Box Set: The Wolf of Dorian Gray Series: Books 1-3

by Brian Ference

  Lady Helena considered his description of the room carefully. She closed her eyes as if reconstructing the scene in her mind. “How much blood did you say was on the floor?”

  Lord Crawley performed some mental calculations. “About a pint or so but spread evenly around, with only a small portion in any one area.”

  Lady Helena clicked her tongue. “And the knife?”

  Lord Crawley began to bore of all this conversation and he looked around the room. “Bloodied as well, though the blood on the blade seemed considerably darker than what was on the floor.”

  Lady Helena reached for a glass of wine at her side. “Strange. The window seemed blown out as if by an explosion?”

  Lord Crawley focused intently on the wine glass in her hand. “What else could explain it?”

  Lady Helena took a sip and returned the glass to the table. “You have done well, Lord Crawley. You will find a most generous payment there on the table.”

  Lord Crawley quickly scooped up the purse lying near the wooden easel. After a brief inspection of the gold coins inside, the purse disappeared into his waistcoat. He preferred gold coins to bank notes. Banks had a way of seeking to settle their own debts first, which tended to leave little left over. This arrangement had proved very profitable, though Lord Crawley was still woefully short of repaying his many financial obligations. If he continued in the service of Lady Helena, he may one day amass enough to repurchase his father’s house. Living as a Lord in title only had been difficult after growing up in luxury. If only he had never met Dorian Gray…

  Lady Helena reacted to the man’s longing gaze towards her wine glass. “When you are done reminiscing, you may visit the kitchen. The cook may have some hot stew ready for you and my steward will provide you with some wine.”

  He gave her his most gracious bow. “Thank you, my lady.”

  As the younger man left the room, Lady Helena turned her gaze back to the painting. “Where have you gone Mr. Gray?”

  Several hours passed and the fire began to die. Lady Helena was dozing and having a most rousing dream—reliving some of the debaucheries of her youth. The rest of the house was quiet, with most of the staff dismissed or in bed for the evening. Even Lord Crawley was now abed in a guest room after indulging in two bottles of the finest red the house had to offer.

  It was nearly midnight. Only Lucious remained awake and he was certain something was amiss. With a low whistle, he summoned his faithful dog to his side and they began to patrol the grounds outside. The Scottish Deerhound had bristly gray hair, was nearly a meter tall and weighed almost fifty kilograms. But Lucious prized him as a hunting dog for his keen sight and speed above all. His ability to kill silently had earned him the name of Wolf. Lucious turned the dog loose with a command to find prey. “Wolv, FAH-ee shin.” Immediately, the animal began scouring the garden, heading towards the outer wall. Lucious followed slowly while loading his double-barreled flintlock shotgun.

  Dorian peered through the darkness. He knew there must be very little light outside the high wall that surrounded the estate and was amazed that he could see so clearly. His eyes adjusted to the black night and he could just make out the familiar walls and garden as if it were daylight. All was eerily still, save for a slight breeze that rustled the leaves. The house he had entered many times before now seemed sealed. Dorian would have to find another way in. He remembered his daring leap onto the trellis of his own house. His jump had been much higher than should have been possible. Could he vault over the slanted top of the wall? It was over three meters high.

  He measured the distance with his eyes and took a deep breath. Three quick strides and he threw himself up, propelling his body forward with all his might—only to bounce off the porous stone of the outer wall. Cursing, he crashed back to the earth. “Less forward and more height then,” he rubbed his bruised shoulder and whispered absentmindedly.

  Dorian looked around for a moment to make sure his embarrassing attempt had not raised the alarm. Good. All was still quiet. He walked forward until he was almost touching the wall. This time he crouched and sprang up the wall like a jungle tiger. A thrill of surprise shivered through Dorian’s chest as he cleared the top—before he started slipping. He flung out his arms wildly as gravity smashed him onto the slanted stone. His hands found purchase and he pulled himself up. Calculating his drop to the garden below, he landed like a cat on the cobblestones below.

