by Kit Tunstall
Twilight would soon be upon her, and the dim sky already provided little illumination. Would fire repel the wolves or attract them? She wondered how difficult it would be to make a fire before she remembered she didn’t have any matches. She hadn’t even been a Girl Scout, so she didn’t have a clue about creating a fire from striking stones or sticks, or whatever one struck.
All Anca could do was wait and hope someone came soon. Preferably, before she became dinner for a pack of wolves or other wild animals. Why hadn’t she listened to her inner warnings and refused Nikia’s invitation?
* * * * *
“It’s my fault.” Starr’s head was bowed, causing her light-brown hair to obscure her angular face. “I should have waited right by her door.”
Demi sighed. “I told her to take you along if she left the castle. It’s not your fault she didn’t listen. Nikia had her part in whisking Anca away without an escort. Don’t forget how manipulative she can be.”
Starr shook her head. “It’s my fault,” she insisted. “I was derelict in my duties. If I’ve let Her Highness come to harm…”
Ylenia’s soothing voice interrupted. “Assigning and accepting blame doesn’t help right now. We must find Anca. She’s out there alone.”
“Worse,” Demi said grimly. “She’s with Nikia.”
Starr made a soft sound of distress, but didn’t repeat her statement about it being her fault. “I’ll gather Sorin and Lucien to help me search. We’ll go in wolf-form. We’ll make better time that way.”
“I’ll come with you,” Demi said. He began unbuttoning his shirt and averted his eyes as Starr slipped out of her robe. She quickly transformed and moved to Ylenia’s side, pressing her furry body against the older woman’s leg. He shed his clothes, but before transforming, he said to Ylenia, “Tell Valdemeer what’s happened. Have him organize as many guards as he can, as quickly as possible. We have no idea which way Nikia led her, so we have a vast area to cover.”
Ylenia nodded, and her wrinkled face clearly reflected her worry. “Shall I notify my niece and have her ask her leader to take his pack to search for her in their region?”
He hesitated, blanching at the idea of asking Rica for anything. “That’s a long way from the castle. Would Nikia have led her so far?”
“Rica won’t deny my request, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said in a soft voice. “He won’t be happy to be called into the search, but he’ll assist us.”
With a small sigh, he laid aside his pride, knowing Anca’s welfare was more important than honoring the pack’s desire for isolation. “Very well.” Demi found a small smile. “I wonder how Anca will react if we find her before the guards do.”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he closed his eyes and thought about transforming. He felt the familiar burning-stretching that accompanied the change. He looked down and saw his nose morph into a muzzle. Within seconds, he had transformed into a silvery-white wolf several inches taller and much more muscular than Starr. Side by side, they padded from the room. As she went to gather Sorin and Lucien, he broke into a loping run.
As soon as he exited the castle, he set off in the direction calling to him. He was almost certain he could feel Anca, and hoped his senses weren’t deceiving him into going the wrong way. He broke into a run, without trying to pace himself. In his wolf-form, he couldn’t access his mental powers as well, but he still knew she was in danger. He had to find her, and soon.
* * * * *
The cry of a wolf, quickly followed by three other distinctive howls, sounded much too close for Anca’s comfort. Full dark was upon the land, and she was questioning her decision to stay put. Yet, what alternative was there? She had already discarded the idea of walking down the path, at least until morning.
She eyed the towering trees, wondering if she could manage to shimmy up one for shelter. Could wolves climb trees? Surely not, since dogs couldn’t…or could they? Oh, how she wished her mother had let her have a pet as a child.
Anca shivered as a brisk wind rustled through the trees. A while ago, she had gone from sitting on the tablecloth to huddling in it, but it was a meager wrap. She stood up and ran around in a circle, hoping exertion would raise her body temperature. Who would have expected the temperature to plummet from the mid-eighties during the day to the lower-forties at night?
