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The Count of Wolf Blood Castle

Page 14

by Laurelle Lewis


  ‘Let me know if you find out anything.’ Bastien smirked. ‘You will not want for anything if you help me obtain the powers I was born to possess.’

  Chapter Twenty-One: Suspicion

  A few weeks had passed by, and they had been hard weeks for Annika. Dashiell had felt it was his responsibility to inform her of her friend’s death. Annika had not believed him at first, but then she had collapsed in his arms and sobbed as she had shown her the newspaper. He had spared her most of the details, but it wasn’t along until she had overheard the servants whisper of the violent death Florina had endured.

  The funeral had been in the local church in the village. They laid her body to rest and blessed her soul under the infinite love of Queen Miranda and prayed for her to now rest in peace. Her parents had been devastated, and Annika had felt as though she had lost the only real family she had ever had. Dashiell had accompanied her, and they had been driven by one of his riders in his finest gold carriage.

  This had been the worst idea he had had in a very long time, perhaps his life, as the accusing looks burned through his tough exterior to reach his enclosed heart. Nothing much pierced it anymore, but the looks of the mourning said they believed he had done it. Without real proof, and only rumour to sustain their vengeance, it would not been long until there would be a fight. One of the mourners pushed Dashiell to the ground and accused him of the bloody murder, but that was the worst of it.

  The ride back to the castle had been solemn, what did Annika think of him, did she know the rumours? Of course, she did, should he just admit his deepest of secrets to her? Then she would flee, just like everyone else in his life. Only his family for company. It was this day that Dashiell realised how much Annika’s company and friendship was beginning to mean to him.

  Annika had mostly kept to herself ever since that day, and Dashiell had become worried she might leave. He felt that giving her some space might be the best solution.

  He desperately wanted to ask her, ‘What do you think of me? Do you think I am capable of such a thing?’ But the words could not leave his lips, for he truly didn’t know.

  Dashiell’s heart had been heavy since the news of the young’s girl’s death, and the truth was…he wondered if he could have been responsible. He went over that night a thousand times in his head, but nothing ever came to mind. If only, if only, he’d remembered to put his pendant on! He prayed that he had not been responsible, but yet, he had awoken with a girl’s necklace in his hands…

  He knew, all he could do was keep trying to solve the curse, so that no more innocent blood would be shed and so Bastien’s plans, whatever they may be, could not come into fruition.

  Dashiell was relieved that Annika had lost interest in her ‘work’ and spent most of days cooped up in her room. This gave him a chance to examine things on his own. Ever since the raid at the museum, Dashiell had known who was responsible. What were the Von Croys up to? They had fought over the pendant for many years, and now, Bastien’s men had stolen the book written by Claudius…it was almost as if they were chasing the same thing-but they couldn’t be. Dashiell realised that there must be some link between the Von Croys and the curse. No one had ever really suspected this before, as it seemed natural that the Von Croys were threatened by another family of werewolves—it made sense. But now, Dashiell knew there was a link, but what?

  ***

  Ellowyn was sitting on her bed, reading a book, when she heard a knock at her door. She looked up to see Annika, her eyes stained with tears.

  ‘Is it true?’ Annika spat. ‘Is he what they say he is? Is that what you tried to tell me before?’

  Ellowyn’s eyes went wide. ‘I… I,’ she couldn’t quite find her words. After Renaud had told her grandmother that she had been down in the library with Annika, Vivien and Dashiell had integrated her and warned her not to say anything to Annika. Ellowyn had intended to do as she pleased, but knowing that Annika might leave, and she was her only friend in the world, she had chosen to stay silent.

  Annika threw herself onto Ellowyn’s bed. ‘The funeral was horrible—Florina had dreams, and plans, and she’s just gone…I will never see her again, her smile, her beautiful soul, her heart, the things I loved about her, she was like a sister to me, she was only family I ever had!’

