by Jan Delima
Wulflings began as infant shifters, often deserted by the deaths of their parents while in hiding. The few he’d known had been discovered in isolated forests, no doubt because populated areas posed different hazards; children were too innocent to conceal their true nature, even among humans. The parents brave enough to keep their young from the Council were almost always hunted and killed for their cause. And some, like this one’s parents, built secret places to hide their child during an attack.
And sometimes, though it was rare, the child wasn’t found. They were left alone to fend for themselves, and without the company of humans they were unable to learn by example. Survival instincts of their wolves often became more dominant than their humanity.
When the woman refused to answer, Luc took a step forward and unsheathed his sword, lightly resting the tip on the woman’s shoulder. He had no patience when it came to the mistreatment of children. “Tell me the Wulfling’s history and how she ended up in William’s care.”
The Guardian gave a haughty sniff; she may be a teacher but her disdain of a child revealed her loyalty to the Council’s bigotries. “After hearing suspicious reports, William hunted and retrieved it from the Black Forest this January. I tutored future kings and queens,” she sneered with pride. “I tutored the children of Guardians. And he took me from my home as if I were no more than a servant. He forced me to be a caretaker to a . . . to a beastling worse than you. He’ll kill me now that his secret’s exposed.”
Luc lowered his sword, sensing the truth in her story. “What is your name?”
She hesitated a moment. “Lona Blackwell.”
Obviously, it wasn’t her real name but it was something to address her by. “Are you requesting sanctuary, Lona Blackwell?”
“In Avon?” Lona scoffed as if she found his offer amusing. “Never!” Her gaze fell to the open door. “Do not doubt that William will return for it.” A final warning before she dashed toward the hall. “And I will not be here when he does.”
“Let her go,” Rosa ordered when Teyrnon made a motion to follow. “If she can leave a child, then let her run away like the coward she is.”
Teyrnon looked to Luc for confirmation.
In support of his wife, he nodded. “Make sure Lona leaves the island and doesn’t try to return.”
“A Wulfling,” the Norseman muttered under his breath as he strode from the room. “Will the surprises of this day never end?”
Hearing the scrutiny, the girl scuttled back in a tangle of clothes, with her face tucked deep like a ball. She appeared to be around four or five years of age. The aging process for their kind equaled humans’ until adulthood, when it slowed.
The armoire stank of urine and fear. Not surprising if she’d heard William being dragged from the room by several guards while her caretaker fled soon after.
“We will not hurt you.” Cadan tried to coax her out. “You are safe now. William is gone.”
“You lie.” Her reply was muffled by her arms. “He wouldn’t leave me here.”
“You must be hungry.”
Her face lifted with lips peeled back from tiny teeth, a dominant gesture with a gaze to match. Hair the color of hay framed a pixie-like face, albeit a feral one. “Go away or William will kill you.”
“He can try.” Cadan reached into the closet, attempting to tug her out gently, but the process was like watching him untangle an angry kitten from a padded box, spitting and clawing at his attempts.
Before someone got hurt, Luc removed the hanging clothes and dumped the piles on the bed. Once exposed, the child rolled out with an enraged cry, looked about with wild eyes and made a mad scramble to the bathroom, slamming the door in her wake.
If possible, Rosa’s expression became more fatigued. “I thought Wulflings were just tales my mother told me to keep me from wandering too far into woods.”
“No, they’re real. But I haven’t seen one for . . .” Luc had to pause to search his recollection. “A thousand years or so, and not since leaving Cymru.”
More important, his nephew wasn’t the youngest shifter. Dylan and Sophie would find some relief in that information.
Luc shook his head over this new development, as surprised as Teyrnon. “The fact that she retains her human form, and can talk, is an accomplishment. William obviously wanted her educated.”
Rosa fisted her hands by her sides. “He was fostering his potential future breeder.”
“I suspect you’re right.” He shared her ire.
“What are we going to do with a Wulfling?” Now that the situation had begun to register, Rosa began to pace. “For that matter, what are we going to do with a child?” She sounded more perplexed by the latter notion.
“Give her a bath, for starters,” Tesni suggested. “Then feed her.”
“This is not the place for her.” Rosa acted panicked, eyes wild and spooked like a horse in a barn full of shifters.
“What else are we to do?” Cadan challenged. “Should we send her back to William?”
“Of course not!” Rosa paused when a loud crash came from the bathroom. “But what if we do the Wulfling more harm than good by keeping her here?”
Cadan relaxed his stance. “Must you always fret so? Sometimes you are worse than Gareth,” he scolded in a way a brother would an overprotective sister.
Luc watched the exchange with interest and began to understand Rosa’s affinity for her cousin. “I would ask Dylan and Sophie to take the child in, or my sister.” But he suspected the tutor’s final warning was an accurate one. “The girl also comes with William’s obsession to get her back. I won’t put that on my brother’s family after what they’ve just been through, or any other.”
Rosa started shaking her head before he finished, regaining her composure after the first initial surprise. “We should handle this responsibility within Avon.”
Luc agreed. “We have much to do to strengthen the defenses of this place. The child will need constant supervision for a while.”
