The human blood called to him just a few days later, and by accident.
It had been midday when a doe stepped into the forest clearing near the old castle with the black gate. Euan didn’t know why, but it always made him even more afraid to come near its towers even as they’d begun to crumble. There were fewer riders now than before, but they all had nets. Still, he was drawn to the crisp trumpet sounds inside, and even to the strange moans that could sometimes be heard from the small windows near the base of the west wall. Something about these particular throat sounds filled him with a feeling very close to pleasure, if he could still recall what that meant. In brief flashes that would stab his brain like a dagger, he saw pictures of naked women underneath him, before the visions were gone forever, like storm clouds.
That’s why, when he heard a softer throat noise nearby as he chased the doe into the woods, he dared draw closer.
He forgot all about the doe.
His autumn-colored eyes could hardly believe what they saw.
A man was rolling on the ground, trying to unfasten his metal breastplate, like a turtle in heat. Next to him was a woman, giggling, always a little too quick, herself taking off her dress as he stumbled after. Finally, after much good-natured slapping and grinning, they both grew quiet and Euan could see two human skins, rubbing against each other’s hairiest parts, getting cut from the brambles but caring not at all. The woman’s eyes were as blue as the cornflowers near the brook where he had once seen soldiers’ bodies come to rest, like logs at low tide.
He circled them now, his heart a thunderbolt, a raging sea. Their bodies called to him in a familiar way that was even stronger than what he had felt when taking down a stag ten times his size last snowfall. The woman was kissing the man’s stomach, which was smooth and pale, and neither heard a twig snap as Euan chose the highest angle of attack, while waiting for his breath to match the rhythm of the blood in his ears. Not even when he started to creep up on them did they sit up and take notice, for the woman had taken the man’s member in her mouth by then, moving her head up and down while his throat made sounds Euan finally recognized as the same he’d heard from inside the stone wall with the windows in it. Grunts of desire. Another image almost tapped its way through to his mind from behind his eyes but stayed in the past.
The man turned the woman over and prepared to mount her.
When he lifted his head, it was too late.
Euan’s jaws clamped on the man’s neck before he could cry out. He moved his strong head from side to side, not resting until he heard the first snap. His mouth was instantly filled with blood, sticky and warm and wonderful; he couldn’t decide which he liked better, the man’s death spasms or the woman’s throat shrieks.
He had chewed through half the neck and started on a soft cheek when he realized the woman wasn’t there anymore. He felt confusion, mixed in with the sated bloodlust, because he should feel content and safe. Instead, those strange sensations he’d sometimes have when he saw washerwomen bending over to smash white linen against the rocks wouldn’t let him go. It was like a low, constant pressure somewhere inside him that he couldn’t name. But he knew the woman with the blue eyes could help him find out. He couldn’t quite put it together in his head, because her throat noises hadn’t sounded truly frightened, but more as if she had decided to act that way.
Euan put his bloody snout into the dirt and sniffed.
Instantly, he saw in his mind’s eye exactly which way the naked creature had fled. He turned briefly, tore off another piece of blue and red threads sticking out of the man’s neck, and gave chase.
The rains came down, blurring his vision and muddying the trail, and soon Euan had trouble tracking the scent. The trees twisted and creaked their eternal warnings of danger ahead, but even as a wolf he didn’t pay them any heed. His snout sensed the naked woman somewhere ahead of a sunken cemetery, which was overgrown with vines to resemble hibernating moles, ready to pop through the surface at any moment. He caught a flash of skin on the trail ahead, and his hind legs kicked harder, propelling him forward.
He didn’t even see the net.
But now there were loud throat sounds all around, and the smell of strong drink. Euan writhed helplessly several inches from the ground, but merely managed to get himself caught up even farther in the trap that suspended him from a tree. He twisted his head and saw a young man with wide eyes and thin black hair, baring his teeth and laughing. Another instant memory played across Euan’s eyes. In it, this young man lifted a cup next to Euan and presented him with a gift. It looked like a wolf’s head. He remembered! The castle, his brother, everything! This man was his friend, he was sure of it.
