The Lonely Wolf

by Monica La Porta

  “I know.” Passing a hand through his hair it felt longer than usual, and Ludwig realized he hadn’t shaved his head that morning. Since the day before, he had been preoccupied with meeting Lupo. His hope to resolve the matter fast had died the moment he saw how stubborn the werewolf was. Trying to explain to a renegade the Immortal Council wanted to help him, was like trying to reason with a vampire that the sun wasn’t evil. “Give me one last chance to talk to him alone, then he’s all yours.”

  On his way back to the living room, Ludwig grabbed a soda can from the fridge. He also quickly turned on his cell phone to check his email. Ten new messages had arrived in the last hour, all of them flagged as urgent. On top of the list, there was an email from Azahel, asking to visit Ludwig’s office at the Immortal Council’s headquarters to take measurements. I’m not gone yet, he thought angrily. He shut off his phone and mentally prepared for his next round with the boy.

  “You must be thirsty.” With cautious movements, he deposited the can on the coffee table before Lupo. “I understand your reticence. I do. But if you don’t open your mouth to answer yes or no to my question, someone I love will go through an enormous deal of unnecessary trouble.”

  Lupo finally shifted on the sofa. “How much is this answer worth to you?”

  Ludwig inwardly smiled, happy that his ruse had worked. Blackmail was a language the boy would understand. He should have thought of making himself look vulnerable earlier on, but usually he didn’t have any need for it.

  Angels were proud and they seldom resorted to subterfuge to obtain what they thought they were entitled to. An angel only had to open his mouth to unleash his Wrath and kill or maim whomever was unlucky enough to be on his path. Even though Ludwig disagreed with his own race on their conceited opinions, he still was an angel and expected people to obey him. The years disguised as an immortal had been quite the eye opener for him. Something he was thankful for.

  “As I said, I need to know if that pin is yours.”

  “I answer and you let me go.”

  “You answer and I promise you’ll have a good lawyer representing you.”

  “I walk out or nothing.”

  “I wasn’t the only one who saw you in Castel Gandolfo. An eyewitness positively identified you on the premises, and I was there when you tried to kill a vampire. You do understand your predicament, don’t you?” Ludwig walked to the open window overlooking the Tiber and on the other side of the river the Immortal Council’s headquarters, Castel Sant’ Angelo.

  “I wasn’t there—” Lupo’s voice was higher than a moment ago.

  Turning, Ludwig opened his wings by the side. “Not sure you are aware that I am the Archangel.” He wondered if the boy knew what his office meant. “My word is sacred.”

  A derisive cough was followed by Lupo rolling his eyes heavenward.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Ludwig couldn’t help a raised eyebrow, and his now cold expression must have made an impression because the werewolf visibly blanched. “And even if my word weren’t the law, the victim has already testified giving a description that matches the eyewitness’s one.” Waving his hand to the side, he extended his wings to their full span which reached the opposite walls. All the rooms in his apartment were large enough to accommodate his need to stretch once in a while. “But I have the power to make life easier for you if I am so inclined.”

  The cub didn’t need to know Ludwig would have helped him anyway.

  “So, for the last time—” Ludwig stopped the boy before he could utter yet another lie. “Think twice before your answer, because I won’t ask again.” He pointed his chin at the door. “The enforcer and the controller are waiting for me to release you in their care.”

  Without lowering his eyes, Lupo relaxed his stance and stretched his legs in front of him. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  Although Ludwig admired the kid’s boldness and disliked to play games, he knew he had to act cold until the truth finally came out. “It depends. If you finally decide to cooperate, I’ll make sure you are taken care of.”

  “And if I don’t?” Lupo’s blue eyes sparkled with rebellion.

  Quintilius would have loved this boy.

  The thought lingered in his mind longer than necessary, then Lupo frowned and brought one finger to his temple and Ludwig’s heart skipped a beat at the image that was too familiar. Quintilius used to frown in the same exact way.

  “What happens to me if I don’t give you what you want?” the werewolf asked once again, shaking Ludwig from the temporary spell he had fallen in.

