Cloaked in Christmas: A Wulfkin Legacy Novella

by T. F. Walsh

  The wolf’s stunned body crashed into me. He whimpered. Still, his fangs grazed my shoulder, snagging fabric and flesh on the way down.

  I recoiled, grasping my wound.

  He collapsed with a thud but quickly scrambled back onto large paws. His dark fur bristled. His lips peeled back.

  The scratch would heal, but my leather jacket ... hell, it had been a gift from an alpha in Norway, specifically made to be fireproof and with multiple secret pockets in the lining.

  “Today’s training was a seek-and-find mission, not seek and attack.” My words boomed, sending birds fluttering out of the nearby trees.

  Aron’s ears flattened against his head, and he lowered his belly to the ground.

  “Draw on your wolf’s strength and remain in human form. Those were my instructions.” For months, I’d trained new pack members, and they still didn’t get it. We couldn’t hide who we were from humans forever. We had to learn to adapt. Controlling our wolf side was the answer. Damn it, we were wulfkin—half wolf, half man—and the moon didn’t control our wild side, so we sure as hell should be able to control it ourselves.

  A whine resonated from Aron’s chest.

  I dusted foliage and snow off my jeans. “We’re doing this again.”

  The crunch of snow sounded, and I turned to find Vincent, my second-in-command, striding closer with two other initiates alongside him, both in their pants and bomber jackets. Maybe the training wasn’t a complete loss.

  “The weather’s turning for the worse.” Vincent drew the collar of his black coat tight and wrapped his arms across his chest. Snow dotted his dark brown, cropped hair, and his cheeks were weather burned.

  Despite the lack of strong winds, the arctic cold sunk its teeth into my bones, just like Aron’s bite.

  Vincent’s gaze shifted to Aron, who now crouched naked in human form—hugging his knees, teeth chattering.

  I took off my jacket and tossed it to Aron. “Go put some clothes on and come back. We’re going another round.”

  “You heard him, wulfkin,” Vincent called out. “Another round.”

  Aron slipped into the jacket, nodded, and bolted toward the castle. The other initiates ran off into the woods behind us.

  Vincent stepped closer, his voice low and brittle. “Six mock hunts and he still shifts. Is he suited for our pack? We’re wasting our time.”

  I stared at my second-in-command, my friend and a wulfkin I considered a brother. The look in his deep-set eyes was pure trust. His honesty was refreshing and unrelenting. I’d grown up in a world surrounded by power-hungry wolves, and Vincent was a blessing.

  “He’ll pull through. Give him time.” I needed a loyal, strong, and large pack behind me. They had to trust in me and the direction I chose. So if it took twenty practice hunts to help initiates find their strength and curb the desire to turn, then twenty they’d get. If after that they showed no improvement, then they could return to Father’s pack.

  When I was sixteen, Father had encouraged me to become an alpha by taking over a neighboring pack because no son of his would simply inherit an alpha status. You must earn it. I followed his instructions in hope that it would make him proud of me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Months later, I stopped taking his advice on how to rule over my pack members. Fear never built loyalty—only gutless, selfish wulfkin who’d slit your throat at the first opportunity. Now, both my and Father’s packs lived in the Hungarian castle, and lucky for everyone, the place was large enough to avoid stepping on each other’s toes.

  Foliage snapped deeper in the woods. I stiffened; my gaze swept the woodland. A figure ran toward us from the direction of the castle.

  Father’s personal servant, an eighteen-year-old wulfkin with a red nose, emerged, his breaths labored. “Marcin.” He took a deep inhale, and his words rattled. “Varlac Emperor Levin is home and demands your immediate presence.”

  A quiet chill limped up my spine. Good ol’ cold and calculating Father caused panic the moment he’d arrived back home. “I’ll see him later.”

  “No. Please, he’ll beat me if you don’t show up.” The young wulfkin’s wide eyes pleaded with me.

  I gritted my teeth. When had my father ever created anything but chaos? Never.

  Vincent patted my arm. “Go. I’ll finish here.”

