The Eye of the Wolf

by Sadie Vanderveen

  Victoria accepted the glass of champagne from her escort, a handsome duke from a small principality on the continent. She adjusted the slightly darker blue satin wrap around her shoulders and flirted gaily with him, playing the part of the beautiful princess who had yet to take a husband. She knew she made a stunning image, and turned so the press could snap a picture of her with her duke. Her smile as he whispered in her ear suggestions that were indecent but left her wanting broke the heart of the photographer from People.

  The Dauphin moved around his sister whose eyes, vibrant green followed his every move. His eyes scanned the room as he adjusted his tuxedo jacket. The ruby red bowtie pulled at his neck, but he left it alone. The red satin sash shimmered in the light. His hair, for once, stayed firmly in place instead of falling over his eyes, giving him the rakish look he was used to. His eyes scanned the room even as women simpered and batted their eye lashes, gowns dipping low over plumped up bosoms. He froze and his heart stopped when the vision in blue stepped through the door.

  Mikayla stepped through the arch from the balcony into the ballroom. Her simple, navy dress shimmered around her, strands of silver sewn into the silk. Her creamy skin was iridescent against the dark dress giving a striking contrast that had men throughout the room turning from their dates to look at the woman who paused in the door, unaware of the effect she had. Her hair tumbled down her back in an orderly mass of curls, tamed by a silver cord that glimmered in the light. She moved her head slowly, taking in the sights and sounds of the ball making the small diamonds at her ears flash like fire. Her blue eyes danced with excitement, and she winked when her eyes met Will’s across the room.

  Will found himself short of breath and at a loss for words as he crossed the room in long strides, anxious to be at her side but refusing to give the impression of anxiousness. He paused in front of her, reigning the desire to drag her against him and crush her with a kiss that left her breathless just as he was breathless at the sight of her. Instead, he bowed low over her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. When he raised his eyes, her eyes were dreamy and cheeks rosy. He straightened. With a sly smile, he brought his other hand from his back and held before him a simple, white rose, a blush just touching the tips of the petals.

  He slipped her hand into his own and led her away from the door. His heart pounding as if it would burst. “I thought for a moment that you were a vision.” He whispered as he handed her a glass of champagne. “I think the other men concur with me.”

  Mikayla giggled as she glanced around the room under her lashes. Men snuck peaks at her, on the arm of her prince, as she moved throughout the room, being introduced to other members of royal families and finally, being reacquainted with his own parents.

  The sights, smells, and sounds filled her senses as people moved about the room, dancing, talking, eating. Images of knights in shining armor, silk covered princesses filled her mind. A return to the Middle Ages with each glance. Each image was ingrained in her mind as part of her mental photo-album, as she took in each experience, promising to remember when the moment had passed and she was once again a college professor. She would especially remember the image of her prince, as he came through the door, regal in his bearing, with a devilish grin on his face. The memories were firm in her mind, capable of being remembered when the moment had passed and life had returned to what it was supposed to be like. But at that moment, she felt like a princess on the arm of her prince.

  He swept her into a dance, holding her close, their bodies brushing as people watched, whispering behind hands, and bulbs flashed as photos were taken. But he was oblivious to the world. To him, they were alone, lost in a world of candlelight, sweet scents, and music. She was soft in his arms, gliding along, matching his steps with her own, graceful in her movements. When the song had ended, he pulled her through the French doors into the night.

  The violins and cellos faded into the darkness as he led her along the stone balcony, soft light filtering through the glass, the murmurs of people blending with the waves of the ocean crashing on the rocks below. Stars winked in the sky as he pulled her close, moving into another dance, singing softly in her ear, words that she recognized. Salt scented the air as her mind blanked when his lips settled on hers, drawing her into a kiss that left her senses alive but she was defenseless against the singing of her nerves and the emotions that welled within her. Sadness. Joy. Warring with one another.

  Will pulled back and studied her face, illuminated in the night. “I love you, Mikayla.” He said it simply, no pretenses. It flowed from his mouth but it also reflected in his eyes, filling Mikayla with love for him.

