“Mistress!” Safira pulled harder at Lil’s arm. “My spells–they do nothing. We must run!”
Finally galvanized into a sense of the danger she was in, both by Safira’s urgency and by the savage gleam in those black eyes that were as cold in the wolf’s face as they’d been in the man’s, Lil realized she only had seconds left to react. She shoved aside the glowing moonstone and the silver leaves she realized would be useless, and pulled out the tiny derringer. Even to her own eyes, the pistol looked minuscule and harmless. But she’d hardly been dressed to carry her father’s favorite revolver around on her person.
Thomas blocked the door, so Safira ran to the french doors that led onto the patio. The doors rattled. “They’re locked,” Safira wailed.
With bravado because she had to instead of courage because she could, Lil held the tiny gun steadily on the werewolf. “Break the glass, Safira,” she suggested cooly, never taking her eyes off Thomas.
Her eyes began to water slightly, but still she didn’t blink. By choice? she wondered. Or did he have her mesmerized? He was fixated on her with a primitive intensity that went beyond rancor, or hunger, or even hatred.
And finally Lil understood why she’d always been wary around him, with that instinctive sense of distaste many women felt around male predators. Thomas Harbaugh, half Griffith on his mother’s side, was obsessed. But his sickness went far beyond the curse of the Griffith males. He was obsessed with contempt of all women, not just Haskell women. He liked to toy with them, compliment them, and when they were charmed, their guard down, he struck. He attacked as a man, in the worst way a man could insult a woman….
….by rape, just as Ian had said. Lil wished now she’d believed him.
When that ultimate act of dominance was denied him, Thomas let the lupine instincts take over. Lil sensed movement behind her and realized Safira had picked up something heavy and heaved it at the leaded glass in the french doors. But the object bounced off the glass and clattered to the floor. With a rustle of silk robes, Safira frantically banged desk drawers, obviously looking for something heavier.
Lil’s faint hope that perhaps someone would hear the commotion and investigate left as soon as it arrived. The dull roar of laughter, music and many voices involved in loud conversation in the background were the clef notes to the mournful dirge of Lil’s requiem.
No one would hear. No one would come. She and Safira were alone.
Thomas was fully formed now. His back legs shifted restlessly, and his claws, forming last, were so sharp they left scratches in the gleaming parquet floor.
Still, Thomas waited. Simply staring at her, his lips curled back in a soundless snarl.
And Lil finally fulfilled his unspoken but near tangible wish: she began to be afraid. Her own curiosity could well be her last act of hubris on this earth.
And her death would be horrid not because it came from a wild animal, but because it came with clear calculation from a superior intelligence. An intelligence perverted from its normal higher order into a compulsion for dominance and destruction.
First, Thomas would toy with her.
Frighten her, humiliate her.
Feed on her terror before he fed on her blood.
And then, he’d wound her. Slowly, tearing into her flesh delicately at first, to cause the maximum amount of pain and the least amount of damage. Only when he’d gorged himself on her fear and anguish would he rip her rib cage open and….
The rattling of glass broke the spell of those pitiless black eyes. Lil heard a crack form in the panes, but she knew it was too late. Even if Safira broke enough glass for them to squeeze outside, Thomas would run them down in three strides.
Run her down. The resolve steadied Lil’s shaking hand. If she ran opposite to Safira, perhaps the Haitian woman would live to return to her beloved island.
As Thomas bunched to spring, Lil leveled the pistol carefully, knowing she’d get one shot. Maybe she could get him in the eye.
As she aimed, carefully squeezing the tiny trigger, she wondered how many times the waitress screamed before she died. He’ll get not so much as a groan from my lips.
On the heels of her thought came deliverance. Safira screamed, startling Lil so much that her careful aim was spoiled.
The small gun’s retort sounded like a cannon in the enclosed study, but the slug missed Thomas’s eye and struck him in the shoulder. He roared, more in fury than in pain, his bellow not quite loud enough to disguise the shattering glass. Good, Safira got the glass broken. At least she’ll get away.
