“I suppose they wondered what I could have done to mess up something they themselves only dreamed of. Having a father, a real father, even if I had no memory of my mother.
“What none of them could have guessed is that I hadn’t done anything and that was exactly the problem. My father had waited years for something to manifest itself in me...but it never did.
“Only a week earlier, he had come into my bedroom in the middle of the night to drag me out of the mansion and into the car. I remember that I was scared and that part of it was because my father drove the car himself. As long as I could remember, I had never seen anyone drive but one of the chauffeurs attached to the house staff. Those guys were always on call, no matter what the hour, but there we were, my father deadly serious with the steering wheel in his hands as we drove off.
“We ended up going down a number of roads that ran deeper and deeper into the woods. What I know now is a forest.
“At the time, though, it felt like a sea of trees had surrounded us. More than I had ever seen before in my entire twelve years and their leafless branches scared me, too. Like thousands of thin fingers rising against the full moon, capable of ripping tiny bits of flesh away from anyone stupid enough to walk among them.
“After a while, the car ran out of road and we began walking. It was dark and I had no idea how my father could see. I kept stumbling and he kept hoisting me back up by the wrist with a hand that held on to me like a steel trap.
“We came to a clearing and we waited for a while. I didn’t dare speak as my father stood there, still as stone. Finally, a couple of old men came walking out of the trees.
“They were wearing grey robes and had enormous beards. And even before anything happened, I thought to myself that those old birds knew magic...that there was going to be magic.
“It should have been wonderful, or exciting. Instead, I was only more frightened as their severe faces looked down on me.
“My father spoke to me then, saying only, ‘Be still, boy.’
“And suddenly, those two old men seemed to melt before my eyes, their bodies shifting like water into a pair of enormous grizzled wolves.
“Their yellow eyes burned into me, then the two lifted their muzzles and howled to the moon.
“I think I screamed. Yeah...I probably did. But my father never eased his grip on me and no matter how much I kicked and screamed, he didn’t budge.
“The wind rose upon the voices of those wolves. The air crackled with power as they called up their magic. Then they turned back to me, their silver and yellow eyes skewering me into silence.
“I stopped struggling. Everything seemed to come to a stop. It felt like they were waiting for something. As if they wanted me to say or do something.
“But, what did I know? I was just a twelve year old kid stuck in the forest with his father acting like the cheese had completely slipped off his cracker.
“Oh and the two old men who turned into wolves. Yeah, there was that, too.
“The wind died down, and those old grey wolves shifted back into old grey men. They turned to my father and together they shook their heads.
“I’ll never forget what one of them said next.
“‘The blood will tell and in this one, it does not run true. The wolf of the father is not in this child’s veins.’
“It was if they had slapped my father across the face. In a night of unbelievable things, that might have been the height of it.
“My father was an enormous man, with enormous riches and power to make or break people merely by lifting an eyebrow. But those words looked like they twisted his guts through a wringer.
“We went home after that and the next day, my father didn’t speak of what happened and neither did I.
“For almost a week, nothing happened. I busied myself poking around in my father’s library and reading as much as I could about werewolves...the legends and myths, when I knew full well that the books were wrong. I’d seen them.
“Then he came to me and said that my little brother, Braze, had gotten sick. He was in the hospital.
“And, as if it was the next logical thing to happen, we were in my father’s jet. He had nothing to say. I tried to keep quiet, and from time to time, I would sneak a look at my father’s eyes. I don’t know how I’d never noticed it before but his eyes shimmered in yellow hues that came and went...like magic. A yellow exactly like the color in those old grey wolves eyes that strange night in the woods.
“I might have only been twelve years old, but I got it. I understood the gist of what that old man had said.
“The wolf of the father is not in this child’s veins.
“I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted to be like him. Strong, proud...a man who commanded the respect of absolutely every single person around him. A wolf among men.
“But, it wasn’t in me and I knew it as well as he did then.
“Later on I would find out that the orphanage was in the Causse mountains of Aveyron, France. All I knew is that people spoke a language I didn’t understand and that there were no women there. Just men wearing rough wool robes that made me think of Friar Tuck.
“My father took me from the hired limousine to the iron gates of that place and, finally, had something to say to me.
“‘Clement. Your brother, Braze, is gone. His death has ruined me as a father and I cannot raise you as you are.
“‘Here, they will look after you.’
“And that was all. Nothing else.
“Those were the last words I’d ever heard from Nashton Abraxis before one of those robed men with a shaved head came to the gate and led me away in silence.
“I tried not to, but I looked back once, only to see my father standing next to the car. Not in a last farewell as he watched me go away. No. Not him. His back was turned and said much more than his words alone.
“I had been abandoned.
“The orphanage was run by a religious order. A monastery that went back more than ten centuries and had always taken in errant boys to give them a home and an education.
“Most of those boys went on to become monks themselves, but not all. Not me.
