by Jane Godman
“Much as they were when you left. There are the illnesses you would expect from these conditions. Our biggest enemy is boredom. We are werewolves, so we need to run free, and we need fresh meat. There are too many people on one small island, and we have hunted the local wildlife almost to extinction. We supplement our diet with berries, fruits and vegetables. It keeps us alive, but malnutrition is a concern, particularly among the children. Fortunately, rivers and streams are plentiful on this island, so bathing, sanitation and fresh drinking water are not a problem.” Marko’s face was grave. “You want my honest opinion? I think we’ll struggle when winter comes.”
“Then we must put an end to this and return these people to their own islands so we can begin rebuilding their homes before winter.” The quiet determination in Nate’s voice surprised Violet. He sounded like a man who was making plans for the future. The problem was, he had no future here in the Wolf Nation.
“There is only one way to finish this. Since it involves ending the existing regime, I can’t see it happening before the colder weather arrives.” Marko’s words were an echo of what Roko had said the day before.
Violet looked up as Emil approached them with a woman at his side. Violet recognized her instantly, and her heart did a glad little flip at the sensation. My memory is returning at last.
“Valentina.” She got to her feet, holding out her hand to Emil’s mother.
Valentina gripped Violet’s hand in both of hers. “My lady, I wanted to thank you again for everything you have done for us.” She gazed up at Violet with an almost worshipful look in her eyes. “Your mother would be proud to know that you have grown up to be as good and kind as she was.”
“You knew my mother?” Violet felt a surge of excitement. Perhaps she would finally get some answers about the woman who had given birth to her.
“I met her a few times. Dorotea was very beautiful. You look just like her. Except for your eyes.” Valentina shook her head. “Do you know how rare it is for a werewolf to have blue eyes?”
“I never thought about it,” Violet said. “I always thought—” Did I always think? Was this a memory resurfacing? “—that, because my father has brown eyes, my mother’s must have been blue, and that I inherited them from her.”
Valentina shook her head. “In all my long life, I have only ever seen one other wolf with blue eyes. He had violet eyes exactly like yours.” She turned to Marko. “Do you remember?”
Marko nodded. “I remember.”
Violet’s heart began to thud. “Who was it?”
“It was Anwyl.”
* * *
Violet had been subdued on the return journey from Vukod to Urlati. They had prepared a story to tell Nevan about why they had been missing all day, making up an excuse about sightseeing around the islands, but Nate guessed the Wolf Leader would barely have noticed their absence.
When they reached the little harbor, Violet thanked Emil absentmindedly for his help and took Nate’s hand. Instead of returning directly to the Voda Kuca, they walked along the shoreline, looking out at the darkening ocean.
“Just because you and Anwyl share the same eye color, it doesn’t mean anything,” Nate said.
“No.” Violet kept her eyes on the water.
“Coincidences like that happen all the time in genetics.”
“Yes.” Her gaze remained fixed.
“There could be a hundred scientific explanations.”
“I know.” She still didn’t look at him.
He tried a different tactic. “What are you thinking?”
She sighed, turning to face him. “That Anwyl was my father. I feel it.” She pressed her fist to the center of her chest. “Here. And I can feel a lot more than that. I can feel the responsibility for what happened to my people pressing down on me. I’m the cause of the war between Nevan and Anwyl. I am the reason why those people we saw today have been treated so badly.”
“You can’t think like that. Nevan’s actions are his responsibility and no one else’s. Certainly not yours. Although, if Anwyl is your father, it would explain a lot,” Nate said. “Cal said no one really knew where the sudden animosity between Nevan and Anwyl came from.”
“It explains everything. You’ve seen how Nevan is with me. He’s not a father to me. There’s no love there.”
“But if you are not Nevan’s daughter, why does he keep up the pretense? Why not simply tell the truth about who you are? Dismiss you from his life?” Nate asked.
“Pride. My mother was his wife. If he disowned me, he would have to admit that Dorotea cheated on him with Anwyl. You’ve seen what Nevan is like. He would never do that, would never publicly say his wife preferred another man.” Violet raised a hand to her mouth. “My God, Nate. My mother died soon after I was born. You don’t think...?”
“That Nevan killed her?” He considered it. “If it was any other man, I would say no. But this is Nevan. I’ve lived with that bastard inside my head, urging me to kill a woman he’d never met because he believed her heart could bring him power. I’d say there’s a good chance he could have killed Dorotea if he knew she’d cheated on him. You know what this means?”
Violet nodded. “We have to find out what secrets Nevan is hiding in the cellars beneath the Voda Kuca. I know I was scared at what we might unearth, but my fears are nothing compared to the need to discover the truth.”
“Are you ready to go now?”
She forced a smile. “As long as you are with me, I’m ready for anything.”
As they reached the door of the Voda Kuca, the weather changed. From nowhere, the wind began to howl. In the darkening skies overhead, clouds began to boil and swirl in competing shades of black and gray as the elements spewed their rage upon the island. Brutal rain slashed at the ground with stinging force, lightning speared the trees and the tempest reached screaming pitch. It was as though nature was hurling a warning at them for what was to come.