  I rubbed my eyes with frosty fingers. My instincts screamed at me to stay out in the woods all day and night, not giving my father the satisfaction of obedience.

  “The alpha ...” The young wulfkin’s voice cracked. “Is holding an urgent council meeting. Everyone’s in the great hall, waiting for you.”

  “Council meeting? What for?” The only time Father called urgent assembly was when he sprang yet another law change on all the wulfkin in his territories. As a Varlac emperor who ruled over every alpha and pack in Europe, it gave him the freedom to do so. But perhaps his arrival back home from Transylvania came with news about my brother, Enre, who lived with a pack in Romania. At the age of fourteen, he had run away from home, but I couldn’t blame him, not with the way Father used to beat him. Distance was his safest option. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow the fact that I’d lost a brother at such a young age.

  The wulfkin in front of me shrugged, his large coat giving the impression he was taller than he was. “Come. He’s impatient today.”

  “My father’s middle name is Impatient,” I responded with no exaggeration.

  Vincent broke into a deep chuckle. “Don’t think you have a choice. We’ll regroup later.”

  “Yep.” My voice strained. “Guess I don’t get to change my clothes either.” Blood stained the shoulder of my white shirt, the fabric shredded above the torn flesh that stung each time the wind brushed across the wound.

  Vincent retreated in the same direction as the initiates. I headed toward the castle.

  • • •

  My steps echoed off the stone walls, and shadows flickered across the dimly lit corridor like spies tracking my movements. Candelabras lined every inch of the castle. We didn’t live in medieval times, but Father insisted on the ambiance they created.

  Ahead, the ten-foot, double oak doors leading into the great hall were closed. The cast-iron doorknockers, formed in the shape of a wolf’s head with a deer leg in its jaws, mocked me. This room was Father’s stage. The one location where he gathered his fearful minions and dished out punishments to flaunt his power. Whatever sadistic decisions Father intended to showcase today would end up affecting me somehow. Always did.

  I pushed open the creaking doors, drawing everyone’s attention. Seventy or so wulfkin stood around in a large circle: Father’s pack, a handful of mine, and council members. The arched windows on one side of the room showed only the white sloping mountains behind the castle. No furniture filled this room since it was a place of business, as Father often said. The only sign of hospitality was the blazing fire roaring in the hearth centered on the back wall, but it did little to warm the large space.

  Wulfkin parted, and I stormed forward, my sights set on Father’s throne at this end of the circle of people. A bear’s pelt, complete with head and glassy eyes, hung from the back of his tall seat. Father’s trophy and bragging rights to anyone who’d listen.

  The moment I emerged from the crowd, my gaze fastened on two figures at the other end of the court. Ice filled my veins.

  Enre, my younger brother whom I hadn’t seen for the last twelve years, was on his knees, hands bound behind his back, mouth gagged, and chained with an iron collar tethered to the floor. Blood streaked his cheek. A welcome back hug from Father no doubt. A dark-haired beauty kneeling next to Enre was in the same plight. Who was she?

  “What the fuck is this?” The words tore past my throat.

  “Such language.” Father gave me a smarmy response. “Come take my side, son.”

  When Enre met my gaze, his features twisted into a grimace. Sure, we didn’t have the brotherly relationship I’d dreamed of. I didn’t blame him for loathing m
e. When we were growing up, Father had been unstoppable in his torment of Enre. The most I could do was divert him long enough for Enre to run away. Two broken ribs had been worth the knowledge that my younger brother would no longer be a punching bag.

  My thoughts numbed, bludgeoned to death by the sight in front of me. What the hell was going on? I lunged toward Enre and pulled on his restraints, the clangs a lonely song in the deathly silent room.

  “Someone give me the keys.” My voice thundered and echoed throughout the hall.

  “Enough of your theatrics, Marcin. Take your place next to me.” Father’s underlying tone carried venom, the kind promising repercussions.

  I stepped between the prisoners and the supposedly greatest leader of Europe. The solid wulfkin sat stiff in his ruling chair, silver strands above his temples giving the impression he had horns. Wouldn’t be far from the truth.