“In those early days, I was angry...angrier than anyone has any right to be at that age and quickly became a thorn in the monastery’s side. Even if there was no wolf in me, I learned fast how to act like a beast.
“There were plenty of boys who spoke english. Some better than others. As far as I was concerned, though, I didn’t even need to know what they were saying. A simple look would set me off and I’d pound the hell out of someone or get the hell pounded out of me.
“That’s what had just happened when I saw Brother Janos for the first time.
“An old man had come limping in to the isolation hall and came straight for me. His cheeks were unshaven...I remember that. It looked like there was dried soup crusted in the corners of his lips. He seemed a hundred years old to me at the time, but that did not stop him from giving me a backhand that had me seeing stars.
“He roared like a wild man as he came after me. When he hit me, I fell off the wooden bench where I had been sitting and holding a handkerchief to my broken nose. But that crazy old man came after me making more noise all at once than I had heard since I’d come to the orphanage.
“Oh, I fought back, but so did he and ended up giving me a good thrashing.
“‘You think you’re a tough one, eh boy?’ the old man said, then he laughed and I could see that he was missing most of his teeth.
“‘You’re not tough...you’re scared,’ his old man’s eyes looked at me then, really looked at me as he voice dropped to almost a whisper, ‘And that makes you stupid.’
“I hated that he had said that. I was not stupid...except that he knew just what he was doing, the old bastard.
“‘You want to fight. Fine. I’ll teach you. And, then if you’re good enough, maybe we’ll see if you can learn other things.’ He leaned close to me then and I could smell the garlic on his bre
ath as he finished, ‘Magic things...monster things...yes?’
“He had me. Right there. An old man had just knocked the stuffing out of me and then dangled the prize before me. He knew about magic....
“I suppose it doesn’t take much imagination to understand that Brother Janos was no ordinary monk. In fact, he was hardly one at all. He told me once that he had been ordained a priest but that had only lasted a little while before a judgement came to take it away again. He had laughed when he said it, saying only that they should have judged the woman instead.
“‘She was a fine one, that girl. Legs up to her chin.’
“At the time, I didn’t really get it. But, what I did get was that this was no ordinary old man. And, it didn’t take me long to love him for it.
“We started working with wooden batons. He came for me each day after morning prayers, sometimes shouting down the other monks who thought I needed to spend more time with books and writing in the lecture hall. But, Brother Janos wouldn’t hear of it, pulling me out of there and off to some old broken down part of the monastery.
“Blocks of fallen stone and moss covered walls surrounded my instruction grounds and he showed me how to spin and parry with wooden sticks until I was battered and dead tired. The old bird knew what he was doing and when I went back to studies with the rest of the boys later in the day, most of the time I was so tired I was falling asleep on top of my books. On the other hand, I stopped picking fights altogether. I was just too damned tired to bother.
“It went on like that for months and then the wooden batons were put away to be replaced by iron shod staves. Eventually, those too were set aside and wooden practice swords took their place.
“He had a lot to say, too, in his accented english. Lessons and stories mingled until I couldn’t tell anymore if he was teaching me or just spinning tales. In the end, it was one and the same, and I don’t know if even he knew anymore which it was.
“I didn’t care. The time I spent with him was marvelous.
“He made me feel special. Set apart from the rest of them.
“I guess, maybe, that I was.
“The monastery was different from most in that a nun's cloister was just adjacent to it. A high wall ran between the two and seemed to be enough of a barrier as they needed, when back in the day, it would have been unheard of. But the old days of coffers overflowing from donations meant to buy back people souls were long gone, and those people of the faith had to make do. The Church was behind them in spirit, but nowhere to be found when it came to cold, hard cash.
“The first time I saw the woman, I thought she was a ghost. Brother Janos told endless stories about blood drinkers and their habits. Or, he spoke of the undead and their restless souls as they hunger for the flesh of living men. He spoke of beasts, too, masquerading as men in the world. And about that, I had already had some ideas.
“I was practicing lunging with my wooden sword, then whirling about to parry an imagined foe before Brother Janos arrived for that day's session. And, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a ghostly white face not quite hidden among the ivy covered walls that ran the length of our makeshift practice yard.
“It was just for a moment, but it sent a chill through me. A face without a body, and such sadness in its large eyes. There and then gone again just as quickly, I was almost unsure that I had seen anything at all.
“Later, when I had summoned my courage, and while Brother Janos had nodded off after working with me, I went to that section of the wall. And, there, among the overgrown stones, I found where some had fallen away leaving a hole that traversed the wall.
“It didn't take me long to forget the whole thing. A boy's life has so much happening all at once, it's not always easy to sort out the important from the not.
“Except that a couple month's later, I saw her again. Still just a flash, but enough that I was sure she was real and not some phantom from one of Janos's stories. After that time, I didn't forget anymore because I had seen enough to notice something. The face was that of a woman. But, it was also almost like looking into a mirror.
