Chapter Ten
Lucy woke to find an intricate gold pendant on her pillow. A Christmas gift from her husband, obviously ancient and extremely valuable. It held a bloodred stone. A ruby. Red like the blood scent she sensed on him.
They’d found his wife in a pool of blood. Vicious, ugly rumors, he’d called them, and she suddenly understood how she’d wronged him by merely lending her ear to such things. The blood smell on him had not been human blood. The smell that clung on him was that of a clean kill. Prey. He was a hunter. Wolf. He was frightening and fierce, but always in control.
She was probably losing her mind. How could he be a wolf? She sighed. Nothing made sense anymore, but there was one thing that she knew for certain. Last night’s dreams or whatever they were had made sure of it. He was her husband and he would never harm her. She saw now how she had hurt him by doubting this strange bond they had.
She put the pendant round her neck. By accepting it, she felt that she was finally accepting something that had always been part of herself. Something she’d always denied.
As she studied herself in the mirror, she saw something that had not been there before, a new spark in her eyes. You are my mate, he’d whispered in her ear right before she’d gone to sleep. His mate. He was saying she belonged to him.
She smiled to herself. She did belong to him, in a way, just as he now belonged to her. But there was something else she was just beginning to understand. A different scent. A whisper in the wind. She did not fully want to think about it. But there it was. This morning she felt herself. Truly herself.
It was Christmas morning and she was able to take part in Alexandra’s joy. Ioan had gifted her with everything a child her age could dream of, so Lucy was surprised when Alexandra came to thank her warmly for her present. It was insignificant—she hadn’t had the opportunity to buy anything—just a scarf she’d been able to knit. She’d always found knitting incredibly soothing, something that had been able to calm her restless nature, all those impatient, wild feelings she had within herself.
“Thank you,” Alexandra whispered in her ear, as if she had received something beyond value.
“It isn’t much,” Lucy told her, sorry she had not been able to get something more significant than this.
“But it’s very pretty. And besides, it has your scent,” the child whispered, still pressing her cheek against Lucy’s.
“How can you...?” Lucy began in astonishment.
“Of course I’m also part wolf. Like Papa, and like you.”
Lucy’s heart began to thump wildly. From across the table, Tante Sophie narrowed her eyes at them. “What are you whispering there, Alexandra?” she asked sharply.
Alexandra quickly whispered in Lucy’s ear, “Don’t tell her. She doesn’t know.”
Lucy could scarcely quiet her beating heart. Wolf. It’s the taint in the blood, her father had told her. He’d told her never to talk about her sharp sense of scent. He’d been displeased with her, with her recklessness and her wild behavior, with her inability to blend in. He’d made her feel confined, so confined. She’d attacked her suitor like a wild beast. Wolf in anger. Wolf in heat. Wild to mate, unable to think clearly ever since she had come to this place and to her true mate.
Everything went still, and she remembered last night. Her body painfully changing—skin burning and becoming fur, hands and feet blossoming into paws and teeth into fangs. She remembered the joy of the hunt and the joy of mating. Wolf. Empress wolf, he’d called her. Her mate. Emperor Wolf.
She was painfully jolted into awareness. She saw Tante Sophie narrowing her eyes at her and asking the child to leave them. She cast Lucy a sharp look. “The child seems to like you,” she said drily.
Lucy did not answer. Tante Sophie sighed. “And my nephew seems quite taken with you.” She did not wait for Lucy to reply to this. “He has been very unhappy, you know, a restless soul. But I saw him this morning and, for the first time in years, it seemed that he was almost content.”
She shrugged, a wistful smile on her lips. “Thirty-three years ago, I begged my sister not to marry Ioan’s father. She was so sophisticated, so cultured, and Ioan’s father so...so wild. She did not listen to me, and was happy in spite of everything. Still, she had an untimely death. Ioan and Alexandra are the only family I have left.”
She stared pointedly at Lucy, as if she was trying to make a decision about her. “That girl my nephew married... I was really the one to suggest the match to my sister. I was wrong.”
“Were they unhappy?” Lucy asked.
