Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  “This way!” a young voice whispered.

  A serving boy stuck his head out a door and beckoned her. His childish enthusiasm made it feel safe.

  He left the door open and scooted away down the hall. Inside the room, candles flickered on a table. Wax drippings were piling up on the silver sticks. She stepped inside. A man in the shadows stepped forward into the light. His mask was off, and she froze with recognition. Those eyes were unforgettable, and the mold that had cast that face had once been a kindly old woman who had always come to those in their times of need.

  Altea slipped inside and shut the door. She could hardly believe that she was alone with Gretchen’s strange son. The times he had come by her house, she had longed to go out and speak with him. Now he had somehow found her, and her daydreams about him could be acted upon if she dared.

  “Thal Lesky,” she said.

  He smiled to hear her say his name. “You remembered,” he said.

  “I must warn you. I’ve seen your name on papers for wanted criminals,” she blurted.

  He held up a hand. “Pray, Lady, tell me your name,” he said.

  She hesitated. This was her last chance to flee. “Altea Kardas,” she said.

  He looked a little confused but not unhappily. “Not Fridrich?” he said.

  She realized he had been looking at her house sign. “The Magistrate is my stepfather,” she explained.

  The way she said stepfather reeked of dislike. He was pleased to learn that she was not actually related to that guilty man. And judging from her tone, his demise was not going to break her heart.

  He came a little closer.

  “I think perhaps you are truly a fox, but may I see again your face?” he said.

  Although she felt safer when it was on, she slowly lifted off her mask.

  “I’m pleased to see no tears tonight,” he commented.

  His allusion to their first meeting reminded her of his tragedy. “I’m sorry about your mother. She was good to me,” Altea said.

  “She was good to everyone that I recall,” Thal said.

  “Where have you been? Gretchen never spoke of you. How can you be so young?” Altea said.

  “I’m older than I look,” Thal said, ignoring her first question. “How did you know my mother?”

  Altea did not mind that he dodged her probing questions. Just being with him felt satisfying. She explained how Gretchen had been her mother’s midwife over many years.

  “I should not have left her,” Thal lamented.

  Her heart broke for him. Gretchen’s tragedy was amplified by the simple despondence in his quiet voice.

  “Where will you go now?” Altea asked.

  “Why should I go anywhere?” Thal asked.

  “You’re wanted for terrible crimes. I read it in papers on my stepfather’s desk. I took the notice so he wouldn’t see. You can still get away,” Altea said.

  “You took it?” he whispered, amazed that she would act to protect a man who she should rightly be terrified of for stalking her.

  “I burnt the paper. No one knows. You can get away. It’s the least I could do for poor Gretchen,” she said.

  “You were kind to act on my behalf. I hope it brings no trouble to you, but my crimes have been circulated throughout Bohemia. I am hunted,” he said.

  “What will you do?” she asked, upset that her bold vandalism of Martin’s papers was not as protective as she had imagined.

  When Thal shrugged, his wolf fur glided off one shoulder and hung down his back. “If my true nature is a crime, then all I can do is live with it,” he said.

  “But it said you were a werewolf,” Altea said.

  “I’m sure it did,” he laughed and came closer.

  She stepped back now. The door pressed against her.

  “I arranged this meeting so I could ask some very important questions of you, Altea,” he said.

  “You arranged…” she trailed off, wondering how he had caused Lady Carmelita to invite them.

  “Can you tell me who took part in my mother’s murder?” he said.

  His attitude shifted into a cold place. She guessed his dark intent but could not condemn it.

  “I don’t know. She was in jail before I heard anything. I didn’t go to her…execution,” she regretted the word when Thal winced. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  He shook off his rage. It was not something this wonderful woman should have to see.

  “You can guess what I mean to do to the men who hurt her. This is why I need some confirmation about the guilty. It’s not my wish to hurt the innocent,” Thal explained.

  Altea spun and grabbed the door handle. She had to flee. She should not be a party to his crimes. She had already erred by trying to help him. Her redemption depended upon turning him in, but such a betrayal would be beastly. She hesitated.

  Thal was suddenly close behind her. His heavy masculine presence made her legs tremble. He presumed to remove her hand from the door handle. He ran a thumb across her soft palm. She tried to contain her shaking. She straightened her back and faced him.

  Always brave this one, he thought admiringly.

  The sweatiness of her hand in his hot hand distressed her. Wild sensations were heating her body everywhere. Great strength radiated from him. The unadulterated reality of his spirit separated him from all others. He made all men chaff to his golden nourishing wheat.

  “You mustn’t harm the Magistrate,” she whispered.

  He tilted his head, surprised by her advocacy for him when he could sense her hate. “His guilt I am most certain of. He would’ve sentenced her to death,” he argued.

  “But it’s only something he must do. He couldn’t let her go. All witches confess. His hands were tied,” Altea argued.

  “My mother’s hands were tied!” Thal fumed and let her go. “He’s only your stepfather. What do you care?”

