by Raquel Paiva
“I have never looked this forward to the sun rise.” the captain confessed, at the same time Pedro took his arm and put it over his shoulder.
“You are fighting with great courage, captain.”
The other men approached, never lowering their weapons.
“Where did those monsters go?”
“They must be preparing a new attack. There is still a long way to go before sunrise, we cannot rest yet.” Pedro said.
Inside the church, a little hope cheered up the pale faces of some women. Others remained clinging to their rosaries, still not convinced that the danger had passed. It was Lúcia’s turn now to cling to Adélia, thus trying to hide her terrible anxiety about whether Pedro was still alive and well.
“Please be alive.” she pleaded to herself. She tightened her grip on the fabric of her skirt. She wanted to go outside and see for herself that Pedro was fine. However, Captain Nogueira had made his orders very clear that no one should do so until they were told to. But the anxiety was so strong.
They heard a new noise outside. The side door was shaking again, harder than before. The doorknob and the iron rod began to give in little by little. The women started to scream again, filled with dread. They clung to each other even more tightly.
Outside, Shorath had killed four men in one jump. Then he ran to the side door of the church and launched himself against it with all his might. Pedro, Captain Nogueira and the last surviving soldier had tried to follow him, but the new wolf blocked their way, stopping them from moving forward. He paid special attention to Pedro, unwilling to let him approach the alpha. Pedro was desperate for Lúcia. In fact, those wolves were looking stronger and stronger and they were more and more exhausted. However, they were the villager’s only hope.
The church door was about to give in. The women cried and screamed, in sheer despair. Lúcia had drowned her head on Adélia's bosom, who was hugging her in tears. That wolf would not give up until he had her. It was because of her that he was there, pushing the door, which could open at any moment. Suddenly, an idea formed in her mind. If Shorath was there because of her, then she should run away and drag his attention away from those women who would certainly be slaughtered as soon as the door gave in.
“Adélia, I have to leave for the sake of everyone else.” She said to the old maid.
“What?” the old woman asked, confused.
“He wants me. He won't give up. If I stay here, you are all in danger.”
Adélia let her chin drop, overcome with amazement, and immediately grabbed her young mistress's arms with all her strength. Her bony hands were like claws. She was determined not to let Lúcia do something that insane, even if she had to die for it.
“Adélia, I am not worth the death of all of us. If I get out of here, he will come after me and leave you all alone.”
“No, miss Lúcia. If you run away, he will catch you.”
“I will go to Pedro and the men. They will be able to protect me. Here, keep my gun if you need to defend yourself.”
Lúcia did not know that at that moment, Pedro and Captain Nogueira were the only men alive outside. They had managed to kill the last werewolf, but Shorath, the most terrible of them all, was still alive and his energy still far from depleted. The two men, in contrast, were reaching the limits of their strength. Captain Nogueira was panting in such a way that his white shirt, now grimy with sweat and dust, seemed to want to burst by the steams. He was on one knee and clung with both hands to the end of his sword, which he had stuck in the ground. He had several scratches on his arms. Pedro was by his side, hunched over with exhaustion, his hands resting on his thighs. He was also panting. They heard Shorath groan and launch himself against the side door of the church, mad with lust for Lúcia.
“Captain Nogueira, we have to try to set him on fire. Fire will kill him.”
They looked around. All torches were out. Some men had dropped them during the fight, others had thrown them at the werewolves. Once on the ground, the flames gradually subsided, until they were gone. At that time the only light they had was that of the moon, their greatest enemy.
Pedro stood up again and gripped his sword firmly. He had to carry on fighting. He took a few steps towards the place where Shorath was struggling. He was exhausted, but he would die giving his life for Lúcia, if he had to. Captain Nogueira went after him, equally determined. Suddenly, everything seemed to change. The main door of the church was ajar and a white figure slipped out, running towards Pedro and the captain.
“Lúcia!” the young soldier cried, his face pale with terror at the sight of his beloved risking her life like that. “Get back inside!”
