In the Company of Wolves (Of Witches and Werewolves Book 2)

by Cory Barclay

  His heart raced as the Wisp quietly passed by the Pride, which fortunately was too busy being restocked for anyone to notice his boat’s arrival.

  Finding the Pride in port gave him high hopes. It meant that Captain Rowaine, that bitch, was not far off. And wherever she was, so were the main objects of his hunt: Sybil and Dieter.

  Scanning the docks, he saw no wild red hair blazing back at him. Which was unfortunate, but not alarming. The captain’s striking mane would make her easy to spot once his real search began onshore. If I have to scour this entire town, through every slum and nook to find them, I will.

  Once securely berthed, Gustav, Hedda, and the six crewmen quickly melted into the crowds of traders and merchants, invisible to anyone who might otherwise recognize them. As Gustav strolled through the throngs of passersby, he passed the shiny bald head of the Pride’s carpenter—Daxton, Rowaine had called him—barking orders to his men. Another sign that the captain couldn’t be far off.

  When they’d cleared the harbor, Gustav asked, “Kevan, Paul, do you know this place well?”

  Amsterdam was a sprawling city, laden with canals and waterways and bridges. Gustav had only been there once before, when he’d first sailed to England in hot pursuit of Sybil and Dieter Nicolaus.

  Kevan parted a slip of dark hair from his eyes. “I know it well enough to know where pirates like Captain Donnelly might go, my lord.”

  Meanwhile, Paul was swiveling his neck around, eyes wide open, taking in all the sights and sounds like a bewildered child. The fair-haired soldier had obviously never experienced the goings-on of such a big, vibrant city, and it was clearly overwhelming him.

  Gustav put a hand on Kevan’s shoulder. “Good. Take two of Jergen’s men and search the eastern part of town. Offer a ten-ducat reward to anyone with information regarding Rowaine Donnelly’s whereabouts. If she’s as renowned as she thinks she is, someone will come forth.”

  Kevan gave a small salute, then departed with two men in his wake. Gustav then set Paul off in the opposite direction with two more men.

  Hedda stepped up beside Gustav. “What do you plan to do if the crew of the Lion’s Pride catch wind of your inquiry?” she asked, pushing her spectacles to the bridge of her nose.

  Gustav shrugged. “If the price is right, perhaps one of them will help me.”

  “Or maybe ambush and hang you, Gustav.”

  Gustav scowled. “Has anyone ever told you that you’d be much prettier if you weren’t so negative, my dear?”

  Gustav sat in the dim tavern, his third mug of ale—with a few drops of laudanum—in front of him. His feet hung casually out the side of the bench. He leaned back. His head felt foggy. The high anticipation of his search had now given way to a cloudy, drug- and alcohol-induced calm.

  He’d been imbibing at the tavern for two hours, waiting for his men to return. Hedda sat across from him, studying her big book on botanical merits, science, and God.

  Finally, Kevan walked in. He sat down next to Gustav. He was edgy, his fingers fiddling. He waited to speak.

  Gustav took another long swallow of ale, set the mug back down, then turned slowly toward the soldier. “Kevan, do you have something to say?”

  Kevan nodded. “I believe I’ve met a man who is willing to help you, my lord. He says you must act quick if you want to catch the Pride before it sets off.”

  Gustav gripped the seat of his bench, leaned back slowly, and swiveled side to side, cracking his back. When he was done, he said softly, “I think I’d like to meet this man.”

  “What if it’s a trap?” Hedda asked without glancing up from her book.

  With a snort, Gustav stood. “I suppose we’ll see, Hedda. If you’d like to stay here and finish your reading, you’re more than welcome.”

  Hedda’s finger followed the page she read until it reached the bottom-right corner, then she slammed the book shut. “No, I’ll go. I’d like to see this. Where are we to meet this man, Kevan?”

  “At a tavern, my lady. Where else?”

  The three set off toward the western section of town, back by the docks. A sense of anxiousness crept up Gustav’s spine as he stepped closer to the docks.

  They crossed a bridge overlooking brilliant turquoise waters where a large narrowboat was gliding gracefully under the archway.

  Gustav took no notice.

