“Oh, no,” Reitz laughed. “My father isn’t dead. He serves another vampire within Michael’s coven now. He is in Italy at the moment with Michael’s daughter.”
Geoffrey jerked at the mention of a daughter. It shouldn’t have been a strange concept. Vampires could procreate as easily as anyone, but to hear that Michael had a family seemed to humanize him a little more than he was comfortable with.
The sudden motion of the blade in his hand cut into his cheek and he hissed at the pain. Reitz quickly grabbed for a handkerchief and handed it to his new traveling companion. Geoffrey took it and cleaned away the blood. The cut healed quickly enough and for once, he was thankful that he didn’t have to hide his supernatural abilities from human eyes.
“I was just about to tell Reitz all about your prolific travels,” Michael said. “But, now that you’re here, perhaps you can tell him yourself.”
The young man turned with a smile to the two werewolves. “Yes, please. Michael and I have been to a great many places, but is it true you two have journeyed to the orient?”
Geoffrey gave a sly smile to his brother, cueing him to take the lead in this conversation as he continued to scrape away the years of hair growth.
“We have,” Hugo proclaimed with pride. “The orient, India, Africa, Italy, Spain, Norway. We’ve been in Russia for five years and if we can’t find what we’re looking for, we plan to journey to the New World next.”
Reitz’s blue eyes went wide. “Truly? Incredible. Michael said you’re looking for the White Wolf of Peace, just as we are.”
Hugo gave him a shrug. “Only recently. We’ve been collecting fables and legends about our kind from every culture and religion of the world. We go to each country and visit small towns and villages. If a family is kind enough to give us food and a place to stay, we ask them about the local legends.”
“Fascinating,” Reitz said. “How long have you been collecting these stories?”
Hugo pursed his lips in thought, then looked to his elder brother. “Would you say it’s been two-hundred and… fifty? No, two-hundred and sixty years.”
Geoffrey flung some locks of the trimmed beard into the grass. “I believe it’s been two hundred and eighty years, give or take a few.”
If it were possible for Reitz’s eyes to widen any more, they would have popped out of his sockets by now. “You must age similar to Michael.”
Geoffrey assessed the vampire. If he were werewolf, he would easily be placed around their ages. “Pray, how old are you?” he asked as he inspected some of his handiwork in the mirror.
Without missing a beat, Michael replied, “I was born in 1158.”
Now it was Hugo’s turn to stare in wonder. “No, you age much slower than we do. You don’t appear a day over thirty.”
Michael grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What made you decide to hunt down these stories?” Reitz asked, obviously enraptured by the idea of a scholarly werewolf.
Geoffrey wiped the flat ends of the blade against his thigh. “At first, we were looking for our father. Then, it turned into a quest for knowledge. We had no one to guide us in our youth, so we had to figure it out for ourselves. Seeking out those of our own kind seemed the easiest way.”
Michael’s brows furrowed with concern. “You had no one to teach you?”
Hugo gave a huff and Geoffrey knew he was about to start in on his righteous speech. “Our father left us when we were barely ten years old, several years before we turned. Our mother knew what we would become, but she was too distraught over our father’s disappearance to show us anything. She died of a broken heart. When we turned, we tried to find him, but had to settle for a quick lesson taught to us by an alpha in Scotland.”
The vampire nodded. “I understand, you must have had a difficult childhood.”
Geoffrey would have scolded Hugo for his hypocritical slander of their father. His younger brother was almost no better, but at least they had tried to find Hugo’s son around the time he came of age.
If their mission allowed it, Geoffrey would have gladly let him and his brother settle down in Warminster so they could be with the boy when he grew up. Yet, if they were to complete their catalogue of shifter myths, they couldn’t stay in England any longer. Not only that, but Martha didn’t even know what they were. Hugo never had the courage to tell her and Geoffrey didn’t think it was his place. With the rising hysteria of witches, everything told them that it was their time to move on from England, with or without the boy.
