Wolfsbane

by Nathalie Gray

  Scarlet looked up at the patches of night sky she could see through the branches. The moon was already beginning to rise above the thinning canopy of leaves. It must have been close to midnight. Scarlet pulled the overcoat tighter. She’d walked for a fair time already and didn’t feel tired. Not bad.

  Scarlet grinned to herself as she fisted the coins. They weighed nicely in her hand, not the usual guilt-ridden weight dragging her down. No, this time, these honest coins weighed just the right weight. Scarlet sighed.

  She’d be a street woman no more. No more pilfering rich patrons, breaking into merchants’ homes, picking locks on places not meant for her. She’d lead a normal, honest life from now on.

  She stumbled again. The road to her right, so flat and meant for walking looked so inviting. Perhaps she could…

  No. Just in case.

  She’d no idea what lay to the south, didn’t even know how long until the next village or town. Would she stop at the first and find work? Not likely, come to think of it, as she wanted to put as much distance between Innsbruck and her as possible. After a few days, or maybe when she got to a large town. Scarlet figured she’d decide when she got there. She’d get that feeling of “home” hopefully, and she’d settle there. Maybe work on a farm at first, or as a servant. She still didn’t have enough coins to get her own place or anything else for that matter. But she had some and only this counted. Fredrick would understand in time. It was breaking her heart, but he’d find someone worthy of him. It was better this way.

  She blinked a few times. It took a full two seconds for Scarlet to recognize the pain radiating along her neck. She’d been struck behind the head. Stars fizzed around the edges of her vision.

  “I was wondering when you’d get restless and leave.”

  The back of her head felt hot and tight. And it tingled. Whirling around despite the nausea creeping up her throat, Scarlet stumbled back several paces.

  A wide, disbelieving grin stretched Lothar’s face. A small broken branch hung in his hand. “You have one hard head, Scarlet.”

  Something hot dribbled down the back of her neck then between her shoulder blades. Hot waves tightened her scalp. After she reached behind her head to rub the hurt, Scarlet’s fingers came back bloodied. “You…you…”

  “Now, now, be polite,” he said, the grin slipping off his handsome face. He cast the branch aside, took a step forward.

  Instincts kicked in.

  Scarlet spun on her heels and tore through a thick cluster of bushes. She heard Lothar’s heavy breathing behind her and hoped the man was only strong and not fast as well. Scarlet didn’t make it far.

  “Come here!” Lothar snarled, closing a hand over the back of her collar.

  Both her legs flew out in front of her. She fell heavily amid a tangle of coat and limbs.

  Lothar was on her before she could roll away. While he straddled her lower back, he pulled her head up by a fistful of hair. Something sharp and cold slid across her throat. Scarlet froze, recognizing the distinct feel of steel held with intent and precision.

  “I know you don’t believe me, but I never intended to hurt you,” he whispered through both their disheveled hair. “Though I will if you make me.”

  Fear tightened her throat, churned her stomach. She feared being sick. A subtle nod from her and the blade lifted. The back of her head burned where she’d been hit. Scarlet squeezed tears out of her eyes. She was born in a gutter and would end in one. Maybe she wasn’t meant to have a good, honest life. Maybe she’d done too much ill in her life, had soured what chances she had by not responding to Fredrick’s plight soon enough. Was this God’s punishment? The coins in her pocket might not have been as honest as she’d hoped, given the kind of work which had generated them.

  Her dreams, her future. She’d come so close.

  Lothar stood, hoisting her up against him by the fistful of hair he still held in an implacable grip. “I have just the place for us,” he announced before forcing her forward. “It’s not that far, but secluded enough. You’ll have the liberty of screaming obscenities at me all you want.”

  Scarlet forced him out of her mind and tried to focus on her whereabouts should she find the strength to escape him. Such good fortune she doubted she’d have, and Scarlet realized the window of opportunity was getting narrower with each stumbling step she took deeper into the woods. But as soon as thoughts of escaping surfaced, his dire warning cut in. He was physically stronger and had a weapon while she was half his girth and had nothing with which to defend herself. All was lost.

