by Raquel Paiva
Wolf Soul
Vol. I of The Wolf’s Howl Trilogy
Raquel Paiva
Contents
Disclaimer
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Copyright© by Raquel Paiva 2020 – All rights reserved.
Front cover: Raquel Paiva
Back cover: Raquel Paiva
Revision and Story Editor: Michael Ferguson
Typesetting: Obsidian Worlds Publishing
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Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – and/or real events is purely coincidental. Even though Sintra and the referred places do exist, they have been used in a fictitious manner to suit the story.
For M, aka Dr Jekyll
I
1762, Sintra, Portugal
The hunters' screams and roars echoed through the trees and bushes on that wintery Full Moon night. The moonlight spread through the forest, splashed by the orange light of the torches, seemed to foreshadow the bloody night ahead. A night when Man and Beast would finally confront each other, only for one of them to walk away victorious. Governor Bastos led that group of angry men, thirsty for revenge but also overcome with fear of an enemy they had never seen and that they did not fully understand. They heard a wolf's howl in the distance. The agitation among the men was such that the governor had to shout twice or there would have been tremendous uproar in their eagerness to find and eliminate the strange creature that was spreading so much horror throughout the village.
“Hold!” Bastos shouted. He was a tall and robust man, with fair hair and sun-kissed skin. His husky but strong voice was the most respected in the village and few were those who dared stand up against him.
The men stopped and remained silent, staring at their leader, waiting for a new order. The howling had also stopped. The only sound came from the fire crackling from the torches. The governor continued:
“All this fuss is of no help. Please keep silent. Put out half of the torches too so we can catch this creature.”
A wave of fear swept through every man in the group. Put out the torches? But wouldn't that make them more vulnerable? The governor seemed to guess their fears.
“Get together in groups of three men, the middle man will hold the torch, the other two will follow with a sword or gun in hand. Kill everything that moves towards you.” he demanded.
That said, the governor turned his back on the group and moved on alone. He himself was not certain of the victory of the attack. After all, he didn't even know what he was going to find and kill. But he was the governor and dozens of cattle, the main livelihood of the villagers, had already died. After the first attack on the cattle, he thought it had been vicious and hungry wolves. He immediately sent men to patrol the forest and kill the animals, but these men had never returned. The same fate befell those he sent later in search of the former. The slaughter of livestock continued and the fear grew to an overwhelming extent. He had to take action. First he placed watchmen in each stable during the night. But he had gotten no more than four courageous men willing to remain alone all night at the entrance of two stables, two in each, without knowing what kind of danger they would face. The governor himself no longer believed that it was wolves. Wolves wouldn't make an entire group of men disappear without a trace.
The proof that it couldn't be wolves came that very day. One of the watchmen was found dead by a woman who had gone to the stable to milk the cows. His throat was completely torn. The woman had cried in despair and almost passed out. It didn't take long before more villagers approached, including the doctor, Dr Álvares.
“Call the governor.” he ordered immediately, terror invading him.
They met before lunch, in the doctor’s office, after both of them had seen the corpse with the torn throat, fear still macabrely dancing in the man’s dead eyes.
“I have no explanation for this horrendous crime.” the doctor said desolately, defeated by impotence. “This unfortunate fellow, by the position of his body, didn’t even have time to react.”
“What kind of creature would do such a thing?”
“Governor Bastos, I don't know what to answer. That torn throat...” he hesitated. The memory of that young man brutally killed lying on the ground was one he would never be able to forget. “It wasn't a wolf. A mere wolf would not take such a strong man by surprise. If it was several wolves, he would have wounds on other parts of the body as well. But only the throat is torn, other than that he is intact and has no more wounds.”
Governor Bastos swallowed hard.
“A bear?“ he suggested, but with little faith.
Dr Álvares shook his head.
“Not likely. Again, there would be other wounds.”
Bastos punched the table, desperate and furious.
“But what else then? Is the Devil running loose in Sintra? Is it Satan who’s out there killing our cattle and now our men? It can only be him. Otherwise there is no explanation for the fact that the others have never returned from the forest.”
The doctor stood up, patted the governor on the shoulder and gave a deep sigh. He was a tall, thin man, with fair grey hair, who looked younger than his sixty years of age. He had the respectable looks that his profession normally implied. In normal circumstances, Bastos would not have said such a thing because, despite being a believer, he had begun to have his own doubts about God and the Devil.
“Something will have to be done, Governor. After today’s unfortunate event, people will not sleep soundly until the culprit of these heinous crimes is captured.”
