Verra of Wolves

by Blake Thunderport

“Listen, personally, I don’t care if you girls enjoy yourselves. Behind closed doors, that is. First thing Elvora will do is tell her minions about it. They will spread it for her and all eyes on campus will follow you.” He sent shivers down my spine, and the picture of Elvora’s smile froze me. “As soon as you two do something suspicious my father will know, disagree, and marry her off to the Prince of Heior the next morning. That’s not what we want.” He switched to his father’s seat and leaned in. “This is where I’ll sit in a few months. Kress will sit on your current place, Claire beside him and after her, Bryon. You’ll sit to my right unless you continue your foolish act. Then, none of this will happen and we won’t see either Claire or you, ever again. I repeat: That’s not what we want.”

  The thought of losing Claire put heavy weights on my heart. I feared it would rip from my chest.

  “So,” I stuttered, “I just have to, what? Uphold a fantasy? How would that look?” I agreed on playing by his terms and was certain that it was the only way of keeping Claire by my side.

  “Say, you’re here to see me, when you’re asked. He doesn’t check into which room you end up going. Uphold the fantasy, as you say.”

  I looked around and hinted at Loyra with my eyes, who stood by the door. “The servants are loyal to me, you don’t have to worry about them,” he added.

  I didn’t answer. It was obvious anyway.

  If I wanted to see Claire, it had to be that way. I questioned myself if I would go that far for someone I met just a few days ago. But it was more than just a hookup. We were tied together through my name. As far as I knew, my grandfather could’ve had his own arrangements with their family. Though, I couldn’t grasp why he would use me like a chess piece. Either way, we didn’t cross paths by coincidence and there would be no way to cut ties with them without losing the privilege of studying in the Dicheval academy. I couldn’t afford it. Not after everything I had gone through.

  “I can assure you, there will be no marriage between you and me for many years. It’ll become irrelevant, and people will forget about it. Claire, on the other hand, is promised to Kress, who isn’t amazed by it either. He won’t prevent you from being her lover, it’s a handy way of keeping her away from Prince Fellis. That’s where you play your part.”

  At first, it sounded absurd to me, but I understood. For them, marriage was a matter of forming an alliance. It had nothing to do with choice. As long as I followed his instructions, everyone would benefit from it. But there had been one problem in his equation.

  “Does Claire know about any of this?” I asked.

  “Not directly. She knows that she has to accept the proposal from one of them. All I ask from you is to distract her and when the time comes, tell her to marry Kress so that your little secret can live on a little longer. We can’t risk marrying her off to someone who doesn’t know how to handle her.”

  A grounded plan, not fair but the lesser evil and I agreed.

  Running off had crossed my mind right after. I told myself that I would follow through with it, as soon as our romance ended, but until then, there had been no other option.

  “I don’t want any trouble, I’ll do as you suggest,” I said and he eased his posture.

  He got up and advised Loyra to pack some dishes in a portable container.

  I declined his offer of their carriage since I wanted to pick herbs in the woods. A task long overdue.

  “Don’t forget to add veal for the lady of wolves,” he told her and kissed my forehead before he slipped through the door frame. “Welcome to the family.”

  13. Calling

  I hated carrying the container uphill. It weighed me down and the dress tangled itself around thorny bushes, hindering me from climbing. I couldn’t hold it up anymore, but at least I had a place to store the herbs, right?

  While I examined the plants, I sorted my thoughts but all I could do was obey. I should’ve been glad that no one was questioning me about being a Witch.

  I stuck my nose into the moss and took a deep breath. There were no chains in the water, but I distinguished the air and its components clearly. Something else was present besides tiny droplets of water. It reeked of death and peace—the Underworld, following me wherever I went.

  When I lifted my head, the black wolf was standing in front of me again and sniffled my hair. After it recognised me, it whined until I followed it deeper into the forest.

  Upon arriving at the den, high-pitched yips greeted me. They came from four black pups.