  As they proceeded down a gentle decline, trees became more massive and closer together. The night was dark even for her. Scarlet wondered for a second if Fredrick had gone looking for her when he’d woken in the morning. Perhaps he had known she would leave and had asked just in case. Answering him had proven beyond her strength. What he must think of her now.

  “Thinking of your prince?” Lothar said, his tone surprisingly soft. “Forget him. You never would have made a dent in his armor. It took Katrina months just to get him to be civil with her, and she’s a mistress at seduction. Although I can understand—and do share—your lust for him.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. For a man to take pleasure from another unwilling man implied such wickedness, such a bestial nature, Scarlet nearly vomited at the thought of what awaited her. When she meant to struggle against him, Lothar shook her.

  “Remember what I said.”

  Her scalp burned, and Scarlet wrapped both her hands over his to alleviate the tension on her hair.

  He chortled. “Ever the practical one.”

  They had walked for a few hours, by her estimation, when through a break in the clouds, Scarlet spotted a dilapidated hunting lodge, its maladjusted planks giving the whole affair a sad air. It looked as though a giant had tried to sit on the tiny shack. As she drew nearer, she saw that a Dutch door, both halves closed, presented the only opening in the construction. No chimney or windows—only one way in or out. Scarlet’s heart sank.

  Lothar pushed her onward but when she faltered, he pressed himself into her, pinning her against the door before he opened it and let it swing completely in. A tiny twister of dead leaves rolled at her feet when she stepped past the threshold.

  “Ladies first,” he said, giving her a slight push in the back that nudged her a couple of steps inside the one-room lodge.

  Scarlet flattened herself against the far wall, keeping her back to it and Lothar well in view. While he turned his back to her and dug through the pockets of his cloak, Scarlet eyed the door. Barely four steps. Could she do it?

  “If you move even one foot, that will make me very angry,” he said, quashing her budding hopes. “And you don’t want me angry.”

  A spark flew out from his cupped hands, and a tiny oil lamp Scarlet hadn’t seen hanging in the corner came to life. Amber light chased shadows up to the timbered ceiling.

  Lothar turned and leaned back against the wall. The lamp beside his head reflected in his wavy light brown hair. How could a man be gifted with such outward beauty yet foster such a vile soul? He could have had all the women he wanted. Why her?

  His jade green tunic gleamed like snakeskin when he crossed his arms. “What now, Scarlet? I can hardly think when you’re near. So you tell me what will happen now.”

  “Please, Master Lothar. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone I saw you.” Her tongue felt thick when she spoke.

  At the farthest edge of her hearing range, Scarlet thought she heard the high-pitched neigh of a horse. But when it came again, she realized it must have been the wind whistling through the door.

  Lothar’s laugh was almost good-natured when he shook his head at her. “You’re just unflappable. You won’t tell on me, indeed.” He laughed again, which only deepened Scarlet’s misery. He slid the knife under his belt behind his back. “Well, in exchange, I won’t tell on you.”

  “What do you mean?” she blurted out, fearing right away the triumphant glint in his
eyes.

  “Firstly, I won’t tell you helped torture von Innsbruck for weeks before you did a damn thing about it.” Lothar uncrossed his arms then took a step sideways, blocking the door with his body. “Then I won’t tell how you let Katrina fuck you while beloved Fredrick watched, chained like the beast he is.”

  Scarlet recoiled when Lothar pretended to rush for her. He grinned then resumed his slow pacing in front of the door. “And I won’t tell a soul how you watched me fuck that maid until she was blue with lust. I always wondered if you were watching because you enjoyed the sight of me ramming my cock into such a lovely person, or if you were imagining yourself in her place.” He winked. “Personally, I was pretending it was you. So I guess we’re evenly wicked.”

