Wolfsbane

by Nathalie Gray

  A sharp jolt of pain bent him at the waist. It flared along his shoulders and neck, up his face, down his shaking legs. His hands trembled violently. There’d always been danger in his anger. He should’ve known and tried to remain calm.

  “Get out!” he snarled, leaning against the wall for support.

  Ute meant to help him but Frank—good old friend—pulled her back, told her something about fetching drinks before closing the door in her startled face.

  His belly constricted painfully now, and a grunt escaped him. Katrina. Gone.

  “Is it too late?” Frank put his face directly in Fredrick’s sight.

  Unable to speak, Fredrick only nodded. Already, he could feel his heart pumping madly against his ribs, which strained against the unnatural stress placed on them by his transformation.

  “Then there isn’t much time.” The old man wrenched the door open and tugged Fredrick by the front of his shirt.

  As fast as he could, knowing each second was precious and could mean life and death for anyone caught too close to him after he changed, Fredrick stumbled after Frank. Down the corridor, through an archway he couldn’t remember being there, out some door he’d forgotten, they ran as fast as either of them could. When his legs began to warp into something other than human anatomy, Fredrick slowed down. He was wheezing by now, emitting guttural snarls, which shamed him. He was such a monstrous freak. No wonder Scarlet had left. Pain doubled in his heart, his head.

  “Sweet Jesus, there’s no more time.”

  Fredrick humphed then collapsed on all fours. Convulsions racked his body. Tears appeared over the skin of his arms, his thighs. He moaned. God, the pain!

  Fresh air caressed his bristling cheeks. Fredrick looked up in time to see Frank opening a fence leading to a wide expanse of green the likes of which Fredrick hadn’t seen in a long time. Smells of animals and earth assailed his nostrils. He breathed in deeply.

  “Find her, Master!” Frank pleaded as he wrapped his hands around Fredrick’s distending face, forcing eye-to-eye contact. “Find Katrina before she finds Scarlet.”

  Dear Lord. Of course, she’d go after Scarlet.

  The old man’s words had the effect of a stone thrown in a pond. Ripples of understanding reached Fredrick’s fading consciousness until all he could think about, all he could cling to, was Scarlet’s face. He howled when fangs shredded out of his gums, talons of his fingers. Creaks and crunches of breaking bones and snapping tendons echoed in his ears. Or at least, he thought he heard them. A veil of red descended on his mind, narrowed his awareness to a knife’s edge. Though he could smell the minutest odor, see the faintest detail, hear the softest sound, Fredrick’s mind couldn’t grasp much more than a simple concept.

  He had to find Scarlet before Katrina did. She was on horse, Scarlet on foot, and despite the few hours she had on his cousin, it wouldn’t matter.

  Must find Scarlet.

  The smell of another being very close by occupied him for a while, but some instinct told him it wasn’t important. Dirt flew behind him when he clawed past the opened fence and out into a field.

  Must find…

  He was forgetting what it was he should be finding. His brain couldn’t seem to grasp the abstract concept. Moist earth gave way to rocks then the soft, quiet beings that swayed with the breeze. Trees—those were called trees, damn it. Everything was getting so muddled. A stew of sounds and scents assaulted him, made him lose his track.

  Red. A being he’d come to associate with red. No harm should come to this being.

  Run. Hurry. Find.

  A scent caught his attention. The smell of fear.

  He veered sharply back onto the hard surface that resembled a dried river. Road? Light began to dim. How long had he been running? Smells became stronger, more humid. He stopped once or twice to lift his head to the breeze. Then he caught it again.

  The thrill of the hunt filled his heart. He’d long wanted to catch this particular prey. And its fear was only making him more agitated.

  A faint sound floated in from up ahead. He stopped to hear better, turning his head this way and that. Growling in glee, he resumed his hunt, this time devouring the ground under him. He was close. Very close.

  The sound accentuated, drowned every other. More than one being? No matter. His teeth ached for the feel of his prey’s flesh. A large being with a thundering gait flicked once or twice some distance ahead. By the time he caught up for a better look, light had left behind the dark and quiet shapes that swayed with the wind.