“Yes. They were ill-suited and they made each other very unhappy. She died in hideous circumstances, and somehow I blame myself for it.”
It had been a violent death, Lucy could see, but she would no longer believe her husband had anything to do with it. “Did she kill herself?”
“You could say so,” Tante Sophie said, a stony expression on her face. “She was carrying another man’s child, you see. Some Frenchman’s. When she came back to Bucharest, it was already showing and everyone was gossiping, since she’d lived apart from my nephew for more than a year. She came to see me, you know.”
It was there, in the scent coming from this woman. It was guilt.
“She came to tell me that she’d told Ioan. He did not care. They already led separate lives. A divorce was unnecessary from his point of view, as he had no plans of remarrying. He’d even told her he would not disown the child. A child is a gift, he told her, no matter who sires it. Still, she seemed troubled, guilty and unhappy, probably pining for the lover who’d jilted her. I did not comfort her. Instead, I told her she had brought only disgrace upon my family and herself.”
“She tried to get rid of the child,” Lucy whispered.
“She did. Ioan found her when it was too late.”
Her husband had been the last person to look upon his wife and, of course, given the circumstances, vicious rumors had started to circulate. Lucy felt even guiltier for listening to the rumors, but her guilt was nothing compared to that of the woman in front of her. She did not try to offer empty words of reassurance; she understood too well that Tante Sophie could never forgive herself.
“Will you at least try to make him happy?” the older woman suddenly asked, offering Lucy an olive branch.
Mutely, Lucy nodded, and in the instant she did so, she understood that it was what she wanted—to make him happy and to receive happiness from him in return.
She could not dwell upon it any longer. A voice jolted her alert. It was loud and the scent that came with it was unpleasantly overpowering. Where was her husband?
She would not have believed it possible, but there was this stranger, entering her home, smelling of danger, stepping arrogantly in the hall. An ascetic-looking man in a monk’s robes, who smiled a fake smile.
Tante Sophie rose to greet him and smiled warmly. Lucy could not hide her sudden anger.
“Why is this man here?” she said, not caring whether the visitor could understand them.
It was the ascetic-looking man who answered her question, bearing the same smile plastered upon his countenance. He spoke nearly perfect English. “Well, being a recent visitor to our country, dear madam, you probably do not know that it is customary for men of the cloth to visit and bless Christian houses around Christmastime.”
Lucy almost narrowed her eyes at him. It was not true. She could smell the lie, as clearly as she could smell the danger that clung to him. Whatever he had come for, he did not mean well. This man had something to do with the dark priest in the village—the scent of the dark priest was hovering around him, faint, but still there.
Tante Sophie clasped the man’s hands. She seemed genuinely happy to see him. “Father Daniel is the abbot of the monastery here. Everyone thinks him a holy man.”
“That depends on what your definition of holy is.” Lucy heard a dry voice from behind her and did not need to be told that her husband was already there. She’d just felt his presence.
Father Daniel did not lose his affable smile at the sarcasm. He offered a greeting in Romanian, which Ioan did not answer. She did not understand the conversation that followed, but it seemed that his aunt was chiding Ioan for his rudeness to the visitor. Lucy almost bared her teeth—she could very well understand why her husband wanted nothing to do with this man. The reaction he stirred in her was visceral.
Ioan resumed the conversation in English. He spoke pointedly, plainly letting his visitor know that there would be no familiarity between them. “My wife should hear what you have to say. After all, it seems only fair that she should be apprised of the situation,” he said icily.
Tante Sophie sighed. She seemed willing to appease her nephew but utterly embarrassed by his unwelcoming reception of the visitor. “I was the one who asked Father Daniel over,” she said in English. “This situation with the priest in the village spreading all kinds of lies about you has been going on long enough. I wrote to Father Daniel to intervene.”
“You did wrong,” Ioan said curtly.
He did not look at his aunt, however. His icy stare remained fixed on his visitor. Lucy suddenly felt the blood starting to thump in her ears. The monk should be afraid.
The man ignored the pressure of the situation. He took a seat, although he had not been invited to do so, and started to speak in pleasant tones. His English, Lucy noted, was indeed almost flawless.
