Down the corridor and through several doorways, he and Evangeline silently walked until they came to what resembled something of a room that his old estate used to use for washing clothes. A large tub sat in the center with a pump beside it to dispense water, while the edges of the room were lined with counters and bins of linen and clothes. A door led to the outside where clothes lines stretched from one pole to another to allow laundry to dry.
“Take off your clothes and throw them outside,” Evangeline instructed as she set to work on the pump. “There’s no saving rags like those.”
With apprehension, Darren shed his garments to do as she said. Standing bare in the washroom, shielding his manhood behind shaking hands, Darren tried to look anywhere else but at her. He had heard of the French’s loose sense of morality, but he didn’t want to think it to be true.
Evangeline filled the tub and tossed in a few slivers of soap. Without a hint of shame, she turned and jerked her thumb toward the water. “All right. Get in.”
Just then, Darren heard someone approach down the hall and felt a new spike of tingling in his skull, though the scent told him it wasn’t John.
Another man, tall and with a darker complexion, entered the room and looked straight to the stranger. “Who are you?” he asked in French, his dark eyes accusing Darren and his nakedness of some unspoken crime.
Darren stuttered in his presence, both intimidated and too startled by the strange scene to give an answer.
Evangeline rolled her eyes and propped her hands on her full hips. “Bart, this is Darren. He just arrived with your father. The boy looks like he’s been through hell, don’t you think?”
The man, Bart, eased back and the tension in his body seemed to lessen. So this was the beta. He was not as finely dressed as his father, but Bart did not carry himself like a commoner either. Like the loups-garous on the other side of the house, he wore a pair of trousers and a loose tunic with billowy sleeves that still showcased his robust physique.
“You’re one of our new loups-garous?” Bart asked.
Darren simply nodded, the ends of his matted hair jiggling with the motion and dislodging a few granules of dirt from his locks to fall to the floor.
“Very well,” the beta said with a nod. “I knew a stranger was here and I wanted to make certain you were all right, mon chéri.” Now, he addressed his wife, who strutted toward him and planted a long and meaningful kiss upon his lips.
Darren suddenly coveted their happiness. Perhaps not Evangeline. He was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that Bart could turn his skull to dust between those two powerful hands, if he caught him philandering with his wife.
“I am fine, mon amour. Did John bring you and the boys your tea?”
They continued light conversation while Darren stood, shivering and naked by the back door. He wasn’t sure whether to hop in the wash basin so that he would be somewhat concealed under the water, or perhaps step outside to allow them a moment of privacy.
The answer came when Evangeline looked to him and pointed to the tub again. “I told you that you could get in.”
He didn’t waste time in dunking his lower parts under the water. Evangeline bid her lover goodbye and set to rolling up her sleeves. Bart gave one last look to Darren, his eyes passing along a cautionary message to not displease his wife, and then disappeared down the hall.
“I assure you, I can bathe myself,” Darren said as he saw Evangeline take a wash cloth and soap bar in her hands.
He had said it in French, but she didn’t seem to hear him at all. She proceeded to wash and scrub away the dirt from three weeks of travel. Washed away the many miles he conquered to get from England to this chateau. Darren ignored the way her fingers felt on his skin. The first time a woman had ever touched him besides his mother, and even then, she never touched him in all the places Evangeline did.
After his face had turned beet-red with embarrassment, she pulled out a few cloths for him to dry himself, and a change of clothes similar to what the others wore.
“These belong to my husband, but they might fit. John will have better clothes made for you soon, I’m sure.”
With that, she dried her own hands and left the washroom, as if she hadn’t just toyed with Darren’s manhood both physically and mentally. The water was tainted a deep brown and the bottom was now covered in a thick layer of soil. The tiny bugs that had taken residence in his hair floated along the smooth surface, their thin legs kicking at the water.
Darren jumped out, spilling some excess water over the edge to seep between the floorboards. Not only had a thousand miles been washed away in mere moments, but it felt as if the old life had been wiped away as well. He was in a new place, a new home, and with a new group of people he could trust and rely upon.
Dirt, mud, and bugs were not the only things left in that tub. The old Darren, the memory of the sickly child without a father, had drifted to the bottom with the rest of the reminders of his journey. What emerged was the reborn Darren. This new Darren was loup-garou.
Darren found John on the back veranda, his cane positioned in front of him as if he were the king, surveying the far reaches of his kingdom with a chest full of pride and heart gladdened at the sight of it. He could see why. The late afternoon sun caressed the fields before him, trees and flora dispersed in patches as far as the eye could see. The chateau was situated atop the crest of a gently sloping hill, the highest point where one could gaze for miles and miles. He could just barely make out the obstacle courses that John spoke of, hidden amongst the elms and oaks.
They stood beside one another on the civilized side of the stone banister that divided them from the wild nature beyond. Neither spoke at first, but simply took in the sight of such wondrous beauty. Darren could feel the feral side of him stirring within his chest. Inducing him with the need to run into the midst of it and become one with the forest he had despised for the last few weeks. Why now, of all times, might he actually want to be part of it, rather than before?
