Even now, as it grew late into the night and the River Thames outside of the tavern’s front door lapped softly upon the rocky shore, The Pox was filled to the rafters with questionable women and even more questionable men, at least half of them indulging in the messy and sometimes violent vomiting game.
Every time someone vomited, the roof was practically lifted off the tavern by people laughing and cheering. Andreas and his cousins had been having a marvelous time, but that quickly changed when one of the men betting suddenly decided that the game was somehow rigged. He couldn’t quite explain why he thought that or how he even knew that, but he was unhappy because he felt as if he’d lost too much money trying to predict just how far someone was going to puke. He began arguing, Will delivered a well-aimed insult as only he was capable, and the entire room deteriorated into an all-out brawl.
And that was where Andreas found himself now, throwing himself onto the floor so he wouldn’t be crowned by a chair. Once his attacker was sprawling several feet away, he leapt to his feet and turned to make sure his cousins were unharmed.
“It is my sense that we need to leave this place,” he said to them. “Poppy warned us against coming here, but we did not listen.”
“Poppy” was his grandfather, William de Wolfe, the mighty Wolfe of the Border. He was the greatest knight in northern England, and probably all of England, having served three kings. He had been to The Pox in his youth and had tried to dissuade his grandsons from venturing to it on their visit to London, but like moths to the flame, they were drawn to something legendary, dastardly, and exciting.
And now regretting it.
Mostly.
“Come on.” William “Will” de Wolfe, the oldest of the de Wolfe grandchildren and named for his famous grandfather, grabbed his younger brother and was moving for the door. “This place is full of clay-brained halfwits. Dray, grab Theodis! We leave!”
Andreas whirled around, looking for his best friend in the entire world, a massive and frightening beast of man who was part of a family whose entire foundation was built on brutal conquest and death. Theodis de Velt was a true-blood of those lines because he had three of their most defining characteristics – being enormously built, having long and dark hair, and two-colored eyes.
The most well-known de Velt with that trait was Ajax de Velt, a man who had conquered half the Welsh Marches and was starting in on the Scottish Marches when he met the woman who tamed him. He had brown eyes except the left one had a big splash of bright green in it. That trait, to varying degrees, was carried by the male line of his family and, in some cases, even the women had it. Theodis had it, but his was quite pronounced – his right eye was brown, while his left eye was brown except for the pupil being encircled with a ring of bright green. It was beautiful, bold and startling, something that only enhanced the interesting nature of a very handsome, and very volatile, man.
In fact, he was being volatile right at this very moment. Andreas spied him over near the kitchens as he threw punches with a very large man who seemed to have murder on his mind. As Andreas headed in that direction, Theodis caught sight of him and decided to end his brawl once and for all.
One big fist in the face and his opponent went out as quickly as blowing out a candle.
“Come on,” Andreas said, motioning the man to follow. “We’re leaving.”
Theodis grinned as he joined Andreas, a gesture that most men saw as rather frightening because his canines were prominent. It made him look like a fanged beast.
“Why?” he asked, keeping his fists balled in case someone decided to charge him. “Look around you, Dray – it’s a party.”
Andreas had to chuckle. “A party, is it?” he said. “This is one party I no longer wish to attend.”
“Why not?”
“Because this place smells like vomit, you wretch. I need fresh air.”
Theodis laughed, pushing him through a still-writhing crowd to the front door where William and Tor were waiting. Together, the four of them rushed the front door, ending up on the muddy road outside with the River Thames before them.
Andreas drew in a long, deep breath.
“God,” he muttered. “I can finally breathe. Well, it was fun while it lasted.”
William, a serious and somewhat shy man, scratched his dark head. “It was some of the better entertainment we’ve had,” he agreed. “What now? Do we retire to Lothbury House?”
Theodis shook his head. “We are not retiring,” he said. “I haven’t been to London in a few years and I am not going to miss a second of it. Are you lads up for a new adventure?”
The three of them looked at him. “What adventure?” Tor demanded. Big, handsome, strawberry blond Tor attracted women like horses attracted flies. “What do you have in mind?”
Theodis tapped is head as if he had a grand idea. “I realize you de Wolfe lads don’t get to London too often, you poor little country mice,” he said, taunting them. “I think your family likes to keep you all bottled up, afraid of what will happen if you get a taste of the decadence London has to offer.”
Tor sneered at him. “And you’re so worldly,” he said sarcastically. “Well? Tell us what you have in mind so we can get this over with.”
Theodis was grinning as he looked around, getting his bearings. “This way.”
Curious, and slightly irritated, the de Wolfe men followed.
“Where are we going?” Andreas asked.
They were heading in the direction of the Tower of London on a moonlit night. The moon was reflecting on the waters of the Thames and the smell from the river was strong, like rotten fish and sewage. Theodis pointed towards the Tower.
“The last time I was here, I came with men I had served with long ago,” he said. “We were in town for a funeral of a lord we had once served. We’d heard through some other knights that there was a miraculous place here for the taking, a place so scandalous, so filled with debauchery, that only the rich, handsome, beautiful, or utterly outrageous were permitted entry.”
