Immortal Prey

by Diana Ballew

  Immortal Prey

  by

  Diana Ballew

  Copyright © 2012 by Diana Ballew

  Smashwords Edition

  Trifecta Publishing House edition, 2015

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, Trifecta Publishing House.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America

  Digital Book

  ISBN -13: 978-1-943407-06-4

  Trifecta Publishing House

  871 Coronado Center Drive

  Suite 200

  Henderson, Nevada 89052-3977

  Contact Information: Info@TrifectaPublishingHouse.com

  Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design.

  Formatted by CyberWitch Press

  To Ariana

  Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown:

  — John Keats, “Ode to a Nightingale”

  A Note From The Author

  I began this book with one particular thought in mind: I wanted to write an emotional, fiery tale of eternal love, woven within the fabric of true historic events and legends of the paranormal. Immortal Prey is based on documented events.

  In 1589, Bedburg, Germany, Peter Stumpp, a wealthy farmer who had made pact with the devil, was tried and found guilty for committing rapes and murders after transforming into the body of a large, bloodthirsty wolf. Under the threat of torture, he confessed to killing and eating fourteen children, one of which was his own son, whose brain he had devoured, two pregnant women and their fetuses, and feasting on a countless number of men.

  His execution is one of the most inhumane on record. Immediately following Peter’s horrific death, local authorities erected a pole with the torture wheel with the figure of a wolf on it as a warning to others. Peter’s head was placed atop the pole. After his trial and death, Peter Strubbe was nicknamed “The Beast of Bedburg”.

  A sixteen page pamphlet describing the events was translated from German to English in 1590. All that remains now are two copies in London. One is in the British Museum, the other copy, in the Lambeth Palace Library.

  In the mountains of south-central France, The Beasts of Gévaudan were first reported in 1764. Known as Le Loup Garou, the large, red-furred wolves were believed to have attacked 210 humans. 113 of the victims died, 49 survived their injuries. Of the dead, 98 and been partially eaten. Dispatched by the king, royal huntsman, nobles, the army and civilians, hunted the animals for years. According to records, a particularly large wolf was shot by François Antoine on 21 September 1765 and displayed at the court of King Louis XV.

  Enjoy!

  Immortal Prey

  Part One

  The Chosen

  Chapter One

  German Village of Bedburg, 1589

  “When the Angel of Death calls thy name, do not answer.” Those were the last words I spoke before I took her first life.

  A hunter’s moon sliced through the trees, illuminating the leaves on the damp forest floor. My head filled with the peppery scents of wet pine bark, hemlock, and alder. Adjusting the bow and quiver over my shoulder, I hoisted the heavy sack of pheasant and rabbit and headed for home. Gray vapor curled in front of my face with each breath, vanishing among the low-hanging branches of evergreen.

  The moment I stepped into the meadow, moonlight blanketed my house and the gray smoke rising above the stone chimney. Ersule stood at the window. Candlelight wavered above the sill, bathing her face in a seductive glow. Her ebony hair shimmered in the soft light, reminiscent of the gleaming wings of a raven in the bright light of midday. Distracted, my mind set solely upon my lovely wife, I tripped and fell.

  The canvas sack and bow flopped to the dirt with a dull thud, and a coppery scent blasted into my nostrils. I jerked my fingers from the dark, sticky substance on the ground. Focusing on the object lying next to me, my heart skipped a beat with recognition. Not more than a hand’s breadth from my bearded chin lay a severed human arm.

  Scanning the shadows, I scrambled to my feet, recalling it was only a fortnight ago when the wolves had last attacked. I stuffed the spilled carcasses into the bag, seized my bow and quiver, and sprinted for home.

  Something unfamiliar lying on the ground ahead made the small hairs at my nape stand on end. Moving closer, my pounding heart suddenly ceased only to resume moments later with an enormous thud against my chest.

  “Oh, Lord,” I breathed, leaning over the severed human leg, glistening with fresh blood and pearly-white sinew.

  An icy howl of wind rushed across the sweeping field. In a blast of feathers, a shrieking owl fled the ghostlike branch of a swaying birch, followed by a sickening scream coming from the dark woodlands to the north.

  Listening closely, I spun around, my throat tightening. Again, I heard the screaming. I dropped the brimming sack of freshly-killed game and fled toward the horrifying echoes.

  Darting through the lengthening shadows, I readied my bow with the last blunt arrow used for small prey and moved guardedly into the dense woods.

  Dense autumn fog surrounded the heavy bottoms of tree trunks, hovering over the trickling creek-bed and swamps. With each advancing step, frosted twigs snapped in my face. Low-lying thickets chewed my ankles, and wiry thorn bushes clawed my trousers, shredding flesh.

  A sliver of moonlight angled through the fanning treetops, illuminating the opaque mist surrounding my feet. Something stirred behind me.

  I froze.

  Ever so slowly, I turned around, and my throat went dry as brittle bone.

  A terrifying creature of immense size stood before me. Made of rippling muscles and fur, the beast hunkered down like a massive dog on all fours. Thick, curled nails gripped the damp earth, and the monster’s eyes burned bright as an amber sun. Within its large jaws, a woman’s shredded torso hung between gleaming blade-like fangs.