  Shame silenced her. For all his deviousness, Lothar’s words rang with truth. She did help Fredrick too late. She did let Katrina and this loathsome man do things to her. That she hardly could have fought either of them off given her drugged state was no excuse. She should have seen it coming. And finally, watching Lothar shove himself into the happily writhing maid had excited Scarlet. Though not because she was the least bit inclined to pretend it was Lothar and she. But worse, she had, for a split second, imagined it was Fredrick doing it to her, vigorously thrusting himself into her while she was bound to that strange contraption. She lowered her gaze.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, if I trusted you ever so slightly, I’d let you do it to me. But I don’t trust anyone.” The smile crystallized at the edges of his elegant, hateful mouth. “I lost the ability to trust a long time ago.”

  Scarlet pressed her back harder against the wall. Instincts told her he was about to pounce.

  He did.

  She pushed herself off the wall with a yelp, barely managed to evade his greedy clutches, before slamming against the opposite wall.

  He grinned widely, clearly enjoying himself very much. The strain in his trousers confirmed this. Lothar widened his stance, looking like a draft horse ready to draw a hoe.

  With a snarl he charged her, but this time, he kept his arms out wide should she decide to slip beneath his reach. It was all quite unnecessary for Scarlet remained rooted to the spot, fear having immobilized her as surely as Fredrick’s chain had him. A strangled gasp escaped her when Lothar bunched her cloak and ripped it off her shoulders.

  Her neck burned where the fabric chafed her skin. Scarlet squeezed her eyes shut when he slammed her back against the wall and pinned her there with his chest. Wedging a thigh between hers, Lothar had her nearly suspended against the wall.

  “What’s wrong, Scarlet? No more fight in you?” he demanded while his hand trapped a breast through her dress. She couldn’t bear to look at him. He sounded angry.

  The wind whistled through the door again. Scarlet swore it sounded like a woman screaming. Then the wail intensified, until she knew this was no wind. It was her. And she couldn’t stop.

  Despite Lothar’s brutal handling and his repeated command that she “show some spirit” and at least try to fight him off, all Scarlet could do was scream.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When he woke, Fredrick knew she was gone. He could feel it as acutely as a missing limb. Even before he rolled onto his side to find the other half of the bed cold and empty, he knew she was gone. Indeed, Fredrick had known even while he was asking her the night before. She might have been a thief, but she was a poor liar. And the ache in his heart surprised him by its intensity and rawness.

  Unable to face anyone—even himself—Fredrick closed his eyes again and let oblivion swallow his soul.

  * * * * *

  Later on that day, he woke and noticed someone had closed the drapes for the evening. His hand reached out over the other side of the bed before he could stop himself. For a split second, he had forgotten yet again that Scarlet was gone. Would the ache never leave him?

  He was too old for her anyway, he kept telling himself as he dressed, refusing to wash her scent off him. It was all he had left of Scarlet. He’d be damned if he’d lose this too. At least for today, he’d keep her with him this way.

  Once dressed, wearing trousers and a shirt for the first time in so long, Fredrick felt more like himself. A small sound alerted his keen senses a split second before someone knocked at his door.

  “Yes,” he called, enjoying how his voice didn’t echo off stone walls but was instead soaked up by the tapestries hung around his chambers. Every little uplifting detail mattered on this day.

  Ute poked her head in, her wrinkled face tight with worry and something else which poked his heart. “It’s not my place, but you should eat something today, Master.”

  Fredrick pretended levity. “You’re right, young madam, and please tell me you’ve brought with you an assortment of your fine cooking.” She’d always enjoyed his taking a more formal tone with her.

  Her smile didn’t convince him. She nodded as she stepped inside the room, a tray piled high with mouth-watering foods. A crystal carafe throned in its center where a crimson liquid gently sloshed around with her brusque gait. Avoiding his gaze, she set the tray down on a small table by the window then took a step back. Ute still hadn’t raised her gaze to him.

  Cursing Katrina again for causing his people such grief, Fredrick crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the old woman’s tiny frame. She briefly tried to push him away but let go and buried her face in his chest.

  “How I’ve failed you, young Master… I’ll never forgive myself…”

  While he held her, Fredrick tried to let go of his hatred for his cousin but discovered he couldn’t. He could no more forgive Katrina than he could forget Scarlet.

