Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

Maximo stared in wonderment at the gruesome sight.

“The baron is still alive. He cannot be more than a mile from here,” I confirmed.

“You’re certain?”

“This one was galloping on his horse before he realized how I pursued him. That means the others must be two miles away, at most, somewhere in this direction,” I nodded down the road.

“There are others?”

Not hearing Maximo’s question, I remembered the horse’s flight and took off after it. Far down the road, I found the animal lightly trotting. I slowed and maintained my distance, allowing it to continue.

The animal’s mind was not complex, but it smelled the world before it, seeing it in a blaze of colors, much as I did. When the tapestry became more familiar to the beast, it slowed and veered off the road.

In a few more moments, it arrived at a sizable outcrop of trees. There it meandered for some time before slipping into the wood and disappearing from sight.

I knew at once the old oak and alder trees perfectly masked the horse’s destination. It seemed impossible that a wolf den could have lain so close to the Roussade fortress without my sensing it. But as we approached in stealth, I knew there were several lycan ahead of me waiting somewhere in the thick.

I signaled Maximo to where I thought they lay and sent him around the perimeter to meet me from the side. When he was out of sight, I stepped forward into the outcrop with the most silent advance I was capable of. I hadn’t moved a hundred feet before I heard their minds and saw flashes of imagery.

There were five lycan, and each was male. Naked, they each kneeled around a crude wooden plate set upon a blanket laid out on the ground near the clearing’s center. They prayed together in unison. Their words were French and different from the Latin I knew, but they unquestionably meant the same.

“Our Father, who lives in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.”

One of them lifted the plate above his head.

“Take this, all of you, and eat of it: for this is my body, which will be given up for you.”

Upon the plate were large slices of red flesh, carved only moments earlier from the body of one of their human victims. When he lowered the plate, the lycan lifted a separate slice for each of them and placed it reverently in their mouths. When he’d swallowed the last piece, he continued.

From beside the plate, he lifted a small wooden cup above his head in the same fashion.

“Take this, all of you, and drink from it: for this is the chalice of my blood—the blood of the new and eternal covenant. I will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of me.”

To his fellow lycan, the man brought the cup to their lips. They each took a sip and made the sign of the cross. Instead of wine, just as the body had been flesh instead of bread, they each drank the blood of their victims.

I felt the cool, coagulating fluid pass over their tongues with revulsion.

They ended the ritual and returned to their feet. From their minds, I saw two carts, each strapped behind an enormous horse and filled with the cadavers of my household. These corpses were freshly butchered and wrapped carefully for the journey home—each man expected to be there in two days’ ride.

They awaited the return of their captain soon, and some thought to dress before they stopped, alerted to someone who advanced from the wrong direction. Shifting into their werewolf forms, they each raced to set upon the intruder. In no time, they located and surrounded Maximo before attacking him without a word.

I was upon the confrontation in seconds, causing bewilderment as I flew into two wolves at full speed and slammed them both into a thick, gnarled tree trunk. The others growled in confusion as much as in anger.

Recognizing what I’d done to his brothers, another wolf raced toward us, and I turned back to see him leap at me. Before he could land, his body exploded in a deep burst, his ignited blood splattering in every direction and landing on the nearby trees to set them aflame.

I saw Maximo leap at the distant two wolves in the staggering light when they stopped to stare in befuddled horror at the explosion.

A turned to find the two wolves I’d attacked back on their feet again. I sent a malevolent wave at both of them, and in unison, they dropped back to the earth to writhe in agony as I forced their blood to boil until they were dead.

The heat of the initial blaze burned itself out in seconds, but the two trees that had received the brunt of the evaporated blood crackled and smoked, promising to relight soon.

Maximo subdued one of the two remaining wolves with a dozen slashed of his talons, the final of which opened its stomach to spill upon the earth. Before he could turn to our last enemy, I sent the fiend flying into the nearest tree, where I held him for as long as I could before releasing him to fall upon the ground in agony.

“Who are you?” I hissed.

