The Irishman (A Legacy Novella) (The Legacy Series Book 7)

by Sheritta Bitikofer

  Dustin let out a tight breath and stopped to lean against the trunk of an oak a couple of yards back. Darren turned and his wolf could sense the trouble as acutely as he could.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, though he knew fairly well what was happening.

  Dustin’s face was marred by the pain that must have been streaking through his body. He dropped the pack and fell to his knees as the beginning stages of the shift began to creep up on him.

  They were a day too late. Darren wanted to reach John’s before his next shift, but an uncertain amount of time had passed since Dustin first turned. They couldn’t have known for sure when it would happen. Now, Darren would have to do something that John never taught him.

  He immediately dropped his own pack and despite the plummeting temperature, he stripped off his shirt and went to help Dustin with his. This part wasn’t difficult. New loups-garous were often too blinded by the pain of the shift to even have the clarity of mind to take off their clothes first. Darren was already urging his body into the change and he could feel it singing through his blood as muscles tightened and bunched beneath his skin.

  He had witnessed the breaking in other packs enough times that he understood the concept, but what if he failed? What would Dustin do if gone unrestrained by an experienced alpha? Could Darren’s dominance be enough to control him?

  He hastily started to tug the tail of Dustin’s shirt from his trousers. “Just stay calm,” he said, “and let it happen. I know you’re in pain, so you just – “

  “Get away from me!” Dustin roared and shoved Darren aside. He rolled a few yards until he hit the trunk of an elm and nearly cracked a rib.

  The shuffling of panicked feet came to his ears as Darren tried to right himself against the tree. He bolted in the direction Dustin was running, trying to catch up. It didn’t take long and he came upon the shifting loup-garou just as he rammed himself against a mahogany tree, nearly splitting it with the force of his impact.

  Darren grabbed Dustin by the shoulders and forced him to the ground so he wouldn’t run again.

  “Stay still!” he ordered. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Golden eyes met and he could see the flashing of sharp fangs in the waning light.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Dustin insisted, his voice displaced by a shrill whine as the shift continued to pop his joints in and out of place. Darren could feel his own body responding to the emergence of his wolf.

  “You won’t. Just relax. The more you fight it, the more painful it will be.”

  The advice was well received this time and Dustin let out a thunderous scream. Darren didn’t have the convenience of his human mind falling away to make room for the beast that came forth. He experienced every agonizing change in his body. The consciousness of the wolf and man blended into one as the shift was complete.

  He stood on all fours and shook out his fur as Dustin’s transformation finished as well. Just like all new loups-garous, Dustin’s pelt was black as the coming night, while Darren’s was speckled and streaked with bits of brown across his back and haunches, denoting his age. With hands that could still wrap around the throat of potential prey and a muzzle that could let out a spine-tingling howl, they looked every bit the monstrous mix of man and wolf. Only, they were larger than either species, and quite possibly more deadly.

  Darren waited to gauge Dustin’s beast. Some loups-garous could be taken quietly, easily. Others sometimes took longer to break, those who possessed the natural gift of dominance. What he didn’t fully expect was how much bigger Dustin was than any normal young loup-garou. His paws were massive, claws longer, and back broader. It was if he were built for battle and for a moment, Darren was doubtful of his own abilities.

  As Dustin rose to his feet, Darren couldn’t quite make out his nature at all. He tossed his wolfish head in every direction, as if confused by his surroundings. He hadn’t even noticed the other loup-garou in the forest yet. But when he did, all passivity left him.

  With fur bristling around his mane and fangs bared in a fierce growl, Dustin lunged forward. Darren had just enough time to catch him in his human-like paws and throw him down. Razor claws slashed into his flesh, cutting deep without remorse or forbearance, but he wouldn’t let on that he was in pain. None of the other alphas did during a breaking.

  Darren hadn’t worked his dominance in years, not even on his own daughter to make her obey. He emitted out the first pulse, just to gauge how the untamed beast would receive it.

  Dustin roared again and struck back as if he felt nothing at all. Pushing aside all personal feelings as every alpha had to do for the sake of his pack, Darren leapt forward and sank his teeth into Dustin’s shoulder until he yowled for mercy. This time, he didn’t hold back.

  Using the techniques that John taught him, Darren blasted the rampant loup-garou with his dominance, funneling it into a concentrated hit right at Dustin’s chest. Dustin shuddered, but wouldn’t give way just yet as he tried to buck and roll to get the true alpha off his back. With Darren’s claws lodged firmly in his flesh, Dustin wasn’t likely to ride him out.

  His dominance increased, pushing it beyond anything he had ever tried before. Blood slid over his tongue and Darren let out a commanding growl. Dustin buckled to the ground, but wouldn’t submit yet, every line and muscle of his body tensed and ready to keep fighting.

  Taking a moment to reposition his mouth from the meat of Dustin’s shoulder to clamp around his thick neck, Darren knew he had him. Dustin cried out and his triangular ears folded back against his head. Lips closed over pearly white teeth and his tail curled up between his legs before Darren allowed him to roll onto his back. By exposing his soft, vulnerable stomach, Dustin was admitting defeat.