But Lil didn’t dare take her eyes away from Thomas as she backed slowly in the direction of the french doors. The slight wound was barely a pinprick to that mass of muscle and malice. Thomas licked the spurt away and turned on his prey. He stalked her, step by lethal step. This time, when he growled, his fangs were crimson with his own blood. But curiously, he froze midstep. His head turned in the direction of the patio.
Lil’s hips came up against the desk. Just as she knew her miscalculation of the room’s arrangement could cost her her life, she realized she heard no light retreating footsteps, so Safira hadn’t run. In fact, Safira seemed to be keening in abject terror, frozen on the side of the room.
Even cornered against the desk, Lil had to risk a look over her shoulder at the patio. Her pounding heart lurched in her breast.
Ian! Ian in his wolf form had broken the glass. And the moon was only three quarters’ full. He, too, had figured out how to control the change! But how had he gotten out of the cell? And why had he risked it?
Dumbly, Lil assessed Ian’s predicament.
Trapped. They were both trapped.
He was so large he was half caught in the sturdy wooden door frame. He was struggling furiously to free himself, and Lil saw that both sides of his rib cage were bleeding from glass cuts when he burst through. More blood dripped from his snout and jaw, which must have taken the brunt of the heavy glass. Lethal shards glittered on his coat and the inside floor. Lil knew they’d lacerate his pads when he walked over them. But the growls issuing from his throat were at least as savage and determined as those coming from….
….Thomas. Thomas had scented Ian before Lil had any inkling. Lil glanced between the two werewolves, wondering how much of the rancor vibrating from Thomas was aimed at his enemy. And how much was directed at her….
Thomas tossed back his head and gave the long, low howl that had mesmerized Ian that night when Lil awakened in the tower. Easing to the side of the desk now that Thomas’s attention was fixed elsewhere, Lil waited, nerves stretched, to see what Ian would do.
Would he be the beta wolf again?
Or had Thomas’s dominance over the kinder, gentler male been broken when Ian embraced his other identity?
The thought scarcely left her on a breath of hope before Ian stopped struggling. His amber eyes met and held their own against bottomless black.
Lil took advantage of the distraction by rounding the desk and dashing to the side of the room to hold a shivering Safira in her arms. Still too close for safety, Lil watched the strange, silent battle.
Her own life, and possibly Safira’s, hung in the balance. Her heart pounding against her ribs, Lil saw the habits and personalities of the men eerily played out by the canines.
Thomas plopped down on his haunches, his head erect, ears pricked forward, lordly. Bow down to me, inferior, he said with posture and eyes, in the way of pack rule.
And Ian, still trapped in the door, started to hunch his shoulders. His ears flattened in automatic obedience. His gaze strayed away as he started to pay his obeisance to the alpha male.
“Please, oh please, oh please,” Lil whispered the chant in a near soundless prayer. “Ian, he’s evil. But good can be as strong as evil. If you try.”
Confused amber eyes flicked toward her. Lil realized Ian’s hearing was so acute that he’d heard her mumbled prayer/encouragement. Ian’s nostrils flared, and she knew he’d picked up the scent of her sweat and fe
ar. He looked between her and Thomas, who still sat calmly on his haunches. Sure of Ian’s subservience.
Ian’s breath deflated, and his head hung down on his chest.
The sweet flavors of life and love on Lil’s tongue turned to the bitter ashes of defeat. Good couldn’t overcome evil. Thomas was still stronger.
With a husky growl that sounded uncannily like a smirk to Lil, Thomas turned his attention from his inferior back to the women. Shoving the paralyzed Safira behind her, Lil raised her two shot derringer again. Maybe she’d aim better this time, certainly not penetrate that mass of muscle and bone with the tiny slug, but slow him, perhaps….
Thomas rounded the desk in one bound. The scent of his malevolence was acrid in Lil’s nostrils as he gathered himself to spring.