Andreas frowned. “What kind of place is this?” he said. “I’ve not heard of it.”
Theodis grinned, his fangs reflecting the moonlight. “It’s called Gomorrah,” he said. “It’s beneath the old St. Dunstan’s Church, an old Saxon church that burns down every time the church rebuilds it. The church was built atop the ruins of an ancient Roman temple and no church built upon those ruins has ever survived. It is said that the property itself is cursed.”
In spite of the suspicion, he had their attention. “So what is the place you’re taking us to?” Tor asked.
“I told you,” Theodis said. “It’s an exclusive guild where every fantasy can come true. It was started a long time ago by a Hessian lord who married an English noblewoman, Lady Camberwell. The Hessian used the Camberwell money to buy the property from the church and start his guild, which costs a small fortune to access, but the family pays the church part of those proceeds so they look the other way with what goes on there. There is feasting, drinking, entertainment, fornication – whatever you want is provided. Anything and everything.”
Now, they were more intrigued. “Anything?” Tor said.
“Anything.”
“But you said it costs a small fortune to access,” William said. “How much?”
“A pound.”
That brought outrage. “A pound?” William spat. “I could buy a week in London and live well for that much.”
Theodis shook his head. “But you’ll not live like this,” he said. “You must experience this once in your life, Will. Consider it an enrichment of your education as a man and as a knight. Tell them you’re a de Wolfe and that will be your key to entry. They only take the elite and the rich and the beautiful. I tell them I’m a de Velt and, terrified of my family name, they admit me. Truly… you must experience this place.”
He said it passionately enough that they were intrigued to the point of being agreeable. William looked at Tor, who lifted his big shoulders and nodded.
Then they both looked to Andreas, who was usually the level-headed one in the group, and he simply shrugged.
“We may as well,” he said. “We’ve experienced Sodom back at The Pox – let us experience Gomorrah beneath this dead church.”
Theodis put a big arm around Andreas’ neck and began pulling him down the street. “You are going to live to regret this,” he told him. “But you are going to have the time of your life doing it.”
Andreas wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. Having no idea what they were in for, he tried to keep an open mind. He was a man who could judge things evenly, from all sides, and deliver what he considered a fair and just decision. Within the family, he was known for that ability and Andreas’ judgment was unchallenged in any case.
But he wondered if this was going to be one of those rare bad decisions.
The look on Theodis’ face told him that it very well might be.
The quest for this mysterious and scandalous guild took Andreas, Tor, William, and Theodis more than half a mile down the road that paralleled the River Thames, heading in the direction of the Tower of London. The area, in particular, was known for high crime with plenty of murders and robberies and other unsavory deeds. It seemed strange that the area next to the Tower of London, such an icon for a just and right civilization, should be considered the seedy side of London.
Therefore, the four of them were on their guard as they traveled. Not that they expected any trouble, because they were four extremely large and well-armed knights, but one never knew when fools would attack. The moved further away from the section in town that contained the taverns and hostels, a quieter area that was rather dark and without much traffic.
In fact, the very air seemed ripe with darkness and murder.
An exclusive guild in this section of town? Andreas wasn’t entirely sure that Theodis was leading them in the right direction, so he started to open his mouth when Theodis abruptly took a left turn and headed up a small alley, away from the river.
A dark trek became darker – literally.
There was hardly an ambient light in the alley called Beet Street. it was only a block or two from the walls of the Tower of London, so they were generally familiar with where they were. This was the older side of town, the side where the Romans had left their mark and the Saxons had built their timber city. It had a feel all its own, like something wild and uncivilized, which simply went along with the general seedy nature of the district.
But it was more than that.
Andreas felt as if there were some kind of otherworldly and barbaric flavor to this part of town, mostly because many of the buildings that were still there were of Saxon design, something the Normans modified once they took control of the City of London. In his rare trips to London throughout his life, he’d only been on this side of town while traveling to the Tower, and that was always the sense he got from it –
Barbaric.
Traveling up Beet Street, the knights came to a fork in the road. The fork heading northeast would take them through more of what they had just passed through, and the fork to the south would lead to the Tower of London. They took the fork to the northeast, traveling up the road and passing shabby businesses and residences.
St. Dunstan’s Church was on Hart Street, an offshoot of Beet Street. It was near the wall of London but in an area that was not well traveled. In fact, there was a dumping ground on this side of the city used for rubbish, so the stench kept people away for the most part.
Except for those heading to a particular burned-out church.
They could see St. Dunstan’s Church as soon as they turned onto Hart Street, the bones of the church pronounced against the moonlit sky. As Andreas looked at the distant church, he recalled Theodis speaking of the location as being cursed and he could instantly see where that opinion came from. The church had been built out of timber originally when the Saxons built over the old Roman temple, but when the Normans had come, they ripped down the wood and replaced it with stone. Still, the wooden roof had been vulnerable and St. Dunstan’s had burned three times before the church finally decided not to rebuild.
