Castle of the Wolf

by Sandra Schwab

“Gnädige Frau, are you all right?” Concerned, he peered into her face.

  She took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She gave him a quick smile and let go of the fir tree. “I—eww.…” Grimacing, she inspected her gloves. “Resin.” She rubbed her fingers together. “That won’t be easy to…” Her voice trailed away as something occurred to her. Hastily, she raised her eyes to meet the valet’s.

  He nodded.

  “All the trunks here are slightly resinous. It’s likely he touched one of them. So…”

  “We need his boots and the clothes,” Cissy finished. She gazed at the road where her husband had ridden, unsuspecting of what awaited him.

  Cissy’s throat grew tight, and she had to swallow hard before she could continue. “That bastard.” Quite suddenly, a thin veil of red slipped down over the edges of her vision. “That bloody bastard!” she whispered fiercely. “I’m going to rip his heart out and feed it to the dogs!” She turned to look at the valet. “We will stop him, Johann. We will stop that despicable cur and make sure he will never harm anyone even again!”

  Johann blinked. “Yes, gnädige Frau.”

  “Yes.” Cissy nodded emphatically. She marched back toward the road. “But we need the boots and the clothes to prove it was him.” Just then she became aware that the valet wasn’t following her. She turned and found him still standing in the same spot.

  She frowned. “Is something wrong, Johann?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not at all, gnädige Frau.” He hurried to catch up with her. “It just…” He coughed. “It just occurred to me that the Wolves of Wolfenbach will have to hurry if they want to avenge this wrong themselves.” Flushing, he ducked his head and busied himself sorting out the reins of their horses.

  The Wolves of Wolfenbach? Cissy’s frown deepened. Now where had she heard that before? Shaking her head, she pushed the thought aside to concentrate on more pressing matters. “We need his boots and his clothes.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “But how?” How to catch the mouse?

  With a trap.

  The play’s the thing,

  Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the…

  …brother.

  Cissy let Johann help her up onto her horse. She settled in her saddle and took up the reins. She watched him getting into the saddle himself. Looking up, he met her gaze and raised his brows.

  “Gnädige Frau?”

  “We’re going to lure him back to Wolfenbach,” she said. And then she pressed her left leg to nudge the horse into motion.

  ~*~

  Later that morning, Cissy wrote a letter to Leopold, asking for his help because his brother, her husband, had taken a nasty fall and was likely to die; Fenris had told her how close they had once been, and she hoped Leopold would forget their differences and return to Wolfenbach. How could she run such a large castle all on her own? Her dear parents-in-law were so distraught they were of no help. She needed a strong male hand to guide Wolfenbach through this crisis.

  She carefully sanded and sealed the letter, then handed it to the valet. “When will he get this, Johann?”

  “This evening.”

  “So we can expect him tomorrow morning.” She folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “We should make sure the Graf and Gräfin have gone home by then.”

  “Yes, gnädige Frau.”

  “It would be too cruel.” She thought what it would mean to his parents when their son’s unscrupulous behavior would be revealed. “Do you think he might be innocent?”

  The valet cocked his head to the side and seemed to ponder her question. “Do you?”

  She thought of Peter Schlemihl, the fool who had sold his shadow for a purse of money. How far would Leopold von Wolfenbach go? Would he sell his brother? In the Bible, Jacob’s sons had sold their brother just because they were jealous of him. Leopold, by contrast, blamed Fenris for ruining their family.

  “We will see, won’t we?”

  Interlude

  In the darkest hours of the night, when everybody in the castle slept and for once no flickering light was walking the ramparts, a shudder ran through the stone. They flexed their muscles, tested their strength. Sparks of power sprang from pinnacle to pinnacle, spanned the circumference of the castle. And then the power turned inward, raced up and down the walls, saturated the stone until the whole castle hummed with it.

  And then…

  …all settled down…

  …and watched…

  …and waited…

  They had spun their deadly web of power. Now they stood guard to protect, where only hours ago they had failed to do so.