With a burst of power that startled Lil almost as much as it did Thomas, Ian’s rib cage expanded enough for him to bow his back and push mightily at the door frame. The wood cracked like kindling. He was free. He shook himself, glass specks flying off his thick coat, and leaped over the wicked shards on the floor. He landed two steps behind Thomas, the blood trickling from his various cuts apparently not hindering him.
A whuffle of disbelief escaped Thomas as the alpha wolf was forced to turn his attention from prey to pack. The ruff on his neck bristled with hostility. The two werewolves started circling one another. Low, savage growls broadcast their intent.
There was nothing submissive about Ian now. His ears were alert, his teeth bared in a threat. Every muscle in his body tensed as he tracked Thomas with all his acute senses.
Lil almost fancied she saw amazement in those sulfurous black eyes, but fury soon consumed him. Arching his long neck, Thomas roared both intent and frustration. But this time, when Thomas attacked, forepaws off the ground, Ian rose to meet him.
Their snarls grew in volume as they snapped and bit. Lil peeked at the broken french doors, but the two wolves battled in the only clear path to the exit.
Lil glanced at the door leading into the hallway. For the moment, it was clear. “Safira, run!” Lil gave her a little push, but Safira clung to her.
Lil glanced at Safira’s hands. They were coated with a powdery residue and feathers. All of Safira’s voodoo magic had been as ineffectual as Lil’s own silver leaves and cinders. A flash of despair made Lil wonder if she would ever discover a power in the universe strong enough to overcome a century of evil.
When Lil pushed Safira again and her companion balked, Lil said frantically, “Safira, I’ve endangered you enough. Go now. Get help. I want a witness present to see Thomas regain his human form.”
“But mistress-”
“No argument. I couldn’t live with myself if you should be killed. And I…can’t leave until I know Ian is safe.” Lil ignored the speaking look in those liquid dark eyes that posed the question : What of your own life? But reluctantly, Safira made a dash for the door.
When she was safely away, Lil turned her attention back to the fight. The two werewolves were poised on their hind legs, forepaws wrapped around their opponents, clawing and biting. Thomas’s neck also oozed with blood, but there were so many new scratches on Ian’s back and chest that his fur looked more red than black. Lil glanced at the hallway door, her primitive survival instincts urging her to run, but then she looked back at Ian.
She’d made the conscious decision long ago to stay in Cornwall, even if it meant risking her life. Now that she was about to solve the mystery of which werewolf was stronger and whether or not Ian could control his blood lust, she couldn’t bear to run craven from the room. And if her life was forfeit, so be it.
Yet again Lil pulled her tiny pistol, but looking from the lethal mass of muscle and bone to the tiny pearl handled derringer made her realize the futility of such a puny defense. Nevertheless, Lil warily eased around the combatants, trying to get a clear shot at Thomas. But no sooner did she get in position than the fight veered in a new direction.
Never in her life had Lil felt more helpless. The two werewolves were so smeared with blood that Lil couldn’t tell who was wounded worse. Despite the fact that Thomas was slightly larger, the fight seemed evenly matched.
Perhaps Ian was more desperate. Perhaps he was tired of being subordinate.
Or, and this sent a dart of pain through Lil so severe that the pistol wavered in her hand, perhaps Ian hadn’t learned to control his urges at all. Perhaps he broke out of his cell for the same reason that Thomas followed her into the study. Perhaps…
… Ian hadn’t come here to fight for her, but to fight over her.
The thought scarcely escaped her before, with a savagery that made Lil wince, Ian’s jaws locked down on one of Thomas’s ears like a vise. Howling, Thomas clawed viciously at Ian’s back, but Ian only bit down harder, until blood flowed into his mouth. The taste of it seemed to give him strength, for, with a mighty heave, Ian threw Thomas across the room into the roaring fireplace.
The yowl of pain that came from Thomas as the fire seared his fur almost made Lil feel sorry for him.
Almost.
The andirons clattered and Lil wondered if perhaps the impact broke a rib, for when Thomas stumbled to his feet he favored one side. He shook his head, dazed with pain. For once the menace in those cold black eyes faded to grey murk. Unpleasant, but not as terrifying.
