by Jo Pilsworth
Zarek Svitovidsyn:
Son of Svitovid, an Eastern European god of warfare, fertility and divination. As such, he shares his sire’s affinities. His sire tasked him with working with the Cŵn Annwn, knowing that various timelines might result. As part of working with the Cŵn Annwn, Zarek watched over their former home in the Carpathians. When the Russian authorities tried to use him, based on rumours of his paranormal abilities, he had to relocate to the USA. He has recently rekindled an association with Diana MacGregor, a half-human/half-demon hybrid.
Diana MacGregor:
Half demon/half human hybrid and close friend of Zarek Svitovidsyn. They have rekindled a friendship from 1990, which came about through the indirect intervention of Zarek’s sire.
Avigail Micula:
Born in 1989, Avigail is the grand-daughter of Eliana, the girl rescued from deportation to the concentration camps by Bran Cadwgan. She was not aware of this connection. However, Avigail was conceived as an early ‘test tube baby’, from an egg donated by an unknown Cŵn Annwn female. Whilst her father had handled some business affairs for the Cŵn Annwn until his retirement, he had been unaware of the connection with a specific individual within the Negrescu organization. Avigail is a lawyer specializing in assisting trafficked woman or victims of domestic violence.
Solange Griffe de Noir:
Solange is a wolf-shifter who works for the French security organisation. She will be part of the next book in the Diaries of the Cŵn Annwn. Recently acceding to the rank of Alpha of the Griffe de Noir Pack, she is trying to lead her Pack in the way that she believes her late sire would have wished.
Amara Griffe de Noir:
Pack Beta to the Griffe de Noir Pack, she had run from events in her home pack in Romania, before being found by the Griffe de Noir Pack. Expecting to be slaughtered for trespass, she was surprised to be taken in by the Pack, finding her Mate in the then Beta. When he was murdered in Egypt, she withdrew from Pack life. The new Alpha of the Pack, Solange, encouraged her back by demonstrating that her late Mate's siblings still needed her. As a result, both she and Solange are as much close friends as Beta and Alpha.
Who Am I?
Fane Anghelescu
How can I describe the thoughts running through my mind? The realisation that when, and it was when, rather than if, my sister returned to the Pack, having disappeared to parts unknown, I would have no choice but to issue a judgement against her for her blatant flaunting of my authority.
Roxana, my sister, you have always been the most important thing in my life, and that it unlikely to change. I have been a fool. I saw only the cub, the juvenile, whom I have wanted to protect from the moment you were born. You were a little fur ball of grey and white fluff, eyes screwed tightly shut, one of the last to be born to the Anghelescu Pack. You were only a year behind me in terms of our dam whelping you, but you would always be my baby sister. How many mistakes I made because I could not lose that image of you as a cub? But, the mistakes have been made, and now, I can try only to rectify the damage.
When Vladimir Lupei slaughtered our dam, my only thought was to protect you. So, I begged the only authority higher than Aurelia for protection. I made my plea to our Queen. Would things have been different if our dam had told us that she had lowered her status in the Pack because she knew that you and I had to the potential to lead? Our dam also tried to protect us, but she chose a different method and one which, ultimately, failed.
Regardless, she didn’t tell us. We didn’t realise that she had tried to protect us, in the hope that we would overthrow Aurelia when we reached maturity. Instead, I made my plea to the Queen, and she accepted the offer of my service in return for protecting you. Again, 20/20 vision is wonderful. Over the time I have served the Queen, I know that she changes the truth to suit herself. After all, she is, or was, the Queen of Hell. She is hardly going to be a ‘pleasant’ person. She needed me, though, and thus we had an agreement. Whether she has maintained her end of the deal is something, at the moment, I will not know. The Queen had realised that she needed a change in the way that the Anghelescu Pack was being led. My plea to her, along with the incipient powers that I had within me, were a gift at just the right time.
