by Tracy Falbe
“I’ll go to my place and see if he’s still there. I’ll send him your regards. Then I’ll come back to you,” Valentino said. He leaned down and kissed her. His tongue told her of his eagerness for her.
“I’ll be here,” she whispered, loving the forgetfulness that washed over her when he caressed her.
“And keep those musicians out of sight. Answer no questions about them to anyone and tell them to tell no one anything about Thal ever,” Valentino advised.
“Will Thal get away from Prague?” Carmelita worried.
“When he’s done killing,” Valentino said.
Chapter 41. No Solace
Thal was a man who listened to his instincts. After venturing into the streets to make sure his friends were rescued, a peculiar unease nagged at him. It was more than the heightened suspicions from the people in the street. Wagging tongues all over Prague were spreading various descriptions of him after his public murder of Constable Bekcek, and people were looking at him more closely. Despite the obvious scrutiny, Thal remained unmolested. His reputation was so notorious that anyone who saw him soon realized that he or she did not want to be the one to turn him in, reward or no. No one wanted to find out how far the claws of his supernatural powers could reach.
But a creepy feeling persisted, like when he had known another wolf had entered his territory before finding its track or spoor. Often he sniffed the air, but the nature of the intrusion eluded him. The wind blowing across the city from the southwest was likely denying him the scent that would confirm what his feelings told him.
Preoccupied by his worrisome foreboding, he moved slowly across the Little Quarter. Pistol sniffed the road a few paces ahead. His tail wagged excitedly, and Thal saw the burned out buildings that Carlo had described. A crowd was clogging the street and Thal guessed that the fight was happening or just done.
When people gave way for riders, Thal ducked behind a parked wagon. With relief he saw Valentino and his sellswords ride out with Regis, Raphael, and Carlo. They turned down another street, likely heading to Carmelita’s mansion.
Thal was about to run after them when Pistol started growling. The dog was looking back the way they had come, which confirmed Thal’s suspicion that he was being followed.
He backtracked. Just before turning a corner, the scent of his hunter finally reached him. Thal pressed against a stucco wall. He still had a chance to flee but he did not want to. Pistol growled lightly, as if arguing with his decision.
“I must,” Thal whispered and stepped around the corner.
A haggard monk in a brown robe was only a few paces away. Startled, he faltered, stopped, and looked like he meant to run away.
“Rainer,” Thal said.
The monk clutched his cross. His facial features swung between terror and relief. Thal was pained to see that the man was such a wreck, but perhaps it was a good sign that he had come looking for him. Thal wanted to give him the guidance that no other could provide.
“You must help me,” Rainer said.
Thal gently pulled him to the side of the street so they could talk. “You have my friendship. What can I do?” he said.
Rainer grimaced, struggling against the churn of his emotions. “Your bites have bound me to you,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Thal said. Worry slid through him like an icy slug in his guts.
“I wanted to tell Brother Vito where you were. I wanted to,” Rainer said.
Thal saw that withholding the information from his Jesuit brothers had been difficult. “I appreciate that you honored my request,” he said.
“Request?” Rainer sneered. “Your bidding is my command now. I tried to betray you, but there was too much pain from your bites.”
Thal regretted that he had added to Rainer’s torment. He could only hope to make amends. His mind chewed on the news that his bite could impose mastery upon another werewolf. Would his bite on a regular man make a werewolf? It must, he reasoned, but the implications were disturbing, tempting even.
“Rainer, forgive me. I didn’t know that would happen. I know you want to be faithful to your brothers but keeping my secret has helped protect innocent people,” Thal said.
A tick twitched one of Rainer’s eyes. Hard drilling pain flared in his flesh where Thal’s wolfen teeth had once penetrated. He covered his face with his hands and started sobbing. He collapsed against a building. Thal put an arm around his shoulders to support him. He murmured encouragement and tried to offer Rainer hope.
“Why did you make my curse worse?” Rainer wailed.
“It wasn’t my intention. I didn’t know. Please calm yourself,” Thal said. Trying to comfort a weeping monk was making him more conspicuous.