It was too late. Shorath had seen her too. He immediately started running towards her, but Pedro and the captain blocked his way. They couldn't let him get Lúcia in any way. They would die there, that was what fate had decided for them. Swords up, they launched themselves at Shorath who, seeing Lúcia run further and further away, growled in rage. Pedro managed to hit him with his sword, wounding him in the left arm. Shorath grunted and launched himself at him, knocking him down. Fortunately, he only managed to rip Pedro's shirt. Captain Nogueira approached immediately afterwards, trying to take the opportunity to plunge his sword into the creature's dense black fur, but Shorath noticed and ran away.
Meanwhile, Lúcia kept running, unsure of where she should go. She didn't know if all the werewolves had already succumbed and, at that moment, she couldn't go back to Pedro. She thought of going back to the church but that would put the other women in danger again. What to do? She was trying to reason when another werewolf blocked her way. For a fleeting instant, she sighed with relief. It was Luvinus and he would protect her. However, she immediately swallowed hard. Luvinus' eyes shone bright in the night and he revealed his sharp teeth little by little. He was not himself. The Full Moon had taken over his spirit. At that moment his only wish was that of Shorath’s. Possess her and devour her. Lúcia shouted and ran away from him as fast as her feet could carry her. She ran into the forest. She would climb a tree if she could and stay safe until the sun came up. However, Luvinus was too fast. Lúcia screamed, desperately, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don't hurt me, Luvinus. It's me.”
But the werewolf was out of his mind. Luvinus was unable to listen to the little voice inside his mind: “Don't hurt her. It's Lúcia and you love her.” Lúcia kept running, but her dress got stuck in the bushes and slowed her down. Her arms were scratched, the tiny droplets of blood whetting Luvinus' appetite. The bushes also brushed his fur but he felt no pain at all. Lúcia was completely vulnerable. Out of a sudden, she stumbled and fell. She shouted at the same time. Luvinus howled triumphantly. The young woman was only able to walk on all fours towards a boulder, which she leaned against, looking at Luvinus straight in his eyes. He didn’t launch himself immediately against her. He stopped, watching his prey, victory dancing in his maddened eyes. He walked slowly towards her, delighted by her panting and the fear that exuded from every pore of her immaculate young skin.
“Luvinus, it's me.” she moaned.
She looked around in despair. No sign of Pedro or anyone else who could save her.
“You can't do that. Stop it." a voice within Luvinus begged. Immediately another stronger voice muffled it: “Shut up. Luvinus, kill her. Have her and kill her.”
He approached, almost touching Lúcia on the face with his snout. She was there and she would be his. She would be neither Shorath’s nor Pedro’s, she would be his and he would not have to share her with anyone. The taste of victory left him so overwhelmed that he decided to apply the final blow slowly, to enjoy each moment. He opened his mouth, ready to tear off her clothes. Lúcia closed her eyes. As she prepared herself for the pain of the sharp teeth about to tear through her flesh, she whispered:
“Ludovico, please don’t!”
A tremendous whirlwind formed in Luvinus's mind and invaded his thoughts. The little voice, which had been so weak moments ago, got sli
ghtly louder.
“You are not like that. She is your beloved. Save her.”
“Luvinus, attack her.”
Luvinus grunted, confused. What was going on inside him?
“Ludovico.” Lúcia muttered again, still moaning in fear.
“You are not going to kill her. You cannot kill the one you love.” said the voice, getting stronger and stronger, yet also sweeter. The malignant voice started to fade away. At the same time, countless images formed in the werewolf’s mind. Images so clear that he could almost touch them. His recent conversations with Lúcia. His sister Beatriz, happy and smiling as he had never seen in the last years of her life. Peace... An inner peace began invading him.
"No. Leave him alone, damn human. He's a werewolf and he has to kill her.”
Luvinus no longer heard the evil voice. The voice of good, upon hearing his human name acquired new strength and was managing to push the voice of evil away.
“Ludovico, it’s me.” Lúcia said for the third time, surprised at his sudden change, yet slowly recovering confidence. Her friend seemed to be freeing himself from the evil trance.
