The Lost Letters of Brother Gabriel

by Bree Despain

  INTRODUCTION

  Brother Gabriel, Daniel’s mentor and an ancient Urbat, plays an important role in The Lost Saint as well as the upcoming conclusion to the Dark Divine trilogy, The Savage Grace. We were first introduced to Gabriel in The Dark Divine when Grace receives a book of ancient letters that Gabriel (a young monk at the time) wrote to his sister during the Crusades, detailing his search to know more about the Urbat. The book of letters ends just before Gabriel falls to the Urbat curse, leaving us to wonder what happened to him in the following years to turn him into the man he is today.

  Most of Gabriel’s letters were written during the thirteenth century, and later translated and compiled by an Orthodox priest in the eighteenth century. For whatever reason, some of Gabriel’s letters were lost after translation and did not make it into that original book. But good news! A few of these “lost letters,” detailing Gabriel’s fall to the Urbat curse and his quest to seek revenge on the man responsible for his demise, have recently been “discovered” by the indomitable crew at Egmont USA, and are compiled here for your reading pleasure.

  I hope you enjoy The Lost Letters of Brother Gabriel. I think they give a lot more depth to Brother Gabriel’s character and the mythology of the Dark Divine trilogy.

  Always,

  THE LOST LETTERS OF BROTHER GABRIEL

  first letter

  Katharine! Oh, Katharine!

  I write to thee now because I do not know when, or if, I will ever have the opportunity again. I do not even know how much time has passed since I last wrote to thee—since I was last human.

  I tried to run from the Urbat curse after I was infected. I tried to flee this wretched place before the curse could take me over. I left my other letters and a dagger for you in my tent, then packed a sack and headed for the forest. Before I got too far, the most horrible noise filled my ears. I’d heard nothing like it before. It was high-pitched and ethereal, yet it filled every fiber of my soul and clutched at my heart like the devil himself. The noise pulled me toward it, out of the forest, and through the burning walls of the great city. My friend Jonathan de Paign tried to stop me in my tracks, telling me to go back before I was swallowed by the chaos of the city. Alas, there was no escaping the draw of that noise.

  Oh, how I wish now I had let Jonathan stop me from finding my horrible fate!

  It took me only moments to follow the noise through the city—like a supernatural speed carried me on my feet—to a crumbling church. Flames lapped from its boarded windows like the tongues of yellow serpents. Five knights from our encampment stood in front of the chained entrance doors, holding torches in their hands. They shouted at me to join them, smiles on their sooty faces. The sound was so strong here; it engulfed me to the point that I was sure I must be a lunatic, for the others did not seem to notice it. To my horror, I realized that the high-pitched noises were screams. The screams of women and children—trapped inside the fiery church.

  Burning alive.

  I ran for the door, shouting at my brothers to help me. Surely, they heard the noise—even over their laughter. One of the men caught me by the arm as I attempted to pull at the chains from the door. He laughed and said he enjoyed the delicious smell of burning traitor flesh. The others laughed and made crude gestures.

  And then I knew. These knights from my encampment, men I called brothers, had set fire to this church themselves, knowing people were trapped inside. Women and their babes, from the sound of their dying voices, choking off now from the smoke, who had most likely sought sanctuary from the ransacking of the city in this place of God.

  “Thou didst this?” I shouted at the knight. “Under what authority doest thou desecrate this holy place? Let me go, and free these innocent saints!”

  “Under my authority, Brother Gabriel,” a voice said from behind me. “And there are no saints inside there. Only heathens and traitors, and I am sending them to hell where they belong.”

  I whirled around, the knight still gripping my arm, and found Father Miguel standing before me. The torch in his hand seemed to burn brighter than the others. I knew right then that this man who claimed to be God’s servant—this man I followed to this place in an effort to build the Church—was responsible for this evil.

  Rage filled my heart. A terrible trembling shuddered through my body, and a voice inside my head told me to destroy Father Miguel; these men must die for this heinous crime. That was the only way to save the souls inside the church.

  Before I knew what was happening, I’d lunged at Father Miguel, my hand outstretched to grab him by the throat. Alas, as I made the movement, that rage in my heart ripped through me, and I collapsed in a writhing, quaking shudder, and it felt as though something was clawing its way out of my body. I heard the knights scream, and everything went hazy, like when we’d open our eyes under the dark water of the lake in the woods behind our home. Father Miguel dropped his torch, and he and the five soldiers ran.

  I lunged after them, yet my body was no longer my body.

  I was an animal.

  A beast.

  It felt as though I was watching this monstrous version of myself chase after them, as if I were out of my new body, watching from a great distance. Unable to stop myself as I caught one of the men with my claws, sinking my new fangs into the flesh of his skin…

  I do not remember much more of what happened. What I did. For I awoke several hours later, even days later, for all I know, with dried blood caked on my hands—my human hands—and on my face. The bodies of two of the soldiers I had chased lay near the smoldering ruins of the church. I knew it was too late to save the people inside. They were as dead as the men I was surely responsible for killing.