  Darren gave his neck a shake for good measure and released, but he wasn’t done yet. It might have been foolish or presumptuous, but just because he was broken didn’t mean that he would comply as a subordinate. This was John’s part to play, not Darren’s. But something deep within him compelled him to do this. His wolf had wanted it since the moment they brought him back to their home in Landes Forest.

  Straddling over Dustin, Darren created the pack bond, establishing himself as the alpha. He had never done it before, never had it explained. And yet, he instinctively knew how to do it, just the same. John often said that it was a spiritual linkage between the wolves of a pack. He made sure that each of the boys at the chateau could feel it or at least sense part of it. Only when they became a member of a pack outside of Albi would they know the true oneness of being connected with other loups-garous like themselves. Through the bond, they shared one another’s joy, their pain, and sometimes they could even sense how far away they were from their alpha. Darren had experienced this bond first hand with the pack John placed him in, but that tie was severed long ago when he left and met Eleanor in Bordeaux.

  Linking their wolves might have been lunacy. They weren’t destined to stay together, but something in him said that this was right. This was why the tides brought Dustin to him that day on the beach.

  When the bonding was complete, Darren jumped off of Dustin and admired what he had accomplished. He had broken his first loup-garou and taken on the role that John had always wished he would take. Darren was an alpha now, and by all the signs, it looked like Dustin was fated to be a beta.

  Chapter Eight

  Eleanor stared at the empty space beside her in the bed and how Darren’s pillow was still indented from when he last laid his head there to rest. It had only been a day, but she missed him already. She tried to comfort herself in the knowledge that he would return within the next few days, but this perpetual ache in her chest would not subside. The loneliness was difficult to bear, especially when Lucy was suffering just as much.

  Darren had never been away from them for this long. Before he left, he made sure that she knew how to shoot the rifle and that it was loaded in case an emergency should come up. She saw that unlikely since they had no neighbo
rs who were close enough to speak of and no one but her father and the rest of the pack knew where they were. Still, that didn’t keep her from going rigid at every sudden noise outside of their little cottage.

  During the day, it was easier to ignore the absence of her husband. She could busy her hands with cleaning, cooking, or the chores that were usually reserved for Darren while he wasn’t away in town. And her mind would be occupied by supervising Lucy’s lessons between chores. But now, when the darkness closed in and the moonlight slanted across the floor to give just enough light to remind her that Darren was miles away, a silent tear slid down Eleanor’s face.

  She chided herself for being so silly. They had been married for seven years. Such mawkish feelings should have been expected out of a newlywed, but not a woman of her age and breeding. But she wasn’t like any typical woman. She had built her life around the loups-garous, was raised with them and came to recognize them as part of her identity. To not have one so near, to not have her husband beside her, was like missing a piece of herself. Lucy would come to understand this feeling in the years to come and Eleanor dearly hoped that her daughter would never forsake the safety and familial ties of a pack.

  Tiny feet slapped against the floorboards as Lucy left her room and hurried to Eleanor’s. Unable to sleep anyway, she rolled over and sat up to see her daughter poke her head through the door.

  “Mama,” she whined, “I had a nightmare. May I sleep with you?”

  With a kind smile, Eleanor nodded and motioned for her to join her on the bed. Lucy eagerly dashed forward and hopped onto the mattress before curling up to her mother. The bed was far too vacant anyway and perhaps with Lucy’s company, Eleanor would find some rest too.

  Just before sleep claimed her, Eleanor heard Lucy’s sad voice in the darkness. “I miss papa.”

  She opened her eyes and saw her daughter playing with a thread that had come loose from the pillow case beneath her head. Little hands twisted at the cotton, making it unravel and fray. In any other circumstance, Eleanor might have scolded her and told her to leave it alone. This time, she didn’t. She understood, as any mother would, that her daughter was just as restless and anxious as she was.

  “I miss him too,” she said before taking her daughter’s fidgeting hand and planting a kiss on the back of her fingers. “But you must sleep now.”

  Lucy nodded and closed her eyes, those eyes that were so much like Darren’s. Within moments, she could hear her child’s steady, slow breaths that told Eleanor she was finally asleep.

  She was ready to do the same before she thought she heard something from just beyond their bedroom wall.

  Eleanor went still and listened closely, holding her own breath for a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t just the wind. She heard it again. A rustling in the thicket. Disregarding it as a deer, she relaxed. It was only when a dark shadow interrupted the steady beam of moonlight that she bolted upright and threw off the comforter.

  This, of course, roused Lucy from her sleep and she rubbed at her eyes. “What is it?” she asked.

  Eleanor shushed her and ran to the window. Without opening it, she looked as far as she could to the left and right, but couldn’t see anything. She listened again, hoping perhaps to hear the uttered words of another person outside their home. Anything to give her some clue as to who was out there. But she could hear little beyond her own hammering heartbeat in her ears.

  She swallowed hard and rushed to the bed to snatch up the rifle that was tucked underneath the mattress. With the gun in one hand, she took Lucy by the arm and guided her out of the bedroom. As soon as she came to the hall, she saw the shadowy figure pass by another window.

