“And how long do you estimate that journey will take?” I asked, steeling myself for the answer.
“It’s hard to say,” Bastien said. “I’ve not made the journey since I was a boy. I would estimate perhaps a day. It could be less or it could be more, depending on whether or not we meet with any obstacles along the way.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Okay,” I said, my voice deep with resignation. My choice was hardly a difficult one. There were no other options on the table other than to go with Bastien.
I couldn’t miss the flicker of relief in his gray eyes. At least someone has benefited from this turn of events. He would no longer be left on his own.
Grace
Day had broken by the time we reached the end of the woods and arrived at a mountain range.
“Oh, I know this place,” Micah said. “This is Blackhall territory. Maybe that man is a Blackhall.”
We moved toward a wooden door at the base of the mountain, yet the arrow on our device’s screen was not pointing there. Rather, it was pointing us toward the meadows on the other side of the range, beyond which lay more trees.
Micah sniffed around the door. It was a good thing that his sense of smell was unparalleled even in his human form. “They came right up to here. I’m guessing that they went inside. Though if the device is correct, they must have left again. Perhaps they just stopped for rest or refreshment.”
Where is that wolf taking her?
“Should we ask in here?” I suggested. “Someone in here may know where they’ve gone.”
“Yes,” Micah replied. “We should.”
“What do you know about the Blackhalls?” Vivienne asked.
Micah shrugged. “My pack never had many dealings with them. I hardly know anything, other than they’re strong, resistant wolves.”
Micah hammered his fists against the door. We stepped back, waiting with bated breath.
The door creaked slowly open to reveal an imposing bearded man dressed in the garb of a guard—his chest plated with armor, his belt loaded with blades.
“My name is Micah Kaelin,” Micah said, extending a hand.
The guard refused to shake it. He looked at him suspiciously, then at us. “What brings you here?” he asked Micah. “Who are these people?”
“We are searching for a human girl whom I believe might have been captured by a member of your pack. A werewolf stopped by here with a human, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Bastien Blackhall.”
Bastien. So that’s his name.
“Where did they go?” Xavier asked.
“I do not know,” the guard replied.
“There must be somebody here who knows,” Micah pressed. “I would be extremely grateful to you if you could allow us inside.”
The guard chewed on his lower lip, but then with a grunt, he nodded. “Very well. Perhaps our ruler would like to speak with you about the matter. I will see if His Highness will grant you a reception.”
We bundled inside the grand entrance area before the guard led us up a stone staircase, along winding corridors illuminated by torchlight, until we emerged in another vast chamber. It was some kind of royal court, based on the rich furnishings and two empty thrones on a raised platform at the other end.
“Wait here,” the guard said.
We wandered about the hall a bit, gazing around at the unusual tapestries. I found myself gravitating toward Heath as he approached the thrones.
Then the guard returned with another man, a tall, slim man with light blond hair, crested with a crown. He wore an earth-colored waistcoat, and other than his crown, he was not exactly dressed like royalty.
“I introduce to you our ruler, Detrius Blackhall,” the guard said with a flourish.
Detrius’ gaze was curious as it moved over us. “You have come to inquire about my cousin?” he asked.
“Bastien is your cousin?” Micah asked.
Detrius’ face darkened. “I hate to admit it, but yes. He is my scoundrel cousin.”
Scoundrel?
“He was here just a matter of hours ago with a human, correct?” Micah went on.
“You are correct,” Detrius said heavily. “Alas, he would not stay with us longer so we could talk sense into him. May I ask why you are so bent on finding them?”
“She is my daughter,” Vivienne breathed. “Talk sense into him about what?”
“About insisting he keep your daughter with him, even though she is clearly innocent. He has made her his concubine.”
A chill ran down my spine. Xavier and Vivienne blanched.
“Oh, no,” Vivienne raised a palm to her mouth. “No.”
“I suspected she might be the daughter of a hunter, and the last thing we need is for those men to come after us. He would not listen, and fled with her during the night.”
“We have to leave,” Xavier said. “Now.”
“Can you confirm which direction they went?” my grandmother asked.
“Across the meadows and into the woods,” Detrius replied. “If you find him, would you be so courteous as to drop back this way and inform me?”
“We can’t promise that,” Micah said. “But thank you for your help.”
“Understandably,” Detrius said. “You know, it could be a long journey. Can I equip you with some water? Food?”
We all looked at each other. More water would not be a bad idea. Heath and Jeriad drank a ton.
“We will accept water if you can provide it quickly,” my grandfather replied.
“Certainly,” he said, before addressing the guard: “Come.”
They left the room and the guard returned within ten minutes, carrying copper flasks of water. He handed them to us and we stuffed them into our backpacks.
“His Highness wishes to reiterate it would be wise to find your daughter as quickly as possible.”
Without another moment’s delay, the witches vanished us from the court.
Victoria
Bastien’s estimation of a day of travel turned out to be roughly accurate. It took us about a day and a half. We had a few scares along the way—all of them involving hearing the screech of a mutant, or spotting one flying overhead in the sky—but other than being forced to pause for a while here and then, we did not meet with any major obstacles.
