She beamed and touched her hair, making sure the swan mask was still in place. “Thank you, Dorian. You make a very handsome wolf.” Sage put her hand suddenly to her mouth. “I need a drink.”
She retreated from the main floor to down a glass of champagne. Dorian saw her take a second glass, sipping this one slowly as she began to move into the crowd. Sage was much more confident than he remembered. Perhaps the ability to kill someone with only a few magical words did that to a person. Much more beautiful too. Dorian shook his head to clear his thoughts. He grabbed a glass of sherry from a passing baboon, shivering as the cool bubbles floated down his throat. She was now out of his line of vision.
He was about to retreat from the dance floor when he saw a woman in a red dress wearing the mask of a fox. Where Sage was dazzling, this woman was the embodiment of sensuality. Her sleeveless dress displayed the woman’s shapely figure perfectly. A risqué bust line revealed a great deal of the perky breasts, barely contained beneath a latticework of black lace and dark red silk. A narrow waist connected the flowing skirt. Shorter than most, the fabric spread wide as it hovered above the floor.
Dorian elbowed the gentleman to his left in the ribs. “Beg your pardon. Who is that astonishing woman in the red?”
Scowling at Dorian, the man replied curtly. “That is Lady Eleanor Wotton, of course. She is Lady Helena’s younger cousin, only recently arrived in London, and the heiress to her vast fortune.”
She appeared to be in attendance unescorted. A few brave gentlemen approached her, but they were dismissed without so much as a word. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to her as she sashayed over towards him. Her perfume filled Dorian’s nostrils as she drew near. The fragrance was intoxicating, surely from Paris, but with a hot undertone that set his heart racing.
Eleanor spoke with a gentle but provocative voice. “The fox and the wolf would make excellent dance partners, don’t you think?”
“If you would do me the honor,” said Dorian. He extended his hand, the mission all but forgotten. She curtsied low enough to display even more of her ample bosom, and Dorian struggled to maintain his balance as he bowed in return. She was suddenly in his arms, moving with catlike speed and grace. They ventured out onto the dance floor, twirling much faster than the other couples. Sage was a skilled dancer, but Eleanor could anticipate his every step and turn. The slightest twitch of his muscle sent her immediately into the desired move, but with a sexual flourish that sent a shiver down his spine.
Their dance became unrestrained and increased in intensity, their lips coming ever closer with each pass. He began to invent new steps on a whim and Eleanor took them in stride, their movements completely in sync. More and more of the guests stopped their conversations to watch the pair caper and twirl. Dorian had never wanted another woman more in his life. It was as if their bodies were one, as if they were communicating…telepathically.
He pulled her close with her back to his chest, unable to conceal the stiffness in his trousers. Leaning down as if to kiss her neck, he inhaled deeply. Her perfume was complex, but just below the surface, lay a familiar aroma.
“Luna!” He sent the thought as he pushed her away.
A familiar smile appeared beneath the fox mask. “I told you we would make incredible partners.”
Dorian took her by the elbow and escorted her forcibly off the dance floor and out on the balcony. The abrupt ending to the dance caused a series of murmurs from the crowd, but he ignored them.
“What are you doing here?” Dorian demanded.
Lady Helena went out to the balcony and looked at the night sky. “Making sure that my cousin Eleanor has every advantage that I did not.”
Dorian scoffed. “There is no Eleanor; this is all a charade!”
“How else do you expect me to regain control of my businesses?” She turned back to face him. “I am supposed to be dead, remember? I thought you of all people would understand.”
A snarl reached Dorian’s lips. “You haven’t answered my question. Lady Helena, did you come here tonight to kill?”
She bared her teeth. “Lady Helena died in that fire. I am Luna. And I will go by any name necessary to get what I want.”
His muscles tensed. “What exactly is that?” He wondered: Would she attack him here in front of so many witnesses?