  “You already know the answer. If convicted, and the Vampire Nation will make sure of that, you’ll go straight to Regina Coeli since you are not a minor anymore.” With a shrug, Ludwig caressed his jaw. “The vampires will hire the best lawyer…” He let the rest of the sentence trail away as he studied the boy’s reaction.

  The more Ludwig looked at him, the more he wondered about his alpha-demeanor and the little quirks that made the boy unique and yet so similar to Quintilius in certain aspects. Same build, same mannerism, although those were shared traits in alphas. And yet at a closer look, his facial traits too reminded Ludwig of Quintilius. But then again, the boy had startling blue eyes, a shade Ludwig had never seen before, with a brown and gold ring around the pupil, whereas Quintilius’s were dark brown.

  I miss him so much, I see my wolf everywhere, Ludwig chided himself. I need a good flight.

  Crossing his ankles, Lupo said, “You said you’ll provide a lawyer for me—”

  “I will.” The boy was ready to give in, but Ludwig wasn’t proud of how he had reached his goal. “I won’t leave you alone.”

  Lupo nodded. “The pin is mine.” He averted his eyes, directing his gaze outside. “I guess it fell out of my jacket that day.”

  Despite the long pause that followed, Ludwig felt the werewolf hadn’t finished and waited for him to talk.

  Several seconds of awkward silence passed before Lupo shook his head and asked with a choked voice, “Is the bloodsucker alive?”

  “Yes, I arrived just in time to save him. At least you won’t be tried for murder.”

  “It’s not that. I mean I’m glad about it, but I needed to know if he was alive or if…” The cub’s façade crumbled and he sobbed once before hiding his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to kill him. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

  Before Ludwig could say something to calm Lupo, Ravenna stormed into the room and took the boy in her arms.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry,” she said while cradling him.

  Peter had walked inside too and was now at the boy’s side. “We’ll help you.”

  Ludwig collapsed on the couch opposite the trio. “Why did you have that pin?” The question couldn’t be delayed any longer.

  Looking up from the comfort of Ravenna’s embrace, Lupo wiped his eyes. “What?”

  “Why did you have Quintilius’s clan pin on you?” Enunciating the words slow, Ludwig shook his head at Ravenna who gave him a reproachful stare. “It can’t wait,” he whispered to her. Maternity had truly changed the stern enforcer.

  His eyes suddenly dry and focused on Ludwig, Lupo sat straight. “I’ve been carrying around that stupid pin since I was eight years old. It brought me nothing but pain.”

  “But why did you have it?” Ravenna softly asked.

  “Because I wanted that bastard to be my father.”

  There was something about Lupo’s curt answer that worried Ludwig.

  Then Lupo said, “Too bad now that I know he is my father, I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”

  And the whole room fell into astonished silence, while all the pieces of a puzzle Ludwig had been staring at all along finally composed a complete picture.

  Chapter Eight

  Another busy day in the office for Quintilius, who would have done without Ludwig calling him when he was about to take his lunch break. Only powered by espresso, he spent the afternoon thinking ab
out the angel while trying to review the contracts Iris had sent to him earlier in the morning.

  “Why are you so agitated?” Camelia asked during dinner, while Quintilius served her a small portion of lasagna.

  They were eating in the kitchen. Quintilius wasn’t in the mood for the formality of the dining room. After giving the staff the night off, he had asked Camelia if she wanted to keep him company as he cooked.

  Lowering his fork to the porcelain plate with the wolf head and laurels circling its edge, he answered, “He called, earlier today—”

  “I thought you explained to Ludwig you didn’t want to hear from him any longer.” She placed her hands on her lap and gave him an unblinking gaze, her head slightly tilted to the side exposing her long neck.

  As often happened when Quintilius was in her presence, he couldn’t help but think about the love mark that should have graced her flawless skin. The result was always the same, overwhelming guilt gnawing at Quintilius’s guts. Especially when he talked about his doomed love life with her, which lately happened on a daily basis.