The dark brown in his eyes morphed into the bright amber once more and he tried to keep his breath steady as the tide of such desires nearly carried him away. It was John’s touch that brought him back to the world of man.
Darren looked away and cleared his throat, unsure why he might be embarrassed to show such emotions in front of the alpha. His alpha.
“It’s splendid, isn’t it?” John said as he kept his firm and grounding hand upon Darren’s arm.
“It is… Was it the…” He began the question, but was unsure of how to end it.
“Yes, it was the wolf in you,” John answered. “Many boys who come here have never been outside of their towns. They’ve never seen the world that is open to them and every other loup-garou. Each one reacted in the same way you did and there is no shame in it.”
Slowly, he looked back toward his alpha, his eyes still glowing their wolfish gold. John gave him a warm, encouraging smile and let go. “My wife and I came to this place after we fled England. Her uncle, who was also loup-garou, taught me all that he knew. He still resides in Albi, but I wanted to create a place for new loups-garous to come and be free from the constraints of town living.”
John turned his eyes back to the fields. “When I changed as a young man, I didn’t know what had happened to me. I, like so many who have come here, did not have a father to explain these things to me. I wandered all across England for a century with the idea stuck in my head that I was possessed by a demon. It took my wife, Annalette, to show me that I was not possessed, but blessed.
“She told me all about loups-garous. In fact, it was Bartholomew who told me that her uncle was in Albi. I named my son in his honor.” John turned to face Darren as he continued. “Our world is becoming smaller and smaller with each passing year. Discoveries are made, countries are expanding their borders with colonies, and yet superstitions still wreak havoc in our communities. I wanted to create a safe place where loups-garous could come and learn what their families could not tea
ch them. I assume this is why you’re here and why Bartholomew sent you to me.”
Darren nodded, entranced by his story. “My father left my mother when I was too young to even know his name. I had always thought werewolves or loups-garous were the stuff of fairytales.”
John’s smile never wavered. “There are still many fairytales in the world, but you will learn that some of them are more true than others… Your situation is not new, Darren. It is the sad misfortune that some loups-garous fathers are no better than human fathers. Here, we can’t change the past, but we can make a better future for you.”
It was a touching sentiment, a glorious dream to pursue. Darren needed exactly what John offered. After the hell he had been through in England, he could get used to a little piece of heaven, such as this.
Chapter 7
For the first few days after Darren arrived at the chateau, John kept him confined indoors to rest from his long journey. When the rest of the pack was away, training in the valley behind the house, tending the gardens in the front, or running as wolves through the night, Darren kept to himself in the library and devoured book after book on all manner of subjects: philosophy, mathematics, history, and the newest publications in scientific developments.
He found that he could read much faster than before, comprehending everything he read with a startlingly accurate recall of all he learned. These studies were reserved for the boys who lacked the kind of education that he did, but that didn’t stop Darren from working his way from one bookcase to the other, pouring over the manuscripts with zeal.
When Darren asked John how it could be that they were able to retain so much knowledge without the aid of study, John only told him that it was one of the many gifts of the wolf. Their minds could hold an infinite wealth of information. Darren thought this was perhaps the best advantage of being loup-garou, apart from the strength and preternatural abilities.
When the others were inside, taking a meal or settling down to their studies, Darren became acquainted with each of them and their personal stories. Though he left out many of the details of how his own journey as a loup-garou began, the other boys were more than willing to divulge the gruesome specifics of their turnings.
An aspect, he noticed, was that there were no female werewolves at the chateau. There were only two women, Evangeline and Noelle, who cooked and cleaned for the pack. However, they were the only humans on the estate. When Darren asked John about this, he informed him with a heavy heart that there were no female loups-garous in the world and there never could be. He explained how their fragile frames and gentle temperaments could not contain the spirit of the wolf with the same effectiveness that men could.
Darren did not believe this, because Evangeline had more fire in her than some of the younger boys put together. And Noelle, a hefty woman of color, could carry three or four baskets of dirty clothes without breaking a sweat. The female sex certainly was strong enough to be loup-garou, but John warned him to never try and turn a woman by way of the bite, which was a lesson for another day.
One boy named Edmund, who seemed to possess a certain edge that unsettled Darren, had turned while visiting family in Italy. He, too, was from England and could never return, lest he be charged with the murder of his mother and grandparents. The way he retold the tale, Darren saw no remorse in his eyes. Either he found pleasure in the suffering of others, or he had come to terms with his demons long ago and decided not to waste any more time feeling sorry for his actions. Darren doubted it was the latter.
Another boy, Fermin, who was a native to France, seemed to be a natural leader and John often spoke as if he might become an alpha one day, or perhaps a beta for one of the other factions within the pack. From the stories Darren overheard, he was the first to lead in running the course and at the head of every run as wolves.
Though he could admire Fermin’s passion for leadership, he still lacked a quality that Darren thought was more than necessary. In fact, it should have been a requirement. Compassion. Fermin was the best in everything, but he would not help those who struggled like Johannes, a loup-garou from Germany.
