His friend looked at him sadly but smiled. It was a weak smile but a smile. “You deserve to be a bit selfish, Evan. God knows you’ve never done anything remotely selfish before. But I have to tell you, taking on this assignment doesn’t seem very selfish to me. It seems damned well noble and foolhardy.” Seth looked away from him and frowned. “How will they welcome you, Evan? If you do find one of these mysterious packs, how will they welcome you?”
“I’m not sure, Seth. I’m not sure.”
Circle of Wolves
Chapter Two
The Emissary
Following lead after lead provided by his master had gotten him nowhere. When he did chance across one of his kind it was a lone forsaken soul prowling in the shadows. And they had been his kind—an infected human—what he sought was something more.
Twice now he had gotten close. Close to the ones who called themselves “family” and seemed to band together in packs. He’d gotten close enough to believe they were more than a myth but not close enough to actually speak to one. Each encounter had led him further and further into Eastern Europe. At times he stopped to wonder if he was being toyed with. But even if he was, what choice did he have but to keep going?
Even as one of the gifted it had been difficult to slip into areas fraught with violence, raids of ethnic cleansing, prejudice, poverty and suspicion. He had been stunned to find out that there were plenty of gifted in this area who agreed with the non-gifted authorities, especially about the influence of foreign mages and in particular those asking questions about werewolves.
He wasn’t sure where he actually was at the moment. The town was little more than a few houses scattered near a river that disappeared behind a rising slope. He had been in Romania near the border with Hungary and the Ukraine. Even with the roadblocks and patrols, he wasn’t sure if he had crossed over. He hoped he hadn’t crossed into the Ukraine. He had been warned they had a history of not liking strange gifted poking around. From the stories it was clear they had some nasty ways of dealing with those they found.
He’d been surprised to find the small inn in such a remote area but pleased. It was dark and relatively quiet. His welcome here had been less than warm. The man behind the bar had looked narrowly at Evan before agreeing to serve him. He’d been told in plain terms that strangers were not wanted. An odd attitude for an innkeeper to have. Only a great deal of money changing hands had convinced the man to rent him a room for the night. He had paid far too much for what was certainly not a promising prospect but the idea of sleeping outdoors again was not appealing with the darkening sky.
The sun was setting and Evan was nursing a cup of tea that the owner had grudgingly brought him. The man had sniffed at him indignantly when he had asked for coffee. “Coffee? Where do you think you are? Do you know how much it costs to import coffee? We have tea. Not that there is much call for that among real men.” He had to admit he’d have been better off ordering something stronger but the potion he had slipped into his cup didn’t mix well with alcohol. He also had to admit to a less than adventurous streak when it came to what most people euphemistically called “drinks”. And he was fairly certain whatever “real men” drank around here was cooked up in someone’s bathtub. He’d pass.
It had taken him two days to brew the Babel Potion before he left. It made it possible for him to understand and speak any language he ran across. It was a basic potion they had all learned at the master’s knee.
“You must be proficient at the creation of this one,” Evan had been told firmly by his teacher. “The dark creatures we are sworn to contain do not converse any more easily with the gifted than with the non-gifted. Further, you never know when you might be called to speak at conclave and if you cannot prepare this potion correctly, you will lose face.”
Evan sat there sipping at his tea thinking about his master. Lawrence Ryder had taken Evan into his home at a time when most would have spurned him. His parents had heard of Ryder through a werewolf who wandered in and out of their lives from time to time in Evan’s youth. He’d given them insight into handling a young werewolf. The man would simply show up one day when the Foresters needed help and slip away just as mysteriously. One day he told them about Ryder. How he had accepted another boy who bore strong links to dark creatures into his home as an apprentice. They had spoken to him about Evan and to their surprise this man—the only person they had ever told about Evan’s tragic history—had accepted him immediately. He had not even sought an interview with the boy, nor tested him. His parents remarked later that they should have asked questions but that they chose not to because they felt themselves fortunate. They had abandoned their circle to keep his disability hidden. They had left the mage world and buried themselves in normal society and academia.
Evan still lived and worked in his master’s house. He worked with the children who had been accepted as apprentices to the circle, serving as their tutor in non-magical academics. The six children who were training with them at present could one day stand as seconds for himself and his friends. It was with this task his master had entrusted him. And he had been right to do so. Evan took to teaching like a fish to water. He loved the looks on the faces of the children and was certain he learned as much from their questions as they learned from his answers. He loved knowing he had a place to go home to when he finished this task, a place he was liked, admired and respected. Especially after what he’d seen on this trip, the lives of those like him had chilled his blood.
He heard the raucous laughter before the door opened. Three young men entered the inn like bulls bursting from a pen. Evan saw the other occupants move out of the way giving these men a wide berth. The man at the head of the trio banged a fist on the bar. “Move it old man! Three for now, three for later and keep them coming.” He had no need it seemed, to specify three of what as the owner rushed to fill the order.
The brash man had thick dark brown hair and when he turned to face Evan, the equally dark brown eyes were narrowed. He gave an exaggerated sniff and smiled at Evan in a way that bared his teeth.
