by C. D. Gorri
“Where are we?” I asked, my eyes adjusting to the dark surroundings immediately.
The forest was dense in these parts. It hardly looked residential. Maybe we were on our way to a farm or some camp site? I didn’t know for sure and no one bothered to inform me. I focused on a large white and brown owl perched on branch of a tall leafless tree. It was still and silent. As if it was waiting for something. Watching.
“We have arrived.” Uncle Sean spoke without opening his eyes.
“Where?” I asked.
“Bethlehem.”
“Bethlehem?”
“Where else would we go on a pilgrimage?”
I didn’t answer. There was nothing I could say. I knew the definition of pilgrimage. I mean I’ve been going to Catholic school since I was three.
So what does a spiritual journey in Bethlehem, PA have to do with anything? I mean, is it really the right time to go and reflect on my faith when Vampires were hunting me down to kill me, witches were possibly putting spells on kids from my school, and, oh yeah, let’s not forget the evil demon who has marked me for what exactly, I don’t know?
“Don’t discredit the importance of faith, niece of mine. Sometimes it is all we have.” Sean’s blue eyes seemed to glow a little and I knew he was on high alert. So he hadn’t been meditating the entire drive. He had been listening with all of his senses. Protecting. Alpha.
We turned off the main street, if you could call it that and took and even more obscure road. It wasn’t even paved. We drove for another twenty minutes through even denser forest.
The dirt road was hard to maneuver and would have been impossible with a regular car. But the SUV served us well. Dimitri turned left and pulled up in front of an old dark building. It looked like a log cabin.
Bags in hand, I stood in the back of our group with Ronan as Uncle Sean knocked on the door. A man opened it. I could tell immediately he was not a Werewolf. He smelled too human. He was older, maybe fifty, and slight in stature. He motioned for us to come inside.
“Welcome, welcome.”
“Yes, thank you, Wallace. Is everything ready? Is he here?”
“He will be back later in the evening, Father. Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”
“Yes, that will be fine.”
The man named Wallace led us down a flight of stairs that were no more opulent than any other middle class home across the US. From the outside it seemed to be a small one bedroom cabin at most. The rooms below told another story.
It was as if an entire estate existed below ground. Wooden stairs gave way to a sub-level of bedrooms and a large den or living room area. There was no TV or game system, but rather a huge shelf system filled with books. Most of them looked old.
The wooden shelves were ornately carved with angels, animals, and people. Wolves were the last depicted. They stood guard at the base of every shelf. Sixteen of them stood circling the great round space. Like every librarian’s or bookworm’s dream room. I know I liked it.
Soft, comfortable looking couches filled the area. End tables held lamps, notebooks, pencils, and coasters. A large coffee table sat in the middle of the carpeted floor. The tables were the same wood as the shelves. They were just as ornately carved and highly polished.
It was inviting and cozy in the room. Even though it was large enough to seat a good thirty people. Well, more like twenty if we were talking Werewolves here. We did tend to be a little larger than other people.
Anyway, it was like a super reading nook. Any other time I’d want to investigate the many shelves, but right now I was exhausted. Mentally and physically.
I was shown to a bedroom and wasted no time settling in. I looked around at the spartan surroundings. There was a bed, a dresser, a sink and not much else. A large book sat on top of the dresser.
I walked over and took it down. The book had a beautiful scene from the Creation story engraved on the leather binding. I sat down and ran my fingers over the design.
Ronan entered without knocking. I knew it was him by his smell and the sound of his footsteps. He sat next to me on the bed. I was content to let him.
It was still strange for me. These new feelings. I mean, I really didn’t like him or his attitude just a few weeks ago. I was threatened, confused, scared. It’s not every day a teenage girl finds out she’s a Werewolf with an impossible job to do.
And after finding out that he and I had some sort of weirdo marriage contract thingy, I was completely turned off. But when I am with him, you know, without all the outside crap. I have to admit I am happy. I am real. I am honest about who and what I am.
