Dashiell sat on the side of Adelia's bed; her eyes were glazing over as she drifted off to sleep. He patted her forehead and sung to her, a strange, yet quaint, lullaby his uncle had sung to him as a child:
"Under the ragged rocks of the shore,
Beneath the eerie waves of death,
Serene and quiet, secrets in the night,
You'll find your heart's content.'
'Dashiell!' Vivien scorned entering the doorway. 'You'll give her nightmares singing her Eduard's dribble! Do you want her to dream of witches and Hob Goblins in caves?'
'It never worried me!' he shot back with a smirk.
Vivien couldn't help but be overprotective of her family. So much had happened, so much pain had they all endured. She wanted to keep her granddaughter innocent, of the sorrow that consumed them all. Sometimes that felt like an impossible task.
Since the death of the girl's parents, Dashiell had become their legal guardian. Their mother had been killed many years before, but their father only recently. Dashiell knew he was no substitute for their real father, but he hoped his brother would be proud of him. Dashiell wished that the girls could stay innocent to the cruelty of the world around them and had even considered sending them away to boarding school over the last few months. Vivien had argued that they were safer in the castle, where they could be protected.
Dashiell stood, pulling the covers up over Adelia; he kissed her on the forehead and turned out the light. 'Mother,' he began as they moved to the hallway. 'We will need to tell Annika something…we can't pretend like nothing has happened…'
Vivien felt her eyes well, as the pain of the last few months came rushing back. 'You’re right, if we don't, the girls will talk…'
Dashiell knew how much it hurt his mother to think of her youngest son—his brother Theodore Baertschi. Dashiell placed his hand on his mother's shoulder. 'The Von Croys will pay for my brother's death!' he vowed; his tone almost maleficent.
Dashiell felt a stinging sensation on his cheek, his mother had slapped him. 'No!' I have already lost one son; I will not lose another!'
'You will lose everything if Bastien has his way! Do you understand that? He has already stolen my pendant and the life of my brother. The Von Croys have been our enemies for centuries! That night I saw Uncle Eduard fighting for his life when I was a child, I know it was Bastien's Father, the king of Thraxia, who was the other wolf—I know because I saw the royal ring upon his claw. I never told anyone because I was too scared-but now the Von Croys have gone too far—they have been after that pendant for a very long time. Now that Bastien's father is on his deathbed…Bastien is trying to do what his father could not!'
Vivien looked at the ceiling, biting her bottom lip, 'I'm scared of losing everything we've fought to protect—there has been too much death in this home!'
'There will be more yet before this is over!'
'Make it over now—let Bastien have the pendant—you have your room!'
'My prison!' Dashiell snarled, and with that, he stormed off down the marble stairwell.
Dashiell dared not tell his mother that the powers of the pendant may have been far greater than either of them had imagined. Just before Theo had died, he had warned Dashiell that if he ever had a chance to hold the pendant in his hands again, to never let it out of his sight. That was all he had said, but his tone was stern and pleading. Dashiell had been drunk at the time, and never gotten around to asking his brother exactly what his words had meant.
***
Dashiell opened the door to his study—his hideaway—this was his place for solitude, a place where he could be himself—his true self. The room had been refurbished about twenty years ago when Eduard had come back from his mysterious travels. Attached to the study was another room—the secret dungeon. This is where Dashiell hid on the nights when the moon was full. The dungeon was lined with soundproof material. Iron bars had been placed inside the concrete of the walls. The door bolted with several sophisticated and intricate locks, and when the moon was full, Vivien had two of her workers lock him in.
His study was contained the same design with iron bars covering every window and the same intricate lock system; it was double insurance. His study was essentially a cage, albeit a nice cage. No one would have ever known, as the painting lined the walls were cheap replicas of more expensive paintings and the red hue of the walls bounced off the glow of the fire the room even looked cosy Dashiell laughed to himself. To anyone who might venture in here, it seemed perfectly fitting with the rest of the castle—the only thing that gave it away was the heavy deadbolts on the outside of the door.
Not so long ago, his fear had not been so apparent, so overshadowing—the pendant was safe within their family's grip, and the war between them and the Von Croys had laid dormant for some years. Dashiell was sure now that Bastien was soon to take the throne, with his father’s health declining. Something the Von Croys had been able to keep secret until King Alfred was no longer able to giver public appearances.
Dashiell knew that Bastien felt he had something to prove, and so he had taken over from his father's quest. Exactly what that quest was? Dashiell wasn’t sure. It felt as though he was caught in a web of everyone else’s secrets.
King Alfred had killed his father eventually, and after that, his family had been left alone by the Von Croys. Even though his father had not given up the pendant. Dashiell had never thought any more of this until now. Why had the king suddenly stopped tormenting their family? What had his father given the king that was enough to stop his hunt?
Dashiell slumped into his chair, question after question, after question, which never lead anywhere to any answers. The pendant's powers, as far as Dashiell was aware of, was the ability to stay in control when once transformed. No one knew where the pendant had come from, just as no one knew where the curse had come from. Could Bastien want it for this reason? Perhaps not, it was believed that his family were 'purebloods' and so already had the natural ability to control and transform whenever they pleased, making them perilous enemies indeed. If you were bitten by a ‘pureblood’ then you could be placed under their control once transformed. It truly was a curse.
