Luck of the Wolf

by Susan Krinard

  “Did you love her?” Alphonse asked.

  “Yes.”

  The old man rose. “I will not ask you to speak more of this, my son. You have come home. I only hope that it is what you truly want. And that you find your peace.” He cuffed the side of Cort’s face affectionately. “You will hunt with us tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  With a slight shake of his head, Alphonse started down the hill. Cort stood where he was for a long time afterward, watching the sun sink into the cypress swamp in the west, giving himself up to the night.

  But there was no peace. There could never be peace so long as he could remember Aria’s eyes searching his as he told her how he had betrayed her.

  He’d lied to his father just as he’d lied to so many others. He had run away. If he’d also come back to remember who he was…well, now he remembered. And that was the reason he was afraid.

  I’ve never stopped running, Maman.

  A hunting owl squeaked, and rodents rooted in the grass. Cort drew in a deep lungful of the richly scented air, and for a moment he thought he smelled her.

  An illusion. But it seemed she was there with him, beside him, her small, firm hand in his.

  “You will stay with me,” she had said.

  He closed his eyes. You would have liked her, Maman. She is strong, like you.

  Sabine Renier’s dark eyes smiled at him from the shadows of memory. You will need someone strong, mon fils.

  Aria, stubborn and courageous, determined to face down her fears. Aria, who had never been less than loyal, not even when she had deceived him.

  What if, after all he had told her, after all his mistakes, she still wanted him, just as he was now? What if she would stay with him? What if he went back to her, asked her…begged…

  Cort bared his teeth. No begging. Only the simplest statement.

  Come with me. That was the only way it could be possible. No discussion, no apologies. He could never live in the world she was about to join. The choice was still hers. If she loved him as Babette said she did…

  He would be doing what he had sworn not to do. But the gentleman was gone. The wolf had taken the idea between his teeth and refused to relinquish it.

  She is yours. Take her.

  There on the hill of memory Cort removed the homespun shirt and trousers, folded them and laid them neatly among the flowers.

  I will bring her back to you, Maman.

  He Changed and ran down the hill to the village, sweeping past the cabins and the people going about their daily work. Papa was there, in conversation with two of the village men. He paused when he saw Cort run by.

  When he heard the wolves behind him, Cort didn’t slow down. Apparently Papa had an idea that he should keep an eye on his prodigal son. If the people of Bayou Gris wanted to follow Beau Renier all the way to Belle Lune, he wouldn’t stop them. And if the New Orleans Reniers tried to stop them, he knew who he would bet on.

  THERE WERE TOO many of them.

  Aria fought. She brought Benoit down within a minute and almost got away from di Reinardus before nearly a dozen men and wolves surrounded her and the net fell, tangling her paws and catching on her teeth. She snarled and struggled, but each frantic movement only tightened the ropes. Rough hands seized her neck, while others forced the muzzle over her jaws, and soon the humans were dragging her away, di Reinardus trotting alongside and Benoit limping behind.

  She had long since lost track of time, but the sun had set and the moon was peeking above the trees when they stopped. The smell of the swamps had receded, and there was a narrow, rutted road stretching away among the trees. North, Aria thought, though she couldn’t be sure. Her body was bumped and bruised, and her mind dark with despair.

  “You have what you want,” Benoit said, human again. “Cursed bitch. You’re welcome to her.” He held out his hand to di Reinardus.

  “Pay him,” di Reinardus said. She heard him moving behind her, heard the rustle of bills and the clink of coins as the duke’s human lackeys counted out the money. Then di Reinardus was crouching beside her, lean and muscular and powerful in his nakedness, peering through the heavy netting.

  “My dear Aria,” he said. “How remarkable you are. Just like your sister.” He reached through the ropes and removed the muzzle, letting it fall to the ground. “I think you will do very well. Very well indeed.”

  Aria Changed, ignoring the protest of her cramped, sore muscles. “You should be dead,” she said.