Ronan brought out the best in me. And if we had some sort of arrangement, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. It’s just that the idea of someone taking away my freedom of choice bothered me. Like really bothered me. No one was going to choose my life for me. Not ever again.
Ronan sat quietly. As if he knew I was warring with myself. I appreciated that he gave me space. He looked up when I had finished my inner dialogue.
“Hey.”
‘Hey.” He smiled, his teeth white and straight. He looked at me with sparkling emerald eyes. I could feel myself smiling back.
“You alright then?”
“Yeah. I guess. I just wish I knew what we were doing here.”
“It’s a pilgrimage.” As if that one word summed up everything.
“So? Am I supposed to learn something about myself or what?” He looked confused as I asked this question. Then he smiled again.
“Oh I see, you don’t really know what a pilgrimage is to us do you?” I shrugged. Duh. He smiled again.
“Well, you’re supposed to learn about the upcoming battle, get some advice from the saints so to speak, and maybe pick up a few sacred items that will be of help. Like my beads. Remember the story I told you? How my mum carved them from a fallen branch from the Tree of Saints? It makes ‘em special.”
“Like magic?”
“Not magic. Hounds don’t like that word. We call it Faith, Spirituality, or Divine Intervention.”
“But it’s like magic. I mean, Werewolves have magic.”
“We are blessed.”
“Okay, well call it what you will, but we turn into something else, Ronan. Catholic or not, it’s magical.”
“I guess we’re just not comfortable with that word. Seeing as how we’ve been taught witches are evil and they do magic. Understand?”
Ronan was not being argumentative. I could see he was really just trying to explain. I appreciated it, I did. I just wished he could see how wrong it was to group a people, any people, as either good or bad. Surely there were exceptions. Like Sherry and Alessio.
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just vernacular, you know.” We lay side by side. He played with my fingers as he held my hand. His breathing was soft and quiet. I listened to the beat of his heart and almost fell asleep when a knock sounded at the door.
“He’s here.” It was Dimitri.
“Who is he?”
“Don’t know. Let’s go.” Ronan sat up and brushed his hair back with his long fingers. He looked good all disheveled. I wish it was that easy for me. Thank goodness my hair was still in a braid or I would have needed at least twenty minutes to brush it.
We walked to the round library room. I smelled coffee and cookies. My stomach growled. I’m such a weirdo.
Ronan handed me a chocolate chip cookie as we sat down and I took it. He ate three of them in the time it took me to eat one so I didn’t feel so bad about it. I wondered if they were organic? I had always been on an organic diet. Oh well. I took another one. It was delicious.
“Well, where is he?” Uncle Sean addressed Wallace. He looked towards the doorway just as a man came through it. He was tall, lanky, he had tattoos everywhere and a long mane of silver streaked hair. It was SilverWolf.
“Hello again, little Hound.”
“You know him?” My uncle’s eyes bore down on me, but I did not shift my gaze from SilverWol
f. He seemed different somehow. Less tired, more alert. Hmm. I still didn’t know if I could trust him. I ignored my uncle’s questioning gaze and focused on the Werewolf before me.
“Did the gypsy help?” He asked circling me.
“He did.”
“And what have you learned?”
“I’m marked.”
“Marked?” he stopped in his tracks.
“Let me see it.” I made no move to show him my arm.
“I demand to know what is going on!” Uncle Sean growled, but one direct look from SilverWolf and he averted his head. The older more dominant Wolf growled lowly in his throat.
“You do not demand of me, Sean Gallagher Kelly. I am the last Conroicht, I serve one Master and He may demand of me what He will. Your little niece here gets that, don’t you, princess?”
“Can you read this mark?” I stood up. Face to face with him and lifted the sleeve of my shirt revealing the demon brand. SilverWolf returned his attention to me.
Good thing too, because the tension was thick between the two Wolves. I knew SilverWolf was ancient and perhaps a little mad, but he seemed to know things. He gripped my arm and ran his finger over the mark cursing in at least three languages I recognized, the rest not so much.
