Lady Helena stood and greeted them warmly. “I am so glad to see you return safely, Dorian. Thank you, Lord Crawley, for protecting him.”
Lord Crawley gave a short bow. “I am a man of my word, my lady. Now that I have delivered him to you, please excuse me as I have several other matters to attend to.”
The smile remained on Lady Helena’s mouth but disappeared from her voice and eyes. “Do stay. You have a role yet to play.”
She turned to the woman seated next to her. “Dorian, this is Shuvani Ingraham. She thinks she may have a solution to your…affliction.”
The Romani woman was dressed in a long-sleeved white linen shirt with a dark red bodice. She had replaced the gold coins interwoven in her red silk headscarf with silver ones. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dorian Gray. I understand you knew my verişoară, Sage Holdsworth.”
It took Dorian a moment to realize her meaning. “You are related to Sage?”
The old woman nodded. “Yes, we share the same blood.”
“Then maybe you can help undo what was done to me in her painting.”
Lady Helena unwrapped the painting in question and set it on the table. A well-dressed version of Dorian that might as well have been a mirror looked back at him.
Shuvani Ingraham’s eyes darted back and forth between the canvas and actual face of Dorian. “The likeness is uncanny. Tell me what you know of this painting.”
Dorian felt a growing unease. “Sage was a fantastic artist who always mixed her own colors from the herbs she gathered in the woods.” He could hardly believe he was saying the words—words he’d never spoken aloud. “For the red, she mixed some of my blood and that of a wolf cub that we once rescued in the forest.”
Dorian paused to study the old woman. She did remind him of Sage. She was nodding thoughtfully. He went on, “She said that she was afraid she had put too much of herself into the painting. I think now that she must have loved me as well as the wolf cub. She even named him after me.”
Shuvani Ingraham scowled and tapped a long fingernail on the side of the table in front of her. “Is there anything else you can think of?”
Dorian reflected back at the memories of Sage that he had locked away with the rest of his former life. He frowned. “She would sometimes chant while she was mixing her paints. And I think she once mentioned The Spell of Making.”
The fortuneteller froze. She made the sign of the evil eye. “Fool girl! Linking the drab and the bol through The Spell of Making is interzis-forbidden.”
Dorian sat down at the table. He could see a remnant of Sage’s face in the weathered woman before him. “Don’t be too hard on her. She has blessed me with the gifts of youth and healing. My depravity is what twisted it into something evil. Can you unlink my soul from the beast inside me?”
Shuvani Ingraham closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. In a few hours hence, the Blood Moon will rise. That will be our best chance. I see that you have suffered and repented from your dark ways, so I will try my best to help you.”
Dorian turned to look at the others in the room. “I have caused so many people pain. Even if it were to kill me, I must try to put an end to the demon inside me.”
The old woman shook her head so violently that the silver coins began tinkling together. “It is not as simple as that. The incantation must begin before the Blood Moon rises. It will trigger an early change. You must pit your will against that of the Vârcolac. Failure means it will overwhelm you and your soul will be lost forever.”
Lady Helena gestured to one of the cells in the corner. “That room has steel shackles mounted to the wall and floor. Putting on the restraints beforehand would be wise.”
Dorian began to panic. He could not change into that monster again. Particularly not in a room filled with people trying to help him. “There must be another way. You don’t understand what it is like to have your very being ripped away. Those tiny shackles will not hold against the wolf’s fury. I won’t be caged in there, I…”
He cut off speaking as Lord Crawley drew a pistol from his coat, placed it at the back of his head, and blew his brains out. The blood shot nearly a meter, spattered on the low stone wall surrounding the fireplace. Dorian’s mind went suddenly black and he crashed forward onto the table.
Lady Helena croaked in horror as Lucious jumped to slit Lord Crawley’s throat. She held up her hand. “Hold Lucious. Let us give Lord Crawley a chance to explain what the hell he is doing–before you kill him.”
