The Lonely Wolf

by Monica La Porta

  “Yes, I’ve already thought to contact a guy I know.” Halting his pacing, Ludwig gazed at the window.

  The first light of the morning illuminated the room in white, and storms of birds flew in ever-changing formations above the canopy of Mediterranean Pine trees.

  “Go out, stretch your wings.” Quintilius nudged the angel’s boot with the point of his shoe. “Come back in two hours, and we’ll go pay a visit to your audio technician.”

  Ludwig mouthed a, “Thank you,” then dropped a kiss on Camelia’s head, and on his way out, he brushed Quintilius’s mouth.

  Camelia stared after the angel, then said with a smirk, “A few things have changed while I was in a coma.”

  “We’re trying to fix our mess.” Quintilius passed a finger over his lips where Ludwig’s warmth still lingered. “One day at a time.”

  “Good.” She pulled her knees up with her hands, then hugged them from over the linen sheet. “And Lupo? Am I going to meet him anytime soon?”

  “You’ll get to visit him, as soon as you are out of here. He’s in Regina Coeli—”

  “For the vampire’s attempted murder?”

  “No, not for that one. He had an accident, and his soulmate died as a result.” Quintilius pinched the bridge of his nose, then explained what had happened to his son in the few days Camelia had been unconscious.

  At the end of his tale, he had a furious headache, and Camelia was in tears.

  “Poor Lupo…” She sniffled. “I can’t even imagine what kind of pain he must be suffering for his mate’s loss. And she was a Purist. Their bond is stronger than other shifters.” Her eyes went far away.

  “You should’ve seen him. He’s bigger than me, but looked so small when the Purist’s lawyer was accusing him of—” A knock on the door stopped him. “Come in.”

  A nurse peered inside and said, “I apologize, alpha, but there’s an urgent phone call for you.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He patted Camelia’s knee and followed the nurse into the hallway. “Who is it?”

  “She said her name is Iris and that she’s Camelia’s sister.” The nurse hesitated before adding, “She sounded distressed, as if she was crying.” At the desk, she handed him the phone, then stepped away to give him some privacy.

  Quintilius thanked her, then brought the handset to his ear. “Quintilius speaking.”

  “Quintilius! She’s going to kill me. Pay the ransom or—” Iris screamed and the sound was bloodcurdling. Then the line went silent for a few seconds.

  “Iris?” Quintilius was about to hang up when he heard a second voice in the distance, then steps echoing closer.

  “Five million euros or she dies,” a man said before the call dropped.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ludwig listened to the were-bat audio technician blathering about static noise and the plague of birds storming over the city at all hours for a good five minutes before interrupting him. “Can you tell me something about that recording?” Pointing at Quintilius’s cell phone in the guy’s big hands, he gave the shifter a raised brow that went unnoticed.

  The young man, whose chubby face made him look like a cherub and not a bat-shifter, gestured at his cluttered table with a grin. “I’ve been telling you all along. Birds. They are everywhere in Rome, because they love our pine trees. And they are in the background of the message.”

  Quintilius had elected to stand by the door of the dusty audio lab, but at the last statement moved closer to Ludwig. “So she was in Rome when she called.”

  “Yes, most definitely.” The were-bat played with the dials of one of the bulky instruments on the desk. “There was water nearby.” He tilted his head to the side. “And speedboats. Listen.” He turned the volume up on the metal cube with buttons.

  The recording played back amplified and cleaned of Iris’s voice and of the birds’ incessant calls.

  Ludwig heard both the whooshing sound of waves hitting a shore and the roaring engines of the speedboats.

  “Cool, ah?” The young man beamed. “Without a doubt, the phone call was made close to an area that has pine trees and borders a highly trafficked strip of water.”

  “I think I know where such a place might be.” Ludwig patted the guy’s arm. “Excellent job. Send me the bill.”

  “Always a pleasure to work for you, archangel.” The technician waved at Ludwig and Quintilius as they left.

  “Where to?” Quintilius asked when they were outside in the street.