When they came back to England with the intent to mentor Darren, all they found were the remains of a farmhouse and none of the townspeople would even speak the name of the widow who stayed there with her bastard son. If listening to the myths and legends of the world had taught him anything, it was that people could be downright superstitious about the silliest things.
Their father, on the other hand, had no excuse for his abandoning Geoffrey and Hugo, and he didn’t even try to return to them. He could be dead and buried somewhere for all they knew. Hugo certainly didn’t care.
“I’ve heard you never joined a pack?” Michael continued.
Geoffrey shook his head. “No. We never felt the need and our journeys don’t allow us to stay in one place for very long. Although, we have stayed with packs for a short time in the past.”
“I know of a werewolf who doesn’t belong to a pack either and we haven’t heard from him in some time. Perhaps you know him? His name is Tor, an Egyptian.” Michael took on a certain eagerness, as if dearly hoping that one of the brothers knew of the werewolf’s whereabouts.
“We’ve been to Egypt,” Hugo said, “but we didn’t come across any of our kind by that name.” He took the mirror from his elder brother’s hand to cut out the shoddy job he’d done to his beard with only his claws to aid him. Without a word, Geoffrey passed him the razor and he took it to clean up the jagged bits. So much for intimidating their new acquaintances.
“He hasn’t been in Egypt in about seventy years,” Michael said, leaning his forearms on his knees. “The last we knew, he was sailing to India with a family friend who was also an explorer.”
“We haven’t been to India in over a century,” Geoffrey replied. “I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard of your friend.”
Michael’s shoulders sagged and nodded. “Very well. My daughter will be disappointed, but I fear that he may have been lost at sea. She still hopes that he is alive, but I do not share in it.”
Geoffrey ran his hands over the rough stubble on his jaw, finding it strange to feel so much skin beneath the coarse hair. If things progressed in the way he hoped, he would be able to keep his beard this short for plenty more years to come.
“When do we leave for the Kremlin?” he finally asked, ready to get this business over with. They had spent longer time in a country before, but the last five years had proved to be more than a little tedious. Russia was a big country and it had taken them this long just to cover the western portion.
“As soon as you are ready,” Michael replied heartily. “We have the rest of the night to travel and we should be able to sneak inside before daybreak.”
Geoffrey had almost forgotten the vampire’s limitations. The brothers were used to traveling at all hours of the day or night, whatever it took to get to where they needed to go. Michael and Reitz were restricted to the darkness and he inwardly cringed at all the time they would be losing. Yet, if they stuck to their agreement, they would only have to stay with Michael just long enough to find where the White Wolf roamed. Then, they would leave the vampire and blood servant behind.
Chapter Two
The inside of the Kremlin palace was beyond stunning. Even in the dim light of the torches, the gold embellishments and brilliantly colored murals that covered the walls reflected the candlelight throughout. The hard soles of their shoes rapped against the polished floors as they made their way through corridors and lavish chambers. The abundant amount of time and detailed craftsma
nship that must have gone into creating such a glorious, unique masterpiece baffled Hugo’s mind. It took more than a little restraint to keep himself from slowing to a stop just to admire the beauty of the palace. The intricate patterns alone were dazzling.
Ahead of him, Geoffrey and the vampire led the way. Guards and other royal delegates paid them absolutely no mind, as if they weren’t simply waltzing through the private rooms of the tsar’s magnificent home. They might as well have been invisible, just like when he and his brother escaped the angry mob in the village.
Despite his awe and reverence for the architecture that was unlike anything he had ever seen before in Europe, Hugo still felt a sliver of unease in his gut. His wolf loathed Michael’s presence and wanted nothing more than to run at the sight of him. He didn’t trust the vampire, not as explicitly as his brother did. It was a means to an end, nothing more. Yet, after their long talk around the fire, Hugo was inclined to believe his brother was warming up to the blood sucker. Reitz might have been a good enough fellow, but Michael would take much longer to earn his respect.