“But what? How to capture such a fierce enemy that we don't even know?”
Dr Álvares shrugged his shoulders, aware that his suggestion was vague. He shared the same doubts and desolation as Governor Bastos’. The latter left the doctor's office a few minutes later, not sure what to do, but certain that it was necessary to take action. He found almost the entire population of the village gathered in at the churchyard, crying and praying, while Father Antero sprinkled them with holy water. The bell was tolling wildly.
“May the water of the Lord purify you and protect you from this demon who wants to kill us all.” he uttered, his tone more threatening than appeasing. “May it purify you from sin and keep this monster away forever.”
Bastos stopped to watch the scene. That speech was of no use but to further increase panic. May the Lord forgive him, but at that moment, he did not see how holy water could keep that threat away. Suddenly, it seemed foolish that people would believe such superstitions. A child, however, saw him and pointed her finger at him. All heads turned, staring at him with a plea
ding look. An old woman in a black scarf wrapped around her head, pleaded, kneeling down:
“Governor Bastos, you have to save us.”
That was enough for more people to start speaking at the same time.
“Governor, you have to protect us from this monster.”
“You need to take action.”
“We're all going to die. This monster is going to kill us.”
“Governor Bastos, have mercy.”
“Silence!” he shouted, overwhelmed by so much panic.
The people were immediately silent. Bastos was still able to impose respect. Father Antero was the first to break the silence, seconds later.
“This is Satan who’s on the loose.”
“Father Antero, with all due respect, these statements do not help anyone and only cause more fear among us. It is necessary to think rationally and clearly, instead of stating vague prayers that frighten more than they appease.”
The priest swallowed hard, but continued:
“You have to take action. That thing will come back again.”
“That's why I am here now. Tonight all the men will meet me right here with their weapons and together we will go through the forest to try to catch this creature.”
Everyone cried and moaned. No one seemed to be brave enough to carry out the governor's order.
“But the other men also went looking for this monster and never returned. That's what will happen to us.” someone shouted.
“This time we will be in far bigger numbers than just a group of three or four men. The moon will be full, we will have good visibility.”
“The Devil has powers that we don't know of.”
“I don't think this is the work of the Devil, Father Antero. It’s some wild beast running loose, hungry and killing our cattle. Besides, hiding at home will not keep it at bay. If we are armed and in large numbers, we will be able to catch it.”
There was a buzz.
“People of Sintra, this is not the time to let our courage lack. Whatever is out there has to be captured and eliminated as soon as possible. How can you surrender to fear like that when what is out there is depriving you of the only means of your subsistence? Rise against! When the cattle are dead, even if the creature doesn't kill you, you will starve to death. We cannot allow that to happen. We cannot let fear get the best of us. Let us unite and we will overcome this creature.”
Bastos didn’t fully feel the courage he was trying to convey. However, he was the governor and he had to encourage his people, he could not abandon them. When he took office the year before, he knew he would have to live up to the expectations of the villagers. So far he had been successful; he had managed to guide them justly and prudently. However, nothing he had faced before could compare to what was devastating the population at this time. A bloody and invisible enemy. A faceless enemy that was spreading terror and fear. Bastos admitted to no one but himself that he too was afraid. But it was his duty to control and hide it as much as his strength allowed him. If he lost his mind and panicked, everyone else would too, no exception. He had no choice but to call upon himself all his strength and all his courage. That was his real duty.
His speech produced the reaction he wanted. Gradually, the inhabitants recovered their spirits and some even exclaimed:
“Governor Bastos is absolutely right. We have to fight!”
“We cannot allow fear take over.”
“Let's find this creature and kill it!”
Cheer and courage started spreading, kicking the fear away. In no time the citizens of Sintra were screaming his name and had turned fear into anger and thirst for revenge. That same night, Bastos managed to get enough men and even some young boys gathered in the churchyard. He could read the fear on their faces. But he also read determination.
It was in that speech and in the reaction of the population that Bastos was thinking about now, as he walked further through the forest, brushing the bushes aside. Sweat ran down his face, stemming mainly from the fear he felt than from the proximity to his torch. An icy wind rose. The howls remained silent. But what could they mean, anyway? Dr Álvares had told him that those crimes could not have been carried out by wolves. Suddenly, in the distance he thought he saw a huge figure moving so fast through the bushes that it disappeared in just a split second. Bastos halted, the blood froze in every one of his veins. Was he dreaming? Was fear starting to play tricks on him?
"Governor ..." stammered a voice behind him.
Bastos turned back and looked at his men.