  “To Shifter Washer. Not inside the city proper, but close enough to Rome and with plenty of Mediterranean pine trees, water from the Tiber River, and speedboats.”

  “It sounds too good to be true.”

  “We are due for some good luck.” He opened his arms for Quintilius and took off, eager to find out if his gut was right.

  He flew on autopilot, cradling his wolf’s head to his chest to minimize his discomfort, and several minutes later, he reached one of the last bends of the Tiber before it stretched into the ocean. Hidden among the rocky terrain and the thick forest of pine trees, the vampire nest sat on a ridge overlooking a half-moon bay.

  Sweeping low, he took in several details at once. The bay was deserted but for one tender moored to the concrete and wooden dock. Besides the birds and the crashing waves, Ludwig heard the low hum of a generator. As expected during the day, no sounds came from the nest.

  Ludwig circled above the structure built to harmonize with the surrounding nature. Pleasant to the eye, but difficult to find if one didn’t know what to look for. As much as vampires loved innovative architecture, their main concern when the nest was erected was to make it invisible from the coast. They had succeeded in their effort.

  On his third swipe of the area, Quintilius pointed at an isolated rock formation. “Fly lower.”

  Ludwig descended toward the slope and saw the squared walls that didn’t belong to the terrain. “Let’s take a closer look.” He landed, let Quintilius down, then walked to a building that resembled an oversized garden shed.

  “Only animal footprints.” Quintilius pointed at the numerous signs of differently shaped paws on the ground. He walked around the construction that didn’t have windows, and from around the opposite corner he called Ludwig. “There are no visible entries.”

  The detail made Ludwig’s hair stand up. “So, they either access the shed from beneath the floor or from the roof.” He levitated over the construction and had his hunch confirmed. “There’s a hatch door covered by the tiles.” Pulling at the metal handle that had given away the opening’s location, he lifted a square portion of the roof.

  A strong whiff of biological waste and blood wafted up, and Ludwig recoiled at the sudden assault.

  “What’s that?” Quintilius asked.

  “Nothing good, judging from the smell alone.” Ludwig could see a still form outlined by the light he had let in. He tucked his wings away, sat on the edge of the opening, then jumped in, careful not to land on top of the soiled heap of rags downstairs.

  “Ludwig?”

  “Found something—” He leaned over the form that at a closer inspection revealed to be a barely breathing person, realized who it was lying in a pool of blood, and swore.

  “That’s Iris’s scent,” Quintilius said.

  A moment later, a loud thump echoed on the roof, and when he raised his eyes to the ceiling, Quintilius was peering down from the hatch’s opening.

  “Stay up there, I can barely move around.” He focused back on his task to raise Quintilius’s secretary without hurting her.

  “For Hecate’s sake, what happened to her?”

  “I guess we were right about her location, but we were wrong about the kidnapping. She didn’t fake it.” Ludwig cradled the woman in his arms. “I can’t use my Wrath, there isn’t enough room and my voice could echo around and hit Iris. Jump down and open an exit for me from the outside, please.”

  “Sure.” A whooshed thump followed, then Quintilius’s voice came from Lu
dwig’s right. “I’ll punch my way in from this side.”

  “Okay.” Ludwig gave his back to the wall Quintilius would demolish, so that he could shield Iris from the debris since he couldn’t open his wings and cocoon her.

  The first powerful punch shook the shed, while the second went through the wall. “Just a moment.” Quintilius widened the opening with a few more punches. Chunks of tuff bricks fell to the ground, raising red dust all over the place. “Almost done.” Two kicks later, light inundated the shed and mixed with the bricks’ particles that saturated the air. “It should be large enough for you,” he said in between sneezes. “Great Wolf, all that blood—”

  Turning toward Quintilius’s voice, Ludwig covered Iris’s head with his hand, then stepped out of the uneven hole in the wall.

  “Crap,” Quintilius brought his hand to his face, covering his mouth and nostrils. “She’s covered in bruises, and cuts, and—”

  The stench emanating from the woman’s body spoke of torture and degradation. She was covered in filth, not only hers.