  He stopped, knowing he’d caught up with his prey. And he howled.

  He could tell the beings heard him, could smell their fear on currents of air left behind them. Following one such thread, he lengthened his pace, doubled his cadence. Unnaturally fast, he caught up to them just as they were rounding a corner of the flat and rough surface.

  A shiny hindquarter pumped wildly a few paces in front, and on it, another being. This was the source of the stench. This was the one who was afraid the most.

  Giving one mighty push, he leaped, front members out in front of him, claws retracted for his prey wasn’t the larger being, but the smaller one. The sudden weight pushed the hindquarter farther to the side than it could go. A shrill sound accompanied its fall. And when it fell, he was there, waiting.

  The large being landed on the smaller one, who screamed with pain. While he circled their struggling forms, a wave of calm from somewhere deep within engulfed him.

  Terrible agony accompanied the strange stillness, until sounds and smells and his eyesight had changed, dimmed, but been replaced with a higher level of consciousness.

  Fredrick climbed to his feet, shaking violently. The horse he’d tackled was already getting back on its feet. It shook its head with barely contained fright. A shrill neigh pierced the night. Katrina was also getting back on her feet, though Fredrick could tell she was injured. She still had his cane in her hand.

  “Stay away, Fredrick,” she snarled, waving the cane like a sword. She was an adept swordswoman, and he remained in place for the time being, until his body had completely transformed back into a man’s, and he could fully savor his revenge. Blood trickled from her lips as she limped back a couple of paces. The cane still pointed directly at him. Now that he felt in full control, Fredrick took a step forward.

  “You think you can best me?” A wide swipe of the cane added emphasis to her words.

  Fredrick took another step. “I don’t intend to best you.”

  Another swipe, this one aimed higher, directly at his head. Fredrick caught it in midair. Staring at her the whole time, he forced the cane down at waist-level before giving it a sharp twist. Katrina lost her grip on it. Fredrick brought the butt of the cane to his face. “I don’t think I’ll be using it again.” He tossed it behind him.

  “You won’t dare come near me. Lothar is still out there. And he’ll find you. He’ll find her, you know that. She put a spell on all of us, it would seem.”

  “What do you mean?” Fredrick asked warily.

  She choked back a mirthless laugh. “I know you find it hard to believe that I would be capable of it, but I loved your young friend. And so does Lothar. He will never stop looking for her. You will not be able to protect Scarlet. Not against him. Only I can control Lothar.”

  Fredrick shook his head. “People like you and he aren’t capable of love. And leave Lothar to me. He’ll pay. As you will.”

  The menace lurking behind his words made Katrina’s eyes flare wide. She turned and ran. Two long strides were all it took for Fredrick to close his hand on her arm.

  Instead of trying to fight him off, she turned and plastered herself against him. Her lips found his.

  “I have been wanting this for so long,” she murmured against his cheek. Her hand raked a path against his side. “Give me an heir, and I will call him off her. You can still save her, Fredrick.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t have an heir any more than I can.”

 
; She looked up into his eyes, understanding slowly turning her face into a hideous mask. “You cannot produce a heir? You are barren? How…how long have you known?” Katrina’s upper lip curled up with disgust and frustration.

  “The future heirs in my seed left when my humanity did, a long time ago.”

  “And you never told me!”

  Flecks of spit hit his face. He wiped it with his sleeve. “So you could kill me before my next breath?” Fredrick sneered. “You think you’re the only lying, deceitful Innsbruck in this family?”

  “The years I wasted on you…” she faltered. Then suddenly a flash of metal appeared out of nowhere.

  Fredrick pushed her at arm’s length. Too late. A burning sting in his flank made him look down.

  “My God, Fredrick, how can you be so old yet so naïve?” Katrina snarled, pulling the slender dagger out of his flesh. She grinned devilishly.

  Before Fredrick could register the extent of his injury, he reached out, gripped Katrina by the throat and pulled her close. When she tried to stab him again, he seized the knife by the blade, slicing his palm deeply, and wrenched it from her. Her mouth opened soundlessly as he gripped ever tighter, his other hand soon joining the first.

