by Jeff Wheeler
“And how do you plan to find out?”
“By doing what our client asked us to. We’re going to steal Lord Darren Lamb’s daughter.”
“Royce.” Hadrian paused, holding his mug halfway to his mouth. “There’s another full moon tonight, and the woman has a habit of turning into a killer wolf after sunset. I’m thinking this might be a bad idea.”
“It was your poor judgment to take this job in the first place. Now it’s my turn.”
* * *
The two slipped in right after dark, and knowing exactly where to go, they crept through the house with ease. Hadrian imagined Royce wanted to reach Kristin before the moon rose—before the change. Why, he wasn’t sure. He doubted even Royce knew. Maybe he just wanted to witness the transformation. Royce wasn’t one to believe in anything he didn’t see, smell, and touch.
The Ridgewood Manor’s kitchen still smelled of pork, and Hadrian guessed there was one less pig running around the estate that evening. Lord Darren had likely held a farewell feast. No sense saving anything, his rainy day had come. He would abide by Amrath’s judgment, and it wouldn’t be good for him or his daughter.
Just as the previous night, Hadrian dodged pots, pans, and kettles as he followed Royce down the stairs.
“Kristin?” Hadrian called out softly as they touched down on the cellar’s bricks. The basement was dark except for the single shaft of weak light spilling down the stairs. He took a step around the wine racks when Royce’s hand stopped him.
“The box is open.”
Hadrian peered through the gloom and spotted the open top. Set in the floor, it appeared as a huge drain with its lid flipped back on metal hinges.
“Why is it open?” he whispered. “Is she in there?”
Together they crept closer. Hadrian couldn’t see anything but darkness.
“Empty,” Royce said.
“Maybe they didn’t put her in tonight, or maybe they’re about to.”
Something caught Royce’s eye, and he knelt down near the wall and picked it up. “Interesting.”
“I can’t see. What is it?”
“The lock for the box and a cup.”
Hadrian heard Royce sniff.
“Wine?”
“Milk.”
“Milk?”
“They put Kristin in the box, but someone intentionally failed to lock it.”
“But then where—” Hadrian looked back up at the stairs, at the brightening shaft of pale light—the light of a rising moon. He took the steps two at a time.
“What are you going to do?” Royce called after him.
“Going after her. Isn’t that why we came?”
Hadrian could see better once he surfaced in the kitchen, where windows cast elongated squares. Better wasn’t good; better wasn’t even mediocre. Too many shadows and dark places surrounded him. Unlike Royce, Hadrian always fumbled his way in the dark. As he moved into the corridor, things only got worse, even darker. Every doorway, every niche was capable of concealing a lurking beast. He tried to remember what he saw their first night.
A black wolf? A gray wolf? Too bad it hadn’t been white.
As he moved even deeper into darkness, he touched his swords. He had three: a hand-and-a-half on his right hip, a short on his left. Fast and agile, they were what he used most often when fighting men. He didn’t have experience fighting wolves. Maybe the big two-handed spadone on his back would work best. Using the flange, he could wield it like a spear. A spear would be a fine weapon against a wolf. Against a werewolf, a silver spear would be even better. He headed toward the drawing room…and the mantle.
I’m not going to kill her. She’s just a young woman. A young woman with two inch fangs and four sets of claws.
Hadrian spotted candlelight up and to his right. A moment later, from the same direction, he heard a growl, a snap, claws on wood, and the cry of a man.
Damn it!
Hadrian ran into the drawing room where Lord Darren and Pastor Engels shuffled backward in horror as a large black wolf attacked Ianto. Before Hadrian was fully in the room, the animal had pinned the bald man to the floor. In a burst of blood that sprayed the little table and the cut-crystal glasses, the wolf ripped his throat out.
Ianto had been on the far side of the room. The wolf had passed by the others to attack him.
He wanted to kill you…still want to marry him?
Hadrian guessed this was her answer.
“Kristin! No!” Lord Darren shouted at her.
