dangerous place it can be, even for those fortunate few with an advantage over its violence.”

He kissed my cheek tenderly one last time and let me sit in the silence of my false anguish.

There, I thought, now I’ve become an adulteress and a liar.

“I will see to Henry the best I can,” I continued. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

“No, I thought I’d wait to speak with you first.”

“I won’t tell him what happened to her,” I insisted. “Perhaps one day when he’s a man. But for now, I’ll say she was taken from us in a terrible accident.”

“That’s probably best. I know Richards will be grateful to have you back.”

“I won’t be back for very long. I found a suitable house to rent in Manhattan and have already made arrangements to move in by October. I know Richards won’t want to come with me, but I’ve already had a frank discussion with him about Henry—about how I need him to take charge of the boy’s education. And now I’ll need him to do even more. Yesterday, I found a suitable maid in New York; she’s already given her employer notice and will probably move into the house before I return. But Richards will need to find the boy a governess. Someone he’ll be able to manage while I’m gone.”

“And how long will that be for?” Maximo asked.

“You tell me. How long will this war last? Or how long will Washington hold your attention?”

Maximo stared at me for a long time without answering. I looked away, out through the window, but I wondered desperately if I’d said too much. Could he see through me?

“Everything is temporary,” he finally answered with a defeated grin.

Two days later, we all escorted Henry to the Callahan Brother’s mortuary. There were no customary burial services available during the war’s height, but I paid handsomely to ensure they prepared Vivian’s body for viewing during a private wake.

While Richards disagreed with allowing Henry to see his deceased mother, I felt the young boy needed to look upon her one last time. I wanted him to remember how beautiful she was, how each of us cared for her, and that she was truly dead.

“He’s a child,” I insisted. “His young mind is still obsessed with fairy tales. He needs to see her body one last time, so he understands the truth. And we need to show him he is not alone—that he can count upon us.”

And when it came down to it, Henry kissed his mother’s cheek and told her goodbye before returning to my arms to cry. He never noticed the closed collar they’d dressed Vivian in to hide the gash at her throat.

Hating myself for allowing the moment to happen, I promised her silently that I’d see to her precious boy. I would guard Henry until he followed her.