  She laid her hand on his cheek and whispered the words that he longed to hear from her own lips. Every emotion filling those words. She pulled him to her, sliding her hand along his cheek until it twined in his hair, silk against her skin. As he deepened the kiss, arms holding her close, time seemed to stop. The world disappeared and Mikayla was sure she saw fireworks.

  She yanked her head back and burst into laughter as red and white and blue fireworks burst in the sky above her head. “I was thinking I was seeing fireworks because of the kiss.”

  Will laughed. “I’m good, Luv, but I’m not that good!” He pressed another kiss to her palm and then moved away. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move!” He winked again and disappeared into the ballroom as elegantly dressed people moved onto the balcony to enjoy the fireworks.

  Mikayla pressed her fingertips to her lips, savoring his taste, her eyes half-closed as memories flooded through her. She turned to look out of the sea as more fireworks exploded in the sky. The oohs and aahs of the celebrants reminded her of Fourth of July celebrations in Michigan when she would lay on her back watching fireworks explode in the night sky as friends and family gathered. A secret smile played on her lips, dreams in her eyes.

  Victoria stepped clear of the throngs of people and glided along the balcony, Mikayla her destination. The smile on her lips cunning as her green eyes narrowed, her prey in her sights.

  “Well, Darling, I suppose I should scold you for upstaging the royal family; however, Dear, you look too fantastic for me to be angry.”

  Mikayla turned her head slowly, her dreams fading as her eyes focused on Victoria, standing a few feet away, a champagne flute dangling from her ivory fingers. Ice blue satin trailed long the stonework as Victoria stepped closer. She linked an arm with Mikayla and turned her from the sea to watch the people who sipped from crystal glasses and rubbed elbows with the rich and famous.

  Mikayla chilled at the touch of the Crown Princess. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She lifted her chin and stood still. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Will, praying he would return soon. “Your dress is lovely, Your Highness.”

  Victoria’s laugh rang like silver bells. “Why thank you, Darling. I do love a ball.” She sipped from her champagne glass, the bubbles sweet on her tongue. She gestured to her escort with her glass. Her words slurred slightly, showing the slightest of drunk. “See him. I’m going to marry him. He’s a duke.”

  Mikayla smiled and made casual noises of assent while she skimmed over the faces searching for Will, searching for anyone, but she knew she was too far from the crowds to draw their attention to her. Mikayla swallowed and tried to disengage her arm from that of the Crown Princess. “Excuse me, Your Highness, but I think His Highness has forgotten where he left me.”

  Victoria tightened her grip on Mikayla’s arm until her nails dug into the bare skin. That was when Mikayla felt the cold steel pressing through the thin silk against her rib cage.

  Her eyes wide, Mikayla turned her head to the Princess Royale, seeing only the cunning eyes of the hunter, the Wolf who had cornered its prey. “My dear, I don’t think he’ll be joining us, nor do I think you will be going anywhere.”

  Chapter 27

  Her heart jackrabbitted in her chest. Breath lodged in her chest, strangling her as fear threaded through her. The barrel of the gun was sharp through the fabric of
her dress where it pressed in. Victoria’s satin wrap fell gracefully over their joined arms, shielding the hand that held the pistol. She smiled, nodded, and called friendly greetings to people as they waved and applauded the fireworks.

  She had to get away. She had to draw attention to her or distract Victoria somehow. She had to do it now, while there was a large crowd, before people wandered back inside. Before her chance of survival disappeared with the last guest. The champagne flute was cool against her fingers, only a sip left in the bottom of the glass. She tipped the glass back and drained it, searching for courage in the liquid, knowing that wasn’t where courage came from.

  Mikayla slowly lowered her arm and allowed the champagne flute to slide from her fingers, shattering into thousands of glass shards as it impacted on the stone balcony, hoping to draw attention, to bring someone to help her, but the boom of the explosions from the fireworks drowned out the crash of the fine crystal against the stone. She heard the click of the hammer of the gun clearly and Victoria’s menace even over the grand finale now showering the sky in brilliant sparkles.