She stiffened when she heard a furtive movement in the stand of trees nearby. Anca’s eyes darted around the lake, but she couldn’t make out much, even with the half-moon. She knelt down to pluck a sturdy branch from the ground where she had placed it earlier. It had been the best makeshift weapon she could find at the time.
She cast off the blanket and took what she hoped was an aggressive stance. She crouched slightly and spread her legs wider. She gripped the rough branch like a club and waited to see if the sound was in her imagination. Please let it be her imagination.
The rustling came again, this time closer, and accompanied by a low growl. Seconds later, a medium-sized wolf appeared in front of her.
Anca struggled to breathe as she told herself it was just a large dog from the village or the castle. The trio of howls that sounded from nearby didn’t reinforce her supposition. She tightened her hands on the branch until her fingertips were numb and waited to see what the wolf would do. She prayed it was a lone wolf, but from the howls she’d heard, she assumed it was part of a pack.
The wolf walked forward boldly, with its tail swishing as enthusiastically as one of its domesticated cousins. Its eyes gleamed red in the moonlight, and there appeared to be a tinge of cinnamon-red to its thick coat. Saliva glistened on its muzzle, and as it stopped less than two feet away, there was no mistaking it was definitely a wolf, not a dog.
She whimpered low in her throat as the wolf bared its teeth in a growl. Anca shook her head, wondering if she had imagined the eager, almost playful, tone to its growl. Somehow, she doubted it was a game she would enjoy if the wolf were playing.
It moved so quickly she barely had time to swing the branch. One second, it stood in front of her, and the next, it had sprung into the air. Anca saw it speeding toward her face, and she brought up the branch.
Too slow. Not enough force, she thought to herself as the branch connected with a thwacking sound against the wolf’s front paw. It howled with pain, but it barely slowed its assault. Anca tried to brace herself as the animal crashed into her and sent her sprawling.
The reality of being confronted by a set of deadly fangs was worse than anything she had imagined during the time she had waited for someone to lead her back to Castle Draganescu. The wolf was inches from her face, and Anca strained to hold it back or push it away.
It snapped at her, and its warm breath washed over her. Anca was disconcerted that the wolf’s breath smelled of mint. Shouldn’t it reek of death and blood?
She pushed aside the frivolous thought and concentrated on trying to hold off the wolf. She cried out as it surged forward. Before she could roll away or push it off, the wolf’s fangs sank into her shoulder.
With a low growl, the wolf tore through the meaty part of her shoulder. Anca screamed with agony as the ragged edges of the wound rubbed together when the wolf withdrew.
She knew it hadn’t finished its attack. She blinked back a wave of blackness descending over her eyes and tried to second-guess the wolf. It had gone for her neck, but missed—she had no doubt about that. It would surely try again. Why was it hesitating?
As she racked her brain for a way to fight the wolf, as she continued to push against its body with all her strength, she heard a dreaded sound: Vicious growls surrounded her. She glanced briefly over the shoulder of the wolf pinning her to the ground and couldn’t hold back a small scream.
Four wolves ringed them in a half-circle. One of the wolves—the one with the darkest coat—was massive, with wide shoulders, deadly looking fangs, and a menacing growl that caused her stomach to heave with nausea. The others seemed almost insignificant, but she didn’t fail to notice the
light-brown one or the dark-brown one.
Anca froze when her gaze slid over the silvery-white wolf. There was something…familiar…about its eyes. She frowned, temporarily forgetting a wolf lay on her, intent on tearing out her throat. She couldn’t seem to wrench her gaze from the silver wolf.
A whimper from the wolf pressing her into the ground caught Anca’s attention, and she couldn’t believe she had forgotten about her circumstances. She stood no chance against a pack of wolves, and with her blood flowing, surely they were stirred into a frenzy.
Yet, there was an eerie calm about the four wolves standing nearby. Each of their eyes was on the wolf pinning her down. Anca couldn’t believe it when that wolf backed away, with its tail tucked between its legs. To her further shock, each of the wolves turned to face the wolf as it backed away, instead of focusing on Anca.