  Chilled breath caught in my lungs, and my chest tightened with a vise grip. Moonlight flickered through the bending treetops, bright as a beacon, urging me forward.

  From somewhere deep inside my bones, I found the courage to confront the fearsome beast. I pulled the hemp string taut on the bow, held my breath, and pointed the arrow directly at the creature.

  “Release her!” I shouted.

  In one fluid move, the beast dropped the mangled prey, pounced on massive paws, and landed directly in front of me. Meager distance stood between us, but terror filled the empty space between.

  As though mocking me, the beast dipped its large head and touched its snout to the dulled tip of my drawn arrow.

  Images of my youth flashed behind my eyes, flickering like shooting stars in the heavens; fleeting mental pictures of my old home and family, of Ersule, of our life together. The visions passed so swiftly, I slammed my eyes shut to keep them from fading.

  Ersule. A rush of heat swept through my limbs. I opened my eyes.

  The creature crouched low, narrowing eyes boring into mine like molten iron burning snow. Drenched fangs dripped fresh blood upon the ground, and the vile, dizzying stench of animal breath and gore wafted up my nostrils. My fingers twitched, and the creature growled and lunged forward.

  A large paw slammed into my chest, the massive blow sending me crashing t
o the ground on my back. The creature rose over me, its hideous face in mine, feral loins poised to attack. I fought with balled fists, hitting hard and knocking the beast about its pointed ears and head. Fur coated my tongue, and the wild animal scent scorched my nostrils.

  Then the monster bit into my neck.

  Gray blasts of labored breath rose above me as I cried out in excruciating pain. It came down upon me again, sharp teeth piercing my shoulder. Within seconds, life drained from my limp body in a flood of moist warmth.

  Scraping my fingers across the forest floor, I felt a lichen-covered branch amid damp ferns. With my vigor all but gone, I wrapped my hand around the wood and cried out with all I had left, “To the fires of hell shall you go!” and hit the beast as hard as I could with one solid blow to its massive skull.

  A harrowing yelp pierced the night. Birds fluttered from treetops, shrieking wildly as they fled. The creature pulled away and stared down at my body as I struggled for breath.

  The image before me blurred. I blinked once, twice, unsure of what I was witnessing. Lying on the ground with my body and soul resigned and given up to God, I whispered a prayer and watched as the beast’s thick fur shortened until it completely disappeared beneath pale skin.

  “Dear God … ” I murmured, repeating the prayer.

  The creature’s male genitals came into view beneath the wavering moonlight defying the thick canopy of evergreens above. Pale hair emerged on his skull and grew long, covering his broad shoulders like a blanket of corn silk. His massive muscles smoothed to a soft, rippled sheen, and the fangs and ears receded as though they had never been there at all.

  The man-beast placed his hands on his hips and slowly arched his back. He moaned as bones crackled and crunched as if snapping back into place. Craning his long neck, he thrust his shoulders back, and his lean, naked body suddenly stood straight as one of my arrows.

  “Lord in heaven,” I whispered.

  He lifted his face to the gleaming light above, rubbing his head where I had struck him.

  Transfixed, my jagged breathing slowed. By all appearances, what stood before me was a man no different a creature from myself.

  I slowly rolled to my side, coughing up fur, and I heard him laugh quietly at my misery. Weak and bewildered, I whispered the only thought that came to mind. “How is it possible you are both man … and beast?”

  The imposing man held his chin high as he slowly stepped forward. He cocked his head, assessing me as though I were a hog before slaughter.

  “How is it you are not afraid of what you have seen?” he asked.

  Dizziness seized me, and my stomach turned as if maggots roamed inside my gullet. “I am afraid.” I gripped my belly and gradually sat up. “Whatever you are, go now and leave me in peace. I want no trouble.” The taste of his feral fur sat wedged inside my throat like a loaf of stale bread. Again, I coughed and spat on the ground.

  Undaunted by his nakedness, he sat on a fallen log spread wide across the forest floor and stared at me.

  “You have no idea what you have awakened,” he said. “What is your name? How old are you?”

  I furrowed my brow at the absurdity of the questions under such circumstance. “I am eight and twenty years.”

  “And your name?”

  “Rudliff.” I sighed heavily. “I am Derek Ulrich Rudliff.”

  A slight smile tipped the corners of his thin lips. “That’s quite the mouthful. Do you wish to know how old I am?”

  “No,” I managed to choke out. “Hell no.” Gripping my churning belly, I narrowed my gaze and glared at the naked man-beast who had nearly killed me only minutes earlier.

  Under the soft glow of moonlight, small shadowy lines etched his pale forehead. He cleared his throat and jutted his chin out. “How are your wounds?”

  I felt for the open wounds on my neck and shoulder but found no evidence of my injuries, nor did I feel any sense of pain. I gasped. “How … how can this be? Who are you — what are you?”

  “My name is Koenig,” he said, “and I am over two thousand years of age.”

  “Two thousand?” I snorted and shook my head. “Absurd.”