Heretic, he called me in angry silence. Witch!

“Speak!”

“Émilien.”

“Where do you come from?

He hesitated to answer me, and my rage overwhelmed. Smoke rose from his fur, and he panicked when he felt the burning.

“Dijon, Dijon!” he screamed. “Stop, please, we come from Dijon.”

“Who is your alpha? Not that filth I slaughtered on the road?”

Émilien didn’t answer immediately, but I could see plainly he was stunned that I’d subdued his captain.

“The Vicomté du Chastain,” he answered.

“He sent the six of you to subdue us?”

“He sent Jérémie, our delta, to find two heretics hiding in his realm. He received word from the Marquis de Archambault in Paris that the Devil of Milan’s children had infiltrated France. Jérémie searched for weeks before discovering you both days ago.”

“He didn’t inform your alpha?” I scowled in disbelief to no answer from my captive.

Perhaps Jérémie, this delta I’d slaughtered, had been satisfied by his spoils. Maybe he did not fear us and was contented to send us on our way. Or perhaps…

“Where is Baron Aoustin?” I pressed.

“He is there,” Émilien pointed to a tree I had somehow missed him. “We kept him alive on Jérémie’s orders.”

I could think of only one reason to spare a human—the fiend had intended to take possessorship of the fortress when we had gone. He had kept Aoustin alive to show him its secrets or make him its legal benefactor. A satellite house for their pack’s usage, only two day’s ride from Dijon, must have seemed attractive. Or perhaps he wished to break away from Dijon and start his own pack. It did not matter now.

I knelt down before Émilien to let him see the severity in my angered eyes. He recoiled in spirit, but pressed against the tree trunk, he had nowhere to go.

“Run from here now,” I whispered, “and tell your master you have discovered the heretics he was foretold of. Tell him my name is Gabriella d’Dazio, the Witch of Castello Palatino and daughter of its dark lord, the Devil of Milan, Sempronius of Mons Palatinus. Tell your master what his delta and your brothers did to my household, and how I’ve repaid his sentries in kind. Tell him that the countryside far east of his territory is now my domain, and that his pack will remain out of it should they wish to survive my wrath. Tell the Vicomté, lastly, to inform his brethren packs in Paris and Milan precisely where their deaths await them.”

Émilien stared at me with absorbed dread, but he didn’t move. Impatiently, I concentrated my energy to burn at his coat again. Before the smoke could rise, he scampered away from the pain and flew off.

Maximo had already moved to attend to Aoustin, and I crossed through the makeshift camp to find them. Though Maximo had removed the burlap sack from the old man’s head and the gag from his mouth, I saw at once we were too late. The baron had been badly beaten, whether through his struggle or by their cruelty. He was unconscious and barely alive.

I reverted to my lycan form and bent down to Aoustin’s slouched body to sit him up against the oak trunk. I cradled his head and tried with all my will to reach him. I saw the light within the man, but it was erratic and swirled just beyond my grasp, like in a dream.

“Aoustin,” I called repeatedly. “Father, wake up.”

In small moments of coherence, his light balanced, and I tugged at it gently. Still, I couldn’t bring him far enough to open his eyes.

Overwhelmed with grief, I met him in the only place I could. There, I gave him what I’d known he wanted above all.

Father, I have a secret, I said, smiling in adoration.

What’s that, my dove?

We stood in his tower room. The midday light of summer poured through the windows, and the warm breeze carried in the sweet smell of honeysuckle and the melodies of songbirds.

I reached for his weathered hand and placed it upon my abdomen.

I am with child, at last, Father. The mid-wife says I am almost four months along.

The unexpected news of his first grandchild overcame the man. Tears filled his eyes, and he kissed me over and over with delight.

Will you stay with me and hold my hand as I tell Phillipe? He will be home at any moment.

Of course, I will.

He laughed joyously and held me close to him.

Soon after, when I’d allowed him to watch his only son learn the news of his coming firstborn, and after he’d tasted the absolute joy of his last dream fulfilled, I gently released Aoustin from this world.