In what looked like a command, the silver wolf looked at the dark-brown wolf and jerked its head in the direction of the reddish wolf. Without so much as a glance her way, the dark-brown one broke into a run. The reddish wolf seemed to realize it was in danger, because it turned and raced across the clearing, plunging into the forest with little regard for stealth. The dark-brown wolf remained in pursuit.
Anca eased into a sitting position, wondering if she could get up a tree before the wolves remembered she was there. Her heart dropped into her stomach as the silver wolf turned to eye her again. Its gaze was intent as it studied her, and then turned to the light-brown wolf. When it made a low sound, the light-brown wolf loped down the trail.
She bit back a scream as the massive wolf and the silver wolf approached her. It took her a moment to realize their posture was almost submissive, and they didn’t seem to have the same aura of menace as the first wolf that attacked her. She was almost unsurprised when the silver wolf hunkered down on its belly and slithered toward her.
She still withdrew her feet, pressing her knees into her stomach, when the silver wolf sniffed her tennis shoe. She whimpered as the dark wolf plopped down beside her, though not near enough to touch her. Only the silver wolf seemed so bold as to initiate contact. He laid his head on her knee and whined softly.
It felt like someone else controlled her hand as she lifted it to stroke the wolf’s silky fur. He tilted his head in the direction of her hand, pressing his ears more firmly against her fingers.
The explanation suddenly presented itself. Her father must make a practice of keeping tamed wolves as pets. Apparently, these wolves had been part of the effort to find her. She briefly wondered how they had recognized her, but assumed the process worked the same as one for bloodhounds used by police and rescue services. The wolves must have smelled something containing her scent.
She felt a glimmer of fear as the wolf pressed itself closer to her body and sniffed her wound. Anca stiffened when its tongue flashed across the gaping wound. She jerked away and had the disconcerting sensation the wolf was reprimanding her with his steady gaze.
She covered the wound with her hand to hide it from the wolf. Domesticated or not, she thought blood might be too much temptation for a wolf, and she did not intend to be dinner for this one, after narrowly escaping that fate with the first one.
As the minutes passed, Anca’s eyes grew heavier. She experienced an odd floating sensation, and didn’t know if it was from blood loss or something else. A strange thought flickered across her mind—that she was sharing her body with another presence. This presence wasn’t intrusive, but it was tuned into her thoughts, fears, and feelings through a tenuous link.
She tried fighting the urge to sleep, not fully trusting her wolf companions, but she was unable to keep her eyes open. A wave of exhaustion swept through her, and she found herself lying on her back with no memory of stretching out. She yawned and looked over at the silvery wolf as it nestled close to her, providing warmth and comfort. The massive wolf curved itself against her back, further warming her. Despite her best efforts to resist, she was soon asleep.
Chapter 9
Anca was aware of the cool touch of a cloth on her brow and the soothing whispers from a woman near her ear. She opened her eyes, but all she saw was a swirl of bright colors that didn’t form a cohesive pattern. Her breathing was raspy, and tremors shook her body. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire, and the sensation was spreading down her arm and into her chest.
“Easy,” came Demi’s voice, followed by the touch of his hand on her brow. “Remain calm, meu dragostia. Let Ylenia work.”
She whimpered with fear, unable to summon the ability to speak. She felt…strange. Her head was as light as it would have been if filled with helium. The fire from her wound continued to spread, alternating between burning-hot and icy-cold.
“Drink this,” said a raspy feminine voice in thickly accented English.
She felt the edge of a cup placed against her lips, and she parted them. A noxious-tasting brew filled her mouth, and she choked.
“Swallow it,” the woman insisted. “You must rest.”
Anca managed a few sips, but her stomach churned with nausea, making her afraid to attempt to drink more. She managed a feeble wave, and someone withdrew the cup. A fog as thick as molasses descended on her, and the light-headed sensation changed to one of heaviness. Her body grew numb, blocking out the pain from the wound, and her eyelids closed.