  “Is this how you welcome your son back home, with chains and gags? What message are you sending to your packs?”

  Father shifted in his seat, tightness capturing his thin lips. “If anyone crosses me—even my own blood—they’ll pay.”

  I moved closer, hands curled into fists. “How exactly has Enre crossed you? He’s your son, for moon’s sake. Weren’t you the one who taught me to check all my facts before making accusations?”

  He huffed. “I have the facts, and you’d better steady that sharp tongue.”

  My muscles flexed, urging me closer, and the inner wolf prodded my chest, ready to show Father a thing or two. “I won’t let you treat Enre like an animal ever again.”

  The rigid posture Father took, the way his fingers crushed the seat’s arm, were all warning signs of a volcanic eruption, punishment for defying him in public. But the explosion of fire in my chest would shadow his venting, leaving him choking on his own toxic cloud.

  Control yourself. Don’t destroy the trust you’ve built with him for years. I softened my expression.

  Father lifted himself out of his seat with the swiftness of a predator.

  While challenging my alpha to a fight would bring me the ultimate satisfaction, his guards would step in before I laid a hand on him. And my pack wasn’t large enough yet to take on his entire army. Killing him had crossed my mind, but with the council aware I intended to overthrow him, I’d be the number one suspect, meaning I’d be punished by death. The usual law of killing alphas to replace them didn’t apply to Varlac leaders. They had their own set of rules involving natural death, handing over the position to another, or having hard evidence proving he or she had broken a rule. A crafty Varlac in the past had made sure of these changes to the rules.

  The only reason I still lived in this hell of a castle with my pack was to keep my enemy close and plot his downfall.

  “Marcin. Either sit by my side or leave.” The coldness of Father’s words was a blade to my heart, but I couldn’t force my legs to move. Not when my brother remained chained, and I had a lifetime of atonement to make up for his treatment. I should have done more to protect him, should have taken the hits. Fear had been a crippling cancer.

  “At least unchain them. They aren’t going anywhere.” I approached and stood at Father’s side to show him I could play the game too.

  He sat back down and folded one leg over the other. A quick wave to someone in the crowd brought a tall wulfkin with more muscles than sense strutting toward Enre and his companion. Father’s minion removed the gags and ties from Enre and the female.

  When Father gave another wave, a second servant scurried over with a silver wine goblet. He handed it to Father, who sighed and backhanded the drink. The goblet clattered to the stone floor, and red liquid splashed across several spectators nearby. Father snatched the young wulfkin’s wrist. “How many times have I told you to always hand me blood wine in my right hand?” He raised his hand into a fist.

  The wulfkin shrank beneath Father’s iron grip.

  I seized Father’s arm. “Let’s focus on the topic at hand.”

  He tore free from my grasp and released the young wulfkin, who cowered and retreated into the crowd.

  Across from us, Enre rubbed his wrists. When he looked my way, his hooded gaze and arched eyebrow yelled confusion.

  Enre cut our staring match and turned his attention to Father. “You said the council would give us consent for Daciana”—he glanced at the dark-haired female next to him and back—“to hand over her pack and land to me. You agreed that Daciana and I would come here of our own free will to present our case to the council. Not to be sentenced.” His voice deepened. “I should have expected you wouldn’t hold true to your word.”

  So, that was Daciana? She was also a pack member from Transylvania. I’d heard many tales about her warrior-like skills along with her beauty. Well, the stories hadn’t been lying about her attractiveness, so I suspected she could hold her own in a battle. But I had no idea Daciana had taken over the Transylvanian pack from their now ex-alpha, Sandulf.

  I glanced at Enre, but his glare locked onto Father. A transfer of pack and land was acceptable under our rules as long as both alphas were of sound mind. So what was the issue?

  “Before the council can review such a request, you and Daciana must prostrate yourselves and beg forgiveness for the rules you have broken. My rules.”