  Suddenly, a dark gray dog came charging out from across the yard, growls thick in its throat. Without thinking, Dorian launched himself towards the animal. The hunting dog wavered at the oncoming menace and Dorian quickly changed direction, heading straight for the side entrance of the house. The dog let loose a series of barks and followed, running at full speed. The animal was fast, but could not catch Dorian as he reached the gate. Dorian surged up the bars of the metal gate the dog leaping and snapping at his heels. He began climbing the uneven brick wall, leaving the animal behind. Dorian planted his feet on the ledge and seized the wooden pane of the closest window. It was locked.

  Footsteps thudded below. Looking down into the garden, Dorian saw a man approaching. He was still a fair distance away, but had a shotgun leveled at him and was preparing to fire. Dorian’s arms strained against the wood and metal lock. With a growl, he put all of his strength into tearing open the window. Lock and wood shattered with a loud crack. He dove through the window.

  CHAPTER 5.

  A

  N ESCAPE PLAN

  Lady Helena’s dream had turned very naughty indeed. The room sparkled with candles that twinkled seductively. She could feel the coolness of her silk sheets as she rubbed her smooth legs together. She was young again and abed with one of her many former lovers. In fact, several of them were there in her chambers and they each came forward, one after the other, to take their turn in pleasing her. A French businessman kissed her neck and breasts delicately, a hard-muscled laborer lifted her off the bed to new heights of passion, and a dark and exotic steward took her from behind with powerful thrusts. Last of all came Dorian Gray. The very sight of him made her wet with longing. He kissed her deeply and stroked her hair and face. His kisses were urgent and forceful. Much stronger than she remembered. His lips pressed deeper, she—she couldn’t breathe.

  Her eyes shot open as the hand pressed tightly over her mouth. Her first instinct was to fight, but what could an old woman do? Then she saw who the hand belonged to. There was Dorian Gray, alive and in her room. He was whispering for her not to scream.

  Lady Helena had trouble speaking through the hand. “Mmffrrrhh.”

  Dorian blinked in confusion. “What?”

  Lady Helena rolled her eyes. “Mmffvv-yyrr-hnnd.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Dorian took his hand away from her mouth. “Ouch!” She smacked him again to emphasize her point.

  Dorian was rubbing his arm when Lady Helena suddenly pulled him forward and into an embrace. They hugged each other close and both remembered the bond they had once shared.

  Her eyes came away slick with tears. “I knew you were still alive. But why didn’t you send word? What on earth has happened? Is someone trying to kill you?”

  Dorian shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I am sorry to steal in here like this but I was desperate to see you. My life is in danger. I need your help to leave London quickly and quietly. More than that, I need your help to recover the painting.”

  Lady Helena put her hand to her lip and tapped it in feigned confusion. “What painting?”

  Dorian sighed. “You remember! It’s the one Sage painted of me and the wolf pup.”

  Lady Helena crinkled up her nose. “Ah, you mean the one on the table behind you.”

  “No, not the one on the table behind me—err, yes.” Dorian turned around and stared silently in a moment of shock. There he was, stuck in time forever in the painting sitting just behind him. But something was different.

  He tilted his head to the side. “Strange, the wolf pup is gon
e.”

  Lady Helena reached for her now empty wine glass. “Then you didn’t have it painted out?”

  Dorian looked around the darkened room. “No, but how did you manage to get it here?”

  Lady Helena batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “Oh, a woman has her ways. Your old friend Lord Crawley was of some assistance.”

  Dorian’s eyes widened. “Lord Crawley?”

  CLICK—the sound of a cocking pistol froze Dorian in his spot.

  From the corner of the room another voice spoke. “Yes, Lord Crawley. My lady, should I shoot this intruder for you?”

  Dorian turned to confront the man as he stepped out from the shadows.

  Lady Helena’s voice took on a playful tone. “Very tempting, but no. In fact, I think it is time that you and Mr. Gray put the past behind you and work together towards a common goal.”

  Lord Crawley still had not lowered the pistol. “I’d much rather shoot him in the face.”