  They would not fail again.

  Chapter 23

  The demon wolf was back. Bristling and gloriously naked, he sat on his bed and glowered at her. Cissy crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot on the floor.

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Yes,” he growled.

  “No.”

  He sent her a last withering glance, then bent to pick up his wooden stick from the floor.

  “You are such a mutthead,” she told him in English.

  With angry, jerky motions he secured the straps around his thigh.

  “A total hoddypol!”

  He tested the stick by stumping several times on the ground.

  Cissy narrowed her eyes. “An addle-brained daftie!”

  Obviously satisfied, he reached for the pair of trousers Johann had put on the bed earlier before wisely fleeing from the room.

  Cissy winced as a large, blackish purple discoloration became visible on her husband’s upper back. Sighing, she let her arms fall to her sides. “Fenris…”

  His head snapped up. “Does it turn you on to watch this?” he asked nastily.

  She rolled her eyes, no longer hurt by his grumpiness. “And a bugbear on top of everything else.” He was a bugbear because he hated feeling like a weakling, never mind that he had almost been killed two days ago. She took a step forward. “Fenris,” she repeated.

  He put the trousers aside and reached for the white shirt instead. Roughly, he jerked it over his head. When his face reappeared, his hair was even more tousled than before, lending him a hint of vulnerability despite his mood. The sight tugged at Cissy’s heart.

  Quickly she closed the space between them and dropped to her knees in front of him. “Fenris …” She put her hands on his thighs. In an unconsciously soothing gesture she rubbed her palms over his hairy skin, loving the feel of those hard muscles under her hands. “Fenris, I swear, you’re a total bird-witted dodo,” she said, yet without the heat of a few moments before.

  He gave her his darkest scowl.

  In answer, she lightly dug her fingers into his thighs. “Sweeting, you took the nastiest fall so recently.”

  “Thank you for reminding me,” he snapped. “Can I finish dressing?”

  “You’re a frightful bugbear.”

  “That doesn’t seem to impress you.”

  She couldn’t help smiling at his disgruntled tone. “Of course not.” She reached up to caress his clean-shaven jaw. “You’re my bugbear.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, petted his neck and shoulder. “You had a nasty fall and bumped your head,” she murmured into his ear. “You could have died.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes and hugged him. “Why can’t you just stay in bed and rest for a little while longer?”

  He held himself stiff in her arms. “Because I’m not an invalid.”

  She sighed. “No, you’re a bugbear. We’ve already established this fact.” She lightly clapped his shoulder and pulled back to search his face.

  Under furrowed brows, dark green eyes glowered back at her.

  Clicking her tongue, she cupped his stubborn jaw between her hands. Beneath her fingertips, the muscles tightened. “You know, you really leave me no other option…” She leaned forward and kissed him properly, with just enough tongue to make tingles of delight race through her body.

  His arms came up to close around her
shoulders. His knees opened to form a V, and with a small groan, he drew her in between and against his body. Restlessly his hands roamed her back, and his mouth opened wide under hers. Forceful strokes of his tongue against hers made her shiver and moan. As if in answer, his hold tightened until her breasts were crushed flat against his chest.

  Cissy gripped his upper arms. She felt as if she were hovering on the rim of an abyss. Dizzy.

  She gasped.

  Oh yes, kissing had most certainly dispelled the horrid bugbear.

  His mouth trailed feverish kisses over her cheek, down the side of her neck. At the same time, his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh between her neck and shoulder, his hands gripped her bottom and lifted her against his surging erection.

  “Oh my.” She sighed against his shoulder and inhaled the wonderful scent of him—sandalwood and Fenris.

  He growled against her neck and moved his pelvis.

  It was delightful, sensuous, delicious—and totally wrong, given his condition.

  She swatted at his arm. “Oh, no you don’t.”

  He growled some more and sucked a little of her skin between his teeth. Oh yes, he was very good at what he was doing. She couldn’t help arching her neck a little to give him better access. The suckling intensified.