  “Is that what your ‘protector’ told you?” he asked. “He has been clever in his way, but he has a fatal flaw. He believes his friends even when they betray him.”

  Yuri. Cort had never told her how the Russian had killed di Reinardus or what had happened afterward. But he had let Yuri go. He must have believed…

  “Where is Yuri?” she asked.

  “You will see him soon enough. For now—”

  “How did you find me? Was it Benoit?”

  “Sniveling puppy,” di Reinardus said with a curl of his lip. “Jealousy will drive a man to idiocy as surely as love.”

  “Jealousy? Because of me?”

  “Because of your sister. Twenty years ago, when the Carantian loyalists sent Alese to live with the Reniers, they promised that one of the Renier sons would be permitted to court the princess when she came of age. No guarantees, mind you, but there was a chance that a Renier might become the consort of a future Carantian queen.” The duke reached through the net again and touched Aria’s hair. “Even though he was hardly more than a boy and she only a girl, when the final decision was made, Benoit already believed himself in love with Alese. He was enraged when Xavier chose Henri as the prospective suitor. Better to let anyone else have her than the brother who would steal what he believed to be his.”

  Then Benoit always knew Lucienne was a princess, Aria thought, remembering how the young man had pretended shock when Cort had told him and Henri who she was. He knew all about Carantia and what happened to the royal family.

  She pulled away from di Reinardus’s stroking hand. “So he decided to help you kidnap her?” she asked.

  “Yuri, who was a frequent guest in the Renier household, recognized a potential ally. His gamble paid off. A door left unlocked, a distraction…” He shrugged. “When Alese…escaped, Benoit was, like many younger sons, in need of funds to support his taste for luxury. He kept watch for me over the years. And he was ready when Yuri informed me that you were on your way to New Orleans.”

  Aria turned her face away. She had known nothing of treachery when she had left Carantia. Now it seemed impossible to escape its reach.

  “Take heart, my dear. Your trials are nearly over. I will take good care of you. In time—”

  She twisted and sank her teeth into his hand.

  He pulled it back and laughed. “I admire your spirit. I may even permit you to keep some of it—within reason.” He rose. “The carriage is only a short distance away. Unfortunately, I cannot let you loose until we reach it.”

  He snapped orders to his men, who lifted the net and began to trot along the path. The loups-garous remained in wolf shape, ranging to either side. It took them far less time to reach a main road than it had taken Aria to get to the place where they’d captured her. She had been well and truly lost, but not quite lost enough.

  A closed carriage was waiting on the road, one meant for long-distance travel and large enough to carry four inside and several more outside. A man was waiting with the carriage, wan and drawn and seeming ten pounds lighter than when Aria had last seem him.

  Baron Yuri Chernikov.

  He didn’t look at Aria as the humans carrying the net pinned her down and cut it away, quickly binding her hands behind her. While Yuri climbed up the driver’s perch, the men pushed her through the open door and set her on the rear-facing seat.

  Aria lay still, trying to think. She knew it was possible that other members of the Renier family might have come after her when she’d left Belle Lune, but she cou
ldn’t assume they would ever find her. Cort could be anywhere in the swamps, oblivious to what was happening. And even if he did know, would he come for her?

  Her moment of doubt shamed her. But her faith in Cort, a faith that refused to die, wouldn’t help her now. Di Reinardus, fully dressed, climbed into the carriage and took the front-facing seat, settling comfortably. The carriage rocked with the weight of several men as they clambered up to the roof. Di Reinardus’s loups-garous milled around the wheels.

  “We will be going directly to the port,” di Reinardus said, removing a pair of gloves from his coat and pulling them on. “A captain there is prepared to take us to New York, where we will board a ship bound for the Continent.” He turned his hands about, examining the fit of the gloves. “You may be uncomfortable for a short while, my dear, but it will not last long. You will have your own cabin—at least until the marriage can take place.”

  Aria sat up. “You can’t force me to marry you,” she said. “Or make me tell the Carantians to obey you.”