Training. Wonderful word. It covers a multitude of sins. Again, part of the way that the Queen decided to change the status quo was how she prepared her Alpha Designate for the inevitable battle. I needed to learn to fight in ways that my enemies would not expect. So she ‘recruited’ some specialists. Humans have a long history of fighting, considering how long their species has been around, it could be argued that this was their key life skill. Where there is fighting, there are those who will find ways of achieving their goal, regardless of what stands in their way. These were the humans that the Queen recruited to be my trainers. Since I have become Alpha, the common term for the type that she would recruit were those involved in Black Ops, ‘missions’ which the human hierarchy would never admit to having authorised. But in times past, it was the sadists, the murderers, the serial killers, the ones who took pleasure in causing pain, and the ones who knew how to kill both efficiently, and with the maximum amount of blood energy released for the Queen’s gratification. It was the humans who glorified in slaughter that the Queen felt would provide the best grounding in how to fight in an unpredictable manner, and it was to these ‘trainers’ that I was given, with their brief being to make me a better fighter. And, learn I did. I would return topside bruised, bloody, not always victorious, but with the knowledge of how that would change the next time my trainer tried that particular stunt. Their advantage was, they believed, that they were already dead. What else could happen to them? Quite a lot as it transpired, such that we had a mutual hatred society. I knew that training was necessary, and let’s face it, their methods meant that I came up with a lot of unexpected ways to use my abilities, some direct and some indirect. All of them were intended to ensure that I won.
But, I move ahead of myself. My human ghost-writer has given me a list of questions, which are supposed to help explain my origins, motives and the rationale that makes me what and who I am. I don’t seek the understanding or forgiveness of others for what I am, or who I am. I am a creature of the Dark. I am, as humans would say, evil through and through, and I don’t have a problem with it. But, I am also the Alpha of the Anghelescu Pack, a Hellhound Pack, and it will always remain that there are two things which are of importance to me: my sister, Roxana and my Pack. The rest I will happily send to our Queen for our pleasure. I believe the human term is that they can go to Hell. Then again, why should they enjoy the pleasure of a visit to my homeland, when necessity keeps me topside?
I am what I am. I am spawned from what the human race calls Hell. I am born of the blood of the Huntsman. I am not some shape-shifter, living as a human, and occasionally letting myself indulge my animal side. I am Hellhound, and to make my life topside easier, I have chosen to adopt a human form.
My brethren and I were created when the Huntsman took our Queen as his bride. She bore him an heir, since there must always be an heir to the Huntsman. As a show of his gratitude to her for this, he created her own Pack of Hounds, who, like his own, would run with the Hunt, but we remained loyal to her, with our primary duty to protect her, whilst the Heir was protected by his own Lupei Pack. What can I say? The Lupei Pack screwed the pooch big time, as humans would say. During the annual Hunt, somehow the Heir fell and died. Our Queen was distraught. Her child was lost to her. The Master was distraught, because now there was no Heir. When he found that our Queen could not provide him with a second Heir, he put her to one side, taking instead a human whom had caught his eye and thus began the cycle of replacing his Queen, constantly searching for one who would bear him a live heir. Our Queen was banished. We followed our Queen, and chose exile, but in order to continue to feed her the human scum that she needed, we were ordered to make our home topside, and to find ways to ensure that we would feed the souls to her that she needed, now that she could no longer
take her pleasure from victims of the Hunt.
Thus, the Anghelescu Wolves were born. We are not wolves, and we are not shape-shifters, as I have said. We are Hellhounds, and would enjoy nothing more than the thrill of running with the Hunt. But this is not to be. To run with the Hunt would mean that we would associate with the human who supplanted our Queen. Time has shown me that it is easier for humans to see a pack of wolves that it is for them to understand seeing me and mine in our true form. So, for the sake of efficiency, those are the forms I will use in the main. Don’t misunderstand me. My Pack and I enjoy running as wolves, since we are seen as the epitome of ‘wild’ and by and large, we are left to our own devices by humans. It is only in settled areas where we are seen as a problem. Explain to me why I would want to eat a domesticated animal instead of a wild animal who has provided me with the thrill of the chase. No? Well, don’t worry, as the majority of the anti-wolf lobby couldn’t understand that one either.