  She was a wolfess, and I connected with her instantly. We were the same in one way or another and I left all the meat the Di Centis had given me with them. She licked my cheek while the pups climbed onto my dress, thanking me.

  Afterwards, I pulled the container upstairs until I let myself fall on the squishy mattress of my loft.

  I pressed the moist handkerchief on my nose and it swayed my senses. They weren’t healing but numbing Claire.

  It nagged on me.

  No signs of her being a Mage. No other pulling force than lust when I saw her. Perhaps it was sleeping inside of her or was forced to keep still.

  I opened Herbs of Viflem and Heior and read through the properties of each plant, hoping to find the missing piece.

  Lavender had been, as suspected, a way to calm her and protect her from outward powers. With her naivety, it was reasonable. I skipped to Yipi flowers and realised my foolishness by reading through the passage.

  ‘A tranquilliser for the Oracle’s eye. Can cause irreversible damage combined with roasted Rogmarn root.’

  I rushed through the Oracle section in Four Wonders of Gods, where I found familiar symptoms and traits.

  ‘Petite stature, clear iris, dreams, visions, overstimulation, sleepiness.’

  There was only one way I would find out the truth, even though I was almost certain.

  I poured white wine into my altar’s chalice and placed it in the middle of the rune.

  “Veymor!” I called since I knew no chant to conjure him. I needed to get his attention and so, slit my hand open again and let the blood overflow the chalice until it started spreading in the rims between the stones.

  “Hear me, God of the Underworld and appear.”

  The chalice quaked, and Veymor slid through the floor, picking it up. “Yes?”

  I handed him the handkerchief, and he sniffed on it.

  “Rogmarn, are you trying to poison me?” he roared but when I fell back, he drew close gently.

  “It wasn’t for you,” I said. “I think Claire’s an Oracle. No, I’m certain she is and this is supposed to be her medicine.”

  He frowned and skipped through the pages of the books. “I’m no Doctor, but this won’t heal anyone.”

  He bandaged my hand and explained that I’m not obligated to spill blood every time I call him, though he appreciated it.

  “You should tell her,” he said. “There aren’t many Oracles left. She could meet Frya. It’s a great honour.”

  “I think that’s the opposite purpose of this medicine.”

  Aware of how close Tonio wanted to keep her, he would have never allowed it. It was easier to tranquillise her than to make her stay if she was aware of her powers.

  The blood inside me boiled and drenched my fresh bandage. Even now that I knew the truth, there was no other option than obedience.

  I closed the books and stacked them on the table before lying down.

  “Sometimes, I wish I never arrived,” I exhaled.

  “You’re distracted, that’s all,” he said and laid himself beside me. A black robe appeared around his limbs. He was right, I needed to focus on my education.

  “It’s time to find out what it means to be a Volkov,” I said.

  He smiled at me but remained quiet.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, yes. I should be a red-haired magical prodigy, granddaughter of Gerogy Volkov. I wonder if anyone remembers my name.” I tucked myself into the sheet and wrapped it around my head.

  “
Have you done something memorable yet?” he asked.

  I shook my head. I was still irrelevant and had the perfect cover until Claire dragged me out of my own interests. Of course, I followed, led by emotions. Last night, we reached the point of no return.

  “You should go to Gerogy,” he said. “I could claim you and teach you about your inner Witch.”

  “And miss the opportunity to learn literally everything? Did you see this library?”

  It sounded like a joke, but I still considered it since I couldn’t overshadow my witchiness by being a Mage. I had to set priorities, just like Tonio said, and my opinion hadn’t changed since then. Staying out of the way and studying was only possible in the Dicheval academy.

  “He’s too busy anyway,” Veymor said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, thanks to your grandmother, he learned to worship the right God. Otherwise, I might run out of power. He used to call me, asked for books and grimoires. He has this thing,” he explained.