  Iris stirred, and Ludwig rearranged her weight in his arms.

  “You came…” she whispered, her voice a low gurgle as blood trickled down from her swollen and cut lips. “I didn’t think you would.” She convulsed, her eyes rolled to white, then her body went still, her limbs dangling.

  “I must take her to the hospital.” Ludwig checked her pulse, and found it was weakening. “I don’t think she’ll make it to the next full moon.” He took a step, but Quintilius motioned for him to wait.

  “I sense something.” Quintilius uncovered his nose and gave Iris a long sniff. “Curare. She has been fed her own poison. Whoever took her made sure she wouldn’t heal.”

  “I’ll let the hospital know.” At Quintilius’s nod, Ludwig stepped away from the shed. “I’ll come back to pick you up.” He opened his wings in the middle of the clearing and took off.

  He reached the ER’s entrance at the Tiberina Island in autopilot, and after leaving Iris in the hands of the nurses and doctors who rushed to their help, he flew back to Fiumicino.

  Quintilius was in wolf form when he landed on the clearing atop the ridge. The regal animal was pacing before the shed, his nuzzle pushing through the debris. When he sensed Ludwig, he shifted back into his naked human form.

  Ludwig stretched, then shook his wings to get rid of the dew covering his feathers—he had flown through a thick formation of clouds to cool his head. “Did you find anything?”

  “Plenty, but you aren’t going to like it.” Quintilius’s eyes went to the shed.

  “I’m starting to think that’s my motto nowadays.” Ludwig stepped closer to the rubble, then toed the broken bricks with the tip of his boot, sending red dust everywhere. “Let me guess, vampires weren’t Iris’s only visitors.” His prodding upturned a segment of a brick that rolled a few centimeters to the left, and stopped by a dark-gray feather with silver accents along the barbs. He reached down and picked it up, then angled it toward Quintilius before letting it fall back to the ground. “Azahel’s.”

  “How did you know?”

  Heaviness fell on Ludwig, and he shrugged. “I didn’t, I had a hunch though.”

  “I spotted a few vampires, but only one angel.” Quintilius walked to an olive tree a few steps away from the shed, and reached for one of the lowest branches where he retrieved a bundle of folded clothes sitting at the bend with the trunk.

  His eyes on Quin donning his jeans and shirt, Ludwig commented, “It takes only one of us to microwave someone from the inside out. Which reminds me that internal burning is something else the doctors in charge of Iris should check.” He took his cell phone and called the hospital. By the time he had finished his call, Quintilius was wearing his shoes. “Let’s go back to Tiberina Island.”

  ****

  “When is she going to be able to talk?” Quintilius asked the doctor who had just tended to Iris’s wounds.

  The doctor, an immortal, flinched. “She was tortured and drugged—”

  Ludwig stepped forward, his boots stomping the marble tiles, and looked down at the man who didn’t reach his shoulders. “It’s vital we ask her a few questions. Iris Del Rei is part of an ongoing investigation the Immortal Council wants to see cleared as soon as possible.”

  The doctor’s mien changed at the mention of the Council. “The patient is rehydrating, and with the drugs pumped out of her system, she’ll be okay to have visitors in half an hour. But you must promise me you’ll stay no longer than ten minutes.”

  Giving Quintilius a nod, Ludwig answered, “We’ll do our best.”

  Before leaving, the doctor told a young were-puma nurse to call him back if Iris’s vitals changed.

  Led by the vivacious nurse to yet another waiting room, an empty one, Quintilius thought he must have been in at least ten of those rooms in less than a week. “Good thing we don’t have to share the suit.” He considered the sofas, deciding which one was sturdy enough for the two of them.

  “Do you want to check on Camelia while we wait?” Ludwig eyed the small room from the entrance.

  “Nah, I don’t want to upset her with news of her sister before we have the whole picture. The fact Iris was kidnapped doesn’t excuse or explain all the rest she has done.” The couch facing the window had big cushions, and Quintilius walked to it and patted the velvet armrest. “Come here, sit with me. I need to take a breather from all this madness.”