Lucious had swiftly drawn his Damascus black dirk and now held the blade behind the neck of the oblivious Lord Crawley.
Lord Crawley finally noticed and his throat went dry. “My, ah, apologies. I have seen him survive much worse on the battlefield. We have no time to waste and he was refusing the shackles. I don’t think any of you realize how strong he is in his human form.”
Shuvani Ingraham wiped some splattered blood from her cheek. She was about to clean it on her shawl, but then she thought better of it and rubbed some of Dorian’s blood on her forehead in a circle instead. “He is right. Look, the wound is already healing. We must begin the incantation at once.”
Lady Helena looked at the bloody mess sprawled out on the table. Sure enough, the hole in the back of Dorian’s head was slowly filling with new sinew. “Lucious, quick! Drag him to the cell and shackle him.”
Lord Crawley’s eyes followed the Scotsman’s dirk as it was withdrawn and sheathed. “We shouldn’t waste this opportunity to kill him. We could try cutting off his head.”
Lady Helena turned red with rage. “I told you we needed him alive. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped Lucious.”
Lord Crawley’s face became a shade whiter. “Never mind. Here, let me help drag him.”
CHAPTER 28.
T
HE BLOOD MOON
Thought and feeling returned as Dorian’s brain reformed. His heart began beating again and his lungs once more drew breath. His sight came back at last along with a searing headache.
Lord Crawley snapped on the last shackle just before Dorian threw himself against the restraints.
Dorian’s muscles strained against the steel bonds around his neck, wrists, and ankles. But they were embedded deep within the stone and held. “You bastard. I’ll kill you.”
Lord Crawley smirked even as he moved back to a safe distance. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried.”
Shuvani Ingraham swept into the small cell. “Enough. The Blood Moon will rise soon. You must clear your mind of anger and hate, or the Vârcolac will seize control.
Lady Helena strode in uncertainly and leaned the painting up against the other wall. She moved over to Dorian and patted his hand in soothing circles. “I am sorry, Mr. Gray. This is just a precaution for our safety. Now let us help you.”
The chains slackened as Dorian exhaled and slowly slid to the floor. “It seems I have no choice. Let us begin then.”
The old fortuneteller produced a small knife from her bodice and slit her thumb. She approached Dorian. He sat still as a statue she traced the blood from her finger in a circle on his forehead, mirroring the one on her own.
He howled in pain as she drove an iron nail deep into his leg. She looked at him with kind eyes. “My apologies. You must be connected to iron for the spell to work.”
She walked over to the picture on the wall and pushed another iron nail through the canvas. Finally, she used her blood to draw a circle on the figure’s forehead in the painting. She closed her eyes and began chanting.
Luna de sânge a sosit,
prin fier și sânge,
și te voi numi ‘Vârcolac’.
Te rog să te întorci.
The Blood Moon has arrived,
by iron and blood and will
I name thee ‘Vârcolac’.
I bid thee come forth.
The change came upon Dorian faster than ever before. He felt like every muscle in his body was exploding. Screaming and bleeding, he strained against
the shackles as his body disfigured and healed in the shape of the werewolf. Hair still sprouting and claws still forming, the mind of the wolf rushed to take control in a ferocious hurricane of rage.
Shuvani Ingraham gasped and took a step back from the monster. She could still sense some of Dorian within the werewolf and called out to it. “Dorian! You must fight against it. Do not let the Vârcolac’s will take over.”
He heard her words just as his being was about to wash away. He struggled against the onslaught of the wolf’s will. He was being shoved back into that dark cage of his mind, but this time there would be no escape. He threw his arms against the barred door of the cage as it was shutting against his mind. He screamed and pushed back with everything he had. It was just enough to keep the cage door from closing, but he was unable to force the door open any farther.
The wolf stood to its full height. It moved to kill the man standing at his left but could not reach him. He looked down in confusion at the metal loops on his arms and legs. He opened his jaws to gnaw them off, but found his head also chained.