  “Studyrush,” I admitted. A Magician’s sickness, impossible to recover from. Doctor Di Centi was on his way to fall victim to it, too.

  “He’s well, very healthy but busy with his studies. Sometimes he finds time to tell me about you in his prayers. I should appreciate you more,” he laughed and calmed me.

  “Did you claim him?”

  “In a certain way,” he pondered what to say. “He’s not a Witch but we have an agreement. I haven’t been able to follow through with his latest request, though. Might be in your interest to help me out.” His smile deceived me, provoked my curiosity.

  The pulling force between us sent sparks through the air.

  “It’s inside the chapel,” I assumed as it had called to me ever since I entered it on my first day.

  “You are definitely a Volkov.”

  “Why can’t you get it?” I asked.

  “It’s complicated,” he said. “It’s stuck between this realm and mine. Vanna brought it down and messed up the barrier. I can’t pick it up.”

  I jumped up and my stomach prickled, longing to search the chapel. It would be her grimoire, but I couldn’t make sense of why Gerogy would want it, besides his Studyrush.

  “I’ll guide you through the catacombs,” he suggested and I sensed an incoming deal in his pointy smile, “you just have to give it to me eventually, or bring it to him yourself.”

  If I sensed it inside the chapel already, I didn’t need his help. What if I wanted to keep it? Not wanting to risk it, I declined.

  Waiting for him to disappear, I ate from the container but he poured himself more wine instead and watched me from the bed.

  “Did you have fun last night?” he asked. “Should’ve called me.” His limbs shortened, his hair turned silver and grew out. Inside his robe, he gained familiar curves. He turned himself into Claire, yawned like her. “I prefer the other form out of comfort,” he said and looked like Deg afterwards, “but I could be whoever you want me to be.” He turned himself into Tonio and walked towards me, swinging his hips, and when he bowed over me he looked like Kress. “It seems you’d like to try every single one of them. One more doesn’t hurt.”

  Just as I joined his lips, my gut hit me and I shrugged back from him.

  “S–sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s fine,” he said, “you’ll come back.”

  After he shifted back into his usual form, he proceeded to the portal and let himself sink, leaving the chalice behind where he first found it.

  It was only natural that his powers were highly developed and I made peace with it quickly, even though I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities it provided. I had to stop myself from fantasising by gulping down the rest of my meal. I would never follow through with cheating while the guilt sat on my shoulders, judging me.

  The campus quieted down after midnight, and I’d collected enough confidence to search the chapel. I stuffed some candles in my pockets as well as chalk and wine, just in case I needed Veymor’s help.

  The catacombs turned out to be a maze, and I found myself running in circles. I sat down and tried sensing its presence before I would get sore and achieve nothing at all. After a while, the suction of the Underworld pulled me in. I concentrated on the smell of death and let my gut guide me through the narrow corridors until a throbbing vibration brought me face-to-face with a dead-end. I illuminated every corner, touched every suspicious stone but found nothing. It was there, but I couldn’t pick it up either.

  Forcing air out of my lungs, I drew the star-shaped rune and watched Veymor appear without hesitation.

  “Told you,” he said, smirking and reached his hand out to me while I undressed.

  This time, I descended without the help of Sosden. He hugged me, pulling me down. The heat of his skin became irresistible, but instead of letting me touch him, he held down my arms until we arrived.

  I collapsed onto him, weakened by the descent.

  “What about now?” he laughed while loosening his grip, but the lust vanished as soon as I noticed a piece of paper on the floor and rushed to it.

  The irregular vibration verified his story. The item was stuck and I hesitated to touch it.

  Either way, I had to, if I wanted to learn more about witchcraft without getting claimed by him or getting caught in his web.

  I hovered my hand over it in a circling motion. “I will pick you up, I will hold you,” I chanted until I grabbed for it.

  The sandy paper remained in my hand and I didn’t suppress a victory-dance.

  As a Witch I was the link between the earthly realm and the Underworld. I finally understood the principles.