With blood dripping from her jaws, the wolf turned, crouched with raised fur and flattened ears, and crept toward him, growling.
Hadrian rushed in, but the wolf took no notice, eyes fixed on her prey. Engels had his dagger out, backing away. Lord Darren gave a glance toward the mantle. He’d never reach it.
“Kristin!” Hadrian shouted and waved a hand, but the wolf had no interest.
“Dear Maribor, Kristin, no—don’t,” her father begged.
Engels made the first move. He bolted for the front door.
The wolf gave a yip, claws raked the polished wood floor, and a hundred pounds of animal slammed into the parson.
Lord Darren saw his chance, and running to the mantle, he ripped down the spear. Hadrian charged the wolf, whose teeth were buried in Engel’s shoulder, jerking him wildly.
“No!” Hadrian cried as the screaming pastor lashed out with his dagger and stabbed the wolf in her side.
Kristin let the man’s shoulder go and bit into his throat. Just like Ianto, Pastor Engels died in a burst of blood.
“Stay back!” Lord Darren shouted, coming forward with the spear in both hands. “Your blades are useless against her. Only silver can kill a werewolf.”
Hadrian knew this to be true. He had spent years in the jungles of Calis and had heard many tales of werewolves and other far worse creatures. And yet…the wolf was bleeding badly from the dagger still jammed in her ribs. She was also wavering. Kristin continued to growl, but her haunches collapsed. The snarl faded from her lips, and a tongue began to hang as she struggled to breathe.
Lord Darren came to Hadrian’s side and together they watched as the wolf lay down in a growing pool of blood. The growl became a whimper.
“Kristin.” Lord Darren put down the spear, and he, too, lowered himself to a squat. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
The wolf laid its head on the floor and the animal’s breathing grew shallower.
“My beautiful girl. I’m so, so sorry.”
The wolf’s eyes closed and Lord Darren crept forward placing a hand on her head. Her eyes opened, a weak flutter. The pupils focused on his lordship, and Hadrian thought he saw appreciation there. Lord Darren continued to stroke the wolf’s fur long after it stopped breathing.
Hadrian picked up the silver spear, then sat down at the little table and poured himself a glass of wine, taking the only glass which wasn’t covered in Ianto’s blood. Normally he didn’t care for wine, but he would have swallowed turpentine if it was the only thing available.
“Why’d you do it?” Lord Darren asked Hadrian, still petting the dead wolf. “Why’d you come back? Why’d you let her out?”
“Let her out? We didn’t let her out. We came back because we realized Engels and Ianto were lying about who they were.”
“Lying?”
“You didn’t know, then?”
“Know what?”
Hadrian glanced at Ianto’s body sprawled on the floor. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
Lord Darren wiped his cheeks. “She was such a good girl. Such a very good girl.”
Royce entered from the same corridor Hadrian had and paused to look at the bodies.
“Where have you been?” Hadrian asked.
“Exploring.”
“Exploring? While I was hunting a werewolf in the dark? Didn’t you think I could use your help?”
Royce looked once more at the bodies. “You did fine.”
“You call this fine? Engels and Ianto were
torn to pieces, and Lord Darren’s daughter is dead.”
Royce paused in thought. “Maybe, but I doubt it—wouldn’t make sense if she was.”
This caught Lord Darren’s attention and the man looked over skeptically. “What are you talking about?”
“Royce,” Hadrian said in exasperation. He pointed at the dead wolf. “She’s right there.”
The thief glanced at the animal. “That’s a wolf.”
“I know, but it’s also Kristin.”
“No, that’s just a wolf. If that was a werewolf, wouldn’t we be seeing a dead woman right now? Or was Ianto lying about that as well?”
Hadrian was stunned. “No…he was right, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. When a werewolf dies, the body reverts to its original form.”
“What are you saying?” Lord Darren asked, rising to his feet.
“I’m saying we could sit around here and chat, or we can go find your daughter. I’ll assume you prefer the latter.”
* * *
Lord Darren led them to the barn and Hadrian was impressed his lordship knew how to saddle a horse. That was good, it would save time.