“As the head of Valcele Monastery, I don’t really have formal authority over Father Parvu.” He seemed to be addressing Tante Sophie. “The rumors that have started circulating...well, it would have been possible to quench them if Boyar Marcu had behaved in a Christian manner, attending Mass and not indulging in pagan rituals. But, you see, one hears all kinds of rumors and one doesn’t like to see the good folk here reverting to pagan superstitions.”
Tante Sophie sighed again, genuinely distressed. “Father, you surely know that I am a good Christian and so was my late sister. Well, Ioan’s father was always something of an atheist and so is my nephew, but I believe that in his heart, he—”
Yet again, Ioan interrupted his aunt. “How and what I worship is no concern of Father Parvu’s or of Father Daniel’s.”
Father Daniel shrugged. “Fine. However, I believe that your peasants should not be given a negative example, and as a spiritual leader, I feel that it is my duty to warn you.”
“Warn me?” Ioan’s voice had become even icier, and Lucy could sense his mounting anger.
“You should set an example. Attend Mass and show some genuine interest in religious matters.”
Her husband gave a bitter laugh. “By interest, you mean a donation to the monastery?”
Father Daniel again shrugged his shoulders delicately, but Lucy could clearly sense that it was money the man had really come for.
“Of course a donation should be made. Our families have always contributed,” Tante Sophie interceded placatingly.
Father Daniel seemed interested in this. “Of course, my dear madam,” he said. “Both families are old blood and the people know it. I will personally make sure that Father Parvu is kept in line. He is, after all, just a young priest, too eager in his zeal.”
Ioan laughed again. He turned to Lucy, ignoring both his aunt and the visitor. “You see, around Christmastime, my father’s family always made a yearly donation to the monastery. The money was given to help the people in need on the lands that belong to the monastery.”
“And it was always put to good use,” Father Daniel hastily added.
Ioan continued to ignore him and spoke pointedly to Lucy. “It came to my knowledge that the people living on the monastery’s lands had received no help and that the money I’d been donating for years had been used for other purposes. These people are not my tenants. Had they been mine, they wouldn’t have lived in such bitter poverty.”
He paused, raking a hand through his hair. “Last year, I decided to give my donation directly to the head of the village, and not to the monastery.”
Lucy immediately understood the situation. It was, of course, a money matter. Father Daniel had been displeased not to get his hands on the funds that he had previously touched upon. It had vexed him that the money went directly to the peasants instead.
“It was last year that Father Parvu, the priest in my village, started to rant about my vile unchristian behavior and about the taint in my blood, and it has been going on ever since. But it’s worse than that. He terrorizes my own tenants, threatening he would not baptize their children or bury their dead unless they denounce my wicked ways. He’s been trying to stir trouble for some time.”
And Lucy could see very well who had been behind Father Parvu’s religious zeal. Father Daniel had undoubtedly been the cause of all this. It was blackmail of the basest sort. No wonder her husband was so angry and disgusted.
Father Daniel chose to speak. “You have my word that Father Parvu’s behavior will be reported to his ecclesiastic superiors.”
“If, of course, I make an appropriate donation,” her husband said ironically.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Ioan, I will make the donation, only to settle things,” Tante Sophie cut in.
It was then that Lucy found herself speaking.
“No,” she said. “My husband is right. He should not give in to this kind of blackmail.”
“And I shall not,” Ioan told her, yet again pointedly ignoring the others.
Father Daniel seemed vexed by the turn of the discussion. “Then I’m afraid even I won’t be able to stop Father Parvu from preaching against you,” he said softly, but there was distinct menace in his tone.
It was Ioan’s turn to shrug. “Even if he was your creature to begin with, I believe the priest is utterly demented. You couldn’t control him any longer even if you wanted to. As for the donation, I will continue to help only the people living in poverty on the monastery’s lands.”
“I am not neglecting my people. It is you who are corrupting your peasants with pagan behavior and strange rituals,” Father Daniel said venomously.
Lucy could sense that her husband’s rage had gone completely cold. It was now the watchful, calculated drive of a predator that knew where to lead his prey.