“Is she asleep?” Demi asked.
She heard the same woman answer, though the words sounded distorted. “It’s more like a twilight state, Nicodemus.”
“Will it stop the change?”
Anca’s brow furrowed, and she parted her lips to speak. She found her mouth too numb to form words.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried to prevent the process before. Always, our kind has chosen to consume the blood of the pack.”
There was a note of distress in Demi’s voice. “You have to do something to stop it. She didn’t get a chance to decide. Already, so much will be thrust upon her…”
“Easy,” the woman said soothingly. “I’ll do my best, but I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve never heard of anyone successfully interrupting a transformation.”
“It isn’t fair to Anca.”
She wanted to ask what wasn’t fair, but she still couldn’t speak. Their conversation flowed around her, with some words making sense, while others seemed foreign. She didn’t know if they slipped back and forth between Corsovan and English, or if she just couldn’t follow.
“Most of our people choose to have the ability to transform. Surely, she would have done so. It is not so bad—“
Demi made a low sound. “We’ll see how bad it is later tonight, if she transforms and lives.” His tone turned arctic. “Nikia should die for what she’s done today.”
His harsh tone of voice and even harsher words sharpened Anca’s attention.
The woman sighed. “Valdemeer will not do that.”
“Then I will!” Demi snarled forcefully.
“You would not harm her, no matter what she did. Your soul is too gentle.”
Anca tried to force her eyes open and keep her mind on their words, sensing the conversation was really happening, and wasn’t just a product of her fevered mind. It seemed important for her to hear every word.
“This is my lifemate, Ylenia. She could have died. She will most certainly receive the ability to transform to wolf-form, and that could kill her the first time. My soul may be gentle,” he said scathingly, “but I’m feeling anything but gentle right now.”
“I do understand,” Ylenia said softly, “but now, let your thoughts be on Anca and helping her, not consumed with vengeance.”
“How do I help her?”
Anca appreciated his unhesitating offer, and she tried to thank him. Again, she found her mouth frozen.
“Your blood will help the wound heal.”
“How? She hasn’t lived as one of us—“
“Her body will know what to do,” Ylenia interrupted. “She isn’t generations removed from our way of life. She will e
asily adapt to our ways, when the time comes.”
Anca felt someone lifting her into a semi-sitting position, and her head spun. Bile rushed up her throat, and whoever supported her must have realized she was about to vomit, because they pressed her face into a ceramic chamber pot seconds before she lost the contents of her stomach.
She managed to make a small sound of distress when she was eased away from the pot, but still held in a sitting position. Could the bite of a wolf have done so much damage? Was she in a hospital? Did they have hospitals in Corsova?
The questions flew from her mind when someone pressed their palm to her mouth. She recognized Demi’s scent from spending the night with him. The edges of her mouth turned down in a feeble frown when she felt something warm and sticky flow onto her lips.
“Drink,” he said. His hand didn’t move.
As Anca’s tongue slipped through her teeth, she tried to draw it back in. He didn’t really want her to drink blood, did he? His blood, specifically. What kind of quackery did the doctors here use? She tried to protest, but instead, licked the blood from his wound.
She craved more. Instinct seemed to take over, and she was soon sucking from his hand, drawing in the blood as fast as it flowed, making impatient sounds when it slowed to a trickle.
“That’s enough,” Ylenia said.
Anca whimpered when he withdrew his hand and eased her back onto the bed. Once again, lethargy swept through her, and she struggled against her eyelids’ compulsion to close. She wanted to demand answers for what was happening to her, but was too weak. Even now, she wondered how she had found the strength to do what they had asked.
To drink his blood, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. Rather than repulse her, the thought caused her to tremble with excitement, and she longed for more. It was a blessing when her eyes closed, and she was able to escape the reality of enjoying consuming his blood.