She swallowed. “I know. It pains me to say that… I lied to you.” She proceeded to explain to me the full truth—she had not “just happened” to come across Brucella while roaming around the ogres’ kingdom with my father; rather, they had been trapped for decades in a dungeon sealed off by the spell of a witch—the real truth of my family’s history left me gasping for words.
“So… the deal,” I managed. “What exactly was the deal?”
“Brucella demanded that we hunt down your human lover—who I must make clear, Bastien, is absolutely no match for you”—her softened expression turned hard again, but she continued before I could protest—“and then instruct you to marry Brucella’s daughter, Rona.”
I clenched my fists so hard, my nails dug into my palms. I’d just known that Brucella was behind this. I’d known it all along.
“I was supposed to take down the human just now,” my mother went on, “but since she had that mystical being with her, I failed and had no choice but to take you away. It will be a waste of time trying to track that human down, and Brucella is unreasonable for suggesting it. So long as the human is protected by such a being, it is an impossible endeavor.”
“And what were you planning to do with me now exactly?” I seethed.
“Take you to Brucella and inform her that I could not accomplish the first part of the deal—”
“But that you will attempt to force me to marry Rona?” I interjected.
She nodded, and then a scowl crossed her face. “That bitch’s daughter is no match for you either,” she growled. “The only reason I acquiesced is because Brucella has assured me that she has a circle of witches who will immediately thrust me back into prison, should I step out of line.”
I stared at her, disbelieving. “Do you honestly believe that?”
Her mouth twitched. “No,” she replied. Then something sparked in her eyes—something dangerous, malevolent. “Why do you ask?” she queried me in a low tone.
“Because Brucella is lying through her teeth!” I spat. “She has no witches protecting her. She has nobody of the sort!”
Sendira studied my face for several moments. “I suspected as much. But we had no way of knowing for certain… Are you absolutely sure that she is lying? If you’re wrong, it would be the end of us.”
“I am as good as absolutely sure,” I replied firmly.
A shadow descended behind Sendira’s eyes, turning them from wintry slate to a stormy, blackish gray. A deep growl emanated from her throat as her body transformed into her monstrous wolf state. “Thank you, my dear. Now that you have freed me with this knowledge, Brucella will pay… A payment that has been decades in the making.”
Bastien
Sendira didn’t utter another word as she transported me at heart-stopping speed across the ocean. We traveled so fast, I barely had time to speculate as to what, exactly, she had meant by making Brucella pay before she was already slowing again. Beneath us sprawled the grimmest landscape I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. A charcoal-black island that looked like it had been the casualty of a fire blazed up from Hell itself.
As Sendira descended with me toward a heap of giant boulders, I caught sight of a familiar figure pacing among the rocks. Brucella. I could have detected that wolf by her smell alone. My senses had been sharpened to her ever since I’d been on the run from her.
Sendira touched down several feet away from the woman, who immediately turned to us, an eager spark in her cruel, harsh eyes.
“I assume your first objective was success—” Brucella began, but Sendira gave her no chance to finish.
Without warning, my mother bolted for Brucella in her giant wolf form and pinned her to the ground. Everything happened at lightning speed. I could barely take it all in. One minute Brucella was screaming and pleading, and the next her cries gave way to… silence.
When Sendira stepped back and faced me, her jaws were dripping with blood. And within those jagged teeth was a still-beating heart. Her mouth clamped down, crushing the heart into a pulp. And then she chewed. Chewed! She was eating it! The organ of a fellow werewolf! I’d expected her to spit it out. Thrust it to the ground and roll it in the dust, maybe. But this… this was a level of horror my mind could barely even conceive. No werewolf did this to her own kind. I doubted even Dane would stoop that low.
My mother is a cannibal.
“Wha-What?” I spluttered, my brain too paralyzed to form a coherent sentence. As much as I despised Brucella, there was no part of me that had been prepared for this. No part of me. I couldn’t even feel relief. Just utter shock.
Sendira finished chewing and swallowed with a deep, satisfied gulp. Then she swiveled and returned to the corpse. Before I could yell out, her jaws had closed around Brucella’s right shoulder and she ripped out another chunk of her. She chewed again.
“Mother!” I rasped, forgetting to call her Sendira in my dazed state. I raced forward, placed my human arms around one of her forelegs and tugged at her, even as some of the blood staining her mouth speckled my arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The she-wolf deftly brushed me aside. “Son,” she managed through her mouthful, “I do not even remember the last time I ate. You can hardly expect me to refrain from tearing into a piece of meat when I see one.”
“But that’s not a piece of meat!” I panted, desperate for her to stop. I can’t be descended from a family of cannibals, can I?
What does that make me?
“Brucella is of your own kind!” I couldn’t believe that I was even having to explain such a primal notion to this woman. “Even if you deemed her your enemy, you can’t just eat her! That’s… That’s… I don’t even know what kind of creature would stoop to this.”
My words fell upon deaf ears. She finished swallowing her second portion of Brucella before her eyes fell on a large metal key with pointed teeth, lying on the ground near Brucella’s head. “Aha,” Sendira whispered. “There it is.” She cleaned her soiled lips with her tongue before scooping up the key in her mouth.