“I can’t be calm. Brother Vito’s men are coming to get me. He’ll lock me away or worse because you’ve taken my loyalty from him. I’m no good to him anymore. You must help me,” Rainer said.
“I’ll help you. We can avoid his men. Trust me,” Thal said.
“Trust the Devil!” Rainer scoffed and dropped to his knees.
Thal tugged him back to his feet. “We must go. You’re drawing attention,” he fretted. A shopkeeper was pointing to them and talking to people.
Hauling him along, Thal pleaded with Rainer to walk. Pistol yanked on his robe, but Rainer let his legs stay mushy as he wailed in fear of what Vito would do to him. The more he repeated his master’s ruse, the more he feared that it was actually true. Vito would send him to the fire. He had probably just been saving him to make a big display and gain more prestige. All his promises of salvation laughed inside Rainer’s troubled mind, yet he clung to the dream of redemption. Bringing Thal to justice would bring God’s grace. It had to.
Thal threw up his hands, dismayed by Rainer’s feeble crawling and mewling.
“You have to keep going, Rainer. I’ll protect you but you must try,” Thal said.
Rainer gasped and wiped his eyes with shaking hands. His trick was working. The hope of success made his love for God bloom with brighter colors but then the pain slashed at him again because his heart was betraying his sorcery-born master.
Slowly Rainer got his feet underneath him. Supporting him, Thal praised his effort.
“It’s hard,” Rainer groaned through gritted teeth.
“You can do it,” Thal said but then noticed the palpable tension in Rainer that signified pain. Sudden clarity tossed away Thal’s many distractions and he sensed the dishonesty in Rainer. If his bite had enthralled Rainer, then why was he still in pain if he had come to Thal for help?
Galloping horses charged around a corner. Thal whirled to face the riders with his hands on both guns. Four sellswords bore down on him. People pressed against buildings to get out of their way or dashed into doorways. Thal summoned his beastly fury that always waited beneath the calm pool of his lovelier self. His powerful scream spooked the horses. Two of them reared and the other two faltered despite the spurs digging into their sides.
Bringing his pistols up, Thal took aim. Rainer tackled him. They hit the street rolling. Pistol jumped and snapped at the tussling bodies. Thal beat at Rainer, but the monk held on tenaciously. His hands were inside Thal’s cloak, tearing open the folded fabric and clutching the precious fur.
Thal clubbed Rainer with a pistol. Rainer screamed and Thal pushed him away. Staggering to his feet, he looked up into the pistol barrel of a sellsword. The man had dismounted his unruly horse and charged ahead on foot. Thal threw himself aside just as the powder ignited. The lead ball missed Thal and embedded itself in a thick wooden door of a nearby building. Thal rolled over and shot at the sellsword. The ball caught him in the throat. He fell. Pouring blood puddled around him quickly.
The other sellswords abandoned their horses and advanced on foot. Thal shot at them but missed. Shoving his pistols into his belt, he drew his sword. Rainer flopped toward him and grabbed a leg.
Thal tried to shake him off. He was not sure if pity or kinship kept him from hacking into the madman.
“Let me go!” he cried.
The sellswords were upon him and he had to deflect their blows with his sword while Rainer still held him. One of the men seized Thal’s sword arm while he crossed blades with another. All of them piled onto him and brought him down like a dog pack on a boar. Pistol’s vicious snarls punctuated the fist-flying fray until he got kicked away.
Rainer tore Thal’s cloak halfway off and extracted the fur. Thal felt it slip away like someone was tearing the heart from his chest. His fury escalated and doubled his already considerable strength. He battled the three remaining sellswords. He shoved a pistol out of his face. The roar of its firing rattled his skull but at least no lead penetrated his body. His sword was still in his hand despite a man trying to pry it loose. The third man got the tip of his sword under Thal’s chin and finally subdued his struggles. They backed Thal up against a wall. Everyone was puffing from exertion. With an agonized gaze Thal looked upon Rainer with his fur.