“Fine,” Ioan said chillingly. “Spread further rumors, then. We’ll see how you and your monks will fare.”
“Are you threatening me?” Father Daniel said, raising his voice in anger for the first time.
“Ioan...” Tante Sophie tried to intervene, but her nephew continued to ignore her.
“You forget, monk, that, even if my ancestors gave the charter for those lands to the monastery centuries ago, the woods that surround them are still mine,” Ioan said softly.
“What of it?” Father Daniel scoffed.
Ioan gave him a mirthless smile. “The woods are mine. And, as you know too well, the timber is mine. The timber that you’ve been using to improve your buildings, while your people still live in mud houses. So, I see no reason why I should still let you use my timber. And not only the timber is mine—the wolves are mine.”
The chill in the air became palpable and Lucy’s heart started to race wildly. The wolves were his. His to command.
“Treat your peasants better, Father Daniel, because the woods here are deep and the wolves here are wild. And I know my woods well,” Ioan continued in the same soft tones.
Lucy could now smell that her husband’s words had produced the desired effect. Father Daniel’s confidence had melted away, replaced by deep, palpable fear.
“Wolves can be killed,” Father Daniel said, but his voice was already tremulous.
“As I said, the wolves live in my woods, and they are mine. Nobody has ever been allowed to touch as much as a hair in their fur. Besides, they are far wilder and stronger than you can begin to imagine,” Ioan told the monk with a feral smile.
Lucy felt the smell of fear grow even stronger, and the whiff of defeat along with it.
“Varcolac,” the monk hissed impotently, and Lucy knew what the word meant.
She’d heard it from Alexandra. Old Ana whispered it sometimes. She did not need anybody to translate it for her, because now the meaning seemed pretty clear. Wolfman. This was what it really meant.
“I am the guardian of these lands,” Ioan told his guest flatly. “And you’d do well to remember it.”
And the man would undoubtedly do so, Lucy understood. She doubted he would ever attempt to do anything against her husband again. His fear of the wolves was too consuming. She could feel its paralyzing scent.
It was with relief that she saw the monk leave. Ioan cast her a triumphant grin that made her almost want to laugh in spite of the tension she still felt, but Tante Sophie seemed chagrined by the whole situation.
“They’re already whispering behind your back, and now... I can’t begin to think what people are going to think about you. My nephew, a godless pagan...”
Lucy was surprised to see Ioan wrap his arm around his aunt’s shoulder and kiss her cheek. He was, she suddenly understood, quite fond of her in his own way.
“Don’t worry, ma chère tante,” he said with a roguish grin. “I’m still your nephew, even in my godless pagan state.”
His aunt harrumphed, but seemed somewhat mollified by this. She announced, however, that all this had given her an awful migraine and she retired to her room.
They were finally alone—this was a good time to have a serious conversation. There were so many questions to ask him.
“Would you order your wolves to kill the priest? Would you really do such a thing?” she asked, and there was no doubt in her mind that he was able to command the wolves.
“The wolves that I command do not murder. They protect. There shall be no murder on my lands,” he told her firmly.
She found that she trusted him completely. “You’ll let him live then,” she said.
He nodded with a half smile. “Of course. But he’ll live in fear of wolves...and of me. Which is better, under the circumstances, although Aunt Sophie is horrified by my treatment of a man of the cloth.”
“She is fond of you, your aunt,” she said, and he nodded.
“She is, but she doesn’t know how things really are. Mother did, of course, but she didn’t want to tell her sister. She thought Sophie would not understand,” Ioan told her, echoing Alexandra’s earlier words.
“You and Alexandra...” Lucy started to say, her heart starting to thump in her chest
“Alexandra and I, but you also,” he corrected her.
It seemed a crucial moment, which was, however, as it sometimes happens, cruelly interrupted by a servant coming to talk to the boyar. The whiff of worry that she caught and Ioan’s concerned look made her understand that the discussion would be postponed.
“Apparently there’s some trouble in the village again,” Ioan said.
“Should I come with you?” Lucy asked, not liking the feeling that she was getting.