“Eventually, I asked Brother Janos about the woman who came to look at me through the wall, but, for once, he didn't have an answer for me when he never lacked one for everything else.
“Soon enough, though, we were practicing elsewhere, changing almost every day until, finally, he started taking me down into the catacombs under the monastery.
“There, far down and under the very feet of the boys of the orphanage, I learned what it was to wield a sword as Brother Janos taught me all that he knew. By lamplight he taught me to parry and to feint. In darkness, he taught me to see without seeing and how to move in perfect silence.
“I grew stronger as the months passed. I grew stronger, even, than him. The light wooden swords were long forgotten and in their place, we fought with lead cored hardwood blades, their tips well blunted but perfectly capable of putting out an eye or breaking ribs like match sticks.
“One day he took me down there, but instead of taking up our weapons as usual and warming up with some basic routines, he drew me with him down a long corridor that I hadn’t noticed before.
“We went down old stone stairs and through oak doors that were falling apart on their hinges. At last, we stood beside a sculpture of a man lying upon his back on the floor, a sword barely visible in his stone hands for all the dust the years had banked over onto the thing.
“‘The tomb of the man who saved me,’ said Brother Janos and I remember backing up a step, not expecting that anyone, living or dead, was inside that heavy stone.
“‘I was running wild with a band of mendiant boys in Paris. Most of them were Romanian, like me, and we panhandled all day before heading back to the wagons just outside the city limits. The bosses waited on us and for those who brought back the most there was rum and even a little meat. For the others, stale bread and beatings.
“‘This man had an eye on us for days until, finally, when we were hard at begging for a sou or two, he waded in and broke us apart. I was the unlucky one,’ the old man chuckled, then, ‘Or, so I thought. He seized me by the scruff of the neck and growled into my ear, “I can’t do for the lot of you, so one’ll have to do for the rest.”
“‘He hauled me away from there and, if I recall rightly, he knocked me around, like I did you, until I settled enough to pay him mind.’
“Brother Janos crossed himself then as he looked down at that tomb. And, that was surprising. I had never seen him do it before and in all the time I spent with him after I never saw him do it again.
“‘The life I almost led. It would have been a mean existence, Clement. A dark, empty thing. But for him.
“‘At his side over the years, he taught me the same as I teach you now and one day, when I decide you’re ready, you’ll take up his sword.’
“The old man leaned forward and swiped a finger through the dust and what I had taken for part of the sculpted stone revealed itself in a shining glimmer of bright metal. He hissed, then laughed as he held up that finger with blood pattering down.
“Later, we discovered he had cut himself to the bone...the old fool.
“‘Clement, that blade is a holy thing. It has been in this monastery’s possession for longer than anyone can remember. Blessed countless times, it is incorruptible. And, now, I and a very few others have decided it has languished long enough in this forgotten pit. You are being forged as this weapon was once forged and together you and it shall wreak God’s vengeance among the abominations that crawl upon the earth.
“‘I have argued long and hard for your cause. I cannot believe it is mere chance that you have come among us. You who were spurned by the werewolves themselves.’
“His voice shook with emotion as he looked at me and saw the glories of his past when he had destroyed many a monster in his youth. I don’t deny that it filled me with pride that day until, later, he knocked it back out of me, pounding me down with a practice sword like he never had b
efore.
“But I understood why. He had decided he didn’t need to hold back any longer and he was right. It wasn’t that day, nor the next, but eventually his blows were turned by my growing skill. And when that happened often enough that was when he decided I would kill my first vampire.
“It wasn’t long before we were in a rickety old car and spent what felt like weeks on the road. And, there, deep in the badlands of Romania, Brother Janos led me to a nest of blood drinkers that damn near saw both of us killed.
“I loved that old man. Without ever saying it, neither of us ever did, we both knew he had become my father and I his son. For him and his memory, I have reason enough for the cause that guides my hand and this sword.
“Except that ungodly creatures have themselves lent their weight to my motivation.
“They destroyed my childhood, took away my parents, and, in the end, killed my mother without her ever being able to say a single word to me.
“Brother Janos Karel made me swear to him on his death bed that I would never sully my own soul in patricide. He told me that it would be a terrible sin that would overshadow the great work of my life to come and so I swore to it. Fortunately, a few years later, Nash Abraxis removed such temptations himself when he died and I came into a substantial trust fund he had set aside. Apparently, it was destined for the monastery, but upon his death, the order returned the funds to me.
“Ironically, thanks to the man who forced upon me the hardest lessons of my life and gave me a reason to hunt down abomination, I am free in my task with no lack for finances to wage my war wherever I will.
“And, thanks to you, I narrowly avoided fratricide. You see, I have been following you and without fail, monsters surround you. Braze, as a wolf, would have been just one more of many creatures that I have sent to the depths of hell.”
“But, you can't mean that you would have hurt your own brother, Clement?” Sara said after a moment.
“Can't I?” replied Clement.
Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--The Novel (A Paranormal Alpha Werewolf Romance) Page 12