Rainer felt utterly renewed with the enchanted werewolf fur draped across his palms. The pain caused by his betrayal of Thal let go of him like a dandelion seed in the wind. Vitality surged through his flesh. Rainer threw back his head and took deep gasping breaths to glory in his sudden freedom. The fluffy clouds that he beheld suddenly trumpeted with angelic renewal. He had never dreamed that possessing the fur would free him of Thal’s dominion. He could truly belong to God now. He rushed away without looking at Thal, knowing that he could not endure the sight of the man he had betrayed. Thal had offered him friendship and Rainer had ruined him.
One of the sellswords had a heavy set of chains and manacles dangling from his belt and he brought them out. The metallic rattle spoke of bondage and hard death. Thal saw red with a rage so intense he wondered if he would transform even without his fur.
When the man grabbed a wrist to apply a manacle, Thal surged with wrathful strength and pulled his arm free. He grabbed the chain and punched the man in the face. The sellsword reeled away clutching his spurting nose. Thal kicked the man pinning his chest between the legs and then bashed the third man across the chin with his elbow.
Breaking free, he wrapped the chain once about his fist and swung the iron manacles. He beat his attackers with the chains. The metal dented their armor and gouged their faces and broke their fingers. Pistol bit their calves and hands and buttocks as they rolled about in abject defeat.
Once the bloody men were cowering to his satisfaction, Thal threw down the dripping chain. He retrieved his sword and his hat. The crowd of onlookers fell back when he looked around. He could not spot Rainer but his trail lit up his mind like a comet on the blackest night. Thal stormed after the monk and people evaporated from his path like he was the Apocalypse on cloven feet.
Thal fumed with wretched anger. The absence of his fur was the most upsetting sensation imaginable. He felt stripped of the very essence of his life, unmoored from Creation and bankrupt of spirit.
Thal gained on the monk rapidly. Rainer quickened his pace. He shouted warnings about the sorcerer that chased him.
Foot and horse traffic was crowded near the Kamenny Most. Thal pushed through the people agitated by Rainer’s raving. Horses balked when Thal passed near, adding to the disorder. Some mounted men in royal livery spotted Thal and hollered for him to be stopped, but the few who dared to set hands on Thal were flung away roughly, and Thal’s attention never wavered from his prey.
Rainer broke into a run on the bridge. The wolf fur’s tail flapped in the wind as Rainer’s sandals banged on smooth stones.
When Thal reached the bridge two horse carts veered from him and blocked traffic. The mounted royal guards were stymied in the chaos, and Thal sprinted after Rainer.
Over the middle of the Vltava, he tackled him into the stone wall. Seizing Rainer by the throat, Thal greedily yanked his fur back into his possession. Rainer clawed at the steely hand crushing his windpipe.
“How could you do this to me?” Thal yelled. “No one will ever accept you like I would have. Not your God. Not your brotherhood. No one!”
“I’m sorry,” Rainer wheezed but it was too late for apologies. Thal had felt the desolate violation of having his wolf fur taken and knew that all sympathy for Rainer was forever erased.
In addition to Thal’s punishing grip, the magical pain in the healed bite wounds returned to Rainer. He groaned and his struggles diminished.
“Unhand that man! How dare you touch a man of God?” shouted a stalwart citizen.
Thal faced the man rushing to the monk’s rescue. He was of sturdy build and well dressed but fumbling to draw his dirk. The heat of true battle had never warmed his cheeks before but he had a courageous heart.
Thal kept Rainer pinned against the bridge. “This is no man, and he rejects the fate that his God has given him,” Thal ridiculed.
The man had managed to get his dirk out, but he halted a couple paces away behind his shaking weapon. Upon really taking in Thal’s appearance he realized he was substantially outclassed in the arts of violence. Anger had intensified the many colors of Thal’s eyes. The wolf fur glistened in the sun with supernatural beauty.
Hastily the man crossed himself. “God save me. It’s the witch monster,” he said.
Letting go of Rainer, Thal faced the man and drew his sword. He took one step forward and the man backed off.