  Ellowyn wrapped her arms around Annika to comfort her. Ellowyn’s conscious was screaming for her to tell Anika the truth. ‘What if he was?’ Annika looked up, ‘Oh dear Goddess’s of Talir Faye—'

  She felt her body go weak.

  At the funeral, a young boy—Florina’s brother—pushed Dash to the ground…and accused him of killing her. ‘I couldn’t even look him in the eyes on the way home…I’ve stayed locked up in my room for weeks, sick to my stomach—too afraid to come out…this is no place for me!’

  Ellowyn started to panic. ‘No, you can’t leave, we need you—I need you…’

  Annika just shook her head. ‘I need to leave; I need to leave now…’

  Chapter Twenty-Two: A Visit to Epp

  Bastien arrived in the land of Epp in the early hours of the morning. He had harnessed Trojan and taken flight as the suns of Talir Faye were rising. He had travelled slowly over the clouds and looked down upon creation. The world was beautiful and for Bastien, in these moments, he truly felt like a god. The only time he was truly free was when he was alone, soaring through the skies. Up here, there was no pressure, no duties, nothing.

  He set down in Spyro’s courtyard, a small bag in his hand. He looked around, not much had changed here since he was a teenager. The last time, he had needed to come here was with his father on a trip. His father had wanted to ask Spyro a question, explore his knowledge his library or something. Bastien had been too busy chatting to one of Spyro’s female employees to care.

  Bastien walked up the old, stone steps that lead to the front door of the most amazing place in Talir Faye. Instead of beautiful flowers growing across the fields, as one would expect, Spyro had invented an entire holographic garden. It looked real, even smelt, as Spyro had perfumes sprayed throughout the day in the air to keep up the illusion, but yet, you could not touch or pick or hold the flowers.

  Even Bastien had to admit that there was something lost in the technology. Bastien knocked on the door and a small, round robotic creature answered.

  ‘Hello?’ he asked, scanning his face with a quick beam of a laser. ‘Prince Bastien.’ The robot finished its sentence, ‘Do come in!’

  As Bastien made his way through the building, he saw room after room filled with students, some were listening to lectures, somewhere watching films, and others were performing experiments.

  Bastien nodded his head, as the old man sat before him on his grand chair. Spyro was not the young man, he once was. His eyes were pale, milky, and his posture stooped, and he appeared exhausted.

  Bastien handed over the bag. ‘I require this sample to be examined.’

  Spyro smiled. ‘Prince Bastien, I do have receptionist for this kind of thing. If you please, you can hand that to them on the way pout, fill out a form and you will receive your results in due time.’

  ‘But please, have you come to see me for another reason?’

  Bastien wanted to ask Spyro a million questions, and the great wizard could see this upon his face. ‘You want to know if your power will succeed your father’s triumphs? No?’

  Bastien looked up, the old man had read his mind. ‘Yes, oh great Spyro, I long to know if my destiny will be fulfilled.’

  Here, Spyro’s face fell; he didn’t need anything kind of science or magic to know that the young man standing before him did not have a pure heart.

  Spyro could feel it as soon as he had walked into the room, his presence gave Spyro a chill to his bones.

  ‘Young Prince Bastien, I cannot answer that for you—I can show you your future, or possible futures in my orb—but something tells me, that perhaps the images may be murky anyway. If one is not pure of heart... the orb does not like to co-operate.’
>
  Bastien felt this cheeks flush with blood—was the old man trying to make a fool of him?

  ‘Listen to me!’ he cried, ‘I am Prince Bastien…’

  ‘Yes, yes…’ Spyro waved him aside, ‘of Thraxia—I know. I am more than aware of who you and your family are young man…your father frequented me with visits for years, harassing me and demanding I do this and do that…it got rather wearisome in the end…he did not realise, and I daresay, neither do you… that I am really not a great wizard. I am merely a scientist who mucked around with the space time continuum in my own dimension, and accidentally ended up here because I couldn’t get that right and opened a portal to a parallel universe. I’ve since learnt some magic, but really only parlour tricks. Science is and always has been my passion—it is the way of t future. But to ask me to cast spells on people—to damn them to death, to places curses, all that like. I simply cannot do it, and I truly hope, you never find anyone that does.’