  “I was adamant about it, but he said that we need to meet as soon as possible.” Quintilius played with the food in his plate. Making the lasagna with the béchamel and the artichokes had taken several hours, but now the delicacy lay cold and untouched on his plate.

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, he didn’t. Apparently, it’s not something we can discuss over the phone.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “You know I’m putty in his hands.” He pushed his plate away and folded his arms over the table. “I’m not strong enough yet. I need time.”

  “A love that lasted for so long can’t be erased in a day.”

  “I suppose not, but I need to feel in control. He must understand it’s over.”

  “Is it, my alpha?”

  Shaking his head, Quintilius chuckled. “There are days when I feel it will never be over, but life must go on. My priority is my clan. I never moped and I won’t start now.”

  “Sometimes, crying is the best cure there is.” Camelia wheeled around the table, until she was by his side and took his hands in hers. “You must mourn before you heal.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have that kind of freedom.” He brought her hands to his heart, looking for solace.

  “Then unleash your sorrow now, with me.” She pressed her hands over his chest. “Let your wolf out.”

  “You know I never would around you—” Shocked by her request, he leaned away and studied her face. “Why would you even propose something like that?”

  Her wolf had been severely damaged when she poisoned herself, and as a result she couldn’t fully shift.

  Despite Camelia always proclaiming she knew what she was doing when she took the curare, at the time she had barely understood the ramifications of her gesture. She wanted out of their arranged marriage and accepted help from Alberto Giudici, also known as the Apothecary. One of Iris’s friends and an immortal, Giudici procured the pricey poison for Camelia and instructed her on how to brew a tea she would drink before the bonding ceremony.

  When Quintilius confronted the Apothecary regarding Camelia’s tragedy, he told him Camelia must have miscalculated the amount of curare she needed and caused both her paralysis and her wolf’s. Giudici regretted having sold her the poison, but he claimed her sister had insisted he helped Camelia. Quintilius had never trusted the man after that and when it turned out Giudici was an assassin with delusion of grandeur, he was saddened but not surprised.

  The aftermath of a series of poor decisions was that Camelia would never be considered a shifter again, and yet she would go through changing pains once a month when the moon was full. During those nights, to minimize her suffering, Quintilius would sedate her, so that she would wake the next morning sore but without remembering anything.

  For the same reason, Quintilius had never shifted before her and had ordered everyone in the house to take their monthly run at Reserve. He would never subject her to the sight of a wolf, when she could never unleash hers ever again.

  Camelia smiled at him. “It’s about time you let me help you. You’ve always been here for me and never asked anything in return—”

  “None of what you just said is true.” He couldn’t help but point at her thin legs resting at an angle.

  “Not again. Please.” She squeezed his hands.

  “Then stop talking nonsense.”

  “Let your wolf out,” she repeated.

  “Please…”

  “I can guide you through a cleansing.” Camelia’s clan was famous for their healers. Camelia herself was one of the strongest healers ever born in Spain. Before her accident, people camped outside her house in Salamanca, hoping she would see them. One of the reasons she had been chosen for Quintilius was because of her talent. As an alpha, she used her special bond to her wolf to read other people’s energies. Aura-reader was her official title. Only a handful in the whole world were left and she had been the strongest of them all.

  “It will hurt you and I can’t have that, not even if you had the power to mend my broken heart.” Quintilius softly bumped his forehead against hers.

  “It’s my choice.”

  He felt her smile. “And I am your alpha.”

  “And I don’t care.”

  “My sweet Camelia, always so stubborn.”

  “My handsome Quintilius, always so noble.”

  His wolf howled without restraint, taking Quintilius by surprise.

  “Let him,” Camelia whispered, her fingers grazing his wrists in circular patterns, pressing on his vital points the way she had shown him so long ago.

  At the beginning of their mandated courtship, Quintilius had come to visit her the night before a full moon with a huge headache—he never told her but he had seen Ludwig a few hours earlier and they had fought over Quintilius’s impending nuptials. Without a word, Camelia took his hands and explained to him how her power worked. When she drained herself before his eyes to alleviate his suffering, he realized how special she was.

