Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

Another form moved from under the blankets, and I realized the voice came from someone else huddled against Cecco. A woman’s head emerged, and she tossed the covers aside in confusion to look back at why he was jerking so.

Blood sprayed out at her as Cecco choked, covering the woman’s white face in splotches that looked like black ink in the dim light of the room. She whimpered involuntarily as her hands struggled to wipe the blood from her eyes. When she cleared them enough, the woman looked up at my figure beside the bed with confusion.

In the dark, I saw Apollonia’s terrified face recoil. She screamed in horror, and I reached forward to grab her from the bed. I pivoted to slam her against the wall behind me, holding her by her throat.

I would have her see me in all my glory. I insisted she feel my hot breath long enough to know the same dread I suffered when she betrayed me. From her mind, I tasted a delicious and paralyzing fear. I wanted Apollonia to witness my malevolent eyes and know that I was no man come to rape her in the night. I would have her see a black demon, glistening in vivid clarity, come here to drag her treacherous soul to Hell.

I felt more alive now than ever, and I allowed the moment to draw out, delighting in her strangled screams. My face closed in upon her, smelling the fresh blood smeared across her face, and I licked her in heavenly abandon, tasting its rich pungency.

My mind raced through all the ways I might end this sublime moment. I could rip open Apollonia’s chest, or I could slice her stomach to spill her intestines to the floor. More than anything, I wanted to rip her throat out with my teeth and delight in the taste of her fresh blood. All my ideas seemed too good an end for the miserable traitor.

Then something pulled at my mind. I sensed it coming from her, thinking it was perhaps the smell of her breath. She bore an incredible shine over her agitation or discomfort. Small, unexpected emotions lurked behind the roar of her terror.

Looking down in search of something I couldn’t yet grasp, I realized that Apollonia was with child. Her stomach hung heavily under her nightgown, and I saw she wasn’t more than a month from giving birth. The discomfort I sensed came from her unborn child. His small, unfocused mind flashed with distress.

The iron of my grip vanished, and Apollonia fell to the floor before me. I stumbled away, backing out from the room as she whimpered on the ground.

I was stunned. For the first time in my werewolf form, I felt unsure of myself.

Turning to run away, I found Duccio standing in the hallway, blocking my path. I advanced to move around him, but he wouldn’t permit it.

I must go, I said to him in a confused panic.

Instead of stepping aside, Duccio extended his mind to Apollonia. At once, she stopped her terrified whimpering and became catatonic. She stared forward with an utterly relaxed countenance as if none of it had happened. It seemed she could no longer see us.

Though I had witnessed Duccio accomplish this trick before with Father Piero and the sailors on his barge, I thought I finally understood what he had done. Somehow, he had pulled the fear away from her mind—silenced it all together. Then, Duccio installed other memories in place of those Apollonia had made while witnessing my actions.

A quiet landscape filled her mind; the images from her eyes no longer taking root in her consciousness. As a result, her body relaxed.

Help her to the bed, Duccio commanded me.

I resisted at first, but he repeated himself in no uncertain terms, so I turned back to do as he said.

Approaching her, I kneeled down to lift Apollonia’s arm. She moved pliantly and followed my silent direction. She stood up and allowed me to walk her back to the far side of the bed. Finally, she laid down beside Cecco’s corpse, and her eyes closed.

Duccio approached and lifted Cecco’s corpse from the bed, which appeared to be as light as a feather. He slung it over his shoulder and retreated from the bedroom without a word.

I gave one last glance at Apollonia, lying beside the black pool of his blood. She fell back to sleep at once, and I moved off to follow my alpha.

Duccio climbed the stairwell back to the roof and stopped only when he reached the garden. Glancing back to see that I had followed, he leaped forward with a powerful burst of energy, landing atop the nearest building across the alleyway. From there, he ran along the staggered rooflines from building to building, moving through Como in this fashion with Cecco’s body. I followed instinctively, allowing myself no time to ponder where he headed.

When we finally approached the town’s eastern edge, Duccio leaped from the final roof to the ground and advanced through the quiet side roads. He flew up the unpaved hillside that rose toward the ridge where Castello Palatino perched, overlooking the town and lake in the distance. Halfway up the incline, Duccio stopped and released Cecco’s body to the ground.

Why have we brought him here? I asked through heavy breaths.

Duccio didn’t answer but instead knelt to dig. With his massive talon, he dug a giant hole in moments, ripping through the damp earth without strain. When he’d satisfied himself, he stopped and rose to collect Cecco’s corpse from the ground. With a sickening crunch, he pulled Cecco’s head from the rest of his body and cast it into the muddy hole. Then he separated the arms and legs from the torso, one by one. These he tossed into a compact pile beside the head until all that remained was Cecco’s bloody torso. Duccio pulled apart the spine with a last break and ripped him into two pieces that filled the shallow hole’s remaining room. Finally, he covered Cecco’s remains with the displaced soil. He swiped at it with his powerful arms and shoulders until all that remained for me to see was a short, barely notable mound.

Return to the castle, he said, and in a moment he was gone, flying up the hillside with astonishing speed.