This third time, the evil's voice died away, as if a link had been broken inside the werewolf. Only the voice of the good remained, soft but firm. Luvinus stepped back and yelped with sadness. He looked at Lúcia, his beloved Lúcia. She leaned back against the boulder again, looking at him in the eyes in a mixture of curiosity and relief. Luvinus' eyes were no longer shining as viciously as they were just moments ago, they were again the same human eyes that revealed his true nature under that grey cloak. He sat on his hind legs like a normal wolf. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. He was still stunned, but he managed to utter the only words he could find at that moment.
“Forgive me.”
And he waited for her to speak. Lúcia smiled at him and prepared to get up when suddenly Shorath jumped out of the bushes, completely out of his mind. He pushed the still stunned Luvinus sharply out of his way and ran towards Lúcia. He fell on her, grabbing her clothes with his teeth. She screamed, certain of her death, expecting to feel the jaws of the terrible wolf sink into her flesh. Their screams mixed with someone else’s screams, someone who screamed in anger. Then Shorath yelped in agony. The young woman broke free from him and saw with her own eyes what was happening. Pedro was on the back of the werewolf and had buried his sword in his heart. He held the hilt of the silver sword in both hands, fury and determination in his eyes. He would only stop when the enemy succumbed.
Luvinus had got up and raised his fur, ready to attack his alpha. Shorath looked at him, his eyes once fierce and sarcastic, now pleading.
“Nicolaus,” Shorath said to him as he exhaled his last breath. He fell limp on the floor. Little by little, his huge body returned to his human shape and in just a few seconds, Shorath was a man again. Luvinus approached his alpha’s dead human body and stared at his face. He was a tall, muscular man, with black hair and a rough appearance, even in his human shape. The omega wondered if he was already as cruel as a human as he had been as a werewolf. He spent a few moments scrutinizing that lifeless face. He thought he saw pain in his alpha’s eyes behind all that harshness. What stories had Shorath kept from him? Had anything happened that made him willingly leave his humanity behind? Despite all the pain Shorath had inflicted on him and Lúcia, Luvinus felt a small pang of pity. He knew too well how it felt to be judged by his monstrous appearance. Maybe his alpha had one day been a man like Ludovico to whom life had been so unforgiving that he had had no choice but to give in to the beast. When one feels no emotion, one cannot suffer. With his right paw, Luvinus closed Shorath’s eyes. It sounded unlikely that he would ever find out what his alpha’s story was.
Pedro got off him and let go of his sword, dropping himself on the ground. He was exhausted, but at last the battle was over. Lúcia approached him and stroked his face with her hands. The tears fell from his eyes when he saw his beloved alive, right there in front of him.
“Pedro...” she whispered.
Pedro smiled and stroked her hand. It had been a horrible nightmare, which had cost them dearly, but they had managed to win.
“Are you well?”
“I am and you?”
“I am too.”
He laid his head on her lap. He was still panting, but slowly catching his breath again. He looked at Luvinus, who was watching them with an unreadable expression. Pedro could only try to guess what was on his mind. It was Lúcia who spoke first:
“You have both saved my life. I can never thank you enough.”
Pedro laughed. The night had been terrible, he could have died a thousand times, but in the end both he and the woman he loved were alive and now no one could stop them from being together. He was exhausted, sweating, his clothes torn, and his hair in disarray. All his muscles hurt, the scratches on his skin burned and his head throbbed. However, the emotion that stood out the most was happiness.