  Bastien thought for a moment. ‘My father, he asked you to do those things?’

  ‘Yes, he most certainly did.’

  Bastien took a breath, his father might have tried to fight his enemies with magic, but Bastien believed in brute force.

  ‘I have no need for you to show me my destiny, Great Spyro—I believe one makes their own destiny, and I am on the right path to creating mine—I will see your receptionist on the way out—but there was one other thing—I wish to visit the great library of Epp.’

  Spyro sighed, he was afraid this might be the case. ‘Prince Bastien,’ Spyro ordered. ‘See that cupboard by the wall? Near the purple drapes? Go to it and fetch me the box with the keys.’

  Bastien did as he was asked and handed the box to the wizard.

  Spyro opened the box, and inside sat five keys. They were worn and dirty, one was even rusty and almost crumbling away to nothing. Not everyone who ventures here, is the granted the knowledge of the library. It is a test of one’s intentions and character—you only get one chance to pick the key that you think is the right key to unlock the library—and if you choose wrong…then that’s it for your life time. A great sorceress placed this spell upon the library—to ensure that only the right people would enter.

  ‘Surely...’ Bastien said, his hand reaching for his pockets,’ For the right price…’

  Spyro shook his head. ‘Integrity is not for sale, Bastien.’

  Bastien snarled, this old fool was losing a great business opportunity. He knew he was wasting his breath, on this honest, moral soul. Bastien walked forward and looked slowly at each key. Finally, he reached in and grabbed a key that look plain, not too rusty, but to shiny. Surely, this must be the one!

  He made his way to the door of the great library, and taking a deep breath, he tried his key. It would not go in.

  ‘Damn it!’ he yelled, trying desperately to thrust the key into the hole. He threw it on the ground with disgust. ‘You will regret this old man!’ he spat. ‘You cannot protect those books forever…’

  ‘No, I cannot,’ Spyro agreed. ‘But, the sorceress? Well, her magic has done a pretty good job of protecting them thus far.’

  Bastien could feel his blood boiling in his body. He couldn’t wait to leave. He hurried out the corridor and past the reception desk. Bastien dropped the bag as he went past. ‘I want this analysed Immediately,’ he growled, the young boy behind the counter handing him a form nervously.

  ‘Sir, could you please…please…fill this out…because…’

  Bastien looked at the young boy, and then he snatched the form and quickly scribbled his details. He hurried out to the door and vowed the next time he returned it would be for vengeance.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Escape

  Annika was madly throwing her belongings into her bag. ‘I need to leave,’ she kept repeating. Ellowyn was trying to talk some sense into her, but she could see Annika was in a semi-hysterical state.

  ‘Uncle Dashiell, he’s a good man. He’ s just…’

  ‘Just what?’ Annika screamed? ‘A werewolf? An evil monster in the dark of the night?’ Annika looked out the window, it was still light. She knew if she took the Bridge-O-Matic to the train station, she could catch the evening train to Epp. She would sleep all night, wake up refreshed and beg Spyro to change the arrangements of her Internship.

  ‘Ellowyn—I am so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But—I cannot stay here…please, once I am settled in Epp, come visit me—and bring Adelia—if you’re allowed.’ She hurried down the stairs and out the door. The servants were all looking and whispering, some sniggering and Ellowyn was left screaming at the top of the stairs.

  ‘What do I do?’ she asked herself. ‘I need to get Uncle Dashiell; he has to stop her!’

  ***

  Annika looked around, outside the castle grounds, in the daylight, the woods were still a terrifying place, for as far as the eye could see, nothing but thick dark trees, and the sound of the wind whistling through the branches.