  I stumbled back to my encampment to find that Father Miguel and everyone else had gone. Fled from me—the beast—before I could come after them also.

  I am all alone now, Katharine. And I am lost.

  So very, very lost.

  The monster has devoured me.

  How can I go on?

  second letter

  Katharine,

  Doest thou remember the promise I made to my beloved Marie?

  That night the baby would not come, and the midwife said there was nothing more she could do, I held Marie in my arms as she cried out for the Lord to come take her and our child so the devil’s spirits would not claim them before the angels could. I brushed her wet hair from her face and reassured her that heaven awaited her soul. She smiled up at me for the briefest moment and told me she could see a light, and her mama, waiting for her. Then she tried to squeeze my hand and made me promise I would come find her in heaven when my time to leave this world came. She said it would not be heaven without me. She made me swear that I would reunite us in our love.

  When Marie left me, I held her cold body for hours. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole to save me from my sorrow. I did not know how to keep my promise to find her. Marie’s good heart was the only thing about her greater than her wit and beauty, and how could I, a simple seventeen-year-old peasant, dream to live a life pure enough to meet her in the heavens? That is why I chose to join the monastery despite thy and Uncle Jean’s protests. I planned to sequester myself away, devote myself to God Almighty, if that is what it would take to bring me back to Marie.

  Alas, I foolhardily followed Father Miguel on his crusade. We were supposed to help build up the Church, bring salvation to the Holy Land. Only now, Father Miguel has destroyed me. He and those knights who burned those souls in that church—they have made me break my promise to Marie. Because of them, I will never know heaven. I will be damned to hell as a demon-wolf for all eternity. They have stolen my Marie and our child from me.

&nb
sp; That is why they deserved to die, Katharine. That is why I have punished them. Two of the six men who burned the church and murdered those women and children died by my hands the night I became a wolf-man. At first I was disgusted and frightened by what I had done. Yet, now I know it is what they deserved. They needed to die.

  I have hunted down more of the knights. Found them back in their homes with their families, living under the pretense that they had done nothing wrong.

  In Dijon, I discovered one of the knights, telling stories in a tavern of his courageous feats, poisoning the crowd with his lies. Flaming rage filled me once more, and that night I let myself become a demon again. I stalked the knight on his way home from the town’s square and killed him, and the tavern wench who hung on his arm, before he could speak another lie to anyone.

  In Amiens, I tore the flesh from the man who laughed outside the church and said he enjoyed the smell of burning traitors, but only after I killed his son in front of him.

  The third man must have heard of the others’ fate, for he fled to Venice before I could find him in Amiens as well. He must have supposed himself safe from a wolf in a city surrounded by water. I left his body in a canal.

  I have punished many others who I have encountered in my journeys. Alas, the worst murderer of them all continues to elude me. I know he hides behind his unholy robes, seeking refuge in monasteries, cowering from the stories of the demon-wolf who seeks to destroy all the men who took part in the slaughtering of the Greek Christians.

  I swear this to thee, Katharine: I will not rest until he pays for what he has done. If I cannot follow my Marie to heaven, then I will drag Father Miguel to hell with me.

  No matter where he runs.

  third letter

  Oh, Katharine, what have I done?

  I do not know why I write to thee now. Thou wilt never see this letter. Not unless the angels themselves were to light it to thee on their wings. Alas, no angel would dare to come near a demon as horrible as I.

  Why did I not stay away?

  When I heard Miguel had returned to our village, that he was living like a fatted pig on the hill overlooking the cottage I once shared with Marie, I should never have gone after him there. I should have fled as far from home as possible, stayed away from even the thought of seeing thee.

  I should have known I wasn’t strong enough. I let the wolf force me home to our village. It told me I must finally take my vengeance against Miguel. Alas, I realize now it was not Miguel that the wolf wanted me to find.

  It was thee, little sister.

  When I came to our village, I wanted to go straightaway to destroy Miguel and leave before anyone recognized me. Only, the wolf in my head prodded me to go see thee first. It knew my heart and how badly I longed to be home with thee.

  I thought I could watch thee from a distance so I could know that thou were happy in thy life with Simon Saint Moon. The wolf assured me it was what I must do if I were ever to rest.

  I stood at the edge of the forest and watched thee pick sweet herbs from thy garden. Thou hadst grown so much in the last few years—from a girl into a woman. Thy hands were strong, and thy face was fuller and softer; I realize now from becoming a mother. Seeing thee was not enough. I wanted to embrace thee, and swing thee around in the air like I used to when we were young. I wanted to feel human and loved again.

  Yet it was the love I felt for thee that frightened me. The wolf recognized that feeling and wanted me to kill thee. I could feel it writhing in my heart, under my skin. I fought with its howling cry for thy blood in my head. For every step I took farther back away from you, the wolf prodded me two steps forward. I prayed that thou hadst received my letters and the silver dagger, and that thou would know what I was, and what to do, if thou didst see me.

