Diary of a Wolf: A Gay Shifter Romance

by Hunter, Troy

  Judging by the chemical response to my last two test subjects, I have concluded that lycan blood alone doesn’t provide me with sufficient results. Breathing can only be prolonged for so long, it’s useless without its brother and sister components. The brother appears to be the loyalty of a lycan, one that’s willing to sacrifice itself for your eternal life. However, this, like the self-induced lycan treatment, proves to only be temporary unless you also have the sister component. Familial bond. That of a human of the same blood who’s willing to sacrifice themselves for your eternal life. Preferably that of a young human, gender not important. A loyal wolf strong enough to endure the ritual might be tricky to locate. As for family, I will keep an eager ear out for any Adelbrechts still roaming around the country. Perhaps I can lure a suitable candidate to my estate one of these days.

  I instantly shut the journal closed and grabbed my diary off my pile of clothes. Even if I lose my humanity again by morning, I absolutely must write this information down. This is a step. This is an essential step to finding a cure.

  …

  I hear footsteps. Did I alert someone upstairs? They’re getting faster. Much faster. My god, it sounds like they’re running. Who in this castle has the stamina to run? Everyone that lives here is decrepit and old. Elias can’t move this fast even on his best days.

  They’re coming downstairs. Flashes of blue light are illuminating the laboratory. They get brighter as the footsteps get louder. What kind of sorcery is this? What’s going on?

  I’m in danger.

  I must hide, lest I be taken away and…

  10

  The Adelbrecht Curse

  Kenneth

  Present Day Stagwood Grove, Spring 1874

  …

  Wolf…by science?

  …

  An experiment?

  Eustace’s words bleed into my mind like ink on parchment. His story tugs at my heartstrings, yanks at them quite frankly. I can read each entry until I’m sick. I can sacrifice sleep in favor of picturing each and every detail over and over again. I can even ponder the severity of my demon of a great-uncle’s madness until I feel a mental collapse take me over. I know I can perform all these actions because I already have.

  No connection to the Great Wolf?

  How is that even possible?

  How is any of this insanity possible?

  Six sleepless nights have passed. Food makes me ill and liquids make me even sicker. I have neglected to bathe both myself and Eustace. Truthfully, I haven’t even spoken to the man-dog since he gave me his diary. My prior research has been sacrificed for however long, I am not certain. I cannot waste time looking at rocks right now. My nerves are thoroughly rattled beyond repair. Far too many questions are sprinting through my head, faster than any lycan I’ve ever encountered.

  Eustace Bertram is indeed the beautiful brown wolf I have befriended.

  He has an additional form as a man, like I suspected.

  But Eustace Bertram is no lycan.

  He’s just a human wearing a wolf costume.

  I can’t even bring myself to be upset with the poor fool. How can I? Eustace was merely an ignorant human the night he stumbled into Stagwood Grove. He had absolutely no idea what evil lived within this estate. I can see now why the