“What exactly are you doing to make them look the other way?” Geoffrey asked as they passed through another doorway as casually as if they owned the palace. Hugo snapped just inches from the nose of one of the guards standing beside the threshold and he didn’t even flinch.
“I am manipulating their minds to ignore us,” the vampire replied. “They don’t see anything we’re doing. It’s the same technique I used to mask your escape in the village.”
“So, how do we know you’re not manipulating our minds?” Hugo questioned. Geoffrey shot him a scathing look, the same one that he always gave when he wanted his brother to behave himself.
“I never use my abilities against a friend,” Michael replied as he passed a smile over his shoulder to the two werewolves. “Besides, if I really wanted to manipulate your minds, you would have trusted me more readily. Since you still don’t, you know that I’m not forcing my will upon you.”
The vampire’s logic seemed sound, but Hugo would continually question his own thoughts as long as they were close. He had to hold on to his brother’s promise that as soon as they knew where the White Wolf was, they would leave Michael and Reitz. Only then would he be at ease again.
“You seem to know where you’re going,” Geoffrey commented as they took another twisting turn down a corridor half hidden behind a towering column.
“I reached into the memories of one of the guards on our way in and found where the library is hidden. Very few people outside of the Kremlin staff know anything about the archives.”
Geoffrey nodded in approval, seeming to openly accept that Michael could simply read the minds of anyone he wished. Hugo, on the other hand, could feel the sweat bead on the back of his neck. What else did Michael know about them that he wasn’t willing to admit? Obviously, the vampire knew that he was not trusted so eagerly, but what more did he see?
If it was possible for Hugo to have the discipline to shut his mind like a steel trap, he would have.
They came to a modest wooden door reinforced with heavy metal plating, held in place by sawdered rivets. A thick bar, locked in place by a hefty padlock blocked their way. Michael examined the lock and then shook his head in dismay. “This is too much for me. Would one of you care to try?”
Hugo stepped forward, gripped the lock in his hand and ripped it clean from the loop. Michael thanked him and opened the door, but Geoffrey shot him another reprimanding look. His brother knew all too well that he did it as a show of force. However, his efforts to intimidate the vampire were for nothing.
Down a few flights of narrow stairs, they descended beneath the Kremlin, encountering not a bit of opposition. With no light or torches to guide their way, all three men had to use their preternatural vision to see their way down the stone steps.
Hugo stopped in his tracks when he detected a new, but familiar scent. It was the same pungent sulfur smell that seared his nostrils when they first met Michael, but there was a slight difference that he couldn’t quite distinguish. They were not alone in the darkness.
Almost as soon as the new odor registered with Geoffrey as well, they were ambushed. A streak of something dark and fast blurred toward them. Michael was the first to face it and he reacted as calmly as if the charging threat were nothing more than a moth or darting animal.
He snatched at the blur and pinned it to the wall. Only then could they make out that the creature attacking them was a man, clad in the customary uniform of a Kremlin guard. Only, the fabric looked to be torn and stained by years of neglect. His eyes, however, did not belong to any normal man. They glowed a bright red that would have been clearly visible in the light, even without their keen senses.
The vampire snarled, baring his fangs at his captor. Michael managed to hold him at bay, but neither Geoffrey nor Hugo would dare approach. The guard pinned to the wall appeared much younger, probably a boy not far out of his teen years. His jet black hair was pulled back from his face and the sharp features of his nose and chin might have made him an attractive man.
A few long moments passed before Michael looked to the brothers, breaking his concentrated stare. “He needs to feed.”
Hugo was the first to back away up the steps. Geoffrey only gave him a wary look. “Feed?”
Michael nodded. “I can see it in his mind. He’s been kept down here for too long by himself. He’s starving. Perhaps that’s why the door was locked that way.”
“You can’t be serious!” Hugo cried, his voice echoing against the brick walls that closed in on both sides.