He shook his head. “No, it will be fine. And besides, it would be nice if you could spend some time with Alexandra. It is Christmas Day, after all. I’ll come back as soon as I can to be with her.”
She nodded, still not liking how she felt when she saw him go. Still, he was right. Alexandra should not spend Christmas Day alone.
* * *
Ioan immediately saddled his horse to go down to the village. The slopes were slippery, but his horse was well trained and besides, the day was uncommonly bright.
Christmas Day. Why should the head of the village send a message to him on Christmas Day? What could be so urgent? Wasn’t that damned priest supposed to hold Mass or something? Had he started ranting and raving against him again?
Ioan had not been too concerned about the lunatic; he’d thought Father Parvu would eventually get tired of ranting and raving and find some other object of his hatred. Besides, his people had always been loyal. They were connected to him by something unnameable that went back to immemorial times, and that connection had always been strong.
No, he had not been really concerned about Father Parvu, only furious that his insane talk had frightened his child. Father Daniel was another matter. He was dangerous. Ioan would have to keep a close watch on him.
However, the pack would always be there, and today he’d plainly read the fear in the monk’s eyes. Good. He should be afraid. Money also helped, and Ioan’s family had always had plenty of it. Money and influence. The people on the monastery’s lands should not suffer because of the monks’ greed. They should be well protected against them, just as his own people were.
As he neared the village, his thoughts unwittingly flew back to his wife. His wife. He savored the words, conjuring up the delicious taste of her and the delicious way she’d tasted him last night, velvety and warm tongue on his hard and ready flesh.
She was getting bolder, he thought lazily, beginning to explore. He’d loved the agonizing slowness with which she’d touched his body last night. The wait had been sheer torture. Torture, but sweet. Playing the victim had its advantages. Sometimes he liked to wait.
Just as he sometimes liked to be the aggressor. He remembered that dazzling moment when he’d taken her from behind in anger. He’d been able to thrust hard and deep, just as hard and as deep as when they’d mated as wolves for the first time last night. Wolf wife.
He tried to clear his head. She was intoxicatingly present in his mind. The scent of her sex had been so potent that it blurred things. He should have been more sensible. He should have understood how different her life had been from his, a young woman dependent on her father, who had bullied her into denying part of herself.
Instead of seeing how vulnerable she really was, he’d only chosen to see the woman who met him thrust for thrust when they mated. And he’d known that she was wolf—fierce and tough, just as he was. But, like him, she was not just Wolf.
Where are you going, little brother? Sharp Eyes. He was obviously nearby.
I’ve been called to the village. I think there’s trouble.
Trouble? We were close enough, but we didn’t smell trouble. They’re all eating dead pig and drinking smelly liquid. Making merry with loud sounds. It’s a good time to snatch a goat or two.
Stay away from the village and their livestock, Ioan told him angrily. You promised.
I did, didn’t I? Still, it would be so easy to get what I want.
You don’t understand. They are strong, and they could come after you with weapons. Remember the Pact we have.
You care about your humans more than about your wolves, Sharp Eyes snarled.
No. Remember the Pact. No wolf against man. No man against wolf. You all answer to me.
Fine. The Pact is the Pact. Still, they don’t like you anymore, your humans. They’re afraid of you because you’re half wolf.
There are humans and humans, just as there are wolves and wolves. Some are not afraid.
But some hate you.
This is true. That’s why I’m going to the village.
There’s no trouble in the village.
Ioan halted his horse and closed his eyes. He trusted Sharp Eyes’ instincts. They’d always been accurate, more accurate than his, because Sharp Eyes was fully wolf.
No trouble in the village. But why had the servant given him the urgent message? Who would want him away from his own house on Christmas Day? And to what purpose? The people in the household were loyal to him and to his family. They’d never been afraid of him.
His hand froze on the reins. Ana had always disliked him. She’d always blamed him for his wife’s death, although she knew it had been an accident. She thought him morally responsible.
He’d never been able to get the old servant to trust him. Defeated, he had wanted to let her go. He’d intended to pay her a good pension and send her back to her village. But Alexandra was very attached to her and had begged him to keep her on.