Early in the evening the next day, we had arrived at another mountain range—a black mountain range. The home of the Northstones, according to Bastien. During the journey, he had explained to me a little about their history, and the real reason they were on friendly terms. It was because of an arranged marriage that had taken place several decades ago, between Bastien’s aunt on his mother’s side and one of the Northstone chiefs. Although the two packs remained living far away from one another, the marriage had made them allies, or as close to allies as wolves of separate tribes could get.
As we neared a large gaping tunnel at the base of the mountain—the entrance to the Northstone lair, I could only assume—I found myself contemplating how strange it was to have an entire realm populated by the same race and yet hardly any of them were even on speaking terms with each other. Perhaps this was one reason why the hunters had set up here first. Then again, I did not know if The Woodlands was the first place they had set up. It was simply the first one we had discovered.
Arriving outside the tunnel, Bastien set me down and requested I hand him another set of clothes. I did so, and he wandered off for about a minute to transform back into a man and dress. He returned to me in his fresh clothes and then lowered himself before me, allowing me to climb onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and then enveloped my long legs around his waist, wincing slightly as my ankle brushed against his torso. At least this was more comfortable than being on his wolf back.
We entered the tunnel, which wound in a semicircle through the base of the mountain. As we reached the end of it, we were met with a wide oaken door.
Bastien knocked, then stood back. I could tell by the pace of his br
eathing that he was nervous too.
The door swung open two minutes later, and standing in the spacious doorway was a werewolf—in his humanoid form—who, according to my estimation, was at least six foot seven in height. His body was as stout as a redwood’s trunk, his face wide and round. He had crinkled blond hair that trailed down the sides of his face and formed a goatee at his chin. His honeycomb-colored eyes bulged on seeing Bastien and me, but he didn’t look nearly as stunned as Bastien’s cousin had looked.
“Bastien!” the man cheered, a smile breaking out on his face.
“Uncle Sergius,” Bastien replied, managing to break out a smile of his own.
Oh, uncle. That must mean this is the guy who married Bastien’s aunt.
Sergius strode forward and drew Bastien in for an embrace.
“I’m glad you’re well and safe,” Bastien commented, as he gazed through the doorway over Sergius’ shoulder.
“Of course!” Sergius replied, still grinning. “And what a splendid surprise this is! My nephew, come to visit! Wait till Brucella finds out.” His eyes fell on me, his smile fading a little. “And who is this young… human?”
“She is my companion,” Bastien replied. He glanced at me furtively, as if to gauge how okay I was with that description, before looking back at his uncle. Companion was certainly a step up from concubine. It was comforting that Bastien trusted these people enough to tell them the truth. Hopefully we would not find ourselves doing another midnight leap from the top of this mountain. “I will tell you more about how we met,” Bastien went on, “as well as many other things we must discuss. I don’t know how much you are already aware of about the hunters?”
From the look on Sergius’ face, he didn’t know anything. He widened his eyes, his fair eyebrows raised practically to his hairline. “Hunters?” he asked, even as he realized that we were still standing in the doorway. Sergius took my hand, as well as the hand of Bastien, and pulled us both in through the door before closing it behind us and bolting it.
We had emerged into a small, bare entrance chamber that resembled more a cave than a room, nothing like the entrance hall of the Blackhalls’. Sergius led us through it, then up a winding stone staircase, until we emerged in a corridor that showed more signs of habitation. At least, there were woven carpets on the floor, and the walls were decorated with weapons—knives, daggers, swords, spears.
“I will take you to Brucella at once,” Sergius informed us. “And then you can recount to us all that you wish, and explain your reason for visiting so unexpectedly. We were just in the dining hall, finishing dinner. Are you hungry by any chance?”
Even now, I still wasn’t hungry. I doubted I would feel hungry again until I was safely back in The Shade with my family. Bastien answered before I could refuse, however, “Yes, we are both hungry. We would be very grateful for a meal.” Somehow I doubted that was true for Bastien either, and he was asking for food for my sake.
Sergius led us along several more corridors, which were really more like tunnels, before he stopped abruptly in front of a pair of double doors. Pressing his giant palms against them, he shoved them open. As we stepped through, I expected a large hall, but instead it was a small chamber lit by glowing lanterns, not much bigger than the living room of my parents’ and my penthouse back in The Shade. The only furnishings were a cherry wood table running down the center and matching chairs. The table looked large enough to fit ten, but only three were seated around it.
A middle-aged woman sitting at one end of the table rose from her meal and stared at us. She had straight, light brown hair. I wondered if that was Bastien’s aunt. Next to her, on her left, sat another woman, also middle-aged, with blonde hair and light amber eyes. She resembled Sergius. Perhaps they were siblings. And then the third person seated at the table was a young woman who didn’t look much older than me. She had both amber eyes and light brown hair. Brucella and Sergius’ daughter?
The three women shoved back their chairs and surged toward us. Bastien lowered me to the floor as they gripped his shoulders and kissed his cheeks, drawing him into tight hugs one at a time. Watching them greet each other, I learned that my guesses had been correct. The older brunette was Brucella, the blonde woman was Sergius’ sister, Lavonna, while the young daughter was Brucella and Sergius’ daughter, Rona. Bastien’s cousin.