  They walked by a brothel with a large, blonde woman standing in the doorway. As they passed her, she put her hands to her hips and sneered. They proceeded down the street, then crossed over to where a small, rundown structure stood, dingy and uninviting.

  They went inside. The place was dark and almost empty, save for two men drinking at the far end of the bar.

  The men glanced at the new arrivals, then went back to their drinks. Convinced they posed no danger, Gustav took a seat at a table well away from the bar. Hedda joined him while Kevan lurked nearby, eyes darting about. When the bartender appeared by their table, Gustav ordered drinks for the three of them.

  A few minutes later, a large shadow stepped through the doorway, blocking the sunlight. Due to the glare Gustav could only make out a wide silhouette, until the man stepped into the room. His face was gristly, with a short-cropped beard, and he wore a large overcoat that swept to the ground. Another younger man—with a pretty face, strong arms, and big ears—followed him inside.

  “Gustav Koehler?” the first man bellowed.

  Gustav stared expectedly at the man.

  “Name’s Adrian Coswell,” the man said in a gruff voice. “This young man here is Alfred Eckstein.” He looked around the room before continuing. “Your man says there’s a reward for finding Rowaine Donnelly.” His tone soured when he uttered the captain’s name.

  Gustav motioned to the other side of the table. “Please, Herr Coswell, take a seat.”

  “I want to see the reward.”

  “If your information checks out, sir, you will.” Gustav narrowed his eyes.

  Kevan stepped forward timidly. “Herr Coswell says he sailed with Captain Donnelly, my lord.”

  “Herr Coswell can speak for himself,” Gustav said.

  The big man took a seat across from Gustav. Gustav motioned the bartender for an ale for his guest which arrived seconds later. The man took a swig, then said, “I was Captain Galager’s first mate. So, yes, I sailed with the bitch.”

  “Captain Galager?” Gustav asked.

  “My captain before the bitch. She cut off his cock.”

  Several long seconds of silence followed.

  Then Gustav spoke. “Sounds dramatic,” he said, casually scratching his neck. “And you weren’t fond of her for that?”

  Adrian chuckled sharply, then coughed and spit phlegm on the floor. “She should’ve killed me when she had the chance.”

  “When is the last time you saw Frau Donnelly?”

  “Couple days ago, right over there,” Adrian pointed past Gustav toward the bigger building across the way where they’d passed the fat lady standing outside. “That’s Dolly’s, Rowaine’s regular haunt. We’d normally be meeting there, but I worry someone there might try to cut off my cock, too.”

  “A fair concern,” Gustav said with a nod.

  Another figure stepped into the tavern. All eyes spun around. A woman, thin with wide hips, walked toward their table. She was tanned, with a pretty but tired-looking face. “Word goes you’re lookin’ for Rowaine Donnelly,” the girl said.

  “Who told you that?” Gustav asked.

  The girl folded her arms over her ample chest. “At least three different people, sir. It’s not much of a secret around here.”

  After giving Hedda an evil look, Gustav turned back to the girl, who was probably no older than twenty. “And who are you, my lady?”

  “I’m Mia.”

  “What can you tell me about Rowaine Donnelly?”

  Mia frowned, her nose twitching. “That she broke my heart.”

  Gustav peered at Hedda again, whose eyes widened, magnified further by her
spectacles. Kevan murmured something under his breath.

  “I don’t trust you, woman.” It had come from Alfred Eckstein, the man who accompanied Adrian Coswell into the bar. Adrian looked up at his companion, standing next to the girl, then back at the girl.

  “Aye,” Adrian agreed.

  With hard eyes aimed at Gustav, Mia said, “I know how Rowaine thinks. She’s a vengeful woman. She’ll be searching for her father, Georg Sieghart. I don’t know where she’d go to find him—she wouldn’t tell me after our final argument.” She looked around at the others, then back at Gustav. “But I will be more of an asset when you do find her than any of these vagrants, sir.”

  Gustav pondered that. He rubbed his clean-shaven chin with the heel of his palm. After a moment, he asked, “Who would know where Rowaine Donnelly might have gone off to?”