Luna’s aggressive posture suddenly relaxed, her smile returning. “The Duke’s favor, of course. As a lover would be best, but as a business partner will do.”
Dorian’s eyes widened. “And if he refuses?”
Her face darkened. “He would regret it.”
He turned as a woman in a white dress and swan mask walked out onto the balcony. “Sage!”
“Dorian! There you are. I heard…“ Sage trailed off as she saw who he was with on the balcony. “I didn’t expect it to be a woman.” With a flick of her hand, Sage cast the spell she had been preparing and snapped the rope holding the balcony curtain open. It fell to the ground, concealing them from the guests inside.
Luna bolted for the railing, preparing to leap three stories down to escape. Dorian missed his grab and instead caught the hem of her dress, tearing it partially away. The nakedness beneath it made him pause long enough for Luna to wrench a piece of the metal railing free and smash Dorian over the head. He fell to the floor, unconscious and she turned to face Sage.
Sage had already started chanting.
Prin sânge și fier și voință,
Contractul acestor mușchi,
Strângeți îmbinările,
Imobiliza.
By blood and iron and will,
Contract these muscles,
Tighten the joints,
Immobilize.
The metal remained motionless in Luna’s hands as she struggled to breathe, completely frozen in place. For the muscles that drew breath and that pumped blood through her body had stopped. The strange healing power kept her alive, but even her brain could not survive long without oxygen. She was dying.
Sage saw that Dorian was still breathing. She focused on the masked woman, hoping he had not exaggerated his ability to heal. She walked over to the frozen fox and removed the mask with a gasp. No one else besides Dorian would believe the young face belonged to Lady Helena. But Sage had been trapped in the painting before her friend’s face had grown old.
Sage hugged her tightly as she began to cry. “They told me you were dead. I am so sorry. You were always a true friend to me. Helena?”
Silence.
“Oh, right.” Sage dropped the spell.
Luna inhaled precious air desperately for the second time since her near drowning. She wanted to kill the girl immediately, but her muscles were still slowly unknotting. There was something familiar about the girl.
“Did he call her Sage?” Her brain must have been oxygen starved as she sent the thought.
Sage responded mentally as she took Luna’s hand. “Yes, my friend. I may look different to you, but you look exactly the way I remember you.”
Luna inhaled the girl’s scent. “It can’t be you.”
Sage shivered as the contact triggered an image of the future. “I’m afraid much has changed. Helena, you must turn from this path you are on.” She released the other woman’s hand. “If you kill again, I fear you will lose yourself to the bloodlust. I will not warn you again.”
Luna backed away, confused and fearful of Sage’s power. She almost killed me. She leapt through the hole in the railing, plummeting to the ground below. Sage let her go.
Dorian’s face twitched and his eyes fluttered open. The moment he sat up, Sage slapped him full in the face. “How could you lie to me?” She threw her swan mask to the ground.
Dorian rubbed his jaw. Sage is stronger than she used to be. “I didn’t exactly lie.”
“Helena was my best friend.” She folded her arms, a look of rage on her face as she continued, “and you let me believe she was dead.”
He rose shakily to his feet. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to spare you f
rom more pain.”
“By letting me mourn her death, only to find out that she has also turned into a monster?” Sage shook her head. “If you had told me the truth, then I might have still been able to turn her from the path she is on.”
“The path she is on?” He repeated the words and turned to look out at the night, but Luna was long gone. “Did you see something in a vision when you touched her?”
Sage choked back a sob. “She has already killed a man…she would have killed the Duke tonight—if I hadn’t stopped her.”
“She was my friend too.” Dorian turned back towards Sage. “Maybe, together, we can help her.”
He reached out to Sage, but she shrank back from his touch. “It’s too late. She is consumed with bloodlust. Luna has taken over.”
Dorian looked down at his wolf mask, which had been knocked off when he fell. “I don’t believe that. I can’t. Or else there is no hope for me either.”