When they stepped back, their focus shifted to me.
“This is Victoria,” Bastien introduced me. My skin tingled a little as his arm snaked around my waist. “She is my friend.”
I braced myself beneath their curious stares. It was actually more of a glare that came from Brucella. Rona was the warmest of the three, and she even gave me a small smile, which I returned.
Brucella cleared her throat. “Please take a seat.” She gestured toward two empty ones: one on the other side of Rona’s place, and another on the opposite side of the table, next to Lavonna.
I wished that I could have sat next to Bastien—I was feeling awkward enough as it was—but Bastien was already obliging, and moving to where Brucella was pointing out for him: the seat next to Rona. We all sat down, myself sandwiched between Lavonna and Sergius.
Brucella headed through a door at the back of the room that had escaped my notice until now and when she returned, she was holding two full plates of steaming food. As she placed one down in front of me, it looked rich and nutritious, and probably delicious, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat more than a few nibbles of bread. My stomach was still too tight for food.
As I glanced at Bastien, he also was picking rather than eating.
“Hunters,” Sergius began. “You must tell us everything.”
“Yes.” Bastien heaved a deep sigh, setting down his fork.
He began to recount what had happened to him—how the hunters had swept through the Blackhall lair in the dead of night, how he’d watched his parents and siblings murdered, then been dragged back to their base with not a clue as to why or what they wanted with him. How they had decided to keep them alive and caged him up… As he recounted this part of the story, I wondered whether they had kept Bastien alive because they’d detected something unusual about him, that he was a different kind of werewolf, and rather than kill him had instead wanted to take him back to their headquarters on Earth for testing. Hmm.
Bastien moved on to explain how I had rescued him. Even though in fact it was Arwen who’d cut his bars and freed him—I was just the one who’d suggested it—he spoke of the incident as though I were the only one involved, as though he had only seen me. Then he recounted the painful experience of discovering that his uncle and cousin had betrayed him. Brucella, being the sister of Bastien’s mother, and not directly related by blood to either Detrius or his father Orion, was quick to cry curses at the men and decry them as monsters.
Brucella turned into a weeping wreck, having learned she’d lost her sister, brother-in-law, and her nieces and nephews in the span of one night. Rona also cried, though not as loudly.
As Bastien finished his tale, he looked up at me, grim.
Well, this has been a cheery dinner.
It took a while for Brucella to stop wailing, but finally she gripped her fork, her hands practically shaking with anger. “We must eradicate these humans! We must!” Her eyes were fierce, and she practically snarled the words. “We must make them rue the day they ever set foot on our land!” She stood up from the table, stamping one foot. Then her glower narrowed on me. Her stare gave me shivers. She was looking at me as though I was the culprit. Then again, she had been cold with me ever since I’d entered the room, even before she’d found out about her family’s deaths. What is this woman’s problem? Maybe she was just prejudiced against humans, period.
“Yes, we must.” Sergius spoke up, his voice hoarse. “But Brucella, we are exhausted with grief and we will all think more clearly in the morning.”
Brucella descended into another round of sobs before her husband stood up and took her by the shoulders and led her toward th
e exit. Before heading off completely, he called over his shoulder, “Bastien, Lavonna will take you and your friend to your beds. We’ll speak again in the morning. Early.”
As the couple left the room, Bastien and I were left with Lavonna and Rona. Rona’s expression was somber as she stared down at her hands folded on her lap. Silence engulfed us.
“Well,” Lavonna said, rising to her feet. “I’ll take you to your rooms, shall I?” Then she addressed Rona. “Are you coming too? You look tired, my love.”
Rona nodded and stood. She towered over even me, and I considered myself tall for a girl, at five foot ten. She was only just shorter than Bastien. I could hardly be surprised though, given her father’s height.
Bastien rose with her, as did I… only to realize my right leg—the injured one—had gone to sleep. I couldn’t move it at all at first, and stood still, waiting for the blood to trickle down through it. Bastien kindly offered his arm to me in support, and I hobbled alongside him once I was able to move again.
“What happened to your leg?” Lavonna asked, eyeing my bandaged ankle.
“I just, uh, sprained my ankle,” I said, kind of embarrassed to be drawing so much attention to myself in front of strangers, and at a time where there were far more serious matters to be thinking about.
“It happened during her escape from the hunters,” Bastien clarified.
Rona approached us, moving with the grace of a swan, and slid a hand through Bastien’s other arm. Then the four of us left the dining room. We passed along the corridor and reached a winding wooden staircase. Here Bastien allowed me to climb onto his back again, and he carried me up the narrow stairwell, the other two following behind us in single file. I was beginning to feel dizzy from the staircase’s twists and turns, but finally, reaching the top, we parted from the staircase and emerged in another hallway lined with doors.
“As you know,” Lavonna said, breaking the silence, “we are not exactly accustomed to having guests. But we have two quarters free, due to Emil, Teia and her sister leaving to visit Emil’s parents.”
A Clan of Novaks Page 10