  “Don’t even think about it, Mikayla. I will kill you before anyone can help you.” Victoria smiled brightly, nodding and encouraging people to enjoy the celebration. Her voice was cold as the steel she pressed into her adversary’s flesh.

  As people wandered through the French doors, returning to the ball, music gaily pouring forth from the windows, Victoria nudged Mikayla with the gun, pressing harder. “Now, Mikayla, we shall take a little walk, just the two of us.” She moved forward, dragging Mikayla with her. “Smile, Mikayla. If anyone approaches us, we are simply two friends taking the air. You do anything, anything at all, I will kill you, without a second thought, just like I killed Monsieur Dejeune.”

  Victoria’s eyes gleamed, sending shivers of panic through Mikayla. “She’s mad!” was all Mikayla could think. A shudder went through Mikayla as the image of the blood pooling around Dejeune seeped into her consciousness, a memory repressed by happier images. “You killed him?” Her voice squeaked slightly, betraying the cool exterior she tried to portray.

  Victoria smiled that feline smile that many found endearing, but instead made Mikayla all the more nervous. “Of course, Darling. I also knocked you unconscious with the scepter from the jewel case, but of course, you would know that since you opened the case after the police had sealed the building off as a crime scene.”

  Mikayla glanced over her shoulder as the brightly lit festival area disappeared into the darkness. She drew in a deep breath, drawing the salty air into her lungs in gulps, seeking calm and clear thoughts. “Why didn’t you just kill me then, when you had the chance? Why did you let me live?”

  Victoria kicked aside the sweeping skirt and began the descent down finely chiseled stone steps, pulling Mikayla along with her. “Because, darling, you are important to me. I still need you. I couldn’t kill the best investment I had ever made, could I?”

  If it hadn’t been for the maniacal gleam in Victoria’s eyes, Mikayla could have believed Victoria actually cared what happened to her. It was the pure evil in her eyes that told Mikayla different. She stumbled over her own skirt and high heels as Victoria gracefully swept along the staircase. “Where are you taking me, Victoria?”

  Victoria smiled at Mikayla, that smile that originally had led her to believe they might be friends. “Why, Mikayla, we’re going on a treasure hunt, and you,” she pressed the barrel of the gun into her rib cage making her gasp, “you are going to do the hunting.”

  Mikayla swallowed and clenched her dress in her trembling hands, willing calm to come over her. She knew she didn’t have a chance against Victoria if her thoughts weren’t clear. If she focused on her terror, she would die terrified. She wasn’t willing for that to happen. She allowed herself to be led down the stairs and through the gate. It struck her as strange that there were no guards at the gates when normally no one could enter the Secluded City without passing five guards at that one gate alone.

  “You’re wondering about the guards, aren’t you?” Victoria’s voice was cool in the evening air as they crossed the bricked street and mounted the stairs to the cathedral looming in the dark.

  When Mikayla nodded faintly, Victoria’s tinkling laugh echoed through the air. “We don’t have to worry about them. They are all inside, enjoying the party.” She removed her arm from Mikayla’s and shoved Mikayla in the back with the barrel of the gun, forcing her to pull open the heavy doors of the cathedral. “You see, my dear Mikayla, I have had this evening planned for a very long time. It is unfortunate that Dejeune and Kankaredes can’t be here to celebrate with me. You will do just fine though.”

  Mikayla stepped into the darkened cathedral, stumbling as one of her heels snagged on the threshold of the ancient building. It broke off, sending her sprawling to the floor. She whimpered as Victoria grabbed her hair, yanking her to her knees. Victoria’s face was inches from Mikayla’s; the gun pressing against her temple, cold steel against her sweating brow.

  “Mikayla, I would recommend to you that it is in your best interest for your health, to get to your feet, quit pretending you are helpless, and get to work. Find me the Eye of the Wolf, and I might let you live!” Victoria’s perfectly shaped brows rose and her perfect lips curved into a slight smile.