The image evaporated with the first kick he felt from someone’s boot.
“Padraic!” screamed Euan, while he could still remember the vision. “It’s me, Euan! We know each other!”
But the hunting party only heard a melodic growl that sounded like the wolf was trying to tell them something. “This one talks more than the others,” said Padraic. He grabbed Euan around the throat before he could bite and shook him hard. “Let’s see if he can sing when we hang him from his paws with the others.”
Euan understood none of that, but he knew from the tone of Padraic’s throat noise that he would soon end up like the wolves he’d seen in the gibbet by the bay.
And with that, the men slung Euan across a horse’s flank and rode as quickly as they could back through the forest, where the trees looked down in silent sorrow that nobody ever listened to a thing they said. He gnawed at the leather net, but it was spun too tightly to give. Before long, the castle rose out of the clearing, and the black gates opened with a long yawning sound. When Euan heard the clattering of horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, he closed his eyes and remembered more. The shame of his father’s eyes on him the day Ned had rounded up men to meet the enemy. His own triumphant return. Ned’s funeral. And the scores of nameless women he had savaged, and often choked for his own pleasure, right behind the same castle walls. There was a smell of freshly dried blood on the square, as if killing there was now a habit. He opened his eyes and saw a set of gallows, in which several wolves already hung by the hind legs, twisting and howling as they waited for the pain. He kicked and screamed, but the hunters just laughed harder, and the washerwomen brayed even louder than the men.
“Sing us a song, playful one,” said Padraic, and dragged Euan out of the net by the tail. Euan dug in his claws, but they skidded on the slick stone, and the women kicked and belted him with sticks.
“Skin him alive!” a little boy’s voice called out.
For the first time in his life, Euan regretted the part of him that enjoyed killing. He remembered his past life as a prince who delighted in watching young girls’ eyes go wide, as he put his thumbs on their throats and squeezed until the light in them dimmed and vanished. He howled for forgiveness to a God he couldn’t even name anymore, as the other wolves were being clubbed to death, one after the next. He was dragged up the steps and felt the leather straps tighten around his paws.
“Give him to me.”
It was a woman’s throat noise, and Euan could understand the words now. It was delicate, but carried with it more authority than Padraic’s brute force, and the chorus of bloodthirsty voices subsided. Warriors, hunters, and maids parted as all heads turned to see a young woman making her way through the crowd. She wore a green ankle-length dress with a golden belt, and her hair was tied at the neck with a brooch in the shape of a wolf’s head.
Her eyes were blue, and she had a recent scrape on her chin where brambles had cut her.
It was the woman from the forest.
“These men are merely paying tribute to Your Highness’s family’s honor, and—”
“And they will continue to render that service, Master Huntsman. But this particular wolf will not be touched, is that clear?” She smiled, leaving no one in doubt of what strength hid underneath that sweet expression if she was now refused.
“I’m delighted you agree, Padraic. Please continue.”
Strong hands undid Euan’s bonds and lifted him back into a net, which was carried up several flights of granite stairs. All the while, he could see the woman’s shape floating before him, always a few steps ahead, the curve of her back and hips making even his mortal fears subside. Behind them, the sounds of hard objects striking flesh and bone echoed across the courtyard. Animal shrieks and howls were drowned out by the appreciative roar of the crowd, relieved at not having been deprived of an afternoon’s entertainment.
Soon, a door opened and Euan was carried into a room he recognized with something like dread.
It was his old bedchamber. The last woman he’d seen in here had been tied up to the bedposts for four days and put through her paces before she begged him to kill her.
“Chain him up over there,” said the woman, and sat on the bed, looking at him.
“As you wish, Your Highness,” said the guard, and put Euan’s neck into the dog chain by the wall that Euan had installed himself. He could now recall having used it many times on the maids from town.