“This is not good. I had hoped for another.”
“What do you mean? Another what?”
“That is the symbol of Moloch. You are being tracked, princess. And it seems by followers of the most vile of demons save Satan himself.”
“How do you mean?”
“Among their many heinous practices followers of Moloch perform ritual human sacrifices. Mainly children. They release lesser demons and employ all dark creatures like black Witches and Vampires to perform his dirty work of course. If I remember correctly that kind of mark should be impossible. They would need to be holding you or a direct relative like your mother or father. Both are dead, yes?”
“Yes.” I answered and tried not to let the sting show.
“Really?” He looked at Sean. My uncle lowered his head more, baring his throat. I had never seen him do that. Not even to Rolf.
SilverWolf sat down and got very still. The other Werewolves didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Only Ronan stayed by my side. His job clear enough to him. My protector. Even though I did not need one. Still, I liked him there.
SilverWolf remained quiet and unmoving for hours. I finally went back to my room at my Uncle’s nod. There was no sense in all of us staying awake all night.
“Maria, here.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Less, he slipped it in my pocket before we left.” He took out my dreamcatcher. The one Alessio had made me. It was back down to its normal size now. Weird. He walked with me to my room. There was a nail over the bedframe and Ronan hung the dreamcatcher from it.
“I guess this is goodnight.”
“Yeah, goodnight.” He lowered his head and brushed my lips with his. They were warm and soft and tasted like chocolate chip cookies. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me again, deeper. When our lips parted we were both a little bit out of breath. Our hearts pounded in time. A knock on the door broke us apart.
“Ronan! You bunk with us. Da.” It was Sascha. Ronan touched my face one last time and left.
I thought I would be sleeping in the room alone so it was something of a surprise when Cara came in an hour later. She pulled an air mattress behind her. I was still awake. I had been reading from the book that was on the dresser. It was full of Church History and Bible stories.
“Hey. I need sleep so turn down the light.”
I did as she said, I could read in the dark anyway. It only took a few minutes for her breathing to turn steady. I knew she was asleep.
I decided I may as well try. There was nothing to be afraid of, I admonished myself. After all I had the dreamcatcher, Ronan down the hall, and a pack of Werewolves to guard me. What could happen?
I should have known better than to even think that. I had only been asleep for about an hour when the first bomb went off. At least I think it was a bomb. The entire house shook. Cara jumped up and I followed her out of the bedroom.
“Hurry! They are here!” It was Wallace he was pointing to the stairs and Cara, Dimitri and Sascha took some weapons from a nearby hall closet, so much for linens, and began strapping them on. Ronan reached for a weapon too, but when I did Cara pushed me away.
“Not you, you stay here! Understand?”
“I want to help!”
“No. You’re too important. Ronan keep the gun, but stay in here with Grazi, that’s an order soldier!”
They headed up the stairs. I gathered that Uncle Sean was already out there. SilverWolf too since he was nowhere to be found.
“You can’t go up there, miss. You’ve been told to stay down here.” I looked at the small man Wallace, he trembled slightly and averted his eyes
“Sorry, miss, sorry. But you can’t.” He pleaded. I felt bad for putting him in that position, but I was so not staying down there.
“I will not hide here.” I could feel power in my words. Ronan looked at me and nodded. I could feel my Wolf, she was agitated. She wanted to hunt, to fight.
Then came the screaming. The high pitched shrieking of what I now knew to be Hunter Vampires. The roars of my protectors came as something of a shock. I knew the Hounds could only change at the full moon and it was days away. Still Werewolves were mighty warriors. My sparring lessons taught me that.
“We have to help.”
“Maria, Cara said stay down here. They don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”
“Why? No one can tell me why I am so important! Ronan, my uncle is out there. I don’t want to lose him.”
I told Ronan with my Wolf in my eyes. I needed to fight to protect what little family I had. I knew he would understand. He did.