“Where are we going? Where is Kristin?” the lord asked while tightening the saddle’s strap.
“Don’t know exactly, but I don’t think she’s gotten too far. Not in her condition.”
“Condition? What condition?”
“Drugged, I imagine. I found footprints and drag marks.” Royce jerked his head to the right. “See anything missing?”
Lord Darren looked over. “My carriage!”
“And your housekeeper. I’m guessing Leta always helped tuck Kristin in on those full-moon nights. Gave her some warm milk to help her sleep, perhaps?”
“She put something in the milk?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“But why?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out. All I can tell you right now is they’re gone, and the box in the basement isn’t Lord Griswold’s secret safe. I know a few things about safes, and no fool puts a safe in plain sight. They’re always hidden by drapes or under floorboards. That one has a false back, behind which is a tunnel that leads outside. That’s a pretty poor design for a safe, don’t you think?”
“A smugglers hole?” Lord Darren asked.
“Now you’re starting to catch on. How do you think all that wine got into the cellar? I think Lord Griswold would object to smugglers making deliveries to his front door. Can’t blame him, given he was Port Minister and all.”
“And that’s not all I found. There’s a cage on wheels that can butt up against that false back. Along with discarded bones and hay. Your daughter isn’t a werewolf. Someone just wanted you to think she was. Tonight the cage was left open. I imagine the smells from the kitchen led it upstairs and then…well you and Hadrian saw the rest.”
“But why would someone let the beast out? And what about Kristin?”
“I believe we’ll discover all that once we find the carriage.”
* * *
The three men raced beneath the full moon. They found the two track road and followed it southeast as it cut an overgrown trail through dense brush and deep woods. Intermittent shadows of tree trunks and pale light flickered past, disorienting Hadrian as he lay low across the horse’s back and let the chill wind blow over him. They stopped at mud puddles where Royce dismounted to examine ruts. Then off they flew again with Hadrian trusting to Royce and the horse he rode, whose name he didn’t even know. He kept his mind focused on Kristin, the woman with the beaming smile who wanted to be kidnapped and finally got her wish.
The sky was lightening with the dawn when at last the carriage came into view. Stuck in a mud puddle, Kristin was out in front pulling the horse forward while Leta struggled to push the carriage from behind, legs covered in mud. She let out a startled cry as they rode up and stood wide-eyed, staring into the face of Lord Darren.
“Daddy!” Kristin let go of the bridle and sprinted across the puddle to her father. “Daddy! You’re alive! You’re alive!”
Lord Darren leapt down from his saddle and threw his arms around his daughter, spinning the young woman so her feet whirled behind her. “Of course I am—and so are you. So are you!” He was half weeping, half laughing as he clutched Kristin to his cheek and kissed her hair.
Leta started to inch to the side, glancing at the trees.
Royce slipped off his horse, and looking dead at her, shook his head.
“What were you doing?” the lordship asked his daughter. “We thought you were kidnapped. Why were you helping? Where were you going?”
“Leta told me you were dead, that I’d killed you. All of you.” Kristin wiped her tears. “When I woke up, I begged her to take me back…to see you. But she said there was nothing to be done. If I returned, I would be killed. Leta was taking me to Aunt Edna’s. She’s going to keep me from hurting anyone else. She promised to lock me up on full moons.”
“Clever.” Royce nodded, then turned to Leta. “You served Lord Griswold, didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer until he took a step closer and let a hand slip inside his cloak, then she nodded. “Been housekeeper at Ridgewood for decades.”
“You knew he was taking bribes from the smugglers, so he gave you a cut to keep you quiet. Is that right?”
“We had a nice thing going until he came.” Leta turned toward Lord Darren. “You shut everything down right tight you did.”
“So, you came up with a plan,” Royce said.
“Wasn’t me. Shawn got the idea of kidnapping her ladyship and Kristin. They planned on taking ’em to Shawn’s boat. They’d keep ’em there and force his lordship to resume the same deal they had with Griswold.”