Dashiell remembered how the pendant had helped his family to a degree. Once Theo had come of age, there had then been three werewolves in the castle, creating a dilemma.
Eduard had held onto the pendant until Dashiell had reached the age of twenty-one and been inflicted with the curse. Then he passed it onto him, and Eduard would lock himself in the room as he had done previously. Eduard had had the room built to hide his secret, even though he had the pendant which he said he had obtained on his travels—but had never revealed how. He had been terrified the pendant may come off in the transforming state, so he took no risks.
When Theo had reached twenty-one, this proved even harder, but Eduard was now older, the past ten years had taken their toll on his ancient body and Eduard had been confined mostly to his bed, even on the nights when he was bound to transform, his doctors would strap him to the bed with chains and handcuffs. Eduard was far too weak to do much other than with and growl, but a cocktail of Elderberry Wine, Pixie Dust and tablets would render him barely conscious.
Then it was left to Theodore to lock himself in 'The Cage'. Theo was always coming up with stupid names for his prison and Dashiell had wondered how Theodore could even joke about such things, but he learned to realize this was his way of dealing with it.
Theodore had wholeheartedly believed in a cure for the curse, while Dashiell had been indifferent, even despising. The fantastic stories Eduard had told them as children seemed wild and improbable, but then again, they were a family of werewolves.
Eduard had regaled them with tales of the ancient world, of Princess Miranda and Prince Curtis and their brave journey through Talir Faye to defeat an Evil Queen. He had told them of the Knighthoods and sacred Brotherhoods that had sprung up in Nothangria and Thraxia because of this.
He had even mentioned staying m
any months with such monks and knights and an ancient castle hidden amongst the forest. Sometimes it was hard to tell where the old legends began, and Eduard's stories ended. Especially now that they all seemed rolled into one conglomerate mess of childhood tales.
It had been this inherited exuberance that had gotten his brother killed. Theo was out there chasing dreams and legends, who knew where this curse came from—and more importantly, how to cure it? Dashiell had spent many lost hours of sleep pouring over textbooks trying to find anything that could help, but again and again, the words teased his soul: 'There is no known cure for Werewolfism.'
Therefore, Dashiell chose to drink himself into oblivion. Theo though, had not let the curse destroy his life, as Dashiell did; he had met a beautiful raven-haired girl by the name of Eleanora at a party and married her. Theo had kept his secret from her in the beginning, disappearing to the secret room every time the moon was full. Eventually, his wife began to believe he was seeing another woman, and Theo was forced to tell her the truth. At first, she had been terrified, but then she wanted to be with him when he transformed—she wanted to know who he was—all of him—this was when Dashiell decided Theo should have the pendant and he would take the room.
It was Eleanora’s desire to see Theo's transformation that had been her undoing; one night they had snuck down to the 'Forbidden Garden', so she could see the transformation without drawing attention or scaring the children. The moon had risen full and overflowing with radiant light to shine down upon the two lovers, but as Theo transformed, he had tripped over some loose stones on the ground, causing him to fall backwards. He had become entangled in the tree branches, and the pendant had fallen to the ground. Unaware of what he was doing, his thirst for human blood insatiable, he had destroyed everything he had lived for in a few moments.
Eleanora had screamed, had begged for life. 'It's me! Theodore!' she had cried through teary eyes. 'Think of our children!' His decaying fangs had sunk into the tender flesh of her neck, and as the blood oozed from her veins, she had choked a whisper, 'I forgive you.'
No one had heard her cries for help as the Forbidden Garden was so far from the castle, but in the morning when Theodore had awoken in his blood-soaked clothes, it had all come flooding back to him. He had begged Dashiell to help him, as they called for their private doctors and their workers to help them cover up Theodore's crime.
They had told Ellowyn and Adelia that their mother had snuck into the garden to play on the swing. The swing was old and had never been fixed properly, causing it to snap, and that had caused their mother's death.
Eduard had seemed to take the death of Eleanora especially hard, he locked himself away somewhere in the castle for months after it—Dashiell could now assume he must have been in his secret room—and when he did see him, he had a faraway look in his eyes as if remembering some ancient tragedy. He talked of curing the curse even more zealously now-to the point that he drove Theodore to the point of a nervous breakdown. Theodore had even tried to take his own life one night, as the guilt had been too much for him to bear.
'Just tell him to stop!' he begged his mother and Dashiell from behind scraggy hair and red eyes. 'I don't want to hear about a cure anymore—it won't bring her back!'
The years wore on, and Theo had tried to be the best father he could. When night came over the castle though, he would lock himself away; and sleep with the pendant around his neck, every single night, he never took it off.
The last six months of Theo's life had been strange—he had started to go out again as if he had a new lease of life, but he would not tell anyone where he was going or when he would be home. Dashiell sensed that he and Eduard had been working on something together. Dashiell had fallen from Eduard's favour as he had given up on hope, but Theo and Eduard seemed to have a renewed confidence—as if they knew something he did not.