“And protection,” Rosa added.
“Yes.” Luc turned to her cousin and Tesni. “Are you both willing to help watch the Wulfling? This is going to take a group effort during an inconvenient time.”
Cadan seemed taken aback by the question. “Did I not already say that I would?”
Luc sighed at his defensive tone, realizing the air needed to be cleared of misconceptions before it became a problem. “I know your encounter with my brother was an unfortunate one.” He didn’t defend Dylan’s action because Math’s atrocities needn’t be aired among those who’d lived through worse. “I am your ally, not your enemy, and I hope we can move beyond that incident and work together to rebuild Avon.”
Cadan was quiet for a long moment. “I will help with the Wulfling while she’s here. And if we have a chance to rebuild Avon, I will march on the bloody wall.”
“If need be, I’ll march with you.” Luc didn’t make light of the offer because a day might come when it was necessary.
A smile greeted him when he chanced to look in Rosa’s direction. It tightened his chest, as he suspected her smiles were rare gifts.
“We’ve never had a child in Avon,” she said softly.
With one problem addressed and another delegated, Luc walked to Rosa and placed his hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away from his touch, he moved his palm up to cradle her neck. Touching her skin was like holding a live current. “You need to run.”
“I know.” Her burgundy gaze bled into the whites of her eyes.
“Avon is secure for the night, and I’ll help Tesni and Cadan with the girl while you’re gone.”
That earned him another smile. “You’re going to give a Wulfling a bath?”
“No,” he teased because suddenly he couldn’t help himself. “I’m going to amuse myself by watching them try.”
Twelve
Standing on the shores of the river Wye, Taliesin tossed his cell phone into the murky waters, letting the currents carry away this latest indulgence with so many others. Even now, with his deed done, her violet eyes haunted him. Rosa saw him for what he was: a monster. May the Gods not punish her for his latest interference?
When William traced the call he would find that it had come from the proximity of his own home, one final insult after the loss of his young Wulfling ward.
He would be livid.
And Merin too—for not being warned. A regrettable necessity; her reactions over the next few days must be pure and absent of previous knowledge. The future of her children depended upon her performance on the Council’s seat. Dylan, Luc and even Elen believed their mother despised them. One day they would know her love was so great that she had sacrificed her heart to keep them safe.
Taliesin let his head hang forward as images flooded his mind’s eye: the past, present and future—one mangled mess of free will and destiny, of piety and lust, honor and wickedness. And pain. Fuck, so much pain—because of his existence. Sometimes the weight of it robbed him of air.
Running his hands through his hair, he needed a good, stiff drink. Sadly, he’d given up that balm shortly after condemning the Walkers to their lifeless state during a rather satisfactory binge. Poor bastards, indeed—to suffer such a fate. And Rosa, with her violet eyes that saw too much, forced to be the keeper of his sins.
Turning from dark waters and dangerous thoughts, he made his way back to his rented Mazda. Wind and rain snapped against his face, calling him to stay home, pulling at his coat with whispery fingers and humid tears. Like his vodka-scented siren, he resisted their pull. More than three hundred years now he’d remained brutally sober, from the morning after Rosa’s first wedding feast.
His flight back to Maine was scheduled to leave in a few hours and he would be on that plane, despite his ability to travel in any form. For him, humankind had their own strengths, as did Luc, Cadan, Rosa, Elen, Isabeau, just to name a few of the many descendants of an ancient race created to protect him; of all the vile curses of the world, that one may well be the worst.
Yet within their dysfunction and weakness he had seen the greatest acts of courage. They did not deserve to be pawns of forgotten Gods, for in their presence he could almost believe the world was less doomed.
And for that alone he must fight for their cause.
* * *
With shaking hands, Rosa undressed and placed her sword and clothes in the hollowed trunk of a tree. Once naked, she collapsed to her knees, bracing her fall with her palms. Pine needles and dirt clung to her sweat-soaked skin as the power consumed her. Head bent, she rode the wave in a rush of breaking bones and re-formed fur over skin. The change was less painful when done quickly, like bathing in her river during winter; easing in only prolonged the torture—and freedom when her other half took form.
Everything was brighter as a wolf, better, uncluttered by useless thoughts and dull senses. She padded her way around secret trails, searching her island where Luc wouldn’t know to look. Satisfied to find it clear, she crossed the river at the shallow edge to her own forbidden forest, meandering in circles, and turning back several times to make sure she wasn’t followed.
Like Fairbryn, her people had their own place to hide when Guardians were close by, a land trust secretly purchased by the Hen Was from many years of combined treasures, then donated to the state of New Hampshire with stipulations to keep it undeveloped.
It was an hour journey at full run. The camp was quiet at first, its small cottages hidden under thick vines and dense trees, like hobbit holes covered in moss. Rosa’s own cottage lay nestled over the next bend, built in the shelter of a weeping willow, with just enough room to hold a bed, a cabinet and two bookshelves.
A crescent moon smiled down from a clear sky as Rosa sat back on her haunches and waited to be seen, taking in the sweet sounds and crisp smells of an untainted forest.
