Immortal Prey

by Diana Ballew

  But there was nothing, nothing, I could do to stop the wild beast raging inside.

  After I had my depraved fill, she went limp and flopped face-first against the bedding.

  God, help me.

  Had I killed her?

  She slowly rolled over to face me. I scurried to the side of the bed, growling in a low hum and baring my fanged teeth. Terror dwelled within the emerald gaze fixed upon me, but she didn’t flinch or attempt to flee.

  My mortal self, body and mind, was slipping away, evolving into a vicious, murderous wolf. I slammed my eyes closed, took deep breaths through flared nostrils, but try as I did with all I had left, I could not fight the emerging beast.

  I forced my eyes open and stared at the luminous moonlight slicing through the window. With my world as I had known it all but gone, there was only one thing I knew with certainty: If I were to see my beloved wife ever again, the time had come to seize her life.

  Like a young doe before slaughter, she lay quivering, tears welling in her eyes. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak. “It … it is you in there, Derek. I see you in those blue eyes, your eyes.”

  I hovered over her, my eyes fixed upon the artery pounding in a panicked frenzy within her neck, listening to her sweet vocal cords I knew I would crush within my powerful jaws.

  With only a fragment of my mortal life left within me, I managed to speak in a voice I barely recognized as my own. “When the Angel of Death calls thy name, do not answer.”

  I held her down, my brown nails digging into her soft flesh, and sank my sharp teeth into the beautiful pulsing cord upon her neck.

  Oh, dear God.

  The feel of her warm blood surging into my mouth was surely like sweet nectar to a bee, succulent, luscious, vital. The rush of crimson liquid darted across my tongue, consuming me to the point I barely heard her final words.

  “Come back to me. Come back to me, Derek.”

  I groaned like a whelping pup as her lifeblood pulsed against my thick devouring tongue. Small, errant drops dripped down her tender neck, falling like wet rubies upon my golden fur. Every part of my wolf body urged to bite harder, to rip and tear flesh from her bones as she lay dying. But deep in what was left of my mortal mind, I heard Koenig’s words, “You cannot … you must not.”

  I trembled, whimpering and growling all at once as my teeth nipped and grazed her neck. I willed myself to keep from slashing her to pieces and devouring her whole.

  As I drew the last of her blood, I cocked my ears back and listened to the outside chorus.

  “Prince Derek Rudliff. Join us,” called my howling pack.

  I looked one last time into the faded, lifeless eyes of what had once been my beloved bride. I licked the last of her succulent blood from my paws, then turned and leapt from the bed. With the vision of the brilliant moon shining through the window, I thrust my mighty head high, howled in reply to my awaiting family, and crashed through the heavy wooden door to join in the hunt.

  * * * *

  AFTER feeding late into the night, I fled toward the forest to rest, where I happened upon Koenig curled on the ground. At the sight of his sleeping Were form, I felt a fierce bond of loyalty seize me unlike anything I had ever known in my mortal life. I needed to be near him, protect him, and keep him from harm.

  I lowered my haunches, curled next to him, and nuzzled his cold nose. He nudged his eyes open a sliver, but even such a small effort appeared to exhaust him further. I sensed something was wrong, but as a newly emerged Were with much to learn, I thought my questions could wait until morning.

  But I was wrong.

  What Koenig had failed to mention earlier became painfully clear by first light.

  I awoke in my human form, lying naked as a newborn baby, icy fingers of rain raking my skin. Koenig was on the ground, weak, fragile, having only partially transformed back to his human form. His pale, handsome head appeared that of a man, as was his torso, but his legs and arms were Werewolf.

  I bolted up to sitting. “My king, what has happened?”

  He heaved a heavy sigh and winced. “There is much to learn … so little time.”

  “But, what has happened? Tell me.”

  A slight smile tipped the corner of his thin lips. “I wish I could say my motives had been noble. They were not.”

  I moved in closer and smoothed his golden hair from his damp forehead. “Tell me. What ails you?”

  His eyes paled. “I’m dying.”