  Pale eyebrows rose high. “More absurd than a man-beast?”

  ’Tis a valid point.

  I slowly stood and brushed the wet leaves and dirt from my tattered trousers, stunned I no longer felt the effects of the brutal attack.

  Koenig arched his neck, his nostrils flaring, expelling swirls of vapor into the cool air. “Upon you I detect the scent of a woman. The moon is still high, and I have yet to satisfy my hunger. Take me to her.”

  “Are you mad? I … I will not. I would rather die than take you to my wife!”

  Koenig’s expressive eyes softened, the furrow between his brows disappearing. He slowly shook his head. “What you do not understand, young Derek, is that by the full rise of the morrow’s moon you will be mortal no longer, and your woman as you know her now will matter naught.”

  The muscles along my jawline throbbed. “It’s you that does not understand. My wife is my essence. She is my life. I will never, ever —”

  “Take me to her.” Koenig stepped forward and glared at me. “I insist.”

  Icy fingers of panic crept along my spin. I lifted my chin. “Do with me what you will, but please, spare my wife.”

  “Is it a deal you ask of me — a bargain? Is that what I am hearing?” He stroked his chin with long, nimble fingers and slowly paced around me.

  Tears stung the back of my eye sockets. “Yes, a bargain. Take me. I will do whatever you ask as long as you do not touch her. What must I do to appease you?”

  Koenig’s tongue darted out, moistening his lips. “’Tis ancient warrior blood I taste in your veins. For this, I must spare you, but your wife —”

  “Do not spare me if you are to take the life of Ersule. Take me, but spare her.” I moved in with balled fists. “I am prepared to fight for her!”

  He looked at me as though I were no greater threat than a common fly and said, “I admire your courage, but … ”

  I frowned. “But what?”

  He sniffed the air, his nose held high, facing in the direction of my home.

  “But if I do not take her, then you must. And if you choose not to kill her, I promise, I shall slay her myself, but not before I ravish her first.”

  Eyeing him from head to toe, I snorted with disgust. “Why? Why would you do such a vile thing?”

  “I do not expect you to understand. Not yet.”

  He was serious. Deadly serious. I lowered my hands to my sides, my shoulders curling. “I beg of you —”

  “Do not beg!” he shouted. “It is beneath you. You are Werewolf now.”

  With those words, my heart sank like a rock in water.

  He glanced at the gleaming moon before his penetrating gaze fixed upon mine once again.

  “You have been bitten by a royal, bitten by a Were king, no less.”

  I lunged forward. “It’s not possible!”

  He caught my arms and held me tight. “’Tis more than possible. Have you forgotten what you have witnessed this night? There is no fighting this, young Derek!”

  His terrifying words rebounded across thick trunks of trees, echoing in all directions, sending night creatures scurrying to safety amid low-lying brush.

  I stood motionless, paralyzed with fear and dread, his lean arms enveloping me like a cold blanket.

  “Listen to me,” said he. “Had it not been for the blood running through your veins, I would have devoured you on the forest floor and taken your wife by now.”

  I raised my chin, my eyes glaring into his. Between gritted teeth I asked, “And what has stopped you?”

  Koenig’s expression softened under the subtle glow of moonlight. He sighed, unbound my arms, and stepped back.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “My God, what reasons could you possibly have? Tell me.”

  Koenig inhaled loudly, deeply, and exhaled in slow, shallow
breaths. “With the rise of the morrow’s moon, your transformation will begin from man to the beast known as Werewolf —”

  “No, no.” I shook my head. “This cannot be true.”

  “’Tis true, Derek,” he said evenly. “You must wait for the transformation. Before the end of the morrow’s moon, you must sink your teeth into the neck of your beloved. You must drain her until her veins run dry.”

  “I cannot. I will not.” I covered my ears. “I will hear none of this!”

  Koenig boxed my hands from my ears in a flash as though I were an insolent child. I froze, willing myself not to cower before him.

  “I am offering you a choice. This is a great honor among our kind. You must do this if you wish to reunite with your wife again.” He hemmed in closer. “Listen. You must drain her blood until you feel her veins run dry,” he repeated. “It will be unbearably hard, for you will be tempted as an emerging Were to eat her flesh, to rip her to shreds and devour her whole, but you cannot. You must not. In return, you shall be rewarded.”

  I dropped my chin upon my chest, my shoulders wilting. Every part of my body told me the man-beast spoke the truth. Already, something inside me felt different, as though I were unwell with fever, but somehow stronger, more alive with the surge of warmth surging through my limbs.

  He dipped his head and placed his hands upon my curled shoulders. I looked at him with eyes brimming with tears, needing his compassion, but I could not speak.

  “Here me,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I know this is difficult, but in the end there is a great reward. Your wife shall return to this earth as a mortal in three hundred years, perhaps a few more, perhaps a few less —”

  “Three hundred years!” I jerked from his grasp and spat at his feet. “I cannot do this. I will not.”

  “I am offering you a choice. You may roam this world without your beloved mate, or you can do as I have told you and wait for her return.” He shrugged. “The choice is yours.”

  “Certainly you do not expect me to understand.”