“Leave us,” she said, and never took her eyes off Euan. The guard closed the door and the footsteps faded.
Where Euan had first been relieved at being delivered from death, a wellspring of conflicting emotions made his jaws hurt. Why did she just sit there, scrutinizing him? Had he been brought up here so she could torture him in private? He was unsure if he should try to escape or jump onto that bed and mate with her. The blood in his finely tuned ears, which had never steered him wrong in the forest when he searched for prey or dodged pursuers, now sang out of key. He felt a desire he couldn’t name; it was a longing for the woman, but also a need to see her blood spilled by nightfall. It made no sense to him, because the twin Euans inside the gray pelt were trying to decide whether the wolf or the residual human was in charge. He leaped up toward the bed as far as the chain would go. Then he whimpered and lay down at her feet.
She undid the clasp behind her head, and strawberry-blond locks fell past her shoulders. Something stirred in Euan’s groin that felt familiar yet terrifying. The woman bent down and put a hand onto the wolf’s forehead, quite unafraid she might lose some fingers.
“I know you, cousin,” she said, in that honeyed voice. “I know you so well.”
“Who are you?” Euan heard his own throat say, and jumped back at the surprise.
“When you vanished in the forest, the castle fell into disrepair. The head yeoman sent for help from my father, but he was chasing the Normans all the way back to Leinster. So I gathered up what remained, a few archers and a handful of horsemen, and took your castle.” She bent even farther down, and Euan could see her cleavage and the white globes inside the dress. “I’m Aisling, your cousin. Our fathers weren’t much as warriors, I have to admit, but it would appear both of us did our level best to even that score, wouldn’t you say?”
Euan’s head swam. The pain in his jaw had now spread to his entire skull. It felt as if his body were trying to turn itself inside out, shedding the fur and showing only the fair pink skin it was once born with. Sinew by sinew, it waited to see if it would soon be changed once more.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” she said, patting his head. “I could make you human again. Get you what you so richly deserve.”
He recognized the glint in her eye as his own former delight in observing pain that wasn’t his own. He felt fear gushing through him again, stronger than before. “What will you do with me?” he asked.
“I looked in your eyes today and knew you were family,” she said, taking off her belt. “Padraic told me often enough how you seemed to have melted into the grass, and I never believed him. He’s sweet, but dumb. I’ve heard the legends and paid soothsayers a small fortune to find out what happened to you. I even had one of them read the entrails of an old wolf we captured shortly after your disappearance. All signs pointed the same way: You were close by, yet not in human form. And ever since, I’ve held these ridiculous hunts that amuse the public, but which only serve one purpose: to find you. And when I saw you back in the forest, I knew my search was at an end.”
“You wish to avenge Ned,” said Euan, sure he wouldn’t leave her chambers alive.
At this, Princess Aisling merely laughed so delightfully it would appear she was watching a basketful of kittens squinting against the light. “The true soldier, who lived to serve his father? No. My interest has always been you. Your strength, your cunning. You won a victory by biding your time and ruled a kingdom while you still had only fuzz on your chin.” Another little smile. “Do you really think I would have dragged that poor soldier out into the woods today for a bit of fun if I didn’t believe you could still tell the difference between family and bait?”
Euan was too speechless to reply. His old life in furs and royal robes lay just ahead. And if that wasn’t enough, they had gutted the old wolf who put the curse on him to begin with. So much for God and fortune, he thought, and felt a surge of triumph.
Aisling finally rose and knelt down to undo his metal collar. She smelled of honeydew and freshly washed hair, and put a hand on his beating heart. Her eyes appeared to change color for just a moment, the heavenly blue yielding to his own golden brown before turning back to normal.
“I have ruled this castle alone for over three years,” she said. “During that time, poor Padraic has kept forgetting his station and believes he might someday wear the crown next to me on the throne. I occasionally take a servant or two to my chambers for amusement’s sake. But I have waited only for you.” She reached behind her and unfastened the dress, which fell to the ground with a soft whussh. “My soothsayers told me there is only one way to end the curse. Approach, then, and prove them right.”