  Adrian Coswell drummed the tabletop with his fingers, then cleared his throat. “As first mate of the Pride, one of my duties was knowing all the crew—where they came from, who they were, and, most importantly, where they lived.” He paused for effect, then with a grin continued. “The man you’ll want to talk to is named Daxton Wallace. Former carpenter while I was aboard. Became first mate, I believe. He was Rowaine’s right-hand man during her mutiny. Bastard stole my position and gave me a good bump on the head. I’ve been keeping an eye on the two of them from the shadows.”

  Mia said, “He ain’t the first mate anymore. Rowaine made him captain after she left the ship. She apparently had more important plans to attend to in the country.” Her tone implied those plans hadn’t included her.

  “What can you tell me about this Wallace fellow, Herr Coswell?” Gustav asked.

  “First, I want guarantees that you’ll pay my men—ten in all. You’ll have to dwell quick on it, for I doubt Daxton plans on staying in port much longer.” Adrian shifted in his seat, folding his hands on his belly.

  Gustav glanced at Hedda. The secretary opened her book, ran her finger down a few lines. “We can manage those expenses.”

  “There you have it,” Gustav said, throwing his arms out wide. “You’re lucky that I’m a wealthy man.”

  After shaking on the bargain, Adrian clasped his hands together on the tabletop. “I saw the bald-headed scoundrel recruiting more men before he set off to port—young men, able-bodied, with moldable minds.”

  “What does that mean to me?” Gustav asked.

  “It means he’s planning to be out at sea for quite some time, where you’d never catch him.” Adrian raised his index finger. “But, I have an idea to stop him. As I said, I know where the man’s family lives. He has a wife and young daughter stowed away on a farm outside town.”

  Gustav’s face darkened. “I don’t kill young girls . . .”

  “I’m sure you’ve done worse, Herr Koehler. But you mistake my meaning.”

  Gustav nodded slowly. A plan began forming in his fuzzy mind, building gradually, until a faraway look overcame him. The others continued talking, until Adrian paused.

  “Gustav, are you listening?”

  After a beat, Gustav broke through his trance. “Yes, yes, I understand your meaning now. You say you know where they live? Well, let’s pay them a visit, shall we? We have no time to waste.”

  As Gustav’s coterie made their way out of Amsterdam, the sun gently nudged the horizon, causing the sky to shine pink and orange, creating a brilliant skyline behind them.

  As the sun continued its descent, the colors darkened to pale blue, then deep purple. The farmlands east of the city came into view. With any luck, Daxton and his crew will wait for the morning before sailing off—not at twilight.

  But Gustav wasn’t sure. After all, these were pirates, who lived, pillaged, and fought by the cover of darkness. But he was already committed to his plan. He had a healthy crew with him: six former tradesmen who’d worked for the late Captain Jergen, plus Adrian, Alfred, Mia, and Hedda.

  Adrian pointed out a small farm in the distance, smoke wafting through a hole in its roof. Confidently, the group approached the front door. Gustav knocked hard.

  After a moment, the door started to open and Gustav put his foot in the way and pushed firmly.

  With a yelp, a woman retreated back, a young girl by her side. Instinctively, the woman placed her hand atop the little girl’s head. The woman had short brown hair, a pretty face, and was clearly pregnant. The girl, also brown-haired, was maybe ten years old.

  Gustav stared down at the woman. “You are Daxton Wallace’s wife?”

  “Who the hell are you?” she snarled, clearly scared but putting on a good face.

  Adrian popped out from behind Gustav, smiling wide. His green overcoat billowed in the wind, knocking against the door. “Hello, Darlene. Remember me?”

  The woman gripped her daughter, pulling her closer. “Coswell,” she spat. “Who are your friends?”

  “Never mind them,” Adrian said. He stepped past Gustav and headed into the small living room. Gustav followed with Hedda close behind. The rest of the crew remained outside.

  Closing the door, Gustav crouched low, eye-level with the little girl. “You must be Abigail. My name is Gustav Koehler. I’m your father’s friend.”

  “Don’t speak to her,” Darlene said. “I’ve never heard Daxton mention your name.” Her eyes turned to the big man beside Gustav. “But I definitely know Coswell here. What is it you boys want? We want no trouble.”