  At one moment I thought thou didst see me at the edge of the forest, or maybe thou didst only sense the danger near thee. I watched thee straighten up and look into the forest, thy gathering basket clutched in thy hands. Then thou didst call out, “Doni, Doni, go into the house, my boy,” and I saw the toddling child for the first time. I watched his tiny feet as he followed your order and went into thy cottage with a small cloth doll, like the kind Marie happily made in anticipation for our own babe.

  My heart felt like it had been ripped out by anger and grief as I remembered the child that should have been mine before Marie was taken from me. The child I would never have now.

  A flaming pain overtook my body and I fell to the ground. I fought the beast, tried to keep it at bay. Alas, I knew I had lost the battle when a great howl surged through my body and everything went murky inside my mind.

  I imagine thou didst not have enough time to run from thy garden to thy home when thou didst see the giant wolf lunge out of the forest. I seem to remember thy screams for Simon to keep Doni safe.

  I awoke in the forest some time later. Blood painted my arms. Blood that smelled like sweet herbs from thy garden, and knew what I had done.

  I am so sorry, Katharine. Thy love for me was the only possible cure to rid me of the curse of the demon-wolf, and now that thou art gone like Marie—as was the wolf’s greatest desire—I will be trapped in its claws forever. I wish only to die now, so I can receive my eternal damnation for what I have done to thee.

  If thou findest my Marie in heaven, tell her I am not coming for her—if she does not know already what I have become.

  I have forsaken my promise.

  fourth letter

  My Dearest Katharine,

  I do not know why I write to thee again now, for I know thou art still gone. Yet I do so, for I hope it will help me feel human. That is the reason I still sketch thy and Marie’s faces in the dust each morning—so I don’t forget who I am.

  I am not sure how many years have passed since I wrote thee last, for I do not age anymore, and time feels uncertain to me now. I have lived alone in the hills for all these years, as far from humans as possible. I forage for food, and have sworn off all acts of violence—even hunting game—and try to force myself not to dream of dismembering Father Miguel. I lock myself up on nights of the full moon so I do not go looking for him, and I do nothing that would give the wolf any freedom. I will not risk losing control ever again—not after what I did to thee.

  I travel into the nearest town only once a month, during the new moon—for the wolf is weakest and easiest to keep at bay when the moon is absent from the night’s sky. If only I could find a moonstone to help control the beast at all times. I long to have a life again. A family. I hate to be alone; the seclusion drives me mad. Alas, I cannot risk being close to anyone.

  I fear I will never know love again….

  Katharine,

  A fortnight has passed since my last note, and everything has changed—because of thee, my beloved sister.

  Often, when I make my monthly trip into town, I see a woman in the marketplace. She is a slave, with a particularly cruel master, yet she carries herself as if she were a queen, or perhaps a priestess. She has long, dark curling hair that reminds me of thee, yet her eyes are the most peculiar violet color. I know, for she is the only person in town who dares to look me in the eyes. Everyone else skirts around my disheveled form and treats me as though I have some terrible plague—which, in a way, I do. Whenever this woman looks at me from over her master’s wares, it seems as though she knows who I am—what I am.

  Today, when I was in the market purchasing my month’s supplies, this strange woman walked up to me. She whispered, “I know what you need,” and pressed a black stone into my hand. She closed my fingers over it with her own. Her touch was warm and made me sigh, for it had been so long since anyone had touched me.

  I then recoiled from her, afraid the emotion her touch had triggered would cause the wolf inside of me to react. Only, the warm pulse emanating from the stone in my hand seemed to push the wolf away.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “A moonstone,” she said.

  I gasped. “How did you know?”


  “The spirits speak to me,” she said. “Katharine told me what you needed.”

  I could not help the tears that flooded into my eyes, for I knew she spoke the truth.

  “There is an Urbat pack that lives just beyond Gevaudan,” she said. “Take this moonstone to the alpha, and he will grant you admission into their ranks.”

  “So this is not for me?” I did not know if I would be able to ever let the moonstone go. It pulsed with a hope that I had not felt in years.

  The woman’s master approached us, shouting at her to get back to work.

  “I have more stones, back at my master’s home. I have blessed them myself,” she whispered. “My master plans to sell me at market in a month’s time. I will not be back here until then. Return and free me on the night of the next new moon, and the stones will be yours.”

  Oh, Katharine, can I believe that thou art the one who sent this woman to me? That thou truly told her what I need? That thou hast not forsaken me?

  I will go straightaway to find this pack of Urbat wolf-men and seek their help. Perhaps I will not be alone forever.

  I have found a family, Katharine.

  At least I hope that shall be the case, if I can bring the rest of the stones to them.

  I thought the pack was going to cast me out at first, or kill me for my trespass. The alpha, an ancient Urbat named Conall, had no interest in my offer of the moonstone. If it had not been for his grandson, Sirhan—who looks to be a young man but is more than a century and a half old, as he tells me—I would most likely not be alive now. Sirhan is the one who understood the value of the stone and spoke on my behalf. Handing over the moonstone to the pack elders was the hardest thing I have done since I left home all those years ago. I feel a void and cold, without it in my pocket at all times. I do not know how I will bide my time until I can get a new one.