She stood naked before him, unafraid, and didn’t even attempt to cover up her sparse tuft of hair as Euan crawled slowly toward the bed.
For guidance, he listened to the blood coursing through his ears but kept getting different messages.
“Slay her!” said one voice, which had never steered him wrong out in the wild.
“No, love her,” called another, unfamiliar accent, which resonated in parts of him he was just now beginning to remember.
“Come to me, cousin,” said Aisling.
Euan lowered his head and sniffed the ground at her feet before looking up. Her breasts were small and pink and her fingers as delicate as a rabbit’s foot. Those blue eyes made it impossible not to rise and crawl slowly toward his prize.
His lips curled away from the gums, and the dueling impulses inside his animal body fused and became one. His snout touched her shin. He licked it and tasted soap. The sound of blood in his ears was like a hundred men shouting havoc all at once.
A growl that began far inside his predator’s heart began to work its way into the strong throat, gathering strength as it went.
The wolf had made up its mind.
The applause never came. I looked at the backs of everyone’s heads as they bent forward to hear the punch line, but Jim had stopped talking.
“So?” asked an impatient older woman’s voice. “What did the wolf decide to do?”
The shoulders of the Single Women’s Legion parted, and I caught a glimpse of Jim leaning back on his stool and lighting up, and smoking ban be damned. No one protested. He crossed his legs and grimaced, enjoying the tension. He smiled, wider than when he’d been unzipping my trousers just two nights ago, and brushed away a forelock of hair.
“Well, what d’you think, yourselves?” he said. “Will he kill her or love her?”
Without hesitation, most voices in the room voted for love, while only a few broken hearts found Princess Aisling a touch too forward for a cousin and suggested Euan should make a meal of her right away.
“Love her!” a voice I recognized had shouted, just a half second before everyone else.
> Aunt Moira’s cheeks were flaming red, and her eyes shone like a true believer’s.
“Well, now, ladies, that’ll just have to keep for about a week, I’m afraid,” said Jim, taking a deep magician’s bow, his fingertips sweeping the floor. “My assistant and I need to rest up from all the traveling we’ve done. But never fear, Euan and Aisling’s adventures will continue next Sunday at O’Shea’s Pub over in lovely Eyeries, where even the colors of the buildings are as cheerful as the people inside them.” He leaned forward and actually winked. “And don’t tell anybody, but my money’s always on love.”
Torrential applause finally broke out, even as a few ladies cried “Aww” in disappointment that the handsome Elvis impersonator was going to hold out on them yet again. One of them even reached out and touched his lapel as he passed, as if he’d been Saint Bono himself.
While the dour Tomo had given up pretending to be genial and now just passed the hat like a busker, Jim leaped off his stool, threw on his motorcycle jacket, and strode over toward me. A few girls made way as I whipped a pocket mirror out to check my lipstick, which looked crap. When I’d put it away, I glanced up again and couldn’t see him anywhere.
I turned because the soft murmur of his voice was rising right behind me.
“Kelly? Lovely name, Kelly. Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”
And there he was, lightly touching the forearm of the prettiest girl in the room. Mind you, she had a fella with her but suddenly didn’t seem to mind. I know that Jim didn’t either, and rather than have the pitying stares of scores of women on him, the cuckolded boyfriend soon left, alone and disgraced.
I wanted to walk over there, I did. But not while Aunt Moira was still in the room, eyeing her chance to talk to Jim herself. I stole a pack of smokes from the girl next to me while she had her back turned and lit one up while I waited. My darling aunt blinked first, realizing she had no chance against Kelly’s ample chest, expensive dress, and miles of endless lips. She ducked out with the same downcast look in her eyes I’d seen the night Harold had left her with nothing but shame and a bank debt.
Darling Jim Page 10