  Eleanor pulled Lucy into the guest room where Dustin had stayed. The curtains were still drawn, but if this intruder had a pair of good ears, they would have heard their footsteps creaking the floorboards.

  She fell to her knees and threw aside the woven rug that concealed the secret door Darren had constructed just for situations as this. “Do you remember the way through the woods to get to Bordeaux?” she whispered to her daughter.

  Frightened eyes went wide, and she nodded.

  “Go through the cellar and escape out the hatch toward the back of the house, but wait for my signal. You remember what that was, right?”

  Lucy, almost frozen in her fear, had to think about their secret code. “One knock for run and two knocks for safe.”

  Eleanor kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Good girl. If I give you that signal to run, go find your grandfather. Allez.” She opened the trap door and helped her daughter ease down just as there came a crash from the main room.

  With trembling hands, she concealed the trap door and rushed out, gun ready to fire. A man charged at her just as she came through the doorway and grabbed the barrel of the rifle before she had time to aim.

  She pulled the trigger, though her one bullet would be shot through the ceiling. The man immediately let go of the muzzle that was too hot to handle and instead snatched Eleanor up by the arms and tossed her to the floor. The rifle fell from her hands and rolled out of reach. Another man turned his gun on her, but neither fired just yet.

  She glared at the men who were cloaked from head to foot in black clothes, making them look like midnight ghosts in the dim light of the room. Only their faces were unconcealed, two pairs of hateful eyes peering down at her. One man was taller, blonde, and with a more confident air about him that told her he must have been the more experienced of the two. The other wasn’t so fair and a little broader in the chest and shoulders.

  “Where is he?” the stocky one asked in English.

  “Je ne parle pas anglais,” she said fiercely, coloring every word with disdain. She knew exactly who these men were and what they wanted with her.

  “Ton mari,” the other hunter questioned in French. “Your husband. Where is he?”

  “He died years ago,” she lied.

  The man speaking gave a sardonic laugh and stepped closer. “We know he is loup-garou,” he said. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated more vehemently, then pounded her fist on the floor. It was Lucy’s signal, but they would never know that.

  The shorter of the two hunters, the one who couldn’t speak French, lifted her to her feet as his partner aimed his pistol at her chest. “Then where is your daughter?”

  Eleanor felt the hunter’s grip tighten over her arms and she winced at the bruise it would leave later. “I don’t have a daughter.”

  “I doubt you live out here in the middle of the forest all by yourself, madam.” The hunter grabbed for her hand and turned it over until her palms were facing upward. “These are the hands of a lady, not a worker. No callouses. And yet there is freshly chopped wood against the side of the house.”

  She had hoped these hunters weren’t as smart as her father portrayed them to be. “A friend from town chops my wood,” she said.

  The hunter dropped her hand and pointed to the doll that Lucy had left in Darren’s armchair. “And I suppose your friend has a daughter too?” Eleanor wouldn’t release the man from her glower as he repeated his question one more time. “Where are they?”

  She refused to answer, keeping her lips held tight, though all she wanted to do was shout curses at them. They could do whatever they wanted to her, but she would never tell them the truth.

  The hunter pulled back the hammer on his pistol and took aim at her heart. “If you won’t tell me where your husband and child are, will you tell me where the Irishman is?”

  Eleanor kept her composure. “I don’t – “

  “Choose your words wisely, my dear. Don’t lie to me again.”

  Thinking back on those first few words that were spoken in English, she realized that these two men were just like Dustin. They were from Ireland. Had these hunters tracked him all the way to France? Why? What had Dustin done to deserve such dogged determination? Whoever had paid them must have been rich to afford their
services. It didn’t matter now. They still wouldn’t find him. They hadn’t told any of her father’s pack about Dustin or their impromptu trip to Albi. The hunters wouldn’t have a single clue to follow once she was out of the way.

  And she knew she wouldn’t survive. Out of all the stories her father had told her about the loup-garou life, hunters were the stuff of nightmares, the people to be avoided and feared. They killed without mercy and saw the people she loved as nothing but worthless animals to be slaughtered. The families of the loups-garous would not be spared, and neither would she. But she would fight for as long as she could if it meant that Lucy and Darren were saved.

  “Deny everything and lie through your teeth until your tongue couldn’t move anymore”, her father had warned her.

  “He isn’t here,” she said softly.

  “Where is he?” the hunter demanded again.

  She saw his finger tighten over the trigger. Then, his gaze darted toward one of the windows behind her that looked out toward the forest. He let out a curse and lowered his gun. They must have spotted Lucy running through the trees. Her cream-colored nightgown would stand out in the moonlight and Eleanor wished she had wrapped her in a dark coat before hiding her away. It would have helped mask her escape.

  She dove for the pistol to wrench it out of the hunter’s hand, but he was too quick. He slammed the handle against her temple, making her world spin for a moment. The hunter who had been holding her at bay eased her to the ground as the other rushed out the door to pursue Lucy.

  It took a moment for Eleanor to gather her wits about her. When she did, she realized that the hunter had left her in the main room, perhaps thinking that she was unconscious. He was making his way through the rest of the house, inspecting for any hidden loups-garous.