  He sighed. “I assure you that I have considered all these obstacles, and I am not in the least concerned. We shall both be making sacrifices.” He smiled at her. “Bedding you will not be one of mine.”

  As he finished speaking, the carriage began to move. Aria flexed stiff fingers and worked carefully at the bindings that held her arms behind her back; they were thick and strong enough to foil even a werewolf, but she picked at them stubbornly. Changing, bound as she was, would prove not only painful but dangerous.

  Di Reinardus was no longer watching her. He leaned his head back against his seat and closed his eyes. The carriage moved on through what remained of the night. The loups-garous broke away, doubtless to Change so that they could enter the city in less conspicuous form. Aria smelled dawn before the sky began to lighten. She knew they were close to New Orleans now. The port would not be far.

  The Reniers might eventually learn what had become of her. Perhaps Cort never would.

  Aria clenched her teeth and set her bleeding fingers to the ropes again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ARIA HAD BEEN HERE.

  Cort circled around the trampled grass, every hair standing straight up from his spine. He had underestimated her badly. He had let himself believe that she would never follow him, that pride and hurt and anger would stop her. He had never considered that she might lose herself in this land he knew like the back of his paw.

  But she had. And someone had come after her. Benoit Renier. A dozen humans and loups-garous.

  And Duke Gunther di Reinardus.

  There was no time for shock or self-recrimination. Cort was moving again before his kin caught up with him, a streak hurtling through the swamps like a devilish apparition.

  BABETTE SAT UP in her seat. The unmistakable rattle of another carriage drew her to the window.

  It had been a long night. The sky was beginning to lighten, bringing with it the renewed hope that the Carantians would return with Aria. Josef Dreher stood by the carriage, staring south in the direction of the swamp.

  There was no reason to think that the oncoming vehicle had anything to do with them or posed any threat, but Dreher briefly stepped out of Babette’s sight and returned with a rifle held loosely in his hands.

  Babette felt inside her handbag for the tiny pistol. It was still loaded. She opened the door and climbed out. The approaching carriage was large and heavy. She could see several dark shapes riding on the outside: two men sitting on the top and two others clinging to the sides. The rising sun illumined the man perched on the high coachman’s bench.

  Without a thought, Babette ran into the middle of the road and raised her hands. The coachman pulled sharply back on the reins, drawing the horses to a sweating, trembling stop.

  She walked slowly toward the carriage. The men on the top were already climbing down, and she glimpsed the flash of metal.

  A man’s voice rose from within. “Curse you, Yuri,” di Reinardus called. “Why have you stopped? We must get to the port!”

  So the duke was alive.

  Yuri looked down, meeting Babette’s gaze. She felt nothing. Nothing at all. “Why, mon ami?” she asked him.

  “Get out of the way, Babette!” Yuri snapped.

  Dreher came up beside her. “Who is this?” he demanded.

  Before she could answer, di Reinardus jumped out of the carriage. He looked from Babette to Dreher without the slightest trace of surprise or worry. Dreher paled in shock.

  “Carantian, if I am not mistaken,” di Reinardus said. “Where are the others, boy? Did they send you and the whore out alone?”

  “Ich bin…Josef Dreher,” the young man said. “You are—”

  “You have one chance to stay alive,” di Reinardus said, cutting him off. “Take this woman and leave.”

  Dreher’s hands trembled as he lifted the rifle. “Not until I kill you, traitor,” he said hoarsely.

  The other men, all armed, had reached the ground and were pointing their guns at Dreher and Babette.

  “There will be another time,” Babette whispered. “Herr Dreher, put down the—”

  “Run!” a woman’s voice called from inside the carriage.

  Aria!

  Babette had no sooner grasped that fact than Dreher fired at di Reinardus. The armed men were quick to respond, and the Carantian fell, mortally wounded by a dozen bullets.

  “Young fool,” di Reinardus said. He stared at Babette. “A pity you hadn’t the good sense to escape when you had so many opportunities.” He gestured to his men. “Make it quick.”