“What was that, Governor Bastos?”
Indeed he had seen that figure. It hadn't been his imagination.
“I don’t know.” he said. “Let us be prudent. Let's go on.”
But just as he was about to carry on walking, he heard someone yell in terror. It was a cry of sheer horror that echoed through the depths of the entire forest. The men looked everywhere in shock and Bastos saw with his own eyes the poor unfortunate man who had shouted being mercilessly dragged through the bushes, his screams of terror mixing with the shouts of the other men.
“After him! What are you waiting for?”
Bastos went after the unfortunate fellow. It was not easy, with so many bushes blocking his passage, the branches cutting his face and arms, forming scratches from where the blood was starting to seep. The men ran after him. The poor man was still screaming, possessed by fear and despair, begging for mercy, shouting the name of God and getting farther and farther away. Suddenly he disappeared. The screams stopped. The silence returned to the forest, as if nothing had happened. A bloody, oppressive silence, the silence of the murderer after killing its victim. Bastos stopped, panting. A feeling of guilt started invading him and he cursed himself for dragging the men into the forest to face an evil they did not know. He was the only one responsible for the attack on that unhappy soul who was suffering God knew what horrors. He had made a terrible mistake.
“Governor, that was a monster,” said one of the men, minutes later, after they all had caught their breath. “We will never be able to eliminate it. It was huge and fierce. It cannot be God's creation, the Lord would never create such a demon.”
Bastos did not answer. In fact, he had no answer, he didn't know what to do. Dr Álvares, who had joined them in the hunt, approached him.
“I think that, after all, it might not be prudent to try to capture this monster in the forest. This is its natural territory, it is where it feels empowered. Perhaps it would be best to ambush it in the village, where we will have a better chance of catching it.”
Bastos looked at him in the eyes. The doctor was wiser than he had been. Why hadn't he thought about that before?
“You're right, doctor. We will be more successful if we try to catch it in our territory. I should have thought of that before, but...”
The governor was unable to finish his sentence because he was abruptly pulled and viciously dragged through the forest, just as the other unfortunate man had been only a few moments before. Before he could have any reaction, he could only see his men being equally gripped by what, in a glimpse, seemed to be gigantic wolves to him. Huge wolves resting on their hind legs, with their backs bent forward. He heard the screams of the men, which mingled with his own screams and the roars of the creatures. However, Bastos would not give up. He threw the torch at his enemy, who snarled in pain, but pushed the governor away with its huge, hairy arm, which ended in a paw with claws of at least ten centimetres.
“Let me go, Satan’s creature!”
He tried to hit the beast with his sword, but his attacker seemed immune to pain. Suddenly, the creature lifted him in the air by the neck with a single hand. The moon came out from behind a cloud and spread its light revealing the strange animal. Bastos couldn't believe his eyes. Not even in his worst nightmares had he ever seen such a fierce and horrendous creature. A huge wolf, hunched but powerful, with long teeth and red eyes. For a few moments, fear froze the governor, who just stared, unable to react. He co
uldn't even think. The huge wolf seemed to revel in the governor’s horror because, for a moment, both remained like that, looking at each other in the eyes. Only moments later did Bastos come back to his senses and tried to strike the creature again with his sword. However, he could do no more than deliver blows in the air. Finally the creature tossed him against the ground and approached slowly, displaying his enormous and menacing teeth. Bastos tried to wield his sword in a final attempt to defend himself. In the distance he heard screams and roars. Screams of those who succumbed and roars of those who killed. The last thing he saw was a huge mouth opening before his eyes, exhaling a horrible breath of blood and putrefied flesh. His last thought was about a sixteen-year-old girl.
II
Lúcia Bastos was different from the other young women. At the age of sixteen, unlike the majority of the girls her age who were already busy with their wedding preparations, she remained closed in her world, reading and thinking. She had lost her mother when she was four. Since then she lived with her father, Governor Augusto Bastos, who found in his daughter the support that had been taken from him with his wife's death. Perhaps because he feared loneliness, the governor had never rushed to marry his daughter, something she deeply appreciated. She loved her father, a father who over the years had tried to be a father and a mother, playing with her, but at the same time teaching her how to live. It hadn't always been easy for either of them. Especially in the early days, when little Lúcia could not understand her mother's sudden disappearance and kept asking her father where she had gone to. Bastos did not know how to respond. He just babbled that it had been God's will even though he himself felt that, since Teresa Bastos' death, his faith had started to fade. He still went to church every Sunday morning, but felt that he did it more out of habit and obligation than devotion.