Sage lifted her hand and the curtain began to rise. “Maybe there isn’t. I saw the same old Dorian tonight.” She turned back to the room full of dancing guests. “I will hunt and kill the black werewolf myself. Then I will deal with Helena. Don’t follow me.” She walked back into the main ballroom, the curtain dropping again behind her and leaving Dorian alone.
Crushing the wolf mask beneath his well-polished shoes, he spun to face the night sky. “Not if I find it first.”
Dorian sprang into the air, clearing the railing and falling to the ground. For a moment, he felt the exhilaration of a hawk, diving to catch its prey. Then he hit the paved stone below. His ankles shattered and the tendons in his legs tore—before starting to heal themselves. He crouched there for a moment, regaining his balance, before exploding into a run towards the iron palisade that guarded this side of the estate.
Scaling the fence with nimble grace, Dorian vaulted over the bayonet-like spikes that sat on top. There were few guards posted to watch this area, and he quickly found the city streets. Pausing to close his eyes, he sensed a gentle tug at his mind, like that of a fishing line. He pursued the black werewolf, following the feeling as a water dowser would an underground river.
CHAPTER 15.
F
OOL ME TWICE
Sage was furious. Dorian had not changed at all. The nerve of him. Her contact with Lady Helena had revealed her friend’s destructive path, just as she had seen Dorian turning away from it when they had last embraced. However, if she could be so blind as to believe her friend had died and was oblivious that Lady Helena was one of the very werewolves they were hunting, maybe her visions about Dorian couldn’t be trusted either.
Across the room, Majaris extricated herself from a leering older gentleman who was more interested in staring down her shirt than selecting one of the delicate pink Macaroons she held.
Majaris met Sage in the middle of the room. “I sensed a great draw of power. Were you able to kill the creature?”
Sage shook her head. “No, it escaped. But let us focus on the black werewolf, it is the greater threat.”
Majaris looked around, noting the absence of Dorian. “And your friend?”
“Better that we hunt it alone.” The dark cloud on Sage’s face discouraged any further questions.
Majaris gladly shed her monkey mask, “About time,” she said, discarding the half-eaten serving platter she had been carrying into one of the large ferns, “though you should rest first.”
Sage shook her head. “There is no time. I have strength enough left.”
“There they are! Guards, seize them!” The Duke’s valet approached, flanked by a pair of burly looking soldiers from the house guard.
Majaris started to draw her dagger, but Sage restrained her. “There are too many people here. If we fight now, an innocent may be hurt.”
“There are no innocents among these people,” said Majaris, but she sheathed the weapon once more.
Each of the guards put a hand on one of the women’s arms.
“Where has that ‘brother’ of yours gone off to?” Demaret looked quite pleased with himself. “As soon as I saw his scandalous display on the dance floor, I knew something was amiss.” He puffed up like a peacock as several eyes in the room turned in their direction. “The Duke is not currently negotiating a silk deal, and his portrait has ALREADY been commissioned to Monsieur Edgar Degrass—an artist of substantially more skill than your ilk.”
Majaris spat at the man’s feet, causing Demaret to jump back. “As for your little spy here—” the valet removed his handkerchief and covered his mouth as if to guard against some affliction, “the only thing worse than her decorum is her competence in serving the guests. Take them to the dungeon until the constable arrives.”
The “dungeon” was really more of an underground storeroom fitted with holding cells. Most likely used to house unruly guests as they sobered up, the bars were nonetheless solid iron. The guards relieved Majaris of her knife, but a more grievous loss came when they saw fit to take Sage’s iron ingot. Unceremoniously tossed into a cell and abandoned, they heard the guard’s laughter echoing off the walls as they left to look for Dorian.
The two women waited for close to an hour to see if anyone would come to check on them. No one did.
Sage turned to Majaris. “They took my ingot! What will we do now?”
“Look around you,” said Majaris. “You can always find some iron if you only bother to look.”