  “You’ve caused enough suffering to those around you.”

  Fredrick pressed her to his chest while he kept both hands wrapped around her neck. She’d kept him chained for two years, had killed an old friend and twisted his people’s loyal nature into something ugly she could use for her depraved motives. She’d violated him, had allowed others to do so as well. She’d beaten him, starved him, had poisoned him down into a feverish shell of himself. It was this greedy demon who’d caused him to lose the only woman he ever could have loved.

  He’d lost everything because of Katrina and her fiendish charlatan Lothar. But above all, what kept his muscles mercilessly corded against her weakening struggle was one single deed. Her terrible mistake had been to hurt Scarlet.

  “You’ve caused pain to the last person, my cousin,” he murmured when she slumped against his chest, her legs buckling. “This stops here and now.”

  He lowered her to the ground, gently laid her lifeless form against the damp grass. Fredrick was straightening when he heard it for the first time. The faint sound barely registered in his brain.

  A scream. Silence. Then another.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Scarlet fought for each breath as Lothar cruelly bruised her face and throat with his teeth, his whole mouth. His hand did even more ravagement as he tore at the hem of her dress. The sound of ripping fabric pierced the split-second silence between her screams. Before she could formulate the thought, her hands clawed at his face. She kicked, arched, pulled his hair, bit him back.

  He seemed to be pleased by her newfound energy and snarled a laugh every time she managed a good hit into him. But as much as she tried, she was no match against his sheer brute strength.

  He kept saying her name while he wrapped his arm around her, managed to pull her dress high enough behind her thighs for him to access her backside. His hand was sickeningly gentle when he found her skin and caressed her. Scarlet shrieked in rage and panic. Lothar shook his head as if in disbelief. “Good God, Scarlet, I’ve never had to fight for a woman before. Why can’t you—?”

  Craning her neck, Scarlet sank her teeth in his throat. A good chunk of flesh followed when Lothar shook her off. Blood dribbled down his chest. He looked down in surprise. “What…?”

  Scarlet managed to free a hand from under his tight bear hug. She used her palm like a hammer and drove it on the bridge of his nose. Lothar pressed his face very close to her neck so she couldn’t hit him again. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me very much…maybe I should—”

  An explosion deafened her, drowned Lothar’s next words. The upper part of the Dutch door literally disintegrated inward, hinges and ironwork twisting under a tremendous force.

  A white form soared at Lothar and took him down. The wind created by the white blur buffeted the room and extinguished the oil lamp. But before the light died, an image was seared in the back of her eyes.

  A lupine form, not quite erect but not on all fours either, heralded by a fanged maw, had Lothar in a bear hug.

  She murmured his name, disbelieving. Fredrick.

  Darkness descended on Scarlet. A terrible crash was heard. A series of yelps and groans then a loud thump made her blindly stumble back toward the corner of the hut. Something trapped her foot. Her cloak. She retrieved it without really knowing why. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out two large forms wrestling about on the floor then spilling out into the night.

  She rushed out right after them. Outside, the low moon lit a terrible scene. Lothar was standing with his back to her, holding in a headlock what could only be Fredrick. White fur was streaked with large inky spots. The sound of snapping jaws clacked loudly. Then Fredrick gave a mighty shove and Lothar went flying back.

  He rolled once, twice then stood. The knife gleamed in his hand. “Come here,” he spat, crouching. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  The wolflike creature—Fredrick, she kept reminding herself—crouched also before he sprang up high, front paws extended, claws gleaming dangerously. A blur was all Scarlet could see when the two collided.

  Fredrick leaped back with a sharp yelp. A new cut dribbled along his chest. He lowered his head the way dogs do when assessing a new situation. He scanned the area then his glowing gaze settled on Scarlet and for a split second, she saw him. The man was indeed inside, looking out of this not-quite-wolf creature. Fredrick, risking his life for hers. Again.