  I cringed and glanced across at Father on his throne, smirking. I’d been born to the devil. Father would twist anything to serve his own purpose, but what exactly did he need from Enre?

  “What are you talking about?” Daciana’s posture stiffened, and a snarl hung off her last word.

  Father’s harsh voice bounced around the room. “Daciana, you are held accused of the creation of a dracwulf.”

  Dracwulves were banned for a good reason—they were unstoppable berserker-like wolves that killed everything in their path. Why would anyone willingly breed one?

  “That was Sandulf, not me.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” Father wiggled a finger at the brunette. “You know the rules. You took over the pack, and that includes your previous alpha’s burdens and responsibilities. Sandulf is dead, so you will now face the council on his behalf.”

  A few murmurs rolled out from the crowd.

  I crouched next to Father and whispered, “We already spoke about eliminating this law.”

  He waved me away as if I were no more than a gnat and leaned forward in his seat, a smile creeping across his mouth.

  “Enre, with your recent acquisition of the Bulgarian pack, you will now face charges for the dead humans found at every location their pack had traveled. If found guilty, you’ll both face death.”

  The audience broke into a clamor, and the horrific reality of the situation curdled my insides.

  Enre’s face paled. He never said a word but took the accusation as he used to take Father’s punches and strikes—without emotion or reaction.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said. Wulfkin had to obey their leader; it was inbred in us and came with deadly consequences if we refused. But to hold someone accountable for his or her alpha’s actions was ludicrous.

  “Your accusations are barbaric.” Daciana’s voice was strong and piercing. “Blaming us will prove nothing.”

  “Release Daciana and punish me.” Enre’s deep voice sliced through the room. “That’s what this is about. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? And to get your grubby fingers on Transylvania for Marcin.”

  Why would he think that? “That’s not true. I don’t—”

  “Shut the hell up, both of you,” Father said. “These are my rules, and both Enre and Daciana will face the council for their alpha’s actions. End of story.”

  My blood congealed to ice. Going against Father would only push him into finding Enre guilty. Father’s insistence to punish him and Daciana meant one thing—he wanted Enre dead.

  I leaned closer to his ear. “Too much emotion is being thrown around here. Don’t let the council be unfairly influenced. Let’s regroup in a few days, after everyone has coole
d down.”

  “No! We do this now.” Father faced the crowd. “I call the council.” One good thing I’d instigated was getting Father to agree to setting up a council who had to give their approval on all major rules and decisions, alongside him.

  The pulsing urgency made my head spin. I had to shut Father down this very second. He couldn’t keep getting his way.

  Tibor, the eldest of the council, emerged from the crowd. We exchanged glances, my stare imploring him to fight the proposal.

  “Emperor Levin.” Tibor crept toward Father, his gaze lowered. “Perhaps there are other ways to conduct such a hearing.”

  Father’s face reddened. His lips parted, but his words were stolen by the loud creak of the doors opening to the great hall.

  A servant rushed into the room, directly to Father, and whispered a message in his ear. The only word I overheard was arrived. Whom was he referring to?

  “Now? Already?” Father asked.

  The servant nodded.

  “I’ll be there shortly.”

  The young wulfkin darted from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  “Well, seems a break is being forced upon us after all. I have a small distraction to attend to. Nobody leave until I return.” Father glanced my way. “Marcin, you’re with me.”

  I didn’t move at first. “What’s going on?”

  He gave no response but glanced at the guards. “Tie them back up.” Father took long strides toward the exit. Around me, the crowd’s voices escalated and two guards approached Enre and Daciana. I jogged out of the room after Father, curiosity burning a hole through my gut.

  “We need to talk,” I said. “You’ve been gone for over a week and never left a word with anyone as to what you were doing, and then you return, acting like a madman. Enre is your son!”

  Without stopping his wild rush around a corner, his response was swift. “The only reason I’m ignoring your insolence is because today is a special day. Quickly, now.” He picked up his pace.

  For 137 years old, he showed no sign of slowing down. For the sake of all packs, I prayed to the moon he would soon, especially since a few wulfkin have been known to live to 180.