“Come with me,” she murmured through clenched jaws. “It is time for you to meet your real family.”
I staggered forward, my knees shaky with sickness as I passed Brucella’s mangled corpse.
Sendira led me over the boulders until we arrived at the entrance of a large, dark cave, closed off by some kind of fiery gate, secured with a dense iron lock. Sendira rushed to the entrance and fumbled to insert the key into the lock. She twisted to her right. The gate snapped open. It was as though she had just let a stampede of wild boar out of the pen. A horde of dark-furred wolves, as large and fierce as Sendira, all came shooting out at once and landed on the rocks surrounding us.
“We are free!” Sendira announced.
The group of wolves, who altogether appeared to be over fifty in number, formed a circle around Sendira and me, their focus first and foremost falling on myself. I looked at each of them with narrowed eyes, trying to comprehend who in the name of The Woodlands all these werewolves were. Then one of them stepped forward—a beast of a male, larger than Sendira. He stopped about three feet away from me and relinquished his wolf form, turning into a man as tall as me. He had earthy brown hair and eyes that were more gray-blue than my or my mother’s.
He appeared aged—old enough to be my…
“Son.” He spoke in a ragged voice.
Father…
This is my father?
He closed the remaining distance between us in a flash. Planting his hands on my shoulders, he squeezed them tight as he gazed at me in wonderment. “Bastien, my child. It’s you.” His face, as hard and intimidating as it had looked just a few seconds ago, cracked and warmed with affection. His hands reached into my hair and he pressed his dry lips against my forehead.
I didn’t know what to do. What to say. What to think.
It was impossible to describe the mélange of emotions coursing through my being in that moment. Shock. Confusion. Horror. Fear. Crushing disappoint
ment. And a deep, almost unwanted, sense of nostalgia.
I recognized my father’s scent too. Just not as quickly as I had Sendira’s.
“We have much, much to catch up on,” my father said, the corners of his eyes moistening. He looked like he could hardly believe his eyes.
“That is blood staining your lips.” One of the wolves behind my father spoke up, his eyes trained on Sendira.
“Indeed it is,” she replied with an expression of satisfaction. “There is some fresh meat beyond those boulders. But not enough to feed all of us.”
My father’s gaze turned savage at the mention of food. As enraptured as he had seemed by me, he turned away and, after resuming his wolf form, led the pack over the boulders toward the corpse. I staggered after them with Sendira and could only watch as they ripped apart the rest of Brucella’s body until there was nothing left of her but gnawed bone.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to keep myself from panicking. Maybe I’m simply overreacting. They have been starving for decades. Is it really any wonder that they would be so desperate as to eat their own kind? I ought not be so quick to judge them. After all, it’s not like there’s any other food on this island…
There hadn’t been enough meat to go around. My father had taken his share first, and then he’d left the rest for the other pack members.
I was still staring at the skeleton when my parents approached me. “We must introduce you to your tribe,” my mother said excitedly.
They proceeded to introduce me to numerous aunts and uncles, grandparents, nephews, cousins… They transformed into their humanoid forms as I greeted them, but my brain was in no state to retain many names, especially since my parents stopped only briefly by each one… except for one of my cousins, Yuraya. A tall, lithe girl with jet black hair, a sharp nose and narrow, ivy-green eyes. Older than me, according to my parents.
After listening to their prolonged introduction, I shook hands with her, perfunctory, and turned my back on everyone. I needed a moment of silence, of being alone, to try to piece together my shattered mind.
My knees finally giving in, I slumped down on a rock and dropped my head in my hands.
Oh, Victoria. I wish we could run away. Run away from everything and everyone, to a world where only you and I exist…
My mother disturbed my short reprieve. She sat down next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. She glanced in Yuraya’s direction, who had moved to the other end of the crowd and was talking to—if I remember correctly—her mother.
My mother dropped her voice to a hushed tone, and I scented the coppery smell of Brucella’s blood on her tongue as she whispered close to my ear, “There is also something else that I ought to tell you about Yuraya.”
She paused to give me a long, steely look, and somehow, I already knew exactly what she was about to say.
“She is your true betrothed, Bastien. Chosen for you by your real parents, ever since you were delivered from my womb. It is not Mortclaw tradition to encourage inbreeding, but... Yuraya is an exception. She is perfect for you in every way.”
Now I understood the true reason for my mother’s reluctance to my wedding Rona.
I hadn’t thought that my world could come crashing down on me any more than it already had. But this was a final blow I could hardly stand.
Brucella was gone, and with her, her constant fight to rope me into marrying her daughter.
But now, with this terrifying revelation, I couldn’t help but feel that Victoria and I had just leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire… A blazing, savage fire. The Mortclaws were a hundred times greater a threat than Brucella could ever hope to be.
“I’m in love with Victoria,” I managed hoarsely.
My mother’s hand pressed against my forearm. “So you have said,” she replied stiffly. “But as I have explained, it will not do.” She cleared her throat. “We will respect your past feelings for her, however, and will agree to not hunt her down, or harm her should we ever cross paths with her in the future… if you agree to never see her again.”
Her words were a spear through my heart.