“Terribly serious,” Michael replied with a troubled look. “He cannot drink my blood, but even if Reitz were here, I wouldn’t want to risk his life. This vampire might take too much blood by accident and kill a human. I assure you no harm will come to either of you… Please?” It was clear he cared for this vampire, perhaps as much as either of them would care for one of their kind if they came to find one suffering in this way. That didn’t convince Hugo.
The two werewolves looked to one another, but Geoffrey was the first to slip off his coat and roll up the sleeve of his shirt.
“Brother, you can’t do this,” Hugo hissed, ready to jump in and intercept if he needed.
“Short of killing him, we aren’t going to get past any other way.”
“Then kill him!” Hugo exclaimed. “I’ll do it myself if neither of you can.”
Michael’s lips curled up and the vampire hissed at him. As if he had been struck in the chest by the dominance of an alpha, Hugo was stunned into silence, neither could he move. All he could do was watch Geoffrey approach the wild vampire and offer out his arm.
With Michael still in full control, he allowed the guard to feed on his brother’s blood. Fangs dug deep into his flesh. Geoffrey turned his head away so he didn’t have to look, but Hugo saw no betrayal of pain or discomfort.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said to assure his younger brother. “Certainly an odd sensation, though.”
“Our saliva numbs the skin when we feed,” Michael said, his eyes fixed on the scene to ensure that nothing went awry.
Hugo found the will to move closer, slowly stepping down the steps until he could see the vampire’s mouth latched onto his brother’s arm. A dribble of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and slid over the curve of Geoffrey’s wrist.
There weren’t many things that could make his stomach turn, but the sight of the vampire’s hungry, wide-eyed stare made Hugo almost retch. Even his wolf cringed at the sight and urged him to continue on toward the library. His bond with his brother was stronger than any primal need to flee from the barbaric scene so Hugo stayed. He forced himself to watch the feeding, glancing to his brother’s face to make sure that he was still well. Besides a slight loss of color in his complexion, Geoffrey seemed to be holding up just fine.
The tension in the vampire ebbed away and his eyes were no longer red, but a deep brown hue. Michael eased his new pet of
f Geoffrey’s arm and Hugo tugged his brother away before he could be seized again.
The vampire nearly crumbled to the floor with relief and Michael tended to his slightly weakened condition.
“Will he be all right?” Geoffrey asked as he wiped away the excess blood on his skin.
“He should be. He just needs a moment to recover. Go on ahead to the library and we will catch up.”
“We?” Hugo snapped.
Michael shot him a displeased look. “Yes. Anton will be joining us.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. The vampire guard has a name now. “I presume you found that out from his mind?”
“Through the hunger and mangled thoughts, yes. I’ll let him make the formal introductions once he’s stronger. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
Geoffrey and Hugo hurried down the corridor.
“I can’t believe you let that thing bite you,” Hugo murmured under his breath once they were a good distance away.
“What other choice did I have?” Geoffrey replied. “He would have died or killed us. At least Michael was there.”
There was no amount of reasoning that would let Hugo believe there was anything good about this trip. If it weren’t for Michael, they wouldn’t have needed to be there at all.
“Let’s just get this over with…” His last words trailed off as they arrived at the expansive library. The corridor opened up into the high-ceiling chamber. Bookshelves and mountains of scrolls lined the walls. Tables and chairs that didn’t look stable in the least, took up the floor in the center of the room. The musty smell of dust clogged his nostrils, rivaling the stench of the vampire who had lived between these walls for God only knew how long.
Hugo’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Russia was certainly a backward, medieval country. The innovations in style, art, and architecture hadn’t made its way this far to the east. When he thought of a library, he suspected a few bookcases and maybe some royal records, but nothing like this mess. Surrounded by such knowledge, he wondered how they would ever find anything about the White Wolf.
The Prophecy (A Legacy Series Novella) (The Legacy Series Book 4) Page 2