Caron was the first to step from the shadows. “It’s done,” she announced on a reverent breath, trusting Rosa wouldn’t be there otherwise. “The Guardians are gone from Avon.”
Rosa gave a deep nod, then returned from whence she came, her message delivered. Those who chose to follow did so of their own free will, knowing that the worst battle was yet to come.
* * *
After finding a bribe for the Wulfling, Luc walked the halls of Castell Avon, clearing rooms and learning the lay of his new home. Now that control of Avon was accomplished, and the Guardians scurried home to their own beds, he gave orders to his guards to find unoccupied quarters other than the master wing. All rooms were connected on the upper floors, a puzzle of doors and passageways. He claimed the apartments that smelled of vanilla. Afterward, he put Teyrnon in charge of alternating shifts on the island, and Gareth in control of the bridge and surrounding woods. While a third of his guards slept, the others kept watch.
No one had yet dared to venture toward a graveyard of aboveground tombs, once they’d learned the Walkers slept within. Rosa would guide the macabre tour come morning.
Until then, Isabeau and her men met with Daran, making camp on the opposite side of the river. Both leaders planned to return to their own territories after a few hours’ rest, leaving some of their guards to assist Luc with strengthening his defenses and the training of Rosa’s people.
As always, when leadership changed and armies merged, personalities conflicted. More so when they were wolves. But for the moment, all was calm.
Luc stopped briefly to check in on Mae, and found Rosa sitting on the woman’s bed, spent of her wolf but slumped with fatigue. Another Hen Was—Bethan, he recalled—bathed Mae’s swollen face with a cloth.
He leaned against the doorway. “Your run went well?”
Rosa’s violet eyes met his and suddenly he wanted to see them blue once again, vulnerable and human and consumed by passion.
And as quickly as the thought came, another followed—only these eyes were golden-brown and long gone from this world. Guilt roiled in his gut but it was fleeting, less painful, a whisper around a violet grove with blue skies. Whispers were like memories, transient and empty. Selfishly, the idea of a warm woman in his bed after seventy years of cold nights compensated his regret.
“Mae hasn’t regained consciousness,” she said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I heard when I was in the kitchens. They’re well stocked,” he pointed out with some relief, because well-fed guards made a more peaceful night. “And your chef is competent.”
She shrugged. “We have many depravities here at Avon, but worldly wealth isn’t one of them. You’ll find this castle is fit to serve a king.”
He scanned the small but clean bedchamber, and the woman lying still as stone on the bed. Mae should have awakened by now. The Hen Was may not have the ability to shift, but they were more resilient than mortals. “Do you have a healer?”
“Mae is our healer,” Rosa said, her voice solemn.
“I’ll call my sister if she doesn’t awaken by morning,” Luc offered. “Elen will know what to do.”
“Truly?” she whispered. “That would mean a great deal.”
“Consider it done.” He tipped his head toward the doorway. “Will you join me? I’m on my way back to see how the Wulfling fares. Your Tesni is watching the child while Cadan is finding clothes, and I went in search of a bribe.” He held up the bribe, a sack of sugar cookies wrapped in a cloth napkin. “I’m hoping we can get the child settled for the night and then find our own bed.”
She frowned. “I thought . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked to Bethan. With resignation, she rose and told the other woman, “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Tobias is relieving me in a few hours,” Bethan said. “Go with your new husband; there’s naught you can do here.” She gave a slight bow to Rosa, then to Luc. “Please kno
w that we are all grateful for what you have done. May your marriage be blessed and these halls echo with the laugher of your young.”
Rosa remained silent by his side as they made their way to William’s old chambers, now apparently the Wulfling’s. Luc eased open the door to find Tesni stripping and remaking the bed while the girl watched from the bathroom. Gas sconces illuminated the room in a warm glow; though electrical lights had been added in each room, the castle ran mostly on natural resources. Bathrooms were the exception, and most likely the main draw on the generators.
“I told Cadan to get some rest.” Tesni spoke directly to Rosa. “I’ll keep an eye on the child tonight. A change of clothes wasn’t necessary.” She paused. “I found something you should see.”
Luc looked over Tesni’s shoulder as she opened the door to an adjoining closet the size of a small chamber. Toys and books lay scattered across a makeshift bed lined with pillows, with an open bag of clothes for the child shoved hastily in a pile.
“She’s eaten a sandwich,” Tesni said. “And I drew a bath, but I think we should just let her be for the night.”
“I hate to leave her like that.” Rosa turned toward the bathroom, concerned and unsure.
“We’re not going to.” Luc kept his tone at normal levels, knowing the Wulfling listened to every word. “She smells of urine and should be groomed by her new pack. It will ease her fears.”
Human children may have different needs, but wolves responded to leadership, and grooming was an act of affection and comfort. The Hen Was should have known this, even though she lacked her own wolf.
Assessing the bathroom as he walked in, he removed one cookie from its sack, took the first bite and placed it on the floor within the Wulfling’s reach. “What is your name, child?”
“She will not tell me.” Tesni moved to the doorway, regarding Luc suspiciously. “And she has already eaten,” she reminded him as though he hadn’t heard the first time.
“I’m sure she has room for a cookie.” Or four.