“Shawn is Ianto’s real name?” Hadrian asked.
Leta nodded. “He’s captain of the Medusa, used to be Griswold’s best shipper.”
“And Engels?”
She hesitated.
Royce took another step. “He’s dead. So is Shawn. That part of your plan worked. So who was he?”
She hesitated only a moment more, then shrugged. “Clyde Davis. Dock chief for the Crimson Hand.”
Royce looked at Hadrian. “Told you.” Then he asked Leta, “But something went wrong, didn’t it?”
“When Shawn and his men chased the lady’s carriage, Roy whipped the horse and made a run for it. Killed himself when the carriage flipped. Her ladyship was busted up bad too. There was no saving her. But she told Kristin to run, and she did, right into the forest. Clyde and Shawn had to borrow Blake Everett’s hounds to find her. Mean dogs they are. One bit the girl.”
“So why didn’t Shawn just take Kristin and run?” Royce asked.
“Might have been better if he did. But two people were dead, and one was the Port Minister’s wife. No getting around that. There was going to be a crackdown and business would suffer. The king would have the high constable poking around. It would be a big mess.”
“And how did the whole werewolf thing come about?”
“That was Shawn’s idea too. Little girl thought Everett’s hounds were wolves. So Shawn tells her that’s exactly what they were—said the beasts killed her mother, but he saved her. Then he got to thinking about stories he’d heard in Calis, and since the girl had been bitten…”
“And how do you fit in?” Royce stared at Leta.
She took a step back. “I didn’t do much. Griswold had a smugglers’ hole Lord Darren didn’t know about. Shawn had his men take the Medusa up north to catch a wolf, a big one. It was my job to drag Kristin out and get the wolf in. Just needed a little food to lure it. After a while, it was sort of trained, although Shawn used to beat it to keep the animal vicious. Then just before dawn, I’d put Kristin back. Was easy when she was little—a lot harder as she and I got older.”
“But why?” Lord Darren asked. “Why do all this?”
“Best time to navigate the Galewyr is when there’s a full moon,” Royce said. “And if you can b
e sure the Port Minister will be home looking after his ‘poor daughter’ you can move a lot of black market goods.”
Leta nodded. “Shawn would unload his ship at Roe and send his long boats up the river to Medford. Clyde bribed the port watch and his crew off-loaded right at the dock. Two nights of work was all that was needed to clear Shawn’s hold. Then they’d have a month to trade before the next shipment.”
“So why did you let the wolf out?” Lord Darren asked.
“Because you were going to go to the king,” Royce said.
Leta looked at them both. “Shawn and Clyde could just disappear, but me? Where would I go? How would I make money? How could I survive?”
“You were going to keep Kristin thinking she was a monster and feed off her like a leech?” Lord Darren glared at the housekeeper.
“She was all I had!” Leta cried. “I—I was desperate, don’t you see?”
Lord Darren shook his head in disgust. He took several breaths to calm down, then focused on Hadrian and Royce. “And how about you two? Why’d you come back?”
Hadrian stared at his partner, mirroring his lordship’s quizzical look.
“Professional integrity,” Royce said.
Hadrian rolled his eyes.
Royce glared at him. “It’s true. I knew someone was deceiving me, maybe using me. Thought it might have been your daughter, could have been part of a group. Maybe the Hand trying something. Easy mistake to make, the way she tried to hire us with such a sickly-sweet, wide-eyed, wholesome act. I was positive it was a swindle or game of some sort. No one is that cute.” He shook his head and turned to Kristin. “I was wrong. You’re just a freak of nature.”
Kristin smiled back. “Better than being a werewolf.”
“True.” Royce nodded. “Anyway, I don’t like being used. I go to great lengths to make certain those who try regret it. It would hurt business if I let something like that slip. So I needed to know what was really going on and, if possible, make certain those responsible never did it again.”
Lord Darren nodded. “Well, thank you—both of you.” He was still holding his daughter like he was terrified of ever letting go. “But—well, who are you? Who are you really?”