  Dorian’s complexion reddened. “You don’t have the tallywags for it.”

  All playfulness fell away from Lady Helena’s face. “Now, now. There is no reason for you two gentlemen to get into a collie shangles just because there is a lady present. Besides, I am not so easily impressed. Lord Crawley, lower your weapon, NOW.”

  He begrudgingly obliged.

  Just then, the door flew open and Lucious burst in, pointing his shotgun first at Lord Crawley and then at Dorian. “Mistress dis ‘ere’s da vermin. Brok’ yer windae da bawbag did. Shuid ah gie ‘em som’ new air holes?”

  Lady Helena glared. “Not now, Lucious. We are all friends here. What is it with you boys waving your guns about?”

  Lucious quickly lowered his shotgun, instead firing a vicious look in Dorian’s direction.

  Lady Helena covered a yawn. “That will be all, Lucious. See to fixing the window and go…garden something.”

  He reluctantly turned to leave. “Aye, Mistress.”

  “And Lucious?”

  He paused.

  “Tomorrow we will discuss how it was that an intruder so easily entered my home.”

  Lucious’ face turned reddish-yellow in fury. He nodded and stormed out of the room.

  Lady Helena folded her hands. “Now, as I was saying, the two of you can help each other. Mr. Gray will need safe passage out of the city as soon as possible.”

  Lord Crawley put away his pistol. “Good riddance.”

  The corners of her mouth quivered. “Not quite. You will be going with him.”

  Lord Crawley tore his gaze from the empty wine glass at her side. “What?”

  “Your particular talents will be needed to help forge the necessary travel documents. I will use my influence where I can but the two of you will be journeying together and you will be entrusted with protecting Mr. Gray.”

  Lord Crawley crossed his arms. “I most certainly will not.”

  But Lady Helena continued on as if there had been no objection. “In return, Mr. Gray will sign a revision to his will and testament. After the inquest is over and all other matters settled, all of your debts are to be paid in full by the estate of the late Mr. Gray. Is this satisfactory?”

  Lord Crawley’s eyes gleamed at the thought of regaining his fortune and standing in society. He smiled. “Quite satisfactory. I was only kidding, old boy. A fine joke between friends, wouldn’t you say?”

  Dorian’s voice wavered with rage. “Hardly. It is bad enough have someone attach themselves to my fortune like a parasite. Lady Helena, I thank you for your help, but I certainly do not need a traveling companion.”

  Lady Helena scoffed. “That part of the deal is non-negotiable. Lord Crawley will act on my behalf and report to me regularly while I investigate things further here. If you agree to these conditions I promise to keep your secrets hidden and under my protection until you can safely return.” She looked pointedly at the painting on the table.

  Dorian considered for a moment. It would only slow him down to flee with the painting. He thought he could trust Lady Helena to keep it safe. “Very well, but we must leave immediately.”

  Lady Helena wrapped the silk scarf around her neck more tightly. “I will do my best, of course. For now, you must remain out of sight. I own a small cottage on the outskirts of town where you can stay. Lucious will provide you with the key. Go now. You mustn't linger here.”

  Dorian offered his friend a small bow. “Thank you, Lady Helena.”

  She inclined her head. “Of course, Mr. Gray. Lord Crawley, please find us some wine. We have much to do and very little time.”

  CHAPTER 6.

  T

  HE FULL MOON

  Dorian was fast asleep as a bone-white moon rose, bright and full in the night sky. He awoke screaming as the transformation began with his ribs and the bones in his back splitting. His body began healing immediately, but it was remaking itself—wrong. Fire raked through his veins as his chest and back swelled. Dorian looked down in horror as the skin on his hands blackened and stretched. The bones in his forearms and hands separated and then healed as his muscles swelled and his arms elongated. Sharp claws sprouted and punctured through the middle of his fingernails as they grew.