Then one night, Theo had come home bloodied and bruised, he had fallen in a heap at the castle door, crying his eyes out, blood everywhere. He had told them that he had been hauled into the back of a black carriage and the pendant had been ripped from his neck. He said that he had been lucky to escape with his life; only that he had managed to wrestle a knife from one of the thugs and stabbed him in the leg and had jumped out of the moving vehicle. Then, only three months ago, they had managed to finish the job, as Theo had disappeared and all that had remained in the morning in the forest was a ripped shirt covered in blood.
Still haunted by memories of that night and ridden by the guilt that he couldn't have saved his brother or been the saviour his uncle wanted him to be, he wondered if the pain would ever stop.
Dashiell settled further back into his armchair by the open fireplace, the soot and ash disguising the intricately designed pressed iron that was hugged by the flames. He was comfortable now, and in his sorrow, he felt safe. This feeling of doom that suffocated him had been his normal his entire adult life. He helped himself to some alcohol that sat readily on the wooden side table—another comfort. Dashiell ran his fingers through his long black hair as he breathed heavily. He felt agitated and guilty. He drank heartily of the strong drink he held in his hands; it had become his medicine since the curse had destroyed his life. He knew the only way he could stop himself from hurting others was to somehow render himself incapable of doing anything when the moon was full. Behind the confines of the deadbolted walls, Dashiell would drink a myriad of alcohol mixed with sleeping tablets. He often wondered if he would wake in the mornings after such heavy intoxication—and often to his dismay, he did. He did not have a death wish, but he knew his curse could mean death to those he loved—and he vowed to do whatever it took to protect them.
As Dashiell stared into the hypnotic flames of the fire, he thought about the past few months. So much had happened, things had changed. For two and a half centuries the Baertschi's had been bound by their affliction. The truth of where the curse had originated had been lost over time, and many of the Baertschi men had either disappeared or been killed by villagers over the years.
Then, there was Eduard—he was determined to break the curse. He longed to live to see the day the curse would be broken, and the Baertschi family would again be returned to being one of the most respected families in all of Talir Faye.
Dashiell felt a tinge of guilt as he hadn't been near Eduard's secret room for weeks. He had been so busy arranging things for Annika's arrival and comforting his nieces over the death of their beloved father and uncle in such a short space of time. Dashiell didn't hold out much hope of finding a cure—nor did he really care.
Chapter Eight: Misery Becomes You
The next morning when Annika awoke, for a moment she had hoped she was back at school. Then the reality of where she was set in, and an overwhelming sense of fear caught her off guard.
'Don't be so stupid!' she chastised herself. Last night had been a disaster, and today was a new day after all. Getting up and getting dressed, she was determined to find something good about this situation.
Outside the rain poured steadily. The air inside which was dense and moist, sunk into the castle's spaces and made itself cosy for the day. Annika sighed as she tried to breathe clearly. The air, though, was stale, just like the hearts of the Baertschi family. As she lay in the dimness listening to the rain, she felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks. She had never felt more alone or lost.
She decided she would explore the castle and make herself familiar with her new home. Annika tiptoed out of the bedroom. It was just before sunrise, and she wanted the castle to herself. To imagine how it might feel if it were full of happy inhabitants. The home was lavish, but its inhabitants were sad, lonely, scared-looking individuals.
Gold frames popped against the dark green of the hallways, where the paintings sat, that dated back hundreds of years hoping for acknowledgement. The images were always of sour women and tortured men. Had no one ever been happy within these walls? She continued along the hallway, and down into a room she had not noticed yesterday at
the end of the hall, past the bedrooms and down into another part of the castle.
Then she came to a painting that had been created more than seven hundred years before. The date had been inscribed in small print at the bottom of the picture, as well as the artist name, Peroneus Thacket. In this picture, the family was happy. The mother sat regally, while her children played in the royal gardens that were blossoming, in many different floral arrangements. Her husband stood by her side, holding her shoulders. The painting read: 'The First Baertschi Family of Wolf Blood Castle.' They had been happy, so what had happened? Annika noticed that there was a significant gap in the paintings time frames. The first Baertschi's had lived here so long ago, then almost two hundred years had passed until there was a painting commissioned again. Annika shook her head in disbelief, the name Peroneus Thacket appeared again and again throughout the centuries as the artist—except for the last painting, for which there had been a two-hundred-year gap. How could anyone live that long? Annika realised they must have left off his title, such as Peroneus the third, or the fourth, or fifth according to how many Peroneus Thacket’s there had been. This family had so much to hide and had gone to great lengths to make sure their secrets stayed hidden.
The early hours of the morning passed, and Annika could hear the rustle of feet, and pots and pans in the kitchen as the residents awoke. Annika stayed out of the way. She had already snuck into the kitchen and helped herself to breakfast, and she nestled down in a cosy corner of one of the many rooms, to listen and observe this strange family. As she listened to their conversations, she overheard Vivien huffing around, whining about Eduard's will. She imagined Ellowyn slinking around with her hair over her face, while Adelia's giggles lit up the air. She seemed to be the only ray of sunshine in this stormy sky.
The Count of Wolf Blood Castle Page 5