As they stepped inside the house, they were already soaked and shivering from the onslaught of the sudden storm. Water saturated their hair and plastered their clothing to their skin. Even so, Nate felt a curious heat radiating through him, a nervous energy that buzzed along his nerve endings. This was a turning point. Everything told him it was so. He knew Violet felt the same certainty. Her eyes were huge, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling as her breath came fast and hard.
“I don’t know where the cellars are.” Violet’s whisper seemed louder than a shout in the silence of the entrance hall.
“I’m guessing there will be an entrance around here somewhere,” Nate said. “But if Roko is right and there is some dark, underground secret, I don’t imagine getting in will be easy.”
He moved toward the first of the doors that lined the hall, but Violet paused, her expression intent. It was as if his words had triggered something in her mind.
“Underground.” She said the word slowly.
“That’s right. We have to find out if one of these doors leads us down into the cellar.”
Violet shook her head. “We don’t need to look here. I know where the entrance is.”
“How do you know? Has your memory come back?” Nate returned to her side. Violet was shivering now, but he wasn’t sure whether the cause was her wet clothing or the excitement that had her in its grip.
“No. But when I was talking to Emil in the grounds the other day, we passed a funny little building. When I asked him what it was, he told me it was an icehouse. He said it was no longer used. He also said that most of the structure was underground.”
“It sounds promising, but what makes you think the entrance is there?” Nate asked.
Her eyes shone brilliant blue with excitement. “Why else would a disused icehouse have a huge padlock on its doors?”
* * *
By the time they had changed into dry clothing and found Emil, Vio
let’s anticipation and impatience levels were almost off the scale. Added together with her nervousness, the storm of emotions coursing through her was greater than the tempest outside. She felt as if some of the lightning had entered her body, sending electricity coursing through her bloodstream.
Emil cautiously agreed to their request and some time later knocked on the door of Nate’s attic bedroom. When Nate answered, the young werewolf sidled inside and handed over a bolt cutter and a flashlight.
“If anyone knew—”
“They won’t.” Nate cut him off before he could say any more. “If anyone discovers we have these items, we will say we took them without your permission.”
Emil nodded gratefully. “The Wolf Leader has gone to a meeting with a group of his followers on the other side of the island. He is not due back for several hours.” As he was about to leave, he turned back. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Violet felt the mood shift and become unexpectedly solemn, almost as if Emil was about to take an oath in their honor. “We will always remember your loyalty.”
Emil nodded as though her words satisfied a need within him, and left.
Nate handed her the flashlight. “Ready?”
In response, Violet pulled the hood of her waterproof jacket up over her hair. “Let’s do this.” As she said the words, she realized her nervousness was gone. In its place was anticipation. Finally, she might get some answers, not just to the missing pieces of her lost memory, but to the mystery of who she really was.
Although it took only minutes to reach the icehouse, the weather was conspiring to drive them back. Thunder crashed overhead with such violence it shook the ground beneath their feet, and lightning lit the sky with the same pyrotechnic creativity as the wildest of Beast’s concerts. The driving rain churned the pretty gardens and green fields to mud and drove into their faces with gleeful fury until they were blinded by its force.
When they reached the icehouse, Violet held the flashlight so Nate could use the bolt cutter on the padlock. He fumbled several times in the icy onslaught but finally managed to cut the lock loose. When he cast it aside and tucked the bolt cutter into the waistband of his jeans, the ancient wooden doors swung inward with a protesting groan that could be heard even above the fury of the elements.
Violet stared into the gaping blackness as her heartbeat pounded out a warning. The scent rising from within was of mold and age. It held a hint of rotten fruit and crushed rose petals, but there was something more, something feral lurking beneath the musty, damp-air smell. It was the stench of secrets.
“Be careful.” Nate raised his voice above the howling wind. He took the flashlight from her and directed the beam onto the icehouse steps. “It’s wet and mossy down there.”
They left the storm-drenched grounds and entered the icehouse. Quiet descended, shutting out the sound of the storm and causing Violet to cast a longing look over her shoulder. The known or the unknown? The fury of the raging tempest outside, or the unearthly silence of the descent into the darkness ahead of them? Before she could answer her own question, Nate had set his foot on the first step.
Using his right hand to guide him along the jagged wall, he held the flashlight out in front of him with his left. Beneath their feet the rocky steps were uneven and slimy. Water ran down the walls and dripped onto their heads. From below a faint scurrying sound signaled a sign of life, although Violet doubted it was the source of the secret they sought. Her sensitive ears told her the icehouse was likely to be home to numerous rodents as well as any mysteries Nevan might be hiding.
Their descent was slow. Several times, Violet felt her feet begin to slide on the treacherous surface of the steps. Each time, she just managed to right herself and stay upright. When they reached the bottom, Nate shined his flashlight around. They were in a low-ceilinged, circular room. The rocky walls of this chamber were green with slime. Violet guessed that this must have been where the ice was stored. The chill that seeped through her skin and into her bones seemed to confirm it.
“Look.” Nate’s voice had an eerie echo as he pointed.