“You are already beyond your ripe age for marriage, Bastien,” she ploughed on, “and once we return to The Woodlands, I expect your bond with Yuraya to be sealed within a week.”
Nausea rolled through my stomach. It felt like the heavens had opened up and cast down a dozen leaden boulders to smash on top of me at once.
But perhaps my pain was self-inflicted.
Perhaps I was naïve to have ever thought that I could break free. Perhaps it was too much to ask for. Too much to dream of.
Perhaps I just ought to accept what every omen of destiny indicated that I remain.
A bird in a cage.
A beast in chains.
Victoria
“To a place I have fought for decades to forget.”
I had no idea what Mona meant by her cryptic response. After she clarified what she was talking about, I realized that we were about to embark on a journey to somewhere that had played a big part in her former, darker life, as well as her and Kiev’s history. An island in the supernatural dimension that had once been central to the black witches’ activities.
It was an island that used to be known colloquially as The Shade—a small version of our own island—because the witches had cast upon it a spell of darkness. Mona was sure that now, however, the island would look just like any other, that the sun would be touching it again. She suspected that the landscape would have become wild and overgrown, and the castle that had stood there derelict. But there was one part of the island that she believed would still be intact—the spell room, which was situated in an underground bunker. It was here that she guessed the bulk of the rituals involving the Mortclaws would’ve been conceived.
Mona said that she would go alone, but staying here on the island was my worst nightmare. The wait would drive me insane. At least if I went with her, I’d feel like I was moving. Like I was doing something. And I would not be left alone with my agonizing thoughts.
Aisha was also curious, but she said that she was feeling drained after the encounter with that giant she-wolf and thought she ought to rest. If Aisha hadn’t been pregnant, that encounter wouldn’t have tired her out so much. I thanked the jinni profusely for her help before she headed back to her apartment, leaving me with Mona.
After Mona agreed to bring me along, we traveled via the gate in the ogres’ realm again, since it was convenient. Here she grabbed my hands and vanished us again. When we reappeared this second time, we were standing on a rocky beach, a hard, blustering wind blowing against our backs. We had reached the shore of an island which was, as Mona had predicted, exposed to the sun and overgrown. She suspected that it had been left uninhabited all these years except by wild animals. It certainly looked like it as we ventured toward its center. The landscape was largely forested, and we found ourselves traipsing through dense undergrowth.
As the trees began to thin, I caught sight of a clearing which held a stone courtyard, behind which stood an old, towering castle with several shattered window panes. The crevices of its walls were stained with green—filled with moss and other weeds that had sprouted—and the roof was in thorough disrepair, with row upon row of broken tiles.
The castle possessed a creepy aura—my mind was already imagining what might be lurking within its dark, dusty halls—but at the same time, I couldn’t help but admire its haunting beauty.
Mona’s deep blue eyes lingered on the construction, a galaxy of memories behind her irises. She stood in silence for several minutes, just staring, until she drew in a deep breath and led me around to the back. We moved through a jungle of grass and weeds, close to the castle’s anterior wall, until she stopped abruptly and knelt to the ground. She buried her hands into the growth of weeds and fumbled around. Her face scrunched in concentration. “The door is somewhere around here…” she muttered. “Aha. I’ve got it. Looks like it’s open, too.”
She g
ripped what I could now see was a metal handle and pulled upward. Hinges groaned and creaked as she pulled open an ancient trapdoor. Beneath it was a dark hole with a flight of blackened steps. She descended first and I followed closely, cautiously behind her. The sunlight trickled into the bunker in shafts, illuminating the cloud of dust particles we had unsettled during our entry. Through the gloom, I realized that this room was not all that different from Corrine’s spell room in the Sanctuary, if more medieval. Countless rickety shelves were filled with bottles and liquids, and a rough wooden counter was dotted with cauldrons and stoves.
Mona stopped in the center of the room and gazed at the wall opposite us. Then her eyes lowered to a spot on the floor. She shook her head, grimacing. “So many memories,” she murmured. “Kiev almost got killed in this room, you know. If I hadn’t reached him in time, there would have been no Brock Novalic.”
She lost herself in memories for a while longer, then snapped herself back to the present. “Right,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Let me see what I can find in here…”
She began tackling cabinet after cabinet of potions, scanning every single shelf, before moving on to piles of wooden storage crates stacked up in one corner.
“Uh, what exactly are you looking for?” I couldn’t help but ask. “I could help you.”
“I honestly think it’s best if you don’t touch anything in here,” she said, ignoring my first question.
Okay… I moved to the bottom of the staircase and planted my butt down on the lowest step. If I couldn’t be of any assistance to her, at least I could stay out of her way.
I didn’t say a word the whole time, not wanting to disturb her concentration. Finally, she broke the silence and rose to her feet, clutching a large, bulbous-shaped vial in her hands, filled with thick, pale green liquid, tinged with brown. She moved toward a shaft of sunlight and held the vial aloft, twisting it back and forth and examining it. She nodded. “Yup. This seems to be it,” she announced. “I guessed they would have stored it in here, if they decided to keep it at all. It’s where they kept most of their experimental concoctions.”
An Hour of Need Page 4