  A sense of déjà vu possessed Quintilius at the sight of her trembling as she became colder and he grew warmer and stronger instead. “Please, don’t—” His wolf didn’t let him finish, but called forth Camelia’s wolf before Quintilius could stop him. “No!”

  At the same time, Camelia’s wolf answered with a low whine, but she didn’t sound in pain. In Quintilius’s mind, the elegant animal lay on her side, among a field of white flowers, her beautiful eyes vigilant, her paws resting over crushed blossoms. His wolf trotted with a joyful gait and reached her, then nuzzled her flank. When he saw she wouldn’t move, the wolf lowered himself beside her and licked her fur with low soothing strokes.

  Love, sister.

  Love, brother.

  Feel?

  See you. Better.

  Too long. Miss you.

  Miss you too.

  Run soon, together?

  Wish.

  Wish too.

  Heartache?

  Yes.

  Help you.

  Please.

  Quintilius’s wolf rested his head against her fur and let Camelia’s wolf lick him as he had done to her a moment ago. When she did it though, soft white light poured out from her muzzle and slowly covered him like a blanket of warm energy. As it had happened that first time, his wolf relaxed and Quintilius experienced the healing effects of Camelia’s powers and his anguish receded.

  The black void that had taken his heart hostage for the entire day lightened, and the weight over his chest was lifted. Positive thoughts entered his mind, and he saw his wolf rolling in the grass, showing his belly to the she-wolf who kept licking him. The healing light engulfed him, intensifying in radiance and warmth, until his wolf couldn’t see and feel anything else but her aura, lulled into a pleasant stupor by her essence.

  Pure-hearted and selfless, the she-wolf cured Quintilius and his wolf until her aura was drained and she couldn’t keep her head up any long
er. With a contented whine, she laid her head down and looked at him from the ground.

  All better, brother.

  Love you, sister.

  The she-wolf closed her eyes then, and Quintilius opened his to find Camelia slumped against her chair, her hands still holding his. Knowing what to do next didn’t lessen his worry for her, and when he cradled her frail body in his arms he whispered, “My little warrior, what am I going to do with you?”

  Light as a feather, her long hair cascading over his arms, she didn’t give any sign of consciousness as he took her to her apartments.

  Her rooms were adjacent to his, as befitted to a she-wolf of her rank—an alpha domus, a chief werewolf’s domain, always had his and her quarters. The practice originated in the Roman ages, when marriages among alphas were dictated by politics and were instrumental to clan survival. Love had nothing to do in the union of two strong-willed werewolves, and those married couples usually sought affection outside of their legal bonding. Henceforth, the need for privacy and separate spaces at home.

  Among public scandal, not only had Quintilius kept Camelia by his side, but he treated her as if she were the rightful she-alpha of Casolare del Lupo. Soon after he instated her in the house, a few alphas from neighboring clans challenged him, claiming that he perverted all the sacred laws by allowing a crippled werewolf to act like an alpha.

  Behind the uproar there were scheming fathers with eligible daughters and great ambitions. The result of those challenges was that Quintilius’s clan acquired the best part of the Umbro and Neapolitan territories. After one alpha too many lost his life, the rest of the lesser clans decided that Quintilius could do what he wanted with the crippled bitch. No one ever had the courage to utter the words to Quintilius’s face, but he knew of the rumors and didn’t care. As long as no one openly disrespected Camelia, he was fine with that.

  Looking down at her still form, he was reminded once again how much she was worth protecting. He walked the whole length of the hall, pushed open the door to her apartments, and entered a small vestibule lit by soft illumination coming from terracotta sconces. The perfume of fresh cut freesias reached him and he couldn’t help a smile. Vases with floral arrangements dotted every surface in the room. Camelia loved her garden, and it wasn’t a coincidence she stirred in his arms a few seconds later. Her flowers re-energized her. She had explained to him that her powers were connected to trees and plants, because she drew strength from the natural realm.