  When I opened the note and read its only sentence, it burned away in my hand.

  “What did you do? What did it say?” Veymor asked.

  “To dig in the den.”

  “What den? Here? I can’t feel anything.”

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  The wolfess had led me to it before, but I hadn’t known what to do besides sharing my food. I was glad to have given her something, considering that I would dig in her home as soon as the sun came up.

  14. Chains

  Veymor cursed, placed himself on the portal and waved me in. But the Underworld held me back. It was homey, cosy, and I refused the thought of leaving, even though it was flooded by liquid and awoke my fear of drowning. I enjoyed breathing it in and craved more.

  More.

  My pores sucked in the nectar.

  Abruptly Veymor jerked my hand and I found myself in the earthly catacombs again where I would dress and return to my loft after. He had accompanied me and I couldn’t stop chewing my lip. I feared that he might have sensed my lie.

  Pouring wine into the chalice, he plunged onto my bed and I knew no discrete way of telling him to disappear.

  I could try and learn something from him, I thought and laid down beside him, offering biscuits from the container.

  “You spoil me,” he laughed and let me take a sip from his chalice. I had not been in the mood for alcohol but still took a big gulp to calm my nervousness.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Some answers have a price but I’m in a generous mood because of this… .” He squished the spongy cake.

  I shifted forward. “Why do you persist so much on sleeping with me?”

  “Hm,” he grunted, “imagine it as the highest form of prayer. We exchange energies, I won’t be the only one profiting.”

  That’s why it felt like an intimate robbery when I didn’t consent. Though I’d never heard of robbers that burned the house down after they finished.

  The memories fueled my endless hunger for revenge.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “It can further your senses, enhance your potions. Sometimes you need a little push to make a difficult spell work and such. The more passion flows through us, the more power you receive, that’s why I recommend to stretch it into hours upon hours,” he said, “upon hours.”<
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  I nodded to him since I found no fitting answer to this. It made sense, but the thought of Claire hindered me. I wouldn’t want her to sleep with anybody but me so I did the same and pushed the option away from consideration.

  “What do you do, when you’re not here?” I asked.

  “Jealous? I uphold my part of any deal I made. Sometimes, I meet the other Gods, not all of them, but some.” He scanned my face while I waited on him to continue.

  It relieved me to know that Gods had existed instead of being a man-made tale that provided meaning to life.

  “I don’t sleep with any of them, not that there were many options.”

  “I’m not jealous,” I assured him. It was only fair, but it wasn’t easy letting him go since we bonded. It was him, who guided me through many steps in self-discovery. He helped me heal the wounds of the past while respecting my wishes.

  I decided to give him the grimoire after I copied the relevant pages. It would reach my grandfather anyhow, there was no need to hurry.

  “If I wasn’t hiding from her, I would ask Frya to appear to your little girlfriend,” he sighed.

  Veymor tried his best to keep me out of trouble. He must have sensed that I would open Claire’s Oracle eye. Even if she found out on her own, I would be the perfect scapegoat.

  “Hiding?” I asked but he waved it off.

  I removed my robe, pulled off his and cuddled up to him to show my appreciation and get another whiff of the Underworld. His damp skin invited my touch. I inhaled the steam that came off him and focused on the blood inside my veins, pumping. His energy seeped into me.

  When I put my head on his chest, I found no heartbeat. As a God, he must have been an immortal. Yet he could fool anyone by projecting healthy flesh.

  “You’re pretty calm for a Witch that was about to find Vanna’s grimoire,” he said and my heart fibrillated. “You’re thinking about her, the Oracle, aren’t you?”

  “I want to study and make my grandfather proud.” I stumbled over my own words.

  “Keep that shit for your teachers,” he laughed and emptied the chalice.

  It was obvious that Claire stood between me and my initial goal and I became besotted with pleasing every party, neglecting my own needs. Nonetheless, I was confident that I could manage it.