  My heart cleaved into a million pieces! “But … but you’re a Were king. You’re — you’re immortal, yes?”

  “There is a flaw in us all. What is important now is that I chose you. You are the one.”

  “But.” I frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “You are my successor.”

  “Successor?” I scrambled to my feet. “Me? You jest. You’re a king.”

  “I speak truth, Derek. ’Twas the warrior blood in you.”

  I paced the ground, scuffing up wet dirt with each forceful step. “I am neither royal nor worthy, and I am certainly not a warrior. How can this be?” I stopped in my tracks and stared down at his frail figure, awaiting his reply.

  Koenig moistened his parched lips and closed his eyes. “The answer is not simple. You are royal now. That is what matters. My chosen successor must be worthy. He could only hail from the same royal court from long ago, or from the blood of the mightiest of all warriors who fought on her behalf.” He coughed. “You, Prince Rudliff, descend from Hermann, also known as Arminius.”

  I’d heard of that name before, but where. From a dream, perhaps?

  “He saved our people long ago from the Roman invaders. I fought with the mighty Chieftain. I tasted him the moment I sank my teeth into your neck. To be sure, I bit into your shoulder.”

  I scurried in and knelt beside him. “King, tell me more.”

  “What I did not tell you earlier, I must explain now. For you to rule I must die.”

  “No!” I shouted. “Tell me you speak lies.”

  “’Tis truth I speak. There is only room for one king in our clan. I have lived a long life. Too long. When I was bitten by King Ulnry all those years ago, I, too, was given a choice of taking the life of my wife so I might be with her once again. I chose unwisely and have regretted that decision for two thousand years.”

  “But … but why must you die? Could you not have chosen me to be a common Were and your life spared?”

  “It is your bloodline that dictates what you will become in the Were world, just like anywhere else. I saw the love you have for your wife and was reminded of my immense loss.” He sighed, expelling curled vapor in the chilled air. “I have missed her for so very long. This is my only chance to find her in another world.”

  I raked my hands through my hair. “Perhaps no other world exists.”

  “There are other worlds beyond what you see, young Derek. You will learn this.”

  Stinging tears filled my eyes to brimming. “Is there no other way?”

  He sighed, expelling a swirl of mist into my face. “There is no other way.”

  I beat my fist against the brittle trunk of a dead hemlock.

  “Listen to me.” He coughed. “I’m weak. I haven’t much time. There is more.”

  I stared into his eyes, salty tears burning my chilled cheeks. “Speak, my King.”

  “There are rules. A male Were may have any female he chooses to satisfy his needs, but you must commit to only one queen. You have chosen wisely. Your Ersule can be yours again. It will be up to you to make her your Were queen and part of our clan. Before you bite her again after the age of three and twenty —”

  “What? I … I cannot! I cannot savagely bite her, not ever again.”

  “You must.” Koenig’s feeble voice trembled with resolve. He winced as chunks of fur fell from his legs, leaving behind open sores. “This is very important. She must declare her love for you. It must come from her heart.”

  It must come from the heart. Those
words echoed in my mind.

  “There are more like us … different clans. They will try to work magic — try to strengthen their bloodlines with our stronger, ancient blood. Beware.” He closed his eyes.

  “Don’t leave me, Koenig. I know not what to do. I’m just an ordinary man!”

  A single eyelid opened a crack, and a small spark glinted within his pale blue eye. “You were always far from ordinary, Derek. You will know what to do. ’Tis in your blood. From now on, you will rule our ancient Weres. We are small, but we are strong.”

  Koneig’s eyes shut again. I cradled his head in my arms and wept. A few moments later he spoke his final words.

  “Let me go in peace. Do not mourn, for it is you who has set my dark soul free. Go now and rule, King Derek Ulrich Rudliff.”

  How long I sat embracing his handsome head, I do not know, for I was gripped with searing pain tearing straight through my heart.