  He seemed bent on leaving a big enough lovebite that she would have to wear a shawl for a week. At the same time, his swollen sex burned against her belly, so hot that she could feel it even through her dress and chemise.

  “I should’ve worn my long stays today,” she complained in jest.

  He chuckled, the puffs of his breath a delicious tickle.

  She rubbed her cheek against his. “It’s delightful to know the bump on your head hasn’t had any serious consequences for other body parts.”

  More chuckles rumbled from his chest, vibrated sweetly against her chestbone. Smiling, she stroked his sides. “But we can’t possibly. The doctor said you needed rest.”

  Fenris said something rude about the doctor, which made her laugh. He harrumphed and loosened his hold a fraction.

  “Yes, you’re quite a frightful bugbear,” she said again. She pressed a teasing kiss against the hollow under his jaw before leaning her forehead against his.

  His green eyes regarded her intently. “What I’ve been wondering is,” he said in German, his voice husky, “why you insist calling me names in English—bugbear, bugaboo, beloved—when most of the time I don’t even know what you’re calling me.”

  Cissy dissolved into laughter.

  “I mean,” he continued, “what is the purpose of calling me names I don’t understand?” His caressed her nape. “And ‘a bird-witted dodo’? That’s a stylistic faux pas of the highest order.”

  She buried her face against his shoulder to smother her mirth.

  “A pleonasm.” His hand trailed languid strokes up and down her backbone. “Have you heard of them?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “Quite shocking, isn’t it?”

  “Quite,” she gasped between giggles. But then her hilarity slowly faded. With a hiccup, she turned her head so her cheek rested on his shoulder. For a moment she was silent. “I love you,” she finally murmured.

  She felt him press a kiss onto her hair. “I love you, too.”

  Cissy sighed. “Even if you are more stubborn than a mule.” She straightened and regarded him solemnly. “You know that you don’t need to prove to me what a wonderful, tough fellow you are.” It seemed important to say.

  “I know that.”

  “Hm.” She pushed out her lower lip. “But you plan to get up nonetheless, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Fenris gently rubbed his nose against hers.

  “When you get dizzy and fall flat on your face, I will tell everybody to leave you lying in a heap on the floor,” she warned.

  He laughed and stole a swift kiss from her. “Do that.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Nigmenog.”

  ~*~

  She left Fenris sitting in his study with a book and a steaming mug of caramel-colored coffee. However, she suspected that as soon as she left, he would bury his nose in his ledgers instead, even though she had threatened his life and limbs should he do so. It had cut her heart to see him walking down the stairs without his usual grace and fluidity. His movements were stiff and awkward, which was hardly surprising given that his body was black and blue.

  “A total hoddypoll,” she muttered darkly.

  How she would have loved to spend the whole day in bed beside him, just holding him in her arms, feeling his big body rest heavily against hers, just as he had done during that one night so long ago. She wanted to clasp him in her arms and never let him go again.

  But no, it was not to be.

  And she had a trap to bait.

  With a weary sigh she went and checked on her parents-in-law, who had settled down in the drawing room. Despite her urgings, they had refused to leave the castle. The Gräfin had especially insisted on staying until her firstborn was mended. And now… Now it was too late. Now the Graf was reading the newspaper, the sunlight glinting on the rims of his glasses, and his wife had a piece of embroidery on her lap. It should have been a scene of perfect domestic contentment, had it not been for the restlessness that gripped Cissy, the knowledge of the dark undercurrents waiting to bubble up to the surface and destroy all pretense.

  She went to find Johann, who stood on the remains of the tower and scanned the road leading to Wolfenbach. Beside him, a gargoyle jutted out of the crumbled wall. Time had gnawed at its face and rendered its stony features indistinguishable. One pointed ear was missing, as was the greater part of the snout. The wings, which had once sprung up from the muscular shoulders, were gone, a sacrifice of bygone ages. A sense of loss overcame Cissy, and it seemed perfectly and sadly in tune with what was to come.