Sage walked to the bars and placed her hands around them.
Prin sânge și fier și voință,
Aplicați această formă,
Remake-l,
Formați-o pentru nevoia mea.
By blood and iron and will,
Bend this form,
Remake it,
Shape it to my need.
The bars bowed outward with a squeal.
“Hurry,” Sage said, “before the guards return.”
The two squeezed through and made their way to the outer door which was also locked. Sage closed her eyes and began concentrating on the locking mechanism.
“Wait.” Majaris reached into her hair and removed a double-pronged hair pin. “Not everything needs to be solved with magic.”
With a little grunting she was able to twist the lock and open the door.
Majaris took the lead but stopped short when they reached the stairway. “I hear voices above. Perhaps, this would be a good time for an invisibility spell.”
Sage murmured the magical incantation, struggling at first to extend the ring of protection around both of them. One moment Majaris was next to her, then she simply vanished. “Hurry, I can’t keep both of us hidden for long.”
They fumbled for each other’s hands, then walked quickly but silently up the narrow stairway. Before reaching the landing, the two guards suddenly appeared and started traipsing down. Sage gave Majaris’ hand a squeeze. They were safe for as long as the spell lasted. Weren’t they?
“There isn’t time to go back down.” Majaris let go of Sage’s hand and whispered. “As soon as the way is clear—run. Meet me in the courtyard.”
A moment later, the guard on the left fell down the steps with a cry. The second guard had little time to react before he too sank down, cradling his smashed bollocks. The way was clear and Sage dashed past the guards, their voices laced with crippling pain but raising the alarm nonetheless.
They ran down the hallway, each taking a separate route through the mansion. Slipping easily past anyone they encountered, the spell of invisibility allowed them to escape with the guests noticing nothing other than a drink knocked unexpectedly to the ground.
The courtyard seemed deserted when Majaris arrived. “Sage?” she called out in a lowered voice. A fountain with a roaring stone lion loomed before her; warily she walked around it. “Sage? Are you here?”
Suddenly a figure lying on the ground flickered into sight. Majaris ran over to find Sage lying with her eyes closed. “Shuvani, are you alright?”
“Majaris?” Her eyes o
pened slowly. “Yes, I’m alright, just…exhausted. I may have held the spell too long.”
CHAPTER 16.
T
HE BLACK WEREWOLF
The wolf tasted the air. His left eye had not healed correctly and it protruded slightly from the socket. The cornea was filled with blood, allowing only shadowy images and some light to filter through. Most of his hind left leg was gone, severed by the wheels of the metal horse. He had killed the man riding its head for vengeance as much as to stop the bleeding and heal his wounds.
After the fight with the Master and his mate, he was left weakened and vulnerable. He could sense the thoughts of the Master as he hunted him. They were the swirling thoughts of a man, but the wolf recognized the thrill of the chase. The Master was coming to kill him. He ran and hid, jerking along on three legs as the distance between the two of them shrank.
He could sense triumph from his connection to the Master. He had found his trail and was closing fast. The wolf loped to the large river running through the center of the city. Could he swim across the water? No, with only three legs he would be easily pulled down into the murky depths. Then he smelled some foul air coming from a hole at the banks of the river. The wolf staggered into the cement tunnel and into the sewer. Turning randomly through the dark passageways, the wolf lost himself so completely that the Master soon found it impossible to follow.
* * *
The next day, Van Helsing followed the Vârcolac’s tracks to the entranceway of the sewer. He unfurled a map that Inspector Clarke had provided from the Metropolitan Board of Works. It included a detailed drawing of the city, which included the labyrinth of cement tunnels that flowed underground. Van Helsing traced his fingers across the interconnecting lines. It would take some days for someone to move successfully from one end to the other. Eventually, all sewers north of the Thames led to the Beckton treatment works. That’s where he would spring his trap.
Box Set: The Wolf of Dorian Gray Series: Books 1-3 Page 38