Lucious pointed to the painting with his dirk. “Keek at th' picture! It tae haes changed.”
They all turned to look at the painting, which had also transformed from the handsome face into the terrible demon now before them. The wolf whimpered in fear. The room reminded him of the cage he was kept in when the man ruled.
Lord Crawley lowered his raised pistol and laughed. “So, just a rabid dog after all. What’s the matter boy, you don’t like your leash?”
The wolf heard the challenge in the man’s voice, and his whimper turned into a snarl. His claws shot out and froze—just short of the man’s face. Lord Crawley snickered in amusement as the muscles in the wolf’s arm bulged against the shackles. The werewolf saw the mockery in the man’s face and strained all the harder. He pulled and pulled until his bicep tore and the muscles in his arm splintered. The wolf drew back against the wall, cradling his arm as he panted in pain. Something was wrong. The creature’s arm did not heal as usual. The rapid transformation had taken too much power.
Lord Crawley saw his chance. “It isn’t healing. We can kill it once and for all.” He raised his pistol and drew back the hammer.
The werewolf needed to feed. The bloodlust came on in a red haze. This time he struck without the limits of pain or rage. There was only the raw need for blood. The limestone fractured a split a second before a chain link in the shackles broke, releasing the wolf’s right arm.
Lord Crawley fired. The wolf ducked as the bullet went wide, tunneling into his pointed ear and passing through to lodge in his shoulder. The wolf’s claws sunk into Lord Crawley’s extended firing arm and pulled the man into his embrace. His right hand released the man and shot up, deep into the man’s stomach. Lord Crawley gurgled blood, screaming as the claws continued to punch up into his lungs. The sharp fangs were not content to sink into one place but bit down repeatedly as the man thrashed in his arms. Lord Crawley’s gaping rictus seemed to beg for help from a paralyzed Lucious.
Lady Helena’s hand was once again raised, commanding that the Scotsman remain motionless. “I told you that you still had a role to play. Shuvani Ingraham warned me that an early transformation would steal the creature’s ability to heal. Now that he is fed, he will be strong enough to survive what comes next.”
The wolf finally ripped out Lord Crawley’s throat, the life ending abruptly from the half-eaten body. The wolf’s bicep had healed and he felt more powerful than ever. With his hunger sated, the werewolf’s mind began to function again. He knew that scent. The woman in front of him was his old mate. She was the pack leader here. He would show the old female who truly dominated.
The wolf flung the dead body at the man in the corner and swung the shackle still attached to his right arm like a weapon, knocking Lady Helena to the ground. Then the werewolf turned and grabbed the left chain with both hands. With a mighty pull, the limestone cracked and fell to the ground in pieces. The chains at his neck and feet were loose and he lunged across the floor towards the vulnerable Lady Helena. Almost gently, he held her down and placed his jaws on the nape of her neck. He stiffened in that position and glared at the two others in the room.
Lady Helena froze as the sharp teeth clamped around her neck. The slightest movement and she would be dead. The fangs punctured her skin and she began to bleed, but she was not dead. The monster had not killed her yet for some reason.
Gasping in primal terror, she whispered desperately. “Dorian, if you are in there, please help me. Please, it is me, Lady Helena—your friend.”
Dorian could see what was happening through the wolf’s eyes. He fought desperately to regain control. The werewolf’s bloodlust must have somehow weakened the creature’s will. He held open the door to his cage more easily now. He could hear Lady Helena’s plea for help. The woman would die if he did not act now. Dorian focused his will and forgot about opening the door. Instead, he bent the bars of his cage. One centimeter at a time, he forced the metal bars in his mind open until he exposed a hole large enough for him to pass through.
Dorian surged through it and retook control of the wolf’s body. The jaws relaxed and a crying Lady Helena collapsed on the floor. He was himself once again. Rather, himself in the body of the werewolf. How was this possible? He looked down as the fur of the creature began to lighten to a healthier looking grey color. His vision cleared as the red eyes turned blue.