  Naked and my chest sore from choking sobs, I lumbered through the woods toward home. The door stood open wide, and my hound was nowhere to be seen. In our bed lay Ersule, still, lifeless, bloodied, and pale — just as I had left her.

  Kneeling by her side, I cried like an infant as I gently washed the caked blood in her hair, her neck, her shoulders, and dressed her in her favorite lavender frock. After dressing myself, I buried her in the sunny meadow where the wildflowers grew in abundance each spring, turning the ground into a lush rainbow of vibrant colors.

  Shrieks and shouts rang out, coming from the village square. I sighed and set out toward the commotion.

  The wolves had attacked, and more mangled body parts had been found at daybreak. I knew the news to be true, for it had been I, along with my pack, who had hunted, killed, and devoured throughout the dark night until we were full and satisfied.

  But we were no ordinary wolves.

  Yet, it was the pathetic Paul Stubbe who would be racked, bludgeoned, decapitated, and burned on this day for the crimes against humans that my pack performed regularly.

  With no explanation for my wife’s disappearance, and my old life nothing more than a memory, it was time to go, time to leave my home of Bedburg, the only home I had ever known.

  I would wait with the patience of a saint for the rebirth of Ersule. Just as Koenig had said, I would make her mine — claim her as my queen — no matter what happened in the next three hundred years.

  Chapter Four

  Everett, Washington

  “Oh, there you are. I’m heading out.” David dropped an envelope on Erin’s desk. “While you were gone, this arrived. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, all right. See you tomorrow,” Erin murmured absently, staring at the return address on the envelope.

  Rudliff, Grand Avenue.

  The envelope had been sealed with an ornate burgundy wax stamp. Inside was an engraved invitation on thick parchment.

  “A costume ball on Halloween,” she whispered.

  Lord. She had been unable to stop thinking about Derek ever since they had met at the cemetery. With the way his arresting blue eyes assessed her body, he was not an easy man to forget. More importantly, no one had written a story about him in the local newspapers. With a little luck, perhaps she would be the first. After all, an exclusive interview with Mr. Derek Rudliff could launch her career.

  She rose from the chair and gazed out the tall window overlooking the bay. Derek was hosting a costume ball, likely a grand event. She would need to give some thought to her costume. She sighed and rubbed her chin. Perhaps something wicked and fun would be in order.

  “Hello, dear, you busy?”

  Erin turned toward Frederick’s voice at the door.

  “Your father said I could see my way to your office.”

  I’m sure he did. She summoned up a warm smile. “What brings you here today?”

  He entered the office and stood in front of her desk. “I was down at the dock finishing up on business dealings and realized I was simply famished. May I take you to lunch?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve already had lunch. Perhaps another day.”

  His brows knitted together, as his gaze fixed upon the invitation sitting on her desk. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, that.” She rose from the chair and waved her hand. “It’s nothing important.”

  “The return address says Rudliff on Grand. Tell me you’ve had no further involvement with that man. He has a scandalous reputation. I know. I’ve checked.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and heaved a sigh. “You’ve checked? Good heavens, Frederick, are you now my father? I said it’s nothing. It’s just a note — a thank you note.”

  “I’m sorry, Erin. I simply want what’s best for you. I’m just trying to warn you. From what I’ve heard, the farther away a woman is from Rudliff, the better.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And just what have you heard? Enlighten me.”

  Frederick’s eyes bulged wide. “Well, I cannot give details because I’m a gentleman. But allow me to say he has a rather unsavory reputation, having been spotted in sordid establishments and gambling halls near Chestnut.”

  The muscles along her jawline pulsed. “That’s it? He’s ‘been spotted’. Many of the men you employ go down there on a regular basis. In fact, if memory serves me, didn’t you once need help getting home from that area after a ‘gentleman’s party’?”

  His cheeks flushed crimson. “That was different. My cousin was to be married the next day —”

  She took a step forward and poked a firm finger in his chest. “And God forbid a woman walk near that area, right? What would you and your scamps think of that? Would you prefer she were hanged? Or would a scarlet letter sewn upon her bosom be enough?”