Johannes was smaller than the rest in height, but Darren knew he was strong enough to take the lead if he just had the right encouragement. Because of this, Darren often made a point of sitting with Johannes during meals and they shared one another’s language with the other. He knew no French and he knew no German. Yet, within the few days, they could switch back and forth fluidly. No one had offered to teach him French in the short time he had been there, but John and Bart instructed him in German to accommodate.
Johannes had been an orphan on the streets of Amsterdam, without mother or father or relatives to care for him. He ran with other orphan boys, much like a wolf pack would, but he was the runt, and bullied because of it. When he turned, he fled the city in the same way Darren had. They shared many common traits, but the difference between them was the fact that Johannes hadn’t learned to rise up with his new gifts. He stayed low, meek, and unoffending, just as he had as a street urchin. Darren wanted to change that.
The more he socialized and talked with the others, the more Darren began to abandon his preconceived notions of what a werewolf was. He didn’t even call them that anymore. They were loup-garou and, somehow, calling himself this new name added another facet to his character. There were too many ties to the term “werewolf” and too many negative perceptions of its meaning. Loup-garou was new, fresh, different, and seemingly harmless.
So, too, did the image of the loup-garou become. He hadn’t seen them yet, in their true form, but he knew he would soon. From what Bart and John briefly described, they sounded nothing like the horrific and vicious beasts of legend, but some mythical blend of man and wolf. John often said the loup-garou form was a symbol of the perfect harmony in nature. His wife, Annalette, whose name was spoken in reverent whispers as if she were a holy saint, taught him to appreciate everything a loup-garou was and could be.
On the night before Darren was expected to join the others in training, he found himself restless and eager. Lying awake in the dormitory where his other pack mates slept in beds resembling military bunks that lined the walls, Darren could not sleep. Johannes insisted that he try, though, because the trials that came with dawn would demand it of him.
Darren did not heed his warning.
When the sun rose, Darren was the first to rise, even before Fermin. The pack took breakfast in the dining hall and Darren was given the seat of honor beside John near the head of the long banquet table that would have belonged in a palace, rather than a humble chateau. Some boys, including Johannes, were sequestered at a round table in the corner. Darren usually sat with Johannes at this lesser table, but not this morning.
Across from him sat Bart, the beta. They discussed the plans for the day and how each morning’s routine would become ingrained in him after some time. It was a pattern of living that John wished to foster in every loup-garou. Part of the day was devoted to calming one’s mind, which took the form of gardening that Darren looked forward to. Then, there was the physical exercise that would keep his body fit. The evenings were devoted to study and sharpening that calm mind. Then at night, if the rest of the pack was willing and the opportunity was available, they would take to the woods as loups-garous and change with the rest of the pack.
That night was Fermin’s time to change. Darren paused, his fork stopping halfway between his plate and his mouth. The library, the obstacle course, the fellowship with other loups-garous, the garden, it was all something he could enjoy day to day without growing bored. The change, however, was another thing entirely.
For most of the boys, they remembered nothing about the change except the pain and passing out from exhaustion. Darren remembered on the night he had arrived, going to bed in a practically empty house while the rest of the pack went out. When they came back with the dawn, John allowed them to sleep for a few hours before resuming their daily routine. In real life, they would have no time to r
ecuperate. With families and jobs, they would have to recover quickly after a change night.
What bothered Darren the most wasn’t that the pack was going to go change, but that he didn’t know how to change at all. Neither did he want to. The thought of fur sprouting from his skin and face extending into a muzzle was far less than appealing. If he could have just stayed human, Darren would have gladly gone with them. Perhaps, since Darren didn’t have much training, they would reconsider making him go.
After breakfast, they went to the gardens and Darren somehow felt in his element. Some of the others had come from farming backgrounds, just as he did, but they only understood planting and cultivating crops. They didn’t understand that weeds were the enemy of the flowerbeds and pruning was necessary for growth.
He gave advice where it was needed, especially to Johannes who had a nasty habit of pulling up the flowers with the weeds. Sometimes, he couldn’t quite tell the difference. He showed him how some weeds only needed a gentle tug, while others needed to be pried up from the roots. John told them pulling weeds would help in controlling their strength and mastering it on a finer level. Loups-garous like Fermin and Edmund snapped the stalks of the weeds too quickly, applying too much force.
When it came time to practice their agility and speed, they took to the valley behind the chateau. Fermin boasted that he was the fastest of the pack, but Darren had seen the way Johannes snatched the last slice of roast from the communal plate during meals. Fermin was not the fastest at all.
“Why don’t you show them what you can do?” Darren asked, jamming his elbow into Johannes’ ribs.
The boy, whom they teased and called the “omega” from time to time, simply shrugged. “I don’t want to make Bart mad.”
Darren glanced ahead to the beta who led the boys down the worn path through the forest to the training ground. “Why would Bart be angry?” he asked, keeping his voice low so the beta wouldn’t hear. Against John’s wishes, many of the boys kept their conversations private by dropping their voices so low that not even his alpha ears could pick up the words from across the room.
The Frenchman (A Legacy Series Novella) (The Legacy Series Book 3) Page 8