  He doubled over in agony, rolling to the floor as the bones in his legs shattered and doubled in length and size to support the expanding muscles. His breaths came in ragged bursts as his mind fought against the excruciating pain. Blood pooled in his eyes and clouded his vision. The red fluid trickled from his ears and fell from his mouth, the skin tearing while his jaw cracked and reformed. He could feel the nerves in his teeth explode as jagged canines pushed through the center of each tooth at once.

  Dorian struggled to stand and failed. Instead, he fell to all fours arching his back as he rode the convulsions that racked his mutilated body. His heart erupted and healed as his lungs first collapsed, then mushroomed out as they burst and reformed. Every hair follicle in his body sprouted a thick black shoot at the same time.

  The worst pain, however, came from the battle raging inside his head. His very being tore away in chunks of memories and emotions and in place fell vile and animalistic thoughts. He tried to fight against the overwhelming thirst for blood, but he did not know how. The need to hunt washed over him like the unstoppable flow of a raging river, swelling to an uncontrollable force by the unending rains of rage and brutality.

  The screaming stopped as an elongated red eye focused on the unfamiliar surroundings. The massive werewolf’s body shivered with power as the transformation was complete. The creature was a long way from the forest, but it had hunted in the cities of men before. A single thought dominated the mind of the werewolf above all others—kill.

  * * *

  Back at her home that evening, Lady Helena was reviewing the plans that she had set in motion for Dorian to leave the city. She was working on securing passage on a ship and Lord Crawley was in the process of obtaining travel papers under an assumed name. Once all was ready, she would send for Dorian. Her associates would not mind him using the small cottage for a while. He promised to stay out of sight until summoned.

  Lady Helena was enjoying a glass of Vin Mariani as she looked over prospective ship manifests. The key would be to transport Dorian by ship in a way where no questions were asked and where it was unlikely that his notable face would be recognized by any of the passengers.

  She drained the last of her glass and looked out admiringly at the pale full moon. A flicker of motion brought her gaze to the painting on the table. Her glass shattered on the floor as it slipped from her hand and she gasped in disbelief at what her eyes saw.

  The figure on the canvas that had been Dorian had changed to a snarling and vicious demon-wolf covered in dark hair. It had grown much larger now took up most of the canvas. Sharp claws and long fangs warned of death. The most terrible part was the red eyes, filled with equal parts malice and intelligence. It couldn’t be real. Surely, it was an effect of the wine or some remnants of her sickness that had brought on this
horrible vision. She felt suddenly faint from exhaustion. She turned the painting over in disgust.

  * * *

  Dorian’s dreams that night contained terrifying images of the beast that hunted him and the horrendous acts it committed. They were dark and ruthless scenes filled with vile pleasures and unquenchable bloodlust.

  A bright light insisted he wake up. He groaned and rolled over to his side, throwing his arm over the woman lying next to him. Woman? Dorian sat up immediately. He had taken no one to bed with him last night. The bed felt wrong. Dorian blinked rapidly to clear the sleep and blurred splotches from his eyes. It had happened—again.

  “No. No, no, no.”

  He was naked and covered in blood once more. This was the second time he had awoken in this state. Instead of being deep in the protective center of the forest, he was in the small cottage Lucious had taken him to last night. This time there was the corpse of a naked woman next to him. He couldn’t look at her. Dorian got out bed with shaking limbs. Between frantic breaths, he began cleaning himself. What have I done? He must leave London tonight.

  Lady Helena had been kind enough to provide him with a fresh pair of clothes before he left her last night. Dorian changed into them and left the cottage heading towards town. Eventually he made his way to the side gate of Lady Helena's home. A reluctant Lucious ushered him into the kitchen where Lady Helena was having her breakfast.

  “Good morning, Lady Helena.”

  Lady Helena put down the paper she was reading. “Dorian, are you alright? You look quite pale.”

  Dorian shivered. “I must leave immediately. I can wait no longer.”

  Lady Helena pushed aside the plate of wheat bread with strawberry jam and looked at Dorian calmly. “You must understand if you leave so soon it will not be under ideal circumstances.”

  Dorian’s eyes pleaded with her. “Whatever it takes. But I must be as far away from this place as possible.”