Wolf Soul: Vol. I of the Wolf’s Howl Trilogy

by Raquel Paiva

  Lúcia didn’t have many friends. She was not interested in dolls or embroidery like other the girls and preferred to play alone in a corner or to sit on the floor contemplating the nature around her. She was, however, a great student. Her father had hired a tutor, who taught the girl under the protective eyes of their maid, Adélia, an old lady who understood nothing of her young mistress's ideas. Lúcia studied a lot, read a lot and did not limit herself to internalizing what was written on paper. As she grew up, she liked forming her own opinion of what she read.

  Bastos wasn’t bothered that his daughter was like that, he even liked her curious spirit. He liked to talk to her and her presence was comforting. They were very close to each other, together they helped fill the gaps left by Teresa's death. Bastos had enjoyed reading stories to her as a child, talking about distant lands and different cultures. They would go for walks together hand in hand through the village and the inhabitants greatly admired the strong bond between father and daughter. However, when he became governor, other matters called him, diverting his attention from Lúcia. He started spending less and less time at home and the young woman spent hours and hours alone, with only a tabby cat and Adélia as company. Lúcia started revolting against her father. Why would he prefer to be locked away in his office, away from her? Where were the years when, despite the sadness caused by Teresa Bastos’ death, they had been happy? Her mother had been mercilessly taken from her. Why was her father now too? Gradually she stopped talking to him. Bastos, when he dared look at her, often found her silently criticizing him. Her big and expressive blue eyes said everything that her lips would never say. And Augusto Bastos would hang his head, ashamed, feeling his daughter's criticism hit him deep in his heart. He disapproved himself for that. He hated himself for neglecting his own daughter, who was still so young and who had no one else but him. But he also had to be faithful to the people who placed their trust in him.

  In the meantime, the brutal attacks on the cattle had begun. Bastos would now only go home to eat and sleep and barely saw Lúcia. Complaint after complaint poured in his office, each inhabitant trying to prove that their loss was greater than anyone else’s. The governor's life had become a whirlwind of visits to stables, meetings with influential people in the village, and the approval of laws. First, he had expressly stated that no inhabitant would be allowed to walk down the street after dark, even if armed or with company. Then, even during the day, they had to walk in groups, and no man or boy was to leave home without a gun. No woman or child could walk through the village unless in the company of a man. It was also expressly forbidden for anyone to go to isolated places. As for the stables, they were to be padlocked at night, with watchdogs inside just in case, ready to bark upon the slightest sign of danger.

  These rules, of course, had initially saved the inhabitants of the village. Human victims had never been found until that poor watchman. The same could not be said of animals. Not a night would go by without gored cows or sheep, all brutally attacked. Even the watchdogs were found dead, completely gutted. All these crimes made panic escalate. It wasn’t so much about their livelihood being reduced in such an atrocious way. People were terrified of the invisible enemy, the formless and faceless creature, the threat that hung in the air, felt at every corner and inhaled at every breath. Who could tell them that there would never be any attacks on the inhabitants themselves?

  Lúcia watched the oppressive turmoil that she could read on the face of every man, woman and child in the village. Above all, she read it on her father's face. She felt selfish for blaming her father for having forgotten about her, when such a bloodthirsty creature was on the loose. She scolded herself, for she knew that the poor governor had a lot in his hands. Slowly her disapproval gradually transformed into affection. Bastos slept little and his meals were always rushed. His daughter watched him, in a mixture of pity and admiration. It was so strange to have him right there in front of her and yet so distant.

  On the day that Bastos called the men to the churchyard to go in search of the creature together, her heart tightened in a knot. She was looking at her father from the corner of her eye while they were dining, when a sudden and unexplainable wave of anguish took over her. She suddenly felt a foreboding. A ghastly thought invaded her and Lúcia fought it the entire meal. However, when her father got up from the table, his face heavy with concern, the young woman jumped out of her chair, ran after him and threw him into an embrace.

  “Lúcia...” he muttered, as he wrapped her in his arms.

  “Don't go, Papa, please.” she pleaded through tears and sobs. Heavens, how dark the thought, that those were the last moments that she would see her father alive. She didn't want him to go meet death.

  “I have to go.” he said, trying to calm her down. But it was not convincing, as he himself had nothing to assure him that they would capture the creature.

  “Mama died... I don't want you to die too, Papa. Don’t go, I beg you.”

  Bastos swallowed hard and tried to control the tears flooding his eyes. He loved his daughter more than his own life, but at a time like this he had to look after the inhabitants of the village. Lúcia's protection also depended on it. What assured him that she would not be the next victim of that diabolical creature?

  “Please, Lúcia, be brave as you have been until today. This is no time to falter.”

  Against her will, Lúcia let go of her father's arms. The feeling that this was the last time she would ever be with him thickened inside her, squeezing her heart and choking her throat. She dared not share her anguish with Bastos. However, when he left home and made his way towards the churchyard, he took exactly the same feeling with him. That was the last time he had hugged his daughter.