  It wasn’t quite as light she had thought it would be and the suns were setting rapidly, as she trudged through the thick snow. Annika was getting tired; her heart was beating too fast. She desperately just wanted to escape this place and its pain. Annika threw herself down in the snow, heavy tears gushing down her cheeks. She decided to sit for a moment and rest.

  ***

  Ellowyn ran through the castle, searching for her uncle. ‘Uncle Dashiell! Uncle Dashiell!’ She ran frantically from door to door, knocking on each one. ‘Dashiell emerged from his study, ‘What is it, Ellowyn? Whatever by the God of Talir Faye is the matter?’

  ‘It’s Annika, she’s left—she knows Uncle—'

  ‘She knows what?’

  ‘She knows what you are…’

  ‘You told?’ he roared, bashing his hands against the door frame.

  ‘She knew, the funeral...’

  Dashiell charged through the doorframe. ‘I have to go after her.’

  ***

  Dashiell trudged through the snowy fields, ‘Annika!’ he called. He was so angry with himself. Why hadn’t he just told her the truth to begin with? But, how could he?

  He finally came to the clearing, her footprints were still in the snow, he quickly surveyed the area, and he saw something in the distance, he began to hurry. A dark pile of material in the snow, and as he got closer, he realised it, it was just her jacket… covered in blood….and Annika- was no where in sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Dark Hearts are Beating with Dark Thoughts

  After that night at Magali’s cottage, Briette had not been able to sleep well. Each and every night, her dreams, nay nightmares, were haunted by images of Florina dying in the woods, her throat ripped open as blood poured out. Florina choking to breathe, and it was all on Briette’s head. Florina’s blood would be on her soul for all eternity—she would surely burn in the fire of the After Realms for it—all she could see were flames surrounding her, and Florina’s eyes filled with tears, asking why. But then her dreams would change, and she could see the images Magali had shown her, she was regal, she was even more beautiful than she already was, and she was a queen! She had gold in her crown and gold on her fingers and she was loved by all. Most especially Bastien—and as Magali had said—Florina would not be the first—or the last who would make a pass as Bastien—and it was the Von Croy way to destroy one’s enemy—and Briette was essentially signing up to be just that.

  Each night, she awoke covered in sweat, and she leapt out of bed, praying to the Moon Goddesses for clarity and forgiveness, and she turned to her bed stand and opened the drawer. In it was a container of pills. She opened it, downing a couple of them. They would help her sleep; they would numb the pain.

  In the morning, she awoke. She had had a terrible week of sleepless nights, but this morning she felt a little better. The guilt of Florina’s death was starting to subside, as she knew she had to get on with her plan. She decided to make herself look pretty today, because really, what else did she have to do, and she never knew
when Bastien might turn up.

  Looking in the mirror, she gasped. ‘Oh, for the love of Lavinia, I look as though I have become an undead creature of the night. A resurrected corpse!’ She quickly got to applying her makeup and rouging her pale cheeks. She glanced quickly at the potion and spell Magali had given her, and tucking it away in a draw, she vowed to leave it there, but deep down, she feared what she might be capable of.

  ***

  Bastien was sitting back at his desk, his feet up, any minute now, the results from the test he had ordered in Epp would be coming through. He had been waiting anxiously for weeks for these results—and they were a potential gamechanger. The machine on his desk began to click and ring, he leapt up, his heart pounding with exhilaration.

  Watching the paper print out of his machine, his fingers shook in anticipation. Finally, it stopped, and he ripped it from the machine. He couldn’t believe it! The strand of hair the fairies had taken from that little blonde girl was a match! Everything was changing now…

  Bastien looked at the result he had had sent through; his face lit up. ‘I knew it…’ he mumbled to himself. I just knew it—it’s her.’

  Bastien poured himself a drink as he smugly planned his next move—he knew exactly how to infiltrate the Baertschi Family and bring them down from the inside. Nothing would stop him now.

 

 

 


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