Her fingers trembling around the derringer butt, Lil looked at Ian. His muscular chest moved in and out with his heavy breathing, but it was the demand in those amber eyes as he stared at her that glued Lil to the floor.
Possession.
Hunger.
Desire.
For- what?
Lil was afraid to move forward, and afraid not to. But her ambivalence was part and parcel of the duality of their entire relationship. She had come this far and she couldn’t back away now. Lil glanced over Ian’s shoulder at Thomas, but he was harmless for the moment, standing as though even breathing pained him. She looked back at Ian.
His nostrils flared as he crept toward her, his great padded feet soundless on the floor. Still Lil held her ground despite her own fear. She’d prayed for this, that God make him strong, but how could he defeat something as evil as Thomas and not have some remnant of savagery left himself?
She told herself to be still, to wait and know for sure. But when he was close enough to strike, the wild scent of him, sweat and blood, and wolf and man, made her react on an instinctive level. She backed away, her hands up to ward him off. From a very long distance, it would seem to her later, Lil noted that she pointed the derringer directly at his eye. She couldn’t say herself whether she did so deliberately or not.
But Ian froze, one foot still raised. The images of his battle with Thomas were still too vivid, and for a moment Lil thought that great paw was about to slash at her. Wincing in fear, she dodged to the side. Amber eyes darkened with what might have been pain, but then the sounds of running feet in the hallway alerted them to the fact that help was on its way.
Ian’s lips curled back from his teeth in a soundless snarl blatant with contempt. With a powerful thrust of his hind quarters, he leaped over Lil’s shrinking figure, out the broken door to the patio.
There was a slight rustle of leaves and then nothing. Not even the moon peered past the clouds, as if Diana herself were ashamed of a kindred huntress.
Trembling with the force of her warring emotions, Lil looked over at Thomas. To her fury, the wordless confrontation with Ian must have taken longer than she realized. Thomas was already fully a man again. He kicked his tattered clothes into the fire, shrugging into a silk dressing gown he must have left lying over the sofa for exactly this emergency. Lil stuck her derringer back in her reticule and used the precious seconds before the door opened to straighten her clothes and hair.
She knew what inference Thomas would put on this situation, but she held the man’s black eyes as steadily as she had held the wolf’s. “You can lie all you like, but how will you explain your burns and your broken rib?”
; “Quite easily. Even better, it will be more or less true. The vicissitudes of passion, my dear.”
Lil only had time for one quick step toward the patio door before the room filled with people. Preston, of course, led the way. He took one look at Thomas and glanced toward Lil. From the smirk that twisted his full mouth, Lil deduced that Preston either shared Thomas’s malady or knew of it. And likely abetted it.
Settling a fake look of embarrassment over his handsome face, Preston pretended to try to block the door, but only after some of the worst gossips in the county pressed into the room. “It seems my brother has been…well entertained this evening. I suspect we’re a trifle de trop.”
It took every ounce of possession Lil retained to stand erect and dignified under the salacious glances, but her equanimity was her only remaining ammunition against the Harbaugh brothers. And she used it well, with a dismissing glance shared equally between Preston and Thomas.
Drolly, she said, “Indeed, it might have been a most entertaining interlude, had his lordship been….up to the challenge. But I suppose I shall have to leave as I arrived, in full possession of my faculties, my reputation, and I might point out, of my clothes. Pity. But some reputations are so difficult to live…up to, would you not agree Thomas? Come, Safira.”
Haughtily, Safira and Lil walked through the shocked party goers. Thomas hadn’t spoken a word, but Lil felt his enmity a tangible thing against her back as she exited. She only wished she had nerve enough to rip his dressing gown away and make him explain his wounds. She didn’t relax her offended pose until they were safely in the carriage and away.
Then, reaction setting in, Lil collapsed in tears. “Oh Safira, what am I to do? I’d like to believe Ian was trying to protect me…but the curse is so strong, and I feel so weak. Somehow, I betrayed him.”
The Wolf of Haskell Hall Page 23