“Be gone with you!” Thal said. The man looked at Rainer coughing over the edge of the bridge.
“Leave him alone,” the man admonished, clinging to his desire to do the right thing.
“I will,” Thal said ominously. He whirled to face the other people. Traffic had halted. Horses neighed and people cried out with alarm.
A few swings of his sword moved the onlookers back. Thal returned to Rainer. He looked ashen. The glow of health that the enchanted fur had briefly bestowed was gone, and his ragged misery returned.
“Go from me, Rainer,” Thal commanded. “Live with my curse upon you and know that you can never serve me or call me friend. Go back to your brothers. Find out how long it takes Vito to send you to his fires.”
“Noooo!” Rainer wailed and clutched his head. The scars on his face stood out brightly against his depleted skin. He called out to his God and Savior but received no cleansing or surcease of his pain.
Thal held his fur tightly and turned away. Rainer’s misery was not his doing.
A gasp from the people made Thal look back. Rainer stood on the edge. His arms were spread wide and he was falling forward. Thal naturally reached out to him, forgetting his wrath, but he was not close enough to grab him. Rainer tumbled into the water like a tree falling off a cliff. Thal rushed to the edge as did many other people. Having no skill at swimming, Rainer splashed uselessly in the river’s current and was soon pulled under. Profound shock subdued the witnesses. The monk had chosen suicide and was forever banished from the bosom of his Church.
Thal watched the water flow but Rainer’s head never popped up. He wished he had been able to ease Rainer’s torment. A companion to sing and hunt with would have been a good thing.
There are others, he reminded himself soberly. Perhaps not all saw their werewolf power as a curse.
Pistol whined at his feet, warning Thal not to linger. He looked toward the Little Quarter side of the river. The royal guards were making their way toward him. The other way toward Old Town was relatively clear, but he had business still in the Little Quarter. Thal reasoned that a handful of mounted guards with only spears would not be too much trouble.
Quickly he secured his fur to its place beneath his cloak. He did not have time to reload his pistols. After sliding his sword back into its sheath, he wagged a finger at the astounded people and said, “No one say I pushed that monk in. You all saw I didn’t do it.”
With his admonishment spoken, he dashed off. People stayed to the edges of the bridge and the riders advanced. Everyone expected a big confrontation and the capture of the notorious criminal, but the front horse swerved and stymied
the riders behind it. Thal jumped onto the edge of the bridge and raced past the group of armed guards and then jumped back onto the bridge. Dodging pedestrians, he wove through people and raced back into the Little Quarter. Because of his speed, he disappeared into narrow streets before the riders that pursued him got turned around and off the bridge.
Thal turned every corner he came to and by a circuitous route emerged into a residential area of palaces for royal administrators. He slipped through an unlocked gate into a walled park filled with mature trees. The leafy cover was cool and soothing. A small chapel was tucked among the trees but no one was about. Thal went inside the little stone building. A small cross and altar were within and a cushion with two depressions was positioned in front of a rail for comfortable praying.
Thal flopped against the wall and sat down. Gold and red light came through the stained glass. The lead framework on the main window cast an image of Wenceslaus. Thal’s heavy breathing was loud in the small space. He slid a hand against his fur, grateful to have retrieved it. Looking up at the ornate cross, its gold leaf shining in the colorful light, he thought of Rainer. The poor man had not found the solace he needed in his God, and Thal reflected upon his inability to deliver it either.
Chapter 42. Ten Little Points
Altea was mindless with disoriented terror. Hard hands hauled her through the square like a cow being brought to slaughter.
The growing crowd raved at her.
“Behold the witch!” someone shouted over and over.
“Witch!”
“She brings the Devil!”
“Kill her!”
“Kill the witch!”
The vicious clamoring for her demise bewildered Altea. She moaned and sobbed helplessly as her captors propelled her forward.
A rock hit her in the chest. Then a rotting turnip struck her. She tried again to twist away, but the hands squeezed her arms mercilessly and dragged her forward.