He shook his head. Ana had actually hated him for years. But she loved Alexandra, just as much as she’d loved his wife. She would not try to hurt her...unless...
You’re afraid for your cub. Sharp Eyes had been following his thoughts.
Yes. I’m going back now. I have to.
I could rip their throats. Then you’ll be rid of all those humans who want to hurt you and yours. Just command me.
No. Stay away from the humans.
Ioan was already racing his horse back to the manor. His mind was working frantically. Lucy—Lucy was also there. He tried to reach her with his mind, but he could not find her. Their bond was still too new. Besides, he doubted they could link their minds when they were both in human form, and he could not dream-call to her while she was awake.
He would shift. It was simpler. Ioan was already feeling a fierce haze descending upon him. He needed to shift. He would get off his horse and let the animal find his way back home.
You should not be wolf now, Sharp Eyes snarled.
I’m going to shift.
Don’t. You’ll get too angry, Emperor Wolf. You may hurt humans that you don’t want to hurt. I could rip all their throats, and I’d love it. I’m full wolf. But you... I know you. Your anger can be far greater than wolf anger. It comes from that moon place inside you where very, very old dreams are hidden. You will feel sorry later, sorry that you let the moon anger come upon you...
You don’t understand. My child may be in danger.
I do understand. We’re coming.
* * *
Alexandra was not in the kitchens, where she’d gone earlier, to cajole Cook into giving her another piece of Christmas cake. In truth, Lucy herself felt her mouth water for another piece of the rich dough overflowing with nuts and raisins. The aroma of it filled the kitchens, but there was no sign of any of the staff there. Nor of Alexandra.
Lucy went to the child’s room, but did not find her there. As she began to look for her, the strange sensation that she was experiencing would not go away. Alexandra’s faint scent seemed to linger everywhere in the house, but Lucy sensed she was no longer inside. The smell was far too faint, and not as fresh and clear as it usually was when Alexandra was indoors.
Most of the servants had the day off for Christmas. Both Mitru and Florica had gone to the village. Lucy felt frustrated and incompetent, because she could not communicate well with the few people left in the house. She tried to ask where Alexandra was, but the servants that she was able to track down just smiled and shrugged. One of them vaguely pointed to the yard, but he didn’t seem sure at all.
She should find Ana. As she was looking for the old woman’s scent, she finally caught something that could help. A mingled scent—Ana and Alexandra both, no longer in the house, but outside. Where then? Deciding to finally fully rely on her nose, Lucy put on a warm cloak and ventured out.
It was sunny but cold, almost bitterly so. Careful not to let the other scents outside mislead her, Lucy slowly made her way to the back of the house, trudging through the snow. Her nose was taking her to a spot where she knew there was a stream, which the cold winter of this country had frozen.
It was there that she caught a scent that made her head spin and her blood boil. She spotted two bundled figures by the stream and knew with certainty that the small one was Alexandra. She was struggling and kicking desperately to get away from the grip of the larger figure bundled in black. Dark. Dark and hateful like the dark priest, but not him. The scent was clear. Ana.
Anger suddenly got hold of Lucy. It was, she understood, mother anger. Protective anger. This child belonged to her now, just as her father did. They were her family now.
As if from a distance, she saw herself ripping the warm clothes off her body, not caring about the bitter cold lashing at her bare skin, not caring about the bite of the snow as she got on all fours.
Mine. Mine to protect. The blood was pumping in her ears. And she began to change. Not painfully, as she had done last night. This time it felt right and the pain in her limbs and skin bearable, not excruciating. Her body transformed and acquired the beautiful symmetry of Wolf. She was Wolf, and for a second she relished the ferally warm feeling of her furred body. But only for a second. Alexandra was in danger and she had to protect her.
She ran to the rescue, the sharp wind whipping her ears. It was there, a pool of ice-cold water that lay in the middle of the frozen stream. The old woman was trying to drag the child toward it. Why? But there was no time to answer the question. She lunged, pinning Ana to the ground and giving Alexandra the chance to free herself from the old woman’s grasp. Ana’s face was badly scratched and her clothes torn—the child had obviously fought tooth and nail, and had still had the strength to free herself. Her father’s daughter, Lucy thought with a surge of snarling pride.