The Lupei Pack followed us topside, fleeing from the Master’s wrath, since, after all, they had been responsible for protecting the Heir. His fury was great, and, acting wisely as even they could, they fled in the face of that wrath. They chose to a deserted part of the world, which in time would become known as Louisiana, since their primary goal was to hide from the Master.
In the meantime, the Anghelescu Pack fled to what was called Europe, and specifically, the mountains. Europeans were such a wonderfully warlike race, mostly down to religious differences. The old Pagan religions of the Romans and the Germanic tribes had faded into the mists of time, and with them, the power of the Master and the Hunt faded in human minds. Christianity and the word of the Prophet were the dominant faiths. Perish the thought that they might actually agree. Perish the thought indeed, because it would have meant that the Anghelescu Pack, once I became Alpha, would have not had the success that it did. We knew we had to fit in with the human world, so we taught ourselves to work the land, to grow food, to appear no different from our neighbours. We became the bread makers, we became wine makers, ensuring that our work was considered amongst the best. Ours were the foods that would form the wedding feasts of those humans living around us. We became the antithesis of Hellhounds. Who would think to look for creatures of the dark in a flour mill or tending vines on the hill side?
In more recent years, since the last of the great wars fought on European soil, I have moved my Pack from Europe to the Northern American continent. Again we chose to settle in the mountains, but this time, in upstate New York. This time our business endeavours took a different turn, and we turned our mechanical skills, learned over the war as we endeavoured to keep our businesses running, to motorbikes, that symbol of the disenfranchised and the modern outlaw, just the sort whose anger and rage would feed us as Hellhounds. We also developed a focus on another little weakness of the humans of this country in which we found ourselves: their declared right to bear arms. No problem. We established one of the largest gun dealerships in the area, catering for everything from the paranoid who had to carry a gun always, to the leisure hunter. Whether you wanted a rifle to take part in winter biathlon competitions, or whether you wanted something to go duck hunting: Anghelescu Enterprises would supply you with your requirements. But all this did not provide her with the souls that she needed. For that, my Pack and I had to hunt further afield, but find those souls we did. Thus, ironically, even as the Master’s power waned, our Queen retained her strength, and through her, as her Alpha, I grew in my own abilities.
In my human form, those around me will look at me and describe me as handsome. In human terms I stand over 6ft 5in tall, with shoulder-length black hair, the mark of the Anghelescu Pack. My build is lean. I believe the term is ‘whipcord’, as a result of constantly training myself in the various fighting disciplines which I favour. Generally, I hide my build, but equally, when I relax with my Pack, I don’t hide. I have seen females react often enough in our bar of an evening to know that my form is appealing. I may not be bulky, but I have what they want. I swim regularly, unsurprising when one considers the importance of water in what I am and can do with it. Humans look at me, at the large motorbikes which I favour as my mode of transport, and they can’t understand why a ‘skinny pretty boy’ can manage that size of machine. Maybe they should believe what they see before their own eyes. The bike means that I tend to wear leather a lot. The comfort of well-fitted leathers can’t be denied when riding, and I see no reason why I should not take pleasure in what I wear. Similarly, I choose to wear natural fabrics. Again, why should I not enjoy the pleasurable feel of silk or fine cotton on my skin? Humans, with their ridiculous moral qualms may struggle with this, but I am what I am. Without a doubt, humans would look at the relatively young appearance of the CEO of Anghelescu Enterprises and see a handsome and physically fit individual, who knew his business, having learned from his father, and his father before him. Yes, I feel like yawning each time I hear that. These humans take a pathetic delight in being able to trace themselves back more than a paltry hundred years. Perhaps it is because this land of America is still so young, relatively speaking, and certainly in comparison to the civilisations of Europe. So, being able to say that the Anghelescu family could trace their origins to the Middle Ages and before, it added to the credence of our story, and the reason for our extensive skills in what we did.