Lúcia stroked his hair, smiling too. Luvinus watched them in a mixture of happiness and sadness. She was alive. There was nothing in that moment that could make him happier than that. However, Lúcia belonged to a different world. A world that was once his but that he had been forced to abandon. There was no place for him in that world anymore. If he returned to the village with Pedro and Lúcia, everyone would immediately rise up and slaughter him just as his brothers had been slaughtered. Maybe that was actually a good thing. If he died, his meaningless life would end and he would be at peace. But... Was he ready to leave without knowing the answers he was looking for? He watched Lúcia, who was still smiling. Pedro had fallen asleep on her lap, finally letting weariness overcome him. He couldn't help feel a touch of jealousy and envy for his human rival. Lúcia loved them both, but without question, her place was next to Pedro. Pedro, the human. Pedro who had escaped a wolfish fate. Luvinus’ heart grew heavy. He would do anything, he would give anything to be in Pedro's shoes. Pedro would grow old next to a beautiful and dedicated wife, who would take care of him for many years until his death. She would live a worthy life. He would be loved by Lúcia. They would go to Lisbon soon, where they would get married and she would surrender to him willingly, without fear and without being forced to do so. They would have children, they would be a happy family. Then they would have grandchildren and maybe even great-grandchildren. Luvinus would survive them all. Living on long after they both died. He looked at her, his heart torn with pain. His eyes met hers when Lúcia lifted her head and turned it towards him. She knew what he was feeling, because a strange weight was also sinking in her heart. She loved the human being beneath that skin. It would be so hard for her to leave the wolf that had also saved her life, the wolf that had managed to make reason and humanity overcome the vicious urges when he heard his human name. She felt horrible for doing so. For having to leave the werewolf she loved, the werewolf who had battled and defeated his demons for her.
The sky began to clear with the first sun beams, bringing the end of that overly long and painful night of sacrifice and blood. Luvinus knew it was time to leave for the depths of the forest. He approached Lúcia and let her stroke his fur. He shuddered again at the touch of her skin and, for a moment, he feared that evil’s voice would awaken again and urge him to attack her. However, the voice remained silent. His mind was now empty, his body numb and drowsy. From now on the moon would start to wane, the voice of evil could no longer affect him until the moon completed its cycle. His eyes smiled at Lúcia.
“I'll be back in two nights.” Luvinus said. “To say goodbye.”
And he ran away to the heart of the forest.
“I'll wait for you, Ludovico.” she said in a whisper.
And exhaustion took over her body too.
XV
Pedro and Lúcia made their way back to the village that morning, where peace had finally returned. They opened the church’s door and when Pedro announced that there was nothing to fear, all the women burst out laughing and sobbing with joy. Father Antero call
ed everyone to a Mass that same afternoon, to thank God for saving their lives. Pedro approached the poor captain Nogueira, who, after being wounded Shorath’s claws, had taken shelter in the house of God, following the young soldier’s advice. Fortunately, he hadn't been bitten nor had his blood mixed with the werewolf’s. Poor Adélia embraced Lúcia like a daughter, crying with relief and joy that her little girl had escaped those horrible monsters.
Little by little, all the surviving villagers to their homes. The dedicated Adélia treated the captain's wounds and brought him an abundant meal, after which the brave man fell into a deep sleep. Lúcia treated Pedro with the same dedication. She thought that her father, the ill-fated Augusto Bastos, would be happy to see her married to the man who had saved her life.
That afternoon they all endeavoured the difficult task of burying all the dead bodies spread around the village. Unfortunately, due to the lack of space, they couldn’t bury them in separate graves nor prepare a proper funeral, but when they covered the pile of bodies with earth, they finally felt the nightmare was over. After this unpleasant but needed task, the villagers attended the Mass that Father Antero gave with enormous devotion and gratitude, asking God to forgive the sins and bless the souls of those who had perished fighting that enemy. He did not say a word about the men who had been werewolves and resumed their human shape after being killed. Lúcia, however, whispered a few prayers for them. For some strange reason, maybe because she knew how tormented Luvinus was, she felt she should keep those lost souls in her thoughts. She even prayed for Shorath. For a few moments, they were reconciled with God. After all, perhaps it had been Him who had saved their lives, even though they had to fight for it. Perhaps that was the way things were. Perhaps God created Man and from the moment he was born, God gifted him with the ability to follow his destiny and the freedom to choose what to do with his life. He would help or not help in these choices. But ultimately it was Man who had to choose.