Her paws were still pinning the old woman’s form. She should rip Ana’s throat for what she had been trying to do, she thought in wolfish anger. But she turned her head away in disgust. She was no murderer, just a protector.
Behind her, Alexandra was panting heavily, but seemed to be unharmed. “Lucy, you came, you came to protect me just as I thought you would,” she said raggedly.
Beneath Lucy’s paws, Ana stirred and coughed. “You’re his bitch then...so the old stories were true. The hound of hell has found his bitch,” she spat venomously.
Lucy had known the old woman held no love for her master, but couldn’t understand why Ana would do such a thing to a child she obviously doted on. As if she had understood her unspoken question, Ana told her:
“I wanted to cleanse her. My mistress’s child should not live with this curse on her. And he said...he said...that a baptism by the pure water of the stream was the only thing that could save her...if it didn’t kill her, it would save her.”
He said... The mad priest in the village. She chastised herself for not spotting the faint scent of the man that was now clinging to Ana’s clothes.
Ana started sobbing. “Better off dead than cursed. It’s the taint in the blood. I told my mistress not to marry him, but she wouldn’t listen. I knew the stories, but she wouldn’t believe them. Varcolac, that’s what he is. I told her, but she just said that he was an ordinary man. She was just sad that she could never love him. I was glad. But...”
It was then that Lucy was finally able to sense her husband’s presence. He was not in wolf form, though. He was running toward his daughter and, when he finally reached her, he grabbed her in his arms, clutching her to his chest.
“You saved her,” he told Lucy, rising as he held his daughter in a tight embrace. “I came as soon as I sensed something was wrong. Thank the stars you were here!”
Ana cast her master a look full of hatred, then turned her eyes to Lucy. “The people in the village have started whispering about a great black wolf with burning eyes. I guessed it was the master. I followed him and saw him change two nights ago. I knew then that the curse was really upon him. I thought the fiend wouldn’t be here, because I had arranged to have him called to the village.” Tears streaked down her cheeks. “But you were here. It was you, wasn’t it? You are the bitch that made him really turn into the demon that he is. He murdered my mistress, you know.”
It was Ioan who answered her, in a tired voice, full of pain. “No, I did not, although I’m sorry I could not love her. But I love my daughter, and you have tried to harm her, although I had entrusted her into your care.”
Lucy realized that both he and the old woman were speaking Romanian. She did not know how, but as a wolf, she was able to understand what they were saying.
“The poor child is cursed. It’s the devilish taint in her. It will finally turn her, as it did you. I wanted to save her. The priest said—” Ana whispered.
“He is no man of God, but a madman, and you chose to believe him. You let his madness take you over and you tried to harm a child you loved,” Ioan said sadly.
“No. You are cursed! Better off dead than cursed!” Ana shouted, starting to sob even more violently.
Ioan shook his head, casting the old woman a look of contemptuous pity. “Leave her, draga mea. Let’s go to the house,” he told Lucy.
Hearing the sadness in his voice, Lucy obeyed, understanding that they had nothing more to fear from the old woman. They walked together, the man holding his child, followed by the silver wolf that was his mate, not sparing another glance for the crumpled figure sobbing with grief.
Ioan answered her unspoken question. “She won’t harm us again. She is just a broken old woman the priest has used as a pawn. There’s no need for revenge. She has already punished herself. I blame myself... I blame myself for not seeing sooner how dangerous the priest had become.”
He was right, and Lucy started telling him so, but suddenly realized that, as a wolf, she could not speak.
And instantly the scent invaded her nostrils. Wolf. No. Wolves.
They were there hidden in the bushes beyond the stream. They’d come to the rescue. She could smell them now, one male and three females, waiting for their Emperor’s command.
But she heard the command clear in her head, as if she had heard him speak it. Leave her be, leave the old woman be. She can no longer harm anyone.
The wolves obeyed, leaving their hiding place to go toward the woods that had been waiting for them.
Dizziness overcame her. The events of the day were twirling around her, and Lucy realized that she was again becoming Woman.