Evan’s spine stiffened automatically. He didn’t need the young man’s posturing to know what he had known the minute the door opened. These three were like him. They were werewolves. There was a difference about their scent that he understood now, a scent that said they weren’t like him entirely. They were members of the “family”.
“Good God, Karl, you’ll serve any manner of filth in this place, won’t you?” The man’s words were directed to the owner but his eyes never left Evan.
“Do you want me to make him go, sir? I was hesitant to serve his kind but he has paid well. Still, we will toss him bag and baggage on your word, Master Alexi.”
Evan’s eyes darted to the innkeeper. The older man caught the look and quickly lowered his eyes, walking away. The old man knew. He knew exactly what these men were and what’s more he knew what Evan was.
“Now we wouldn’t want to cause you to lose money, would we boys?” he addressed the men who flanked him. “Besides, he does seem a higher class of filth.” He turned to wink at the man on his left. “He’s probably one of those annoying Americans out to save us all from oppression and poverty.” He walked over to stand over Evan. “Or are you here searching for your roots. Looking for granddad’s old stomping grounds, are you?”
“Actually, no.” Evan held the young man’s gaze.
“A Brit!” The brown eyes danced with mirth. “Delicious. Perfect. There’s nothing more enjoyable than a stiff upper lip trying to understand his more ‘animal’ nature.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. He was surprised the man had noticed the accent that had all but been erased from his voice over the years of living in the United States. “Actually, no.”
The man looked deeply amused. “Is that all you can say? Perhaps it’s all of our little language you know.” He turned to his companions. “What do you say? Does he understand us? Should we insult his mother and find out?”
“That would not b
e advisable,” Evan leaned back in his chair casually and smiled. “Be assured, I understand you perfectly.”
“He must be the one.” The smaller man to Alexi’s right side spoke up.
“Just figure that out did you?” Alexi snarled back at him.
The man blushed and lowered his chin to look at the floor. Evan didn’t speak but sat looking calmly up at the young men. He had known that he couldn’t keep his secret long. A foreigner wandering about asking questions as he had been, it was bound to get back to those he was looking for. The darker man watched the passive face below him. A sudden smile broke his face.
“Karl. Bring an extra glass for our new pup-eating friend.”
Evan stiffened at the expression. He didn’t understand it but he knew there was no way it was a compliment.
“Thank you, but no.” Evan refused the offer.
“Come now, you’ve searched all over Europe for us and you won’t even have a drink with us?” Alexi turned the chair next to Evan around and threw one long leg over it. Leaning on the back of the chair he looked at Evan with interest. “You don’t often see one of your kind who’s one of them. They’re usually smart enough to stay away from us. Looks like you’re a slow learner who didn’t learn his lesson the first time.”
Evan saw no need to prevaricate. “As I was only a bit more than a toddler at the time, perhaps you are correct. I didn’t learn my lesson.” He looked at the dark-eyed man. “My name is…”
“Yeah, we know what your name is, Evan Forester.” Alexi motioned to his companions to sit. “If you’d planned on keeping it a secret I must say you did a poor job of it. You must have told half of Europe your name.” Karl arrived with drinks.
Alexi placed one in front of Evan and smiled. “Now, you have my undivided attention. What exactly do you want, Evan Forester? Why are you looking for us?”
Evan pushed the drink aside. “I wasn’t aware I was looking for you. But then, I don’t know who you are.”
The brown eyes narrowed again and then reopened as he shrugged carelessly, “Alexi Gregoravitch.” No hand was offered but Evan hadn’t been expecting it to be. Gregoravitch. It was the name he was looking for. He had found the heart of the “family”.
The man before him was acting the stereotypical wolf-man, internalizing behaviors of the wolf into his actions. His eyes challenged Evan for dominance, his posture pressing his advantage and trying to force Evan into a more submissive role. Evan let him—to a point. If he challenged this man, he could end up back at square one. If he drew back too far, he might be deemed unworthy of any respect and that could be outright dangerous.
“I see. Then you’re not who I’m looking for. I have a message to deliver but not to you.” Evan picked up his cup and drained the last of the now cold liquid.
Alexi’s smile didn’t waver but his eyes darkened. “No kidding. Let me guess. You expect to deliver this message to Stanislav Gregoravitch personally?”
“That is my intent.”
Alexi laughed out loud. “Do you really think the Alpha of all Wolves would allow your kind to even enter his presence?”
“Why not?”
“Because of what you are, you idiot.” The humor was now gone. Alexi was looking at him down his aristocratic nose. “No curse wolf would be allowed beyond the gate, let alone in my father’s presence. No, my little friend, you’re not getting near him.”
“Curse wolf?”
Alexi laughed at him again. Evan felt his patience slipping. He was used to snips and jibes that were meant to be good-natured but often came out cutting and harsh. Years of friendship with Marcus McClendon, the circle’s fire mage who had all the spark and danger of his element, had taught him to deal with that. But the lack of concern for feelings, the true and utter disregard for how his words would be received, made this man’s comments different. He was speaking to him as if he was talking to a lower form of life. The way members of the conclave spoke about the dark creatures they believed they had the right to contain or destroy upon the slightest whim.