  With a sigh, she stepped up to the valet, resting her hand on the gargoyle’s head. “Johann…”

  He turned around. When he saw her, he briefly inclined his head.

  “Anything?”

  “No. Nothing.” With narrowed eyes he gazed toward the road. “Is the master well?”

  Cissy snorted. Recalling the scene in Fenris’s room, she was torn between amusement and exasperation. “Och, he sits in his study and is probably about to fall face-first into his account books.”

  Johann coughed delicately. From the way his lips twitched, she knew he was attempting to stifle laughter.

  “Which would serve him absolutely right for being such a mulish fellow,” she finished.

  This time, the valet couldn’t help laughing aloud.

  Cissy rolled her eyes, but she joined in. “Oh dear, he is so, so stubborn!” She wiped her eyes, and, shaking her head, let her gaze wander over the forest.

  As always, the dark green sea of fir trees seemed impenetrable. It would swallow sunlight and transform it into a green, shadowy haze. All was possible in such a forest. It was a place where witches dwelled and the big bad wolf lay in wait for foolish little girls. A place where a man would lie in wait for an opportunity to bring death to his own brother.

  All lingering amusement fled, and Cissy shuddered. Her fingers tightened on the head of the gargoyle. “Oh, Johann, do you believe everything will turn out all right?”

  The valet was silent a moment, and the humming of the trees filled her senses, whispered to her of danger and betrayal. What had the inhabitants of Wolfenbach felt in bygone ages when their castle had come under siege? Had they, too, stood on the top of this tower and listened to the song of the forest, apprehension in their hearts? Or had they felt safe in the knowledge Wolfenbach’s mighty walls could withstand any foe?

  She had no such solace. This time they would invite the enemy into the castle, would allow him to pass through the gates unhindered.

  “Legend says,” the valet began slowly, “that in days of old a Wolfenbach once spared a she-wolf and her cubs when he was out to hunt. In gratitude when she finally died, many years later
, the animal sent its spirit into the castle. Wolfenbach has been under the protection of the Wolves ever since.”

  The Wolves of Wolfenbach.

  Cissy now remembered how Leopold had told her his version of the story during one of their tours of the castle all those months ago. How easily she had let herself be dazzled by his golden looks and charming dimple. But all is not gold that glitters.

  She smiled bitterly. Oh yes, she well knew that by now. Just as she knew life was not a fairy tale, that there were no knights in shining armor, no fairy godmothers, no gray men who sold mandrakes and magic purses. Nothing to protect the good and innocent.

  Wearily, she shook her head. “It’s just a story, Johann. It’s not real. If it were real, they would have…” Her voice trembled, and she had to bite her lip hard as the memory of Fenris’s black and blue body threatened to overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t they have protected my husband as somebody sawed through his wooden leg, as somebody tried to kill him two days ago?”

  Johann nodded. “I quite agree, gnädige Frau. It is indeed a puzzle. And yet—ever since the Wolves were said to have come to the castle, no siege has been successful. There are stories how attackers were pelted with stones that mysteriously fell out of the walls; how they got entangled in thorns, were attacked by crows …” He shrugged. “The stories might be true or not, who knows? But what I’ve been thinking about…” He took a deep breath. “If the younger Herr von Wolfenbach is really behind the accident, if we unmask him—what will it cost his family?”

  “Yes. I know.” Cissy’s eyes started to prickle. She blinked rapidly. “And yet we need to stop him.”

  “Exactly." Johann crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Back…during the war, Fen—” He caught himself. “Herr von Wolfenbach saved my life.” His jaw hardened and his tone became firm. “Wolves or no wolves, I won’t let any more harm come to him.”

  The way he stood there, his stance wide, his broad shoulders coiled with restless tension, Cissy was forcefully reminded that this was no ordinary valet. He had once been a soldier, had killed other men—and would kill again if forced to do so. There was no doubt he would guard Fenris with his life.