“Aye. But don’t leave my side.”
“Wait! You can’t.” Wallace rushed out of our way. His feeble protest not enough to make me break my stride. I walked over to the weapons closet. I already had Dragon Fire, my dagger, in my belt. I picked up a large bamboo staff sharpened to points at both ends.
Ronan’s weapon of choice was a short wicked looking scythe embellished with symbols and wrought in pure iron. The edge of the blade had been dipped in silver.
I could smell it. A sharp and stinging kind of scent. It made a sharp clanking sound when he opened it. The look in his eyes told me his Wolf was near the surface as well.
We hurried to the upstairs door. I heard screeching and fighting. When I opened it I saw Sean surrounded by eight vamps. He was quick, but the odds were stacked against him. Cara was handling two on her own. Dimitri and Sascha were fighting a group of six. I let loose a scream and ran to help my uncle. Ronan was close to me.
I twirled my staff and met the first vamp in the chest. He combusted on impact. The second was more wily, swiping and hissing at me. It took me a few minutes before I sent him to join his buddy.
“Grazi! Get back inside!” Uncle Sean yelled as he shot a Hunter between the eyes. Hmm. I didn’t know we could shoot Vampires.
“No, you need our help.” I turned and saw Ronan slice two vamps in half with a single calculated motion. He tore through them with the Scythe as if they were butter. Amazing. He was fierce and agile as he fought. Like an ancient warrior I read about in one of the historical romances I sometimes pilfered from Sr. Marcia’s personal bookshelf at school.
A Vampire grabbed me from behind, shaking me from my reverie. That would teach me to daydream during a battle. Uncle Sean ripped him off of me and put a bullet in his head. This time the Vamp combusted a little too close to me. I got some ash in my mouth. Yuck. I spat and jumped up. Ready for the next onslaught.
They seemed to come from the shadows themselves. We fought with abandon, but no matter how many we struck down, more seemed to follow. I was shocked by their numbers. I mean there were just so many of them.
It was my understan
ding Hunters were a specific group within the Vampire community. Mainly what became of their elders when time had warped their senses of reality and decayed humanity till they were nothing, but the faintest of memories.
In this fragile state they were turned into weapons, hunters, to be used by witches and demons. Not that a regular Vampire was so great. After all, they preyed on humans. But these Hunters, I pitied them. They were not in control of themselves any longer. You could see it as one after one they rushed to their deaths.
I had also been taught in one of my lessons that Vampires were not in abundance. There were less of them than there were Werewolves. And Werewolves made up less than an eighth of a percent of the world’s population. Where did all these Hunters come from?
It was not the time for such reflection. I took Dragon Fire from its sheath and loosed it, slitting the throat of a hunter as he bore down on Cara. She was panting from the exercise, but managed a quick nod before sending the knife back to me. I caught it and wiped the blood on my pants.
Sascha guarded Dimitri while his brother wrapped up a long gash on his arm that was bleeding profusely. Carefully the Vampires circled and pushed us. Coming from one direction and leading us. My pack was being driven, I realized. Further from the house. That was their purpose. And then I froze. Something immobilized me.
I could hear Ronan yelling, calling my name. But I could not answer. I could not move.
“Maria!”
“Form a guard everyone! Protect the, printzyessa!” It was Dimitri or his brother. I couldn’t tell I only knew that my pack was surrounding me. Keeping me safe as I sunk to the cold hard ground.
I opened my Wolf eyes to find myself in a cave or cavern of some type. The stone walls smelled of limestone and earth. Old stale air. The worst kind. It was bitterly cold and I knew I was far underground. I listened for a noise. Anything to tell me where I was and what was going on. But I heard nothing save my own heart and shallow breaths.
There were several openings ahead of me. Tunnels of some kind. I turned to each one, sniffing and searching witch my eyes. Don’t panic, Grazi. Find a way. Then I remembered something from a movie I saw once. And I followed my nose to where the air seemed a bit fresher.