  III

  The wolf roamed the forest aimlessly. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he was looking for something. An answer to everything he was, an answer that justified his existence. There was something human within him that prevented him from being the vicious and relentless hunter his brothers were. They had killed and devoured that cattle, spread terror and had fun doing so. The pack's alpha, Shorath, had not hesitated to take the life of the unfortunate man who had been on watch at the barn that night. A jump, a sharp bite to the throat and the poor watcher didn't even know what had killed him. He, Luvinus, had watched the carnage without opposing, but after such a hideous act, he distanced himself from his brothers. He wasn’t that thirsty for blood and killing. At first he tried to share that feeling with his brothers, but they just stared at him with scornful faces. Shorath was the eldest, had created all the other members of the pack, and had taken the lead. When he transformed Luvinus, he told him that in time he would develop a thirst for blood. It had only been one hundred years since Luvinus had been transformed. For werewolves that was still a recent transformation. His most recent brother still seemed to be closely linked to his human life. Luvinus could not kill that relentlessly and coldly, a quality about the pack’s omega which was now starting to unnerve Shorath.

  “I transformed you a hundred years ago, you have to start following your nature. This stubbornness in abandoning your human side is starting to bother me,” the alpha often complained.

  But Luvinus didn't care and walked away. As the most recently transformed element of that pack, he was the omega wolf. He could do little against the rest of the pack and, regardless of anything, he had to respect his alpha. However, he didn't like the panic that his brothers were spreading across Sintra. A few evenings before the fateful night when the men decided to hunt his pack, - ignorant of what they were really going to face and that the Full Moon only strengthened the wolves - he decided to approach the house of the one who appeared to be the most courageous of all. One who had assumed the leadership of the men, Governor Bastos. His keen senses allowed him to hear in the distance all the words he exchanged with his daughter, which had somehow reminded him of his own story. Luvinus still remembered very well the night he had been transformed into that hybrid c
reature, with the appearance of a wolf on its two hind legs.

  It had been a century ago, when he was a young peasant trying to defend his flock from a pack of famished wolves. Shorath had appeared among them. Luvinus, then called Ludovico, had fought alone and courageously against the pack. Only his two dogs had helped him. However, when Shorath's pack appeared, young Ludovico soon realized that he was no longer in front of a pack of normal wolves. Shorath killed both dogs at the same time, when they tried to jump against his throat. He snapped them up, waved them in the air and tossed the motionless bodies to the ground. Then he launched himself against the peasant, but Ludovico immediately showed that he would not let himself be killed without a fight. While Shorath had been distracted by the dogs, Ludovico had pulled out a knife and bravely jumped onto the wolf’s huge back, trying to make the blade tear his skin. He tried with all his strength, but the creature's skin and fur were too thick for even the sharpest of knives to pierce. Shorath shook his body, trying to free himself of the human, but Ludovico was able to balance and cling so tightly to the fur that the giant wolf realized he was not before any human. Ludovico did not give in to fear, unlike other men he had murdered, who had revealed such cowardice that Shorath had hardly even enjoyed himself in taking their lives. Shorath howled in anger, tried to snap at the peasant, but Ludovico was an agile man. Finally, he raised a hairy and powerful arm and grabbed his opponent by his back, lifting him right in front of him. The other members approached him, but Shorath stopped them with his free hand.

  “He is mine. Finally someone worthy.”

  Ludovico kicked and stabbed the air, trying to hit Shorath, but in vain. The beast opened his mouth in a mock, as if he was laughing, when he saw poor Ludovico gasping for strength. He threw the peasant to the floor and trapped him between his front paws.

  “I won't kill you. You are too valuable and you might as well join us, my dear,” the gigantic creature hissed through his sharp, threatening teeth. His voice was deep and sinister.

  Ludovico felt terror spread through every millimetre of his skin. A talking wolf? What kind of creature was that? He was exhausted, almost without any energy to continue breathing, but he would try to fight that monster until his last breath. Suddenly, Shorath raised a paw in the air and revealed each of his long and sharp claws. Ludovico screamed in horror and prepared to feel them on his body, something which would undoubtedly bring him death. But the pain did not come. Instead, the huge wolf cut itself in the chest, in the heart area, howling in pain. Thick, dark blood welled up. Ludovico tried to understand what that was all about, but suddenly Shorath plunged his massive teeth into his throat. He felt faint, the blood flowing smoothly down his chest. He would die slowly and in agony. He could no longer speak, let alone struggle. But Shorath took him to the wound he had made in his own chest, pressing his throat against it. The two bloods mixed. The wolf's blood throbbed with life. Ludovico felt strange as the wolf's blood began to invade his body, running through every vein, every artery and every cell. As if by magic, his strength returned to him. Was the wolf saving his life for some reason that Ludovico ignored? He shouted at him:

  “What are you doing, horrible creature?”

  His own voice sounded strange now. It was hoarse, as if he had roared rather than shouted.

  “I’m mixing your blood with mine. Fear not. It will hurt but soon you will be one of us.”