  With a cry, Yuri flung himself from his seat and fell on di Reinardus. The startled humans swung toward them as Yuri hung on to the duke’s back and clawed at his face. Babette pulled out her pistol and ran back to the meager protection of the Reniers’ carriage, frustrated by her helplessness. She couldn’t hope to get near Dreher or Aria without being shot down. And Yuri couldn’t possibly win.

  She had nearly lost herself to despair when a low shape leaped into view beside the duke’s carriage and struck di Reinardus with stiffened forelegs, knocking Yuri away and sending both men tumbling to the ground. Within seconds four more red-furred wolves appeared, going straight for the armed men.

  Babette didn’t know these loups-garous, but she knew Cort, and the others were fighting alongside him. One of them yelped as a bullet struck, but he only fought all the more fiercely. One by one the humans were disabled or had the good sense to run. It seemed that it would be a swift victory until six more wolves of varied colors raced out of the trees to the east of the road.

  Whose side they were on was quickly apparent. They attacked the red-coated wolves, and soon all Babette could see was a flurry of fur and flashing teeth. She caught the briefest glimpse of di Reinardus climbing back into the carriage. There was no sign of Aria.

  As if he had nothing at all to do with the fight, Yuri stood to the side, in obvious pain and nursing an injured arm. All the old habits urged Babette to go to him, comfort him, care for him until he was well again.

  But she had done that once too often. As the vicious growls and cries of pain began to subside, she became aware of the forgotten pistol clenched in her hand.

  Slowly, as if the hand belonged to another woman, Babette raised the weapon. Yuri’s gaze flickered down to the pistol and then returned to her face. He smiled.

  Babette aimed and fired.

  CORT’S KINFOLK GATHERED around him, all wounded, one limping badly. A notch had been bitten out of Papa’s ear, but he was still as vigorous as a man twenty years his junior. Di Reinardus’s loups-garous were all down; three had already Changed to heal dangerous wounds, but they showed no interest in getting up again. One of the humans wasn’t likely to move ever again; a second moaned over a shattered leg, and the others had fled.

  Babette stood over another body, a pistol dangling from her fingers. Yuri lay at her feet, quite dead. Josef Dreher was also dead, his body riddled with bullet wounds.

&nb
sp; Cort would have gone to her, but there was no time. The most dangerous enemy of all was still inside the carriage with Aria. It had been all he could do to make sure the duke didn’t escape or try to take Aria away during the confusion of the fight.

  Now she was his hostage, and Cort knew that threats would be of no use at all. He Changed, and spoke quietly to Alphonse and his cousins. They set to watch over the captives while Cort approached the carriage door.

  “Stay where you are,” di Reinardus said.

  Cort couldn’t see the man, but he could smell sweat and a dozen subtle odors that spoke of fear as well as anger. Di Reinardus was afraid. He had been hunted down and cornered at last.

  And he was desperate. Desperate enough to take Cort’s world with him when he fell.

  “Cort!” Aria cried, the word instantly muffled.

  Cort lunged for the door.

  “Stop, or she dies.”

  Cort froze. “You have nothing to gain by killing her, di Reinardus,” he said, struggling to steady his voice.

  “Perhaps not,” the duke said. “But I have much to gain from the threat of it.”

  Alphonse gave a warning growl behind Cort. A pair of wolves were running toward the carriage, their scent altered by their shape but still familiar.

  “It’s all right, Papa,” Cort said. “They’re friends.”

  The Carantians came to a sudden stop at the edge of the road and Changed.

  “Princess!” von Losontz cried.

  “Stay back,” Cort warned, then turned to face the window again. “What do you want?” he asked di Reinardus.

  “That should be obvious,” the duke said with an easy calm he could not be feeling. “Let me leave with the girl. That is the only way you can guarantee her survival.”

  A frightened moan rose in the darkness of the carriage. “Cort,” Aria whimpered, “don’t let him kill me.”

  Aria’s voice, but not Aria’s spirit. She would never give in to fear, or to di Reinardus. Not like this.