I take pleasure in a lot of things: exercising my powers over water and air. Using the ability over fire which is only natural to a creature of Hell, also brings pleasure. Hearing the screams of humans as they perish in the flames of explosions that are an unfortunate, for them, side-effect of my powers is another thing to bring me pleasure. This world has too many of the pond scum. I could kill hundreds each day, and it would still be no different to what they do to their own species over concepts such as ‘politics’ and ‘religion’. I take pleasure, as I have said, in riding a motorbike. I take pleasure in the fact that my sister, Roxana, has grown into a strong and healthy Hound, with her own set of powers which compliment my own. I enjoy the thrill of the hunt and the flash of fear from my prey at the moment of the kill, when they realise what is that will be killing them. I enjoy screwing with the fragile psyche that so many humans have, which they try to hide behind bravado, but yet, somehow, they fail, enabling me to read them like an open book. I know that the businesses that I run topside have elements that are considered to be against human law, but for me, I service a need. Humans, the weak creatures that they are, become addicted to artificial means of achieving their pleasures. I am catering to their requirements, be it alcohol, or other substances. That my method of supply means that they become addicted that much faster is simply good business practice on my part. As time has progressed, other Hellhound Packs have moved topside, realising that this was the only way they could continue to feed their deposed Queens, and the ‘competition’ increased. Some would like to claim that they would like to take the moral high ground, and say that they don’t regard humans as disposable in the way that I do. But, I would respond that at least I am honest about how I feel about this far too numerous species.
Why did I go to the trouble of making myself appealing to the humans? Had I allowed my human form to be unappealing, it would have been far more difficult to achieve anything in this world of pond-scum humans. So, to do what I must for my Pack, I have shaped my human form into something that they see as normal, and appealing. Then they wonder why I hold them in such low regard? There are some who seem to have a perspective that if something is too good to be true, it probably is. They treat me with perhaps more caution, but when it matters, my lean, tall figure, which hides the whipcord muscle, coupled with my looks means that they eventually agree with what I want them to do. If they don’t, it is not a problem. I will kill them. See, not a problem anymore.
So, why do I feel qualified to make such a judgement over humans? I have been walking this world of humans for a long time. They measure their all too short lives in decades, and seem to think that reaching
their seventh or eighth decade and maintaining their health is a good thing. I suppose when that is all the time you have, it seems like a reasonable achievement. However, when you are a species which will continue to outlive them on this world, a mere eighty years is nothing. In the time I have walked this world, I have seen what the species of human have done to themselves and to each other. The bad? That outweighs the good by a considerable margin. I use their definitions of bad and good in that. Our species has walked this world when humans first worked out written and printed communication, and the power that the written word could have on those who could not understand it. We have seen religions rise and fall. We have seen humans live their lives out grubbing in the soil for their pathetic existence, and the use of religion to convince themselves that there must be something better after they die, and their pathetic corpses rot. We have seen empires rise and fall. I have seen wars and levels of aggression that make my heart sing, for the souls that such violence generates for my Queen.
Occasionally, I have seen purity. I have seen humans who try to make the lives of others better for no reason and certainly for no reward. Yet, their deeds are outweighed by the deeds of those who claim to be trying to make the lives of ‘benighted’ souls better. Only it is better by their definitions. Did that native in the jungle really need to know about the world outside? I doubt he needed to know about the diseases that these strangers brought to them; diseases which they had no chance of fighting, and thus, caused them to die in their hundreds, if not thousands. Without a doubt, greed is one of the driving factors of this human species. Wanting what others have. Doesn’t matter if that is land, possessions, a husband or a wife or all of the above things. In the time I have been walking this world of humans, it strikes me as that is the thing that makes them stand out. Well, that and aggression.