  Confused, Ludovico got to his feet and approached Shorath to try to face him again, but a spasm lashed his body like a wave crashing against a rock. He felt himself growing larger and the sudden stretching of his bones and muscles caused him the most excruciating pain he had ever felt in his life. It was as if each of his limbs was being pulled in opposite directions, with the muscles growing in size under the skin. He roared in pain. His heart was beating wildly inside his chest, as if it would burst at any moment. Ludovico believed, once again, that death would take him. His body hunched forward, his clothes burst and he felt his skin harden and fill with fur, a greyish, shiny coat. His human face stretched forward -as if sucked into an invisible hole- and tapered into a dark snout. His mouth and the tips of his hands hurt him as his teeth grew in size and sharpened. Claws sprouted from the tips of each of his fingers. Terrified, he looked at his own hands, now hairy and with sharp claws.

  “Stop it, I don't want to be one of you!” he growled in despair."

  But Shorath just showed a mocking grin, gave a wolfish laugh, and turned his back to join the rest of the pack. Ludovico understood what was happening to him. He was turning into a horrible wolf, just like the six he saw in front of him. Little by little, the newly acquired strength left him, his thoughts stopped making sense, and he could only hear growling and howling inside his own head. At the same time he heard a voice that screamed in despair and agony, a voice that he recognized to be his own. He didn't want to be a wolf, he didn't want to leave his life to become a murderer, let alone join those six monsters. Finally, everything stopped. His body, agitated seconds before, seemed to be finally calming down. A strange silence and a calming peace came over him. Ludovico touched himself and looked down at his new body, his mind still dazed. He was completely covered with fur and almost twice his human height and width. He sniffed the air. His senses had become much more refined, for he could smell the wood burning inside the fireplace he had left at home. He was at least five hundred meters from his hut, his human nose could never have detected that odour. His pointed ears heard sounds from the village below, which was two kilometres away. He saw it so well in the darkness as if his eyes suddenly had a light of their own that allowed him to distinguish each contour from his surroundings. The other wolves were staring at him. Ludovico could not understand what they were thinking. Only Shorath displayed a look of mockery and triumph, his red eyes glowing with excitement of having a new member in his pack. He approached Ludovico again and held out a paw, while saying:

  “Welcome, brother. From now on you will be called Luvinus.”

  Ludovico stepped back and grunted, looking at him with the deepest hatred.

  “Make me human again.” he snapped, despite suspecting that the transformation he had just undergone was irreversible.

  Shorath showed the same mocking grin, in a kind of laugh that was more like a grunt.

  “There is no turning back, my brother. Once a werewolf, forever a werewolf. All that is left for you to do is to join us and learn from us.”

  Werewolf. Luvinus had never heard such a word when he was still human, but it made perfect sense. He had a horrifying wolf body but he was standing like a man and still felt like man.

  “Liar!” he growled.

  But he knew that Shorath was telling him the truth. There was no going back. He would never walk through his lands again, he would no longer plant his vegetables, maybe one day he would even find himself hunting his very own sheep for food. Even worse, he would never live with human beings again. How could he, now looking the way he did, go back to his family or get close to anyone else? His parents and his sister would be terrified and would never be able to understand that it was him, Ludovico, who was behind that wolf shape, no matter how much he tried to explain.

  He looked back at his home. He thought, painfully, of his sister and their elderly and sick parents, how could she survive on her own? She was the eldest and unmarried. She had no means to take care of their parents. Ludovico was the one who provided for the family. Beatriz was now completely alone in the world. What was she going to do?

  Poor Beatriz and her parents suffered a huge shock the next day when they could not find Ludovico anywhere. Beatriz called some men from the village who found the young peasant's dead dogs and torn clothes. Blood marks stained the ground. They could only conclude one thing: Ludovico had been dragged by some bear or pack of wolves into the forest.

  “But in that case his clothes would be with him, not here.” Beatriz insisted in tears and sobs of pain. “It makes no sense that they were left here while my brother was dragged in
to the forest.”

  “His clothes were torn in the fight. They must have come off the body while it was being dragged.”

  Beatriz was unable to accept that. She tried, in vain, to hold back the tears while she looked at the tattered clothes, but the pain was stronger and made tears fall down her delicate face. She couldn't believe that Ludovico was dead, he had to be alive somewhere. But how could she find him?

  “Would it be too much to ask you gentlemen, to look in forest and try to find the body?” she ventured to suggest.

  But the men’s reaction was insensitive and cold.

  “Dear lady, you must be realistic. What other proof do you need to believe that your brother is dead?”

  Thus they walked away, whispering something to each other that Beatriz could not hear. She was not at all surprised by the men’s reaction. She was just a peasant from a poor family, no one would bother to help them unless they had the money to pay for that kind of service. Beatriz felt lonely, desperate and in the deepest agony. The pain was so strong, she felt it in every cell of her body. She almost wished she was dead too. If her brother didn’t return, what could she possibly do to support her family? She was already thirty years old, she was too old to get married and even if she was still young, she had nothing to give a husband other than her domestic services. On the other hand, she could not abandon her parents to live far away and no man would accept to live in their hut which was little more than a kitchen with piles of logs and hay bales here and there. Sometimes even chickens would sleep there or lay their eggs on the straw. Ludovico’s field tools were stacked next to one of these piles. He had decided to take them inside lest they needed to defend themselves from strangers or wild animals.