  “We’ll take a vacation soon. I promise.” Ludwig strode through the room and let himself down on the couch with a thump. He stretched his legs before him and leaned against the backrest, one arm sneaking around Quintilius’s shoulder.

  Ludwig’s warmth never failed to soothe Quintilius’s nerves, and he rested his head on the angel’s chest. “In a year, when my son is out of prison.”

  Nodding, Ludwig brought a finger to Quintilius’s lower lip. “The day after Lupo is out, I’ll spirit you away to a faraway, deserted island. I’ll tie you down to the most luxuriously comfortable bed, and I’ll—”

  The door opened a crack, and Ravenna peered inside. “Hi, Ludwig, Quintilius.”

  Quintilius waved at her. “Come in.” He moved out of Ludwig’s embrace, but not in a hurry, and not because he was worried they had been caught. He was past that and was pleased for Ludwig’s lack of reaction as well.

  Ravenna entered, her trademark heels marking her progress toward the couch with a slow tick-tick-tick that came to a halt several steps from them. “I was sent by the Council to supervise your interrogation of Iris.” Her voice lacked confidence, and she had a contrite look on her face while she wrung her hands together.

  Quintilius gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m fine with it, don’t worry.”

  “Yes, don’t feel bad. I imagined the elders would send someone when it was reported Iris had internal burns.” Ludwig brought his knees together and leaned his elbows on them, supporting his chin on his palms. “It was actually me who recently asked the Immortal Council to have crimes investigated by a member of a different species from the victims. The archangel investigating one of his own would sound a lot like a bad case of collusion.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re both okay with it.” Ravenna nodded at Ludwig, then tilted her head toward Quintilius. “I’ve just heard from Samuel. He managed to talk the warden into putting Lupo in a cell all by himself.”

  “Thank the Great Wolf, and our fallen angel. At least one worry lifted from my shoulders.” Quintilius pressed a hand over his heart and let out a long breath. “How soon can I visit him?”

  Ravenna took a seat on the opposite corner. “Tomorrow afternoon. Visiting hours for the diurnals start at five o’clock.”

  Leaning against the backrest and raising his eyes to the ceiling, Quintilius silently thanked the god a second time. “Good. I don’t think I could’ve waited any longer to see my son. There’s so much we must talk about. So much I want to share with him. I’ve never been a parent before and—”


  “You’re already a great father for Lupo. With time, he’ll see it too.” Ludwig patted Quintilius’s knee.

  “I agree with him. Your love for Lupo is undeniable,” Ravenna said. “And he loves you too.”

  Quintilius was about to ask Ravenna how she knew, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

  “It is okay to see the patient,” the young nurse announced from the hallway.

  Upon entering Iris’s room, the scent of pain and shame emanating from the woman hit Quintilius’s senses with full force.

  Covered in gauze, Iris lay on the bed, attached to a machine that huffed in rhythm with her breathing. White casts covered both her arms and also her right leg peeking from under the sheet. She followed Quintilius’s gaze with half-closed eyes that had lost all their fire. “Alpha—” she started.

  Stopping in front of the bed, Quintilius shook his head. “You have lost the right to address me as such.”

  Ravenna walked to the side of the bed, took a recorder from her bag and showed it to the woman. “Iris Del Rei, we’ve met before. I’m here to represent the Immortal Council.”

  Ludwig stood a step behind Quintilius, his energy giving him the strength not to shout at Iris.

  “Enforcer Del Sarto.” Iris slightly nodded in acknowledgment, but kept her eyes on Quintilius’s, as if trying to avoid looking at the angel towering over him. “What do I get in return for cooperating?” Her voice was strained and hoarse, and she paused between words to take a breath.

  “Depending on the level of your cooperation, the Immortal Council is willing to reduce your sentence.”

  Iris lowered her chin in assent. “Ask what you are here to ask then.”

  “You are accused of having poisoned your sister for a long while—” Ravenna let the end of the sentence dangle like a question.

  “I have,” Iris said, without blinking.

  Quintilius’s rage surged, but Ludwig placed a hand on his shoulder.