  “Nor do we,” Gustav said. He paced the room, noticing the holes and rotting floorboards. “For a carpenter, you’d assume Daxton would care more about his own house. This place is a pit.”

  “He’s been busy,” Darlene replied. “We’ve had rain and storms since he’s been gone. Brought part of the roof down.”

  Gustav sighed. “You mean you haven’t seen him since he’s been back in port?”

  Darlene opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She looked down at her daughter. “You lie,” she muttered. “He would see me.”

  Gustav shrugged. “Family secrets aren’t my concern, woman. The fact is, he’s been in Amsterdam going on near a week. He’ll probably be gone by morning. Who knows when you’ll see him again . . .”

  He let the words sink in, trying to drive a wedge between the woman and her husband. It must have worked. She shook her head slowly. “He’s always cared more about that ship and that navigator woman than he has us. Whatever you say won’t make me hate the man, though.”

  “You’re a better person than I,” Gustav answered. “But haven’t you heard? The woman you speak of is no longer the navigator of the ship. Rowaine Donnelly killed the captain and took the role for her own.”

  Darlene said, “It’s not my business. We’re simple folk.”

  Adrian took a seat on a bench by the door. Stretching his arms out, he said, “Rowaine Donnelly passed on the captaincy to her second-in-command.”

  “That boy Dominic, you mean?” Darlene asked.

  Gustav shook his head. “No, woman. Your husband is now captain of the Lion’s Pride. Maybe he wanted to save the surprise. Think of all you could buy with his new station in life.”

  “Papa is the leader, mother?” Abigail looked up at her mother with big, watery eyes.

  Darlene rubbed her daughter’s head, silencing her.

  Gustav noticed something by his foot. He leaned over and picked it up, keeping eye-level with the girl. It was a doll, shaped like a small girl, made from hemp rope and yellow curlings.

  The girl ducked away from her mother’s hand. “That’s Franny,” she said, reaching for it.

  Gustav flashed a grin, then wiggled the doll in his hand. Abigail giggled. He lumbered up to his full height with the doll still in his hand. Staring down at Darlene, he said, “If you want to reap the benefits of your husband’s new title, you’ll cooperate with me. Do that and you and your daughter will be safe. So will Daxton.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Information.”

  “I know nothing of what he does. He
leaves his business in the sea when he comes home.”

  Gustav ignored the woman’s comments. “We have a large company of men outside. I’m afraid they will have to stay here until we return. And you will need to remain indoors. But only until we can persuade your husband to help us.” He smiled at the little girl. “And as I’ve promised, all of you will remain safe.”

  Darlene put her hands over her daughter’s ears. “What guarantees do I have that you won’t harm Abby?”

  Gustav wiggled the doll in his hands again. He said, “You have my word.” He crouched down again. “I’m going to borrow Franny, Abigail. Is that all right?”

  The girl’s lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

  When Gustav got back outside, he turned to Adrian and said, “We need to gather your pirates.” Next, he faced Mia and said, “You’ll stay here with the men from Jergen’s ship. They should be docile enough. Make sure those two inside stay safe. I won’t have their harm on my conscience. Do you understand?”

  Flustered, Mia said, “What do I do if the men get . . . rowdy?”

  Gustav leered at her. “Service them yourself, whore. You should be used to it.” He stormed away, walking over to Kevan and Paul, who were standing by the six men he’d chosen to stay. He leaned in close to his two soldiers.

  “If I don’t return by sun-up,” he said, “kill both girls inside and burn the house to the ground.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ROWAINE

  Rowaine’s party was closing in on Bedburg. They’d cut into Germany near Venlo, a municipal city and stronghold in the southeastern Netherlands that sat near the Dutch and German border.

  Rowaine had purchased horses for all of them in Amsterdam, allowing them to cover ground quicker. It was the reason they’d reached Venlo in just over three days—a hundred miles from their starting point in Amsterdam.

  It had not escaped Rowaine what a strange group she led: a pirate, a priest, a farmer’s daughter, a bastard, and a toddler. But she was used to that—being “different”—and not caring. She’d been that way since she was young, when she’d become a bastard herself.