  Although ashamed of defending Martin, Altea had to do what was right. “He has four sons. They’re my half brothers and I love them. We’ve lost our mother. If Martin dies they’ll be orphaned. What will become of us?” she pleaded.

  “His sons will inherit his estate,” Thal said blandly.

  “Boys need their father,” she said.

  “Shall I go without justice because boys need their father?” he demanded.

  Altea nodded.

  Her good-hearted request softened Thal’s anger. He wished he could make this beautiful woman happy. He had told himself he did not want her, but that had been when he thought she was the daughter of the Magistrate. Now she was a woman who had cared about his mother and who his mother had cared for.

  Memories of the dazzling alpha females that had been his mates dug into his heart with nostalgic claws. His loneliness salivated for the comfort of a partner who could give him greater purpose.

  “Tell me your stepfather is a good man and I will be merciful,” he whispered.

  “He’s…” Altea trailed off. Her ugly fear about what he might do to her strangled the words in her throat. She was so afraid to go home, to go to sleep in her bed, but she could not be a party to murder.

  “He’s a good man,” she managed.

  Thal shook his head. “I’m very good at knowing when people lie,” he said.

  Ugly truths assaulted her. She sickened herself speaking in Martin’s defense. She wanted to ask Thal for help. There was no one else she could turn to for protection, but what safety could a wanted man give her? She had already imperiled herself more by sneaking away to converse with him.

  Thal continued, “There’s no guilt in answering my questions. You can make sure I don’t include the innocent when I strike. I saw you cry for my dead mother. You must want justice for her. She was tortured. She was burned to death.”

  Altea’s face fell in her hands and she sobbed a little. The agony and confusion that she had fought against for months escaped. Words that she could speak to no other she cried in Thal’s presence. “How am I to live in world where my neighbo
rs watched her burn and called it good?” she said.

  Thal put a hand on her shoulder. His mother’s brutal death had been hard on more than just him. How many people in Altea’s community secretly mourned those who had been killed? Altea fell against him and he held her.

  “It is done so that you will live in fear,” he said.

  “I’m so afraid,” she confessed and looked up at him with teary eyes.

  He wiped a tear with his thumb. “But you’re brave,” he said.

  His comment startled her. Brave was a word used in stories and about men. When had she ever been brave? But it did not matter. His high opinion of her gave her new strength.

  “I’ve seen that you loved Gretchen. She used the last of her magic to call me to Prague so she could have justice. Repay her many kindnesses and help me fulfill her final wish,” Thal said.

  Altea stepped away from him and finished wiping her own tears. Her moment in his arms had been immensely comforting. He understood her pain. He did not condemn her normal feelings as sympathy for witchcraft. She wanted to stay in his arms but the physical contact was overwhelming. The heavy feeling in her lower torso warned of an impending passion that she had no experience with.

  She thought about the horrors Gretchen had surely endured, and then she remembered her delivering each of her brothers into the world and all the aid she had given her mother, even through the torments of her final disease.

  Softly Altea said, “Constable Bekcek was the one who brought in all the witches. Any of the men who work at the jail would have played their part. There could’ve been other men. I’ve heard Bekcek mention that he hires extra men from time to time, but I don’t know who. As for my stepfather…”

  When she hesitated, Thal said, “You don’t have to condemn him. No need for you to put guilt upon your heart.”

  Altea regarded the crushed remnants of her floral nosegay. Her wrist was still sore. She had always tried not to be a sinner. She cared about her soul, but speaking the truth was not bearing false witness.

  “My stepfather resented Gretchen. He had no qualms about condemning her,” Altea said.

  “Thank you for confirming the guilt of those involved. I’m sure you should go now,” Thal said.

  The final words had been dragged from him. He was saying what was for the best not what he wanted.

  “I don’t think you want me to go,” she said.

  “No,” he whispered and looked at her with such longing that Altea wanted to make him happy. They had spoken of so many sad things. Perhaps they could enjoy a few easy moments.

  “Put your mask on. Come dance with me,” she said.

  Thal heard the music through the floor. He wished he was a normal man with a normal life so he could give this lovely woman everything she deserved.

  “They’re playing my song,” he murmured. Although muffled by the structure, the voice of Regis singing “I prayed for an angel to save me and got the Devil instead” was audible.

  “Your song?” Altea said.

  He smiled and explained that the musicians were his friends and apparently he had become their Muse.

  “You know the musicians?” Altea said.

  Thal laughed. All the girls were the same when it came to his talented friends.

  “Come dance,” she urged. “Trust in your mask.”

  “As a courtesy to my hostess I shall not show myself again. If my presence here were known it would bring trouble onto her,” he explained.

  “Oh,” Altea sighed, deflated. She had only wanted to feel normal for a while, but it was impossible with Thal.

  He took her gently by the shoulders and drew her close. When her breasts pressed against his hard chest, their thudding hearts resonated across their bodies. Their lips met with tentative tenderness. Then his tongue slid against her teeth and playfully nudged her tongue. A red blur washed away her ability to think and the moist connection of their mouths deepened until she wanted only to yield to the excitement. His taste, his warmth, and his strength consumed her fear. She wanted to draw him inside her and keep him forever.