  After Ute’s sobs quieted to silent tears, Fredrick took the serviette from the tray and dabbed her eyes and nose. “You’ve nothing to hold against yourself.”

  “I should’ve known, Master Fredrick. I should’ve been more careful, asked more questions—but my blood, they said it wasn’t good enough…and I didn’t want to make it worse…”

  “And then an accident would’ve happened to you too, just as it did for old Nikolaus,” Fredrick replied. “He tried to help. She killed him for it.”

  “Nikolaus? But I thought…everyone thought he’d had an attack of the heart.” She looked ready to cry again.

  Fredrick shook his head. “Katrina killed him. Poisoned him, the poor man, because he’d started to ask too many questions.”

  When Ute didn’t seem to find the strength to speak, Fredrick went on. “Since she’s barely an Innsbruck and can never get her claws into my affairs, she wanted a heir from me, one she could manipulate. She wanted to sell everything, cast you all out in the snow with nothing. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “But she hurt you, all that time. The— I should go in there and wring her scrawny neck.”

  A chuckle managed to lift Fredrick’s spirit. Ute. “I’d like nothing better myself. But I want people to know what she did. I want them all to know.”

  “I’ll tend to you myself, I swear on my mother’s grave, you’ll never be without anything again,” Ute replied with as much force as he’d come to expect from her.

  Fredrick smiled through his own, very personal grief. “Now what did you bring me today?”

  Ute chanced a quick peek at his bed, noticed the disarray and strewn cushions. A small grin played on her face. “No wonder I couldn’t find the girl all day,” she said, tut-tutting. “Whenever she’s ready, I need her in the kitchen. Work’s piling up.”

  Fredrick felt as though Ute had dragged a razor across his chest. “She’s gone.” It was all he managed to say.

  To her credit, the old woman seemed to understand right away. “So sad. She was just the kind of girl I needed around here. I’m so sorry, Master Fredrick, I know she meant—”

  Though he didn’t mean to be brusque, Fredrick raised his hand to stay the rest of Ute’s words. He didn’t need to hear any more of this. “That’ll be all, Ute. My thanks.”

  The door unexpectedly
opened. A red-faced Frank burst in, his riding crop in a white-knuckled fist. “She’s gone!”

  Fredrick had to take a deep breath to remind himself how good it was to be interrupted again. He’d spent the last two years hoping—praying—for someone to come unexpectedly through his door. “I know, Frank. She left at dawn.”

  Frank paled so completely Fredrick extended his hand to steady the older man. “But… that’s impossible, I checked on her just today, around midday.” He shook his head. “Then you’ve let her go freely? After all she’s done… I…I’m sorry for saying so, Master Fredrick, but I think you made a mistake.”

  Anger flared in Fredrick’s chest. He stared hard at Frank. “Scarlet was never a prisoner in my house, Frank.”

  “Scarlet? She’s gone, as well? I thought, well, we all thought she was in here with you.”

  Dread twisted his guts as intensely as bad wine. “What do you mean?” he asked, fighting a losing battle with self-control. His fingers curled in on themselves in trembling fists.

  Frank opened his mouth to speak, snapped it closed then shook his head. “Oh, dear God. Master Fredrick, the lady is gone. Lady Katrina. She’s gone. Both guards were found dead. I think she lured them in when they gave her supper—”

  Fredrick could hear nothing more. His blood pounded in his ears, filled his head with liquid drumbeat. How stupid could those men have been? Couldn’t they see how dangerous she was? Then he remembered he too, had once fallen for her charms. Rage filled him.

  “When?” he snarled through his teeth.

  Ute took a step back, clearly frightened.

  Frank, knowing Fredrick’s dark secret, appeared calmer, though much paler. “As I said, it couldn’t have been this morning, I went by and she was still there. So I’d say she’s been gone only a short while. And she took a horse…”

  “What else did she take?” Fredrick roared “The family heirlooms? Half the Godforsaken castle?”