Shuvani Ingraham began chanting once more.
Prin Luna de sânge,
l-am aruncat pe Vârcolac.
Prin sânge și fier
vă propun să vă despărțiți
de sufletul acestui om.
By the Blood Moon,
I cast out the Vârcolac.
By blood and iron
I bid you to separate
from the soul of this man.
The werewolf before her fell to its knees. The painting against the wall burst into flames and exploded—releasing the growing form of a black werewolf. The Vârcolac had separated completely from Dorian and now crawled from the burning painting like a demon through a portal to hell.
The black werewolf immediately rushed Shuvani Ingraham. The old woman tore off her headscarf of silver coins, frantically forming it into a loop. As the beast collided with her, she wrapped the loop around its neck. The effect was immediate. Smoke and heat issued from the silver coins, halting the monster in its tracks. It bellowed and began clawing at the loop around its neck. The creature’s flailing claws threw the old woman backward, smashing her head against the stone wall.
In the form of the grey werewolf, Dorian’s eyes focused on the sight of Shuvani Ingraham crumpling to the ground. He looked down at the thick hair and sharp claws on his hands and shrieked in anguish. He was still a monster. He looked up again as the black werewolf finally snapped the fabric of the headscarf, the silver coins sizzling as they fell to the ground. Monster or no, Dorian and the wolf were separated again. Now was his chance to kill it. Dorian rose to his hind legs and sprinted towards the black werewolf, dropping his shoulder and tackling it as it stood over the prone form of the fortuneteller.
The two huge forms slid across the floor and out of the small cell. The black werewolf was growling and snapping his jaws at Dorian’s forearm and shoulder. Dorian grabbed the beast’s jaws with each hand and tried to force them apart. Seething pain shot into his chest as the black werewolf’s claws gouged a jagged latticework out of his flesh. Dorian threw the demon to the ground, rolling on top of it and pinned the black werewolf’s hands to the ground. Dorian opened his own jaws and clamped down on his opponent’s neck. He tasted blood and sickly black hair.
The black werewolf groaned in pain as blood gushed out. Then it kicked its powerful knee into Dorian’s ribcage. The bones cracked as they broke and Dorian rolled away. The black werewolf stood and pounced, but Dorian spun to the side, slashing at the back of the creature’s legs with his claws. He severed the Achilles tendon in the b
lack werewolf’s left leg. It fell to one knee, but then lunged towards him, clawing at Dorian’s face and tearing out a large section of his cheek.
Dorian sunk the claws of both his hands deep into the shoulders of the black werewolf. He lifted the monster off the ground and threw it across the room. The two beasts rose at the same time, licking their slowly healing wounds and sizing each other up. The gashes on Dorian’s chest slowly closed, the scars itching as they continued to heal. He could feel the tendons reforming in his cheek. In the same way, the neck of the black werewolf stopped bleeding; its limp lessened as it too started to heal.
A howl of challenge erupted from the black werewolf and Dorian responded with his own guttural howl. The two creatures circled each other like lions until the dwindling fireplace was between them.
Dorian heard a scratchy animalistic voice in his head. Grrtttthe time….hhhaas come, Maasss’errr. You wiilll no’ caaggge me….aaaggain. I wiilll kiilll you and hhaaave yourrr…plaaccce aasss Paaccck Leaaddder.
He remembered the psychic link that he and the wolf had once shared. If the wolf could articulate its thoughts in this way, it had become more human than he had thought.
Dorian responded in his own mind and sent his thoughts to the creature. My evil made you this way. But I have changed. You can too. Let me help you.
The black werewolf seemed to consider this for a moment. The cloudiness in his red eyes receded and Dorian swore he saw the animal’s tail wag. Maasss’errr…
Box Set: The Wolf of Dorian Gray Series: Books 1-3 Page 30