There was an archway in the wall opposite. When they made their way through it, they found themselves in a narrow tunnel. Nate made his way cautiously along it, staying just ahead of Violet. In parts, the roof was so low he had to duck his head. It twisted and turned, sometimes leading them down, now and then appearing to take them up. At one point, Violet stumbled on the slimy slabs, falling onto one knee and crying out.
Nate turned to her, catching hold of her by her upper arm and hauling her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Her shaky laugh echoed off the walls of the tunnel. “I shouted because I thought I was going to land flat on my face.”
“Who is there?” They both froze as a woman’s voice, faint but unmistakable, called out to them.
The sound had come from farther along the tunnel, in the direction they had been moving. A crawling sense of anticipation tracked up and down Violet’s spine as they continued on their way.
“Is that you, Dario?” The voice was closer now. “Have you brought the medicine I asked for at last?”
The tunnel twisted sharply to the left, then, in the beam thrown out by the flashlight, Violet saw it widen. Hurrying now, they reached a point where the tunnel they were in crossed another, forming a T shape. The second tunnel was wider and higher. Along one wall a series of lanterns was strung at shoulder height, giving off a soft, golden glow. They stepped into this tunnel, and Violet drew in a shocked breath as she recognized what its function was. Along the opposite side of the lanterns the space was divided into a series of small cells, each of which had iron bars across the front. They were in a prison. This must be the place where Roko had been held captive during his imprisonment.
A woman stood up against the bars of one cell, gripping them with her hands. When she saw Nate and Violet, she gave a startled cry and lifted one hand to cover her mouth. Violet felt the impact of the other woman’s shock ricochet through her own body. Putting back the hood of her waterproof jacket, she stepped up to the cell.
Tears filled her eyes as she held out a hand. “Mother?”
Chapter 21
If Nate had passed Dorotea on a crowded street, he’d have known she was Violet’s mother. The likeness between the two women was remarkable. Apart from her dark brown eyes and the touch of gray in the hair at her temples, she might have been Violet’s sister.
When Violet pushed back the hood of her jacket and stepped forward to take her mother’s hand, Dorotea initially appeared frozen in place. She gazed at Violet as though she believed she might be hallucinating. Then huge, swollen tears began to roll down her cheeks as her whole body began to shake.
“Violetta. My child.” She grasped Violet’s hands through the bars, smothering them with kisses. “He told me you were dead.”
As the impact of what she was saying hit home, Nate felt his hatred toward Nevan ratchet up even further. How could such evil exist? The Wolf Leader had kept his wife locked up beneath the floor of his family home for all these years. And for what? Her crime—her lapse—had been to fall in love with another man. For that Nevan had deprived Violet of a mother’s love and Dorotea of her daughter’s life...and of any life of her own. Of all the reasons Nate had to loathe and despise the werewolf leader, this new discovery about the depths of his villainy had just rocketed up to the top of the list.
As the two women did their best to embrace through the bars of the cell, Nate drew the bolt cutter from the waistband of his jeans. He wasn’t sure how much use the tool would be. These iron rods were more substantial than the padlock that had secured the icehouse door, but he got to work anyway, levering the cutting edge of the tool against one of the rails.
Dorotea, catching sight of what he was doing, cast a scared glance along the tunnel in the opposite direction from that from which Nate and Violet had c
ome. “You must go. He will be here very soon.”
“Who will?” Violet asked.
“Dario.” Dorotea’s voice held both fear and revulsion as she said the name. “He is the one who guards us.”
Nate paused in his task. As he feared, the bolt cutter had barely scratched the bar. “Us?”
Dorotea pointed to the cell next to hers. “Bartol is your brother,” she told Violet, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “Ever since Nevan imprisoned him here, his health has been declining. Now I fear he may be dying. I have told Dario he needs medicine or professional care, but he refuses to do anything.”
Nate placed an arm around Violet as she stepped to one side to view the pitiful figure lying on the narrow bunk inside the next cell. Slumped under a blanket, Bartol appeared to be unconscious.
Although Nate knew that time was not the same concept here in Otherworld that it was in the mortal realm, if Dorotea had been imprisoned since the discovery of her infidelity, she had been here since around Violet’s birth. Even without an accurate measurement of time, that was a lengthy captivity.
“Do you remember Bartol?” he asked Violet.
“Only vaguely. The last time I saw him, I was a very young child.” From those words, Nate surmised that Bartol’s imprisonment must also have been a long one. “Nevan told me he had banished Bartol.” Violet’s shoulders shook as she spoke. “I remember now that when I refused to stop helping the refugees, he threatened to exile me the same way he had done to my brother. I thought he meant he would send me away. But it was this. This is his idea of banishment.”
“Bartol found out I was imprisoned here, and he tried to free me. Nevan discovered his intention before Bartol could release me.” Dorotea covered her face with her hands. “I will never forget the look on Nevan’s face, or the hateful sound of his laughter. He said if Bartol was so fond of me, we could spend all eternity together. Nevan had Dario beat him and throw him into the next cell.” Her voice grew stronger. “You must leave here before they do the same to you.”