  Mikayla swallowed the fear and regained her feet. She followed the aisles of the cathedral towards the lanterns that decorated the alter. As she moved carefully in the dark, she was aware of Victoria’s movements behind her and the barrel of the gun pointed at her back. Satin and silk swished in the stillness as they moved. Mikayla’s mind whirled, trying to come to terms with the swift turn of events that she had not expected. She also tried to figure out a way of escape, but deep inside, she knew she wasn’t strong enough or smart enough to outwit the princess who had turned into a demon.

  Victoria ordered Mikayla to stop when they reached the foot of the alter. Mikayla turned slowly to face Victoria, whose beautiful face was now distorted with greed and the energy that comes to the insane when they have finally seen their plans through to fruition. Victoria prowled back and forth in front of Mikayla, the gun and her eyes never leaving Mikayla’s face. The brilliant green of the hunter’s eyes piercing the dim light, glowing from the darkness. A fresh wave of fear slithered along Mikayla’s spine as the cold trickle of sweat rolled down her back.

  “Now, my dear, I want you to start digging.” Victoria gestured with the pistol to the shovel and pick-axe on the altar.

  Mikayla gestured helplessly. “I already dug in the spot I thought the stone would be, but it wasn’t there.” She narrowed her eyes on Victoria’s face, a cold thought entering her mind. “But you already knew that since you’ve been following every step of my research since I started.”

  Victoria shrugged elegantly and draped her shoulder wrap over the end of a pew. The gun never moved from where it pointed, now at Mikayla’s forehead. “Yes, I have, and I must admit, you are much more intelligent and clever than I originally perceived.” She perched on the arm of the wooden pew, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. “You see, you were my idea. I figured a female professor couldn’t possibly be as intelligent as some of the imbeciles Dejeune wanted to bring to complete the project. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I should have assumed that another female might be just as clever as I am.” She raised an eye brow. “Which is why I know that you know exactly where the sapphire is. You purposefully led my brother on a hunt in the wrong grave. You’ve known for quite awhile, and you are going to lead me to it now.”

  Mikayla swallowed. She willed her voice to remain calm, even as she entwined her fingers behind her back trying to calm the tremors that quaked along her body. “What makes you believe I purposefully led Will to the wrong grave?”

  Victoria smirked. “Because, darling, you believed he was the murderer. You were afraid that if you led him to the correct grave, he would no longer have use for you, and probably kill you in your sleep as you lay next to hi
m.”

  Mikayla’s eyes widened as she realized that Victoria’s sources of information were better than she could have ever imagined. Mikayla tried for a laugh, but she knew she was transparent. When Victoria continued to smirk, Mikayla untwisted her fingers and smoothed her sweaty hands across the skirt of her dress. She kept her eyes on the marble floor, her mind working, seeking some answer. It was then that she realized, the longer she kept Victoria talking, the more likely it was that someone would notice that they had disappeared and hopefully would come searching for them. As pitiful as the idea seemed, she knew it was possibly her only salvation from the fate that seemed inevitable.

  Mikayla raised her eyes and locked them with Victoria’s cold green ones. “So, Your Highness, where do you think the sapphire is hidden then, since you’ve been so careful to follow all of my research, including stealing the diary from my living room?”

  Victoria slowly uncrossed her legs and stood from her perch. She crossed to Mikayla and slowly pressed the barrel into Mikayla’s forehead until tears formed on the brims of her lashes from the pressure and pain. “Find it, Mikayla, or I kill you now!” Her voice was calm, every word evenly measured. She knew what Mikayla was trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work. She had been one step ahead the entire time, and this little American professor wasn’t going to prevent her from becoming Queen of Amor, the sole sovereign of the island nation.

  Mikayla gasped in tiny breaths as panic bubbled up inside of her. She nodded her head slightly and turned towards the shovel and pick-axe. Carefully, she hefted the pick-axe before climbing the three steps onto the altar. She took a deep breath and looked down at the marble plaque at her feet. With a hefty swing, she let the axe fall, striking and cracking the eight hundred year old marble, desecrating the tomb of Queen Elena.