When day broke on Christmas morning, I hadn’t slept at all. After returning to Castello Palatino as commanded, I entered my bedroom from my balcony door and spent the rest of the night sitting in my bath. The steaming water I’d drawn to warm my painfully cold flesh only left me feeling more numb.

Alone with my thoughts, I played the night over and over in my mind.

I had meant to kill Apollonia without a second thought--destroy her in payment for betraying me. But her child, Cecco’s unborn child, had called out to me, suffering because of his mother’s struggle. In that moment of understanding, my strength left me. Upon reflection, I couldn’t account for why my werewolf form hadn’t also left me. Had Duccio stopped the reversion? Could he do such a thing? Either way, his display of power had astonished me. When the night’s events eventually slackened their hold on me, I found deep gratitude to have had him by my side. I had clearly been unprepared for what awaited me, and the outcome of the night might have haunted me forever had Duccio not been by my side.

When Pompeia arrived at my suite door to collect me shortly after dawn for Christmas morning celebrations, I was grateful that she’d appeared in her dressing gown.

“Happy Christmas!” she beamed, kissing me on the cheek.

She took my hand and led me to the grand salon, where the others sat by the fire, discussing the previous night’s events. Dionisio had prepared a light breakfast for the house, which was to say he brought up a few trays of assembled leftovers from the kitchen. The servants were at home with their families today, and as we must fend for ourselves. Our Christmas would be filled with whatever remained from last night’s feast.

“They’ve already started grazing like cattle,” Pompeia said when we approached the joyous scene. “I expect most will be back asleep in an hour.”

All called out ovations of “Buon Natale” upon seeing us. They were beaming to begin the morning’s festivities, and we both fell into a sofa beside one another to let them start. One by one, packages were removed from under the tree and placed before their receipient’ feet, soon forming hefty piles.

I had ventured into the city on my first shopping trip with Pompeia the week before to select gifts for each member of my new family.

“Pick nothing based on its price, but on the importance it’ll have to its recipient,” she had instructed me. “None of them are new to a world of plenty. They need nothing, and the last thing any of them will want is more of the same.”

With that mandate, I selected books for each that the proprietor promised were recently published. I found military dramas for Maximo and Ambrosius, comedies for Zacharia and Dionisio, and a collection of poetry for Duccio. For Sempronio, I chose a book called Reckonings that Carry Men Through the World by Ihara Saikaku. It was in Japanese, which I knew he could read.

Each of the men in my life kissed my cheek to thank me. Pompeia hugged me with delight when she opened a salacious novel, clearly unfit for a woman to read. I’d proudly convinced an attendant to sneak it out from the For Men Only section of Masolini Brother’s book shop.

To my delight, I received books from each of them, no doubt due to the satisfaction Pompeia had seen in my face as I strolled through the aisles. I didn’t mind her betrayal of my confidence when I unwrapped each to find stories in German or French or Chinese—everything I wanted to learn.

From Sempronio, I received the complete works of William Shakespeare in their original English. As an introduction to the language, the master had assigned Romeo and Juliet, which I found far more intriguing than I expected, considering the triggering subject. He had the full bounty of the author’s plays printed and bound in the loveliest setting I’d ever seen. It was not something he could have stumbled upon in a shop, and I held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. The fat tome was complete with color illustrations, printed on fine vellum that gleamed with gold edging, and covered in exquisite red leather. Inside, under Shakespeare’s name, the master wrote:

For my beloved Gabriella, A collection of stories that contain everything you will ever need to know about the complexity of human nature. Merry Christmas. - S

The care he’d taken with this gift filled my heart, and all I could do was smile.

Though the sublime joy of the morning had raised my spirits, I couldn’t keep my exhaustion from drawing several deep yawns. Without alerting them, I quietly rose from the small crowd, not wishing to draw their gaiety to a close.

I was surprised to pass Duccio in the hallway. At some point, he must have stolen away to his room without notice.

“Taking your leave so soon?”

“What will happen to Apollonia and her child?” I asked abruptly, confident the others wouldn’t hear me.

I thought his expression was one of puzzlement, but it may only have been surprise.

“This worries you?”

“I don’t wish misfortune to befall her,” I said.

“Was that not the purpose of your husband’s destruction—so your misfortune would never befall another woman?”

“She is a servant, Duccio. Even if no one heard us… Even if she awoke and had the constitution to wipe the blood away... Someone will soon know of his disappearance and intervene. She’ll leave there with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

I stumbled on what I meant to say, feeling emotion take my voice.

“That’s his child; I know it is.”

Duccio focused on the desperation in my eyes, then looked away as if to reflect.

“I will look into it tomorrow,” he assured me with his soothing baritone. “I will ensure their interests are taken care of—both the woman and her unborn child.”

“How will you do that?”

“Leave it to me,” Duccio placed his hands on my arm to comfort my anxiety. “There are ways to ensure the outcome you seek.”

I exhaled deeply when he said this, seeing plainly the truth in his eyes.

Duccio bent to kiss my lips. I received him gratefully, allowing him to linger, feeling only the slightest urgency from him.

When he stopped, it was only to look at me and run his thumb across my cheek tenderly.

Lost in his sensual embrace, my eyes noticed Pompeia watching us without expression.

At once, I pulled away and blushed.