  His arms tightened across her back and she pressed against him. They fell against the door. Their kissing accelerated. Unthinking pleasure obscured all societal rules that sought to constrain human passion.

  Finally Thal let her go. He had to return to the shores of mindfulness and escape the deep waters of her flesh.

  “I’ll come for you tonight after everyone is asleep. Look for me out your window,” he said.

  “How?” she asked. “I can’t just go into the street in the middle of the night.”

  “Can’t you? Is not the lock on your cage operated from the inside?” he teased.

  The conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes was enough to tell Thal that she would dare to do as he suggested. He kissed her again. The pleasure of holding this woman astonished him. Finally he had a good thing to strive for in his life as a man.

  “Go. Your family will be looking for you by now,” he said.

  “Thal?” she whispered.

  “What?” he said encouragingly.

  “You will come to my house?” she said.

  “I will,” he promised.

  “I’ll watch for you,” she said. The hope that he would be coming in the night gave her the courage to go home.

  Chapter 33. No Rules or Light of Day

  Martin had to help his son into the carriage. Elias was humming a song and drunkenly happy but definitely stumbling. He dropped into a doze when Altea sat next to him. Martin plopped down across from her. She could feel his eyes on her.

  The safety and delights of the party were over. Heavy silence between her and Martin weighed on them as the carriage took them back to Old Town. The ugly sensation of his hand upon her spoiled the robust thrill of when Thal had kissed her. She was torn between anxiety and craving. Altea understood that she was a grown woman and overdue for bedding a man. A husband was a natural need. She had been taught that her body was meant to produce children, and she was making poor progress toward fulfilling that purpose. The advances of Martin were deviant and her undeniable attraction to Thal was dangerous.

  She tucked her feet under her and leaned against her drunken brother. At least Thal had said he would come tonight. She knew she could not possibly face the rest of her life if she did not indulge in the rendezvous. To embrace him again she would defy everything she had been taught was right.

  Once they got home, Martin helped his son upstairs. Altea was thankful for the unwitting assistance of Elias who kept Martin’s hands occupied. Grabbing a candle she rushed into the room of her younger brothers.

  She pulled up their covers and brushed hair from their faces. Yiri mumbled but did not wake up. They were all adorable as cherubs and sleeping peacefully. She blew out the candle and crammed herself into bed with Yiri and Erik. The boys snuggled into new positions, but Altea remained wide awake. She imagined Thal creeping across the city toward her home. The mad desire to be near him again scoured her with impatience.

  She heard Martin in the hall. Her stomach twisted when she judged that his footsteps were at her bedroom the door.

  Next he thumped across the hall and opened the door of the younger boys’ room. Altea shut her eyes. Martin grunted and she imagined him squinting at her suspiciously. She was obviously using his own children as a shield.

  Finally Martin left. Not until his own bed groaned under his weight did Altea take a deep breath. She welcomed the temporary reprieve from attack when his grinding snores rattled from his room.

  Very slowly she got out of the bed. She gathered her skirt close so it would not catch on anything. She lifted the door latch with snail-like lethargy so it would not make a sound.

  Once out in the hall, she tiptoed to the stairs with delicate perfection, keeping her feet close to the wall to lessen the chance of the floorboards creaking. On the stairs, she skipped the step that would squeak for sure. She felt a little safer when she reached the main floor. The servants would sl
eep through anything.

  In the front room she slid behind the drapes and gently undid the window latch. The dark street was quiet. A long time she waited at the window, losing hope. She even began to wonder if some magic had made her dream the whole interlude with Thal. That made more sense than actually associating with the strange criminal.

  Then she heard steps on the cobbles. Peeking out with one eye she saw a cloaked man with a little dog. Happiness caressed her spirit. His promise had been kept and she would feel his touch again.

  He did not look up when he walked by the window. “Meet me at your back gate,” he whispered and kept going down the street.

  Altea’s sweaty hands slipped off the window hardware the first time she tried to pull it shut. The most splendid excitement burned in the core of her body. Nervous laughter quivered in her throat but she kept herself silent. A whole lifetime seemed to pass as she forced herself to creep across the house. Her legs felt weak. Her nipples stiffened against her clothes and she ached with warm, awakening lust.

  In an agony of enforced stealth, she made her way quietly out the back door. The dark outline of a man stood at the back gate and she rushed to him. During those few steps she knew perfect freedom. There were no rules or light of day. Nothing but her desire and the cool night air existed. She yanked the gate open and was in his arms. They sighed each other’s names and kissed. His steely arms made her feel safe. She ran her hands up his chest and down his sides until she bumped his pistols.

  Then he took his mouth off hers. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked, thinking that he was the only person in the world who had no cause to apologize to her.

  “I shouldn’t be seducing you. You deserve a real man,” he said.

  “You’re more real than any man in Prague,” she said and kissed him again. Her needy lips and quickly learning tongue goaded his instincts. He knew well the demanding pull of animal appetites and the thrill of yielding to them, but he loved this fair maid too much to sully her.