“You don’t know what a curse wolf is?” His companions were guffawing. When Evan ignored him, Alexi pushed one of the glasses toward him again. “Come now. Drink with us and maybe I’ll see what I can do.”
Evan knew there was no intention in this wolf-man to help him at all. Perhaps, though, he could get more information out of him. Evan picked up the glass hoping there’d been enough time for the Babel Potion to enter his blood before this alcohol hit his system. He watched the other men slam back the contents of the glass and followed suit.
And began to gag. Sputtering, he tried to ignore the uproar of laughter coming from the other men. Great, Evan, he thought, that was smooth.
“Sorry,” Alexi’s eyes glinted wickedly, “should have warned you. Karl makes this stuff in the back room. It’s not exactly safe for human consumption.” The eyes narrowed. “But then that’s not really a problem for some of us is it.”
Evan wasn’t sure he heard correctly. Whatever this stuff was he had just voluntarily poisoned himself with was churning in his stomach. Alexi pushed a second glass toward him and gave him his most charming smile. “Go on. The second one isn’t as bad. You might want to take this one more slowly, though.”
Unable to believe his own stupidity, Evan lifted the glass and swallowed. He didn’t gag this time or choke. Outwardly anyway. He put the empty glass down. “Look Alexi,” he saw the other man’s eyes widen and his mouth compress tightly. He had said something wrong but wasn’t sure what it was.
“That’s Mr. Gregoravitch to you, pup-eater,” growled one of the other men. His light eyes seemed lifeless and cold as they glared at Evan.
“It’s all right, Ivan,” Alexi’s smile was back. “I don’t think he understands the reality of things. Perhaps we simply need to explain a few things to him.”
“If by that you mean to beat me senseless hoping I’ll absorb the information from your fists, I assure you it won’t work and it might prove more difficult than you are imagining at the moment. It would be much more effective if one of you just told me what you’re talking about. What is a curse wolf? What do you mean my kind? And what is a pup-eater?” Evan felt the effects of the drink warming his veins.
Alexi laughed and shoved another drink in front of him. “I think we shall have a long talk, my new little friend.”
Circle of Wolves
Chapter Three
The Blood Wolf
Pain. Pain hammered at his head like a pickaxe. His skull had been split open and his brain had spilled out on the floor, he was sure of it. Lifting a hand he found his head intact but the movement made pain explode behind his eyes. Yep, spilled out on the floor and now someone was kicking it.
He tried to open his eyes. The light from the late morning sun stabbed like daggers at him and he shut them tight again. Snatches of increasingly confusing conversation floated in his memory. He’d found the “family”. He remembered the werewolf Alexi ordering round after round. He remembered fragments of information, stories, something about curses and blood tangled with his pain and was all the more confusing because it seemed to change languages on him.
Just as he adjusted to the red light visible through his lids, the sound of voices made him wince. Lying there with eyes still closed he heard a hushed Alexi speaking rapidly to someone in a language he didn’t understand. What little of the potion that had survived the alcohol from last night seemed to have worn off. A strange scent reached him. It was very similar to Alexi’s but with startling differences. It mixed a soft musky aroma with the scent of night blooming flowers. It was a woman’s scent. A woman who was like Alexi, like him. A female werewolf.
Evan’s eyes shot open and the reality of the blinding late morning light blurred his vision and caused the pounding in his head to increase. His sight cleared just in time to see the figure in a dark, hooded cloak slip out the door. He had missed her. The only female of his kind he had ever encountered and he had missed her. Alexi muttered
something Evan was certain was a curse and turned. Evan sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was still wearing the jeans he had been wearing last night but his shirt was crumpled up on the floor and didn’t smell too promising. He looked up and caught Alexi’s eye. He had a distinct recollection of the man condescendingly giving him permission to call him by that name.
Neither spoke for which Evan was relieved. Not only did the idea of speech feel out and out painful at the moment but he needed to take the potion again or he doubted he could have any conversation with this man at all. Evan tried to stand and thought better of it. Dropping back onto the bed he tried to focus on the room to find his bag.
Suddenly a glass was being shoved into his hand along with his black vinyl shaving kit. Evan lifted one weary eye to see Alexi step back. His face wore a dark scowl but it thankfully did not seem to be aimed at him. Evan sniffed the contents of the glass and found it to simply be water. He fumbled with the bag and managed to pull it open and retrieve one of the bottles from inside. He dropped five drops of the liquid into the water. Just before he drank he stopped and searched in his bag again. Alexi was now looking at him curiously.
Evan pulled out a small vial he had carried in the bag more from laziness, never bothering to remove it, than from any conscious thought. Evan added the contents to the water and drank it down. Marcus had gifted him with this on his twenty-first birthday. It was a tube of a feverfew and white willow bark potion to ward off headaches. He had never used it. Evan had been drunk only once in his life before last night. He had been seventeen and Seth and Marcus had announced they were going to brew their own whiskey. Like an idiot, after the two brewmasters had suffered no immediate severe effects from their own poison, he gamely joined them and had woken up sicker than he had ever been in his life.
Circle of Wolves Page 2