  While Lothar continued taunting Fredrick, having utterly dismissed her, Scarlet crept closer until she stood a few paces directly behind him. The cloak fell from her hand.

  Keeping her gaze fixed on Fredrick’s, she sensed the tension in his body in the way he crouched slightly lower, spread his hind legs and dug his claws in a bit deeper.

  Time stopped for Scarlet. A lifetime of words couldn’t have been any clearer than this split second, this clarity illuminating her heart to its most guarded recesses. And if she was allowed to live to a ripe old age, she’d remember this single moment as the one time when everything felt right. Fredrick’s haunted but resolute eyes shining out through the face of a beast and the untold words she could plainly see there were all she needed. It was all she wanted.

  When Fredrick charged, Scarlet was ready.

  Lothar sidestepped the attack. But not quite far enough. Fredrick slashed once, twice, and caught the man on the shoulder. A cry of pain escaped Lothar. Twinkling like a jewel, the dagger flew out of his hand. It landed only a few feet from Scarlet who readily picked it up. The handle felt worn smooth in her steady grip. Wrapping her other palm over the protruding pommel, she raised her hands high and waited.

  But both men went rolling in a tangle of limbs, furred and clothed. Fredrick tore at Lothar’s garment, shredding the tunic as if it were thin gauze, and reduced the exposed skin to rags of flesh. With a strangled curse, Lothar kicked and pummeled his attacker, landing one crippling blow on Fredrick’s nose. He used his incredible strength to roll on top of Fredrick. The blood of each intermixed with the other as they grappled and exchanged blows. Save for the occasional grunt, the terrible violence was eerily quiet.

  When Lothar cocked his fist back for a vicious blow, Scarlet was already in place. With both feet planted wide, she brought the blade down with as much force as she could muster. It sank deep in Lothar’s back but stopped abruptly. A gasp escaped her when she sliced her palm along the protruding portion of blade.

  She recoiled when he turned to her, his handsome face twisted with pain and rage.

  “Why?” he snarled, reaching back.

  The word had barely left Lothar’s mouth when Fredrick snapped his head around and sank his fangs into the other’s neck. Dark blood spurted out to stain his chest and shoulders. He clawed back, trying vainly to disengage
Fredrick’s maw from his throat.

  Scarlet shut her eyes and turned away as Fredrick tore out the man’s flesh in great chunks. Sounds of clacking jaws and tearing tissue made her twitch.

  “Fredrick, please, it’s over.”

  Silence answered her. A low moan—a human moan—made her look at the sky. Good God, Lothar was still alive.

  Movement from behind her triggered a primal sense of alarm. But this quickly passed when she remembered how human he’d looked while she searched his gaze. This was Fredrick. A man. Not a monster.

  She looked back to find him gingerly approaching her. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. Blood dribbled from his fanged snout. One paw in front of the other, like an overly muscled wolf with a chest too big for the rest of him, Fredrick drew near.

  Streaks of what looked like black ink covered his head and back and flanks, and Scarlet knew some of it had to be his. Her heart swelled with relief and sadness and shame. She’d left and he’d come after her. And the price had been this.

  Scarlet reached out slowly, offered the back of her bleeding hand to him. His fur was surprisingly soft when he pushed his great head underneath her palm. Heat transferred from him to her then back to him. A complete circle. When he collapsed on his side with a great humph, Scarlet retrieved her cloak and draped it over him then knelt and cradled his head on her lap, offering silent support as his body was racked by convulsions that made him whimper.

  Horrible, muffled crunches were heard under his flesh as his frame was adjusting itself once more to that of a man. Scarlet ran her hand over his head, feeling his skull change shape. Soon, fur had slipped back into the tightening pores over his face and body, until only his white hair remained, streaked with blood she prayed wasn’t all his. With a last violent spasm, Fredrick rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. He was wheezing.

  Scarlet adjusted the cloak so it’d cover the most skin possible. A hand emerged from underneath the garment and reached out tentatively. She grasped it, shocked at the deathly coolness of it.

  “My thanks,” he murmured, his mouth quivering with restrained pain.