  His mouth flopped open. “Sometimes your words astonish me, Erin.” He paced to the window and gazed toward the distance. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but your father has been most concerned about your independent nature. He told me you’ve recently taken to going out in the buggy at night and on long walks unchaparoned.”

  Erin held up her hands and shook her head. “Excuse me? Have we suddenly gone back to the Dark Ages? What is it with you two?” She dropped her arms to her sides. It was no use. Nothing she could say or do that reeked of feminine independence would ever please him.

  She softened her stance, taking pity on the poor narrow-minded lout. He and her father were exactly alike — both schooled in old traditions, both from families whose women sat idle, watching as the world passed by, too busy mending their husbands’ socks to fulfill their own dreams before passing away.

  He took her hands in his. “Forgive me. Your father and I just want what’s best for you. While I won’t forbid you to associate with Rudliff, I will —”

  “Forbid me!” She snatched her hands back in a flash. “I can’t talk to you about this anymore. I have work to do. Can you find the door yourself, or do I have to show you out?”

  “Erin, I —”

  “Just go.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Go now before I say something I may regret.”

  Frederick pursed his lips into a tight seam and nodded. “Very well.” Starting for the door, he paused and turned around with a menacing glare. “But this matter is far from over.”

  * * * *

  WITH her long dark hair and green eyes, attending the costume party dressed as a black cat seemed the perfect idea. Wiltse’s Mercantile carried a wonderful assortment of costumes this time of year, and finding the perfect fuzzy, feline ears had been easy. The slinky black dress and feather boa she had worn to the hospital charity ball months earlier were still hanging in her armoire. Tucked away in her cedar chest were black satin slippers that would complete the ensemble.

  Erin glanced at the pink roses from Derek, perched in the crystal vase on her bureau. The fragrant bouquet, delivered to her at the newspaper, had come as a complete surprise. Somehow, she had known exactly whom they were from before reading the small-attached card, thanking her for making him feel welcome in
Everett.

  The very next day, Derek had sent a telegram, insisting she allow him to send his carriage for her the night of the party. Given it would be an evening event, and on Halloween, no less, she sent word back accepting his gracious offer.

  The knock on the door filled her tidy bedroom.

  “Do you wish to wear the emerald combs, Miss?”

  The combs. “Yes, Maggie, come in. I almost forgot.”

  The servant entered with a worn, black velvet box and opened the top. “These belonged to my grandmother, God rest her soul. She received them as a gift from an old beau in London many years ago. Apparently, they’re quite old. I thought they would be perfect.”

  Erin rescued the lovely heirlooms from their box and brought them to her vanity mirror. “Oh, you’re right — these combs are perfect.” She stuffed them in her hair. Frowning in the mirror, she turned her head from side-to-side.

  Maggie laughed. “Hand them over, and let me do it for you. Honest to Pete, you’re all thumbs, just like your father.”

  Erin scowled and plopped down on the vanity bench. “I suppose you’re right. Honestly, Maggie, I don’t know how I ever managed without you while I was away at college.”

  “Oh, you did just fine, girl.”

  Erin watched in the mirror as Maggie brushed her hair to a sheen and removed a few wispy strands to hang from her temples, while the remainder hung down her back. The servant placed a dragonfly comb on each side so the emeralds sparkled luminously when the light hit them just the right way, accentuating the color of her eyes all the more.

  “Just look at you now. I must say, you’re one sultry kitty-cat.”

  Erin scrunched her nose and purred, and they both laughed.

  The sound of iron hooves marching up the street sent Erin scrambling up to look out the window. “I think the driver is here. Can you get my coat?”

  Erin slipped into her mother’s calf-length mink. To keep the new style in place, she gently covered her hair with a silk scarf.

  What arrived was much more than a simple carriage. Two tall, pitch-black horses, their manes braided into thick twisted ropes of horsehair, pulled a dark maroon brougham. Clearly, they were well-tended animals, for their coats had been brushed to a slick luster resembling black satin under the glowing street lamps.