Therefore, it was a skeleton that existed these days, looking forlorn and macabre against the night sky. The closer the knights drew, the more Andreas wondered if this was really a good idea. Theodis certainly thought so and he was more than excited to take his friends through an adventure they would all remember.
But Andreas… not so much.
They ended up moving in the shadows of the burned-out structure until they came to an enormously heavy door with iron braces. Theodis held up a hand, bringing the group to a pause.
He knocked once.
Several seconds later, he knocked again.
That went on twice until the door lurched open and two big men, heavily armed, stood in the doorway.
“Da verbum,” the first man rumbled.
“Gomorrah,” Theodis replied.
The man looked to the three massive men behind him. “Name?”
“De Velt and de Wolfe. Northumberland has arrived.”
The man looked at him, registering some surprise. Or perhaps it was approval. The names of de Wolfe and de Velt carried weight all over England, no matter what the situation. The man took Theodis’ money, quite a lot of it, and retreated back into the church with his companion.
“Enter,” he muttered.
Theodis turned to his friends, flashing that big-toothed smile.
“Now,” he said quietly, “it begins.”
Andreas was the last one in. He wondered what, exactly, “it” meant. What was beginning?
He was about to find out.
CHAPTER THREE
The Asher Manor
London
“Gavy! Gavy, awaken!”
She could hear a woman’s voice in her ear, a voice she recognized. But she was still entrenched in a haze of sleep that had her within its grip. Her dreams had been warm, dreams of her home in the north, and she was reluctant to leave them.
But someone was hissing in her ear.
“Gavy!”
Lady Gavriella de Leia eyes popped open. For a moment, she didn’t recognize her surroundings. It took her a moment to orient herself.
Then she remembered.
I’m in London.
The familiar pangs of grief hit her. She was here because her father had sent her here. Not because she wanted to be here. She’d never wanted to come, but here she was.
Caged.
Trapped.
Rolling onto her back, she saw her cousin, Lady Camilla de Kennet. Camilla had just come of age and beneath that pale, innocent-looking exterior beat the heart of a rebel. Gavriella had learned that the first day she’d come to London. Camilla’s sister, Lady Aurelia de Kennet, was older by two years and even worse, only Aurelia had a titian-haired sensuality about her that she wasn’t afraid to weaponize. If she saw a handsome man, that sensuality would be put to good use.
Camilla had learned quite a bit from her scandalous sister.
“Gavy!” Aurelia was in the chamber now, hissing at her cousin on the bed. “Get up, do you hear? We are going out.”
Gavriella sat up, rubbing one eye. “Going out?” she repeated. “But… but it has to be the middle of the night. Where on earth are we going?”
“Shhhh,” Aurelia put her finger to her lips. “Not so loud. Mother might hear you.”
Camilla was dragging her out of bed. “Hurry,” she said. “We must hurry!”
“Hurry for what?” Gavriella was quite confused. As Camilla tried to pull her night shift over her head, Gavriella held fast and pulled away. “Tell me where we are going or I will not budge an inch.”
Aurelia was in the wardrobe. She pulled forth a beautiful red damask gown with pearls embroidered on the sleeves and the bodice.
“This should do,” she said, ignoring Gavriella’s question. “It’s Cammie’s gown and a little small for you, but it will make your breasts look full.”
&n
bsp; “They’ll pop out over the top of the neckline!” Camilla giggled.
Gavriella didn’t want to pop out of anything. She had no idea what her naughty cousins were up to, but she wasn’t going anywhere with them in the middle of the night unless they were clear about their intensions. She folded her arms across her chest stubbornly.
“Tell me or I will not go,” she said.
Aurelia tossed the gown on the bed. “Then we shall go without you.”
“Go and I will tell Aunt Drucilla.”
Camilla shrieked in fear as Aurelia eyed her country cousin unhappily. She’d really only met her three times in her life because Gavriella lived in Northumberland on the border with Scotland. That was quite far to the north and visits with that branch of the family had been infrequent.
In fact, this most recent visit had been quite unexpected.
Gavriella had appeared a few days ago, unannounced, with a small contingent of de Leia men and a missive to their mother. Drucilla de Kennet had read the contents of the letter and promptly brought Gavriella into their enormous manse called The Asher. It was a beautiful home to the northeast of the Tower of London and it had been in the de Kennet family, the Earls of Blackburn, for decades.
It was one of the prized jewels of London.
Aurelia wasn’t sure how she felt about her cousin, to be truthful. She was beautiful – too beautiful and Aurelia didn’t like the attention being taken off of her. She was sweet and obedient, but that’s where the problem was – she was too obedient. There was no nerve in the woman, no bravery. She seemed to cry easily and didn’t seem very happy.
Aurelia suspected that Gavriella had been sent here for a reason.
But what reason?
Her mother wouldn’t tell her, nor would Gavriella. But it just seemed strange that the woman would show up one day like a beaten dog. Something about her seemed… crushed. Defeated. She seemed too meek and quiet for Aurelia’s taste, but rather than be understanding of that trait, Aurelia had turned into a bully.
Everyone at The Asher did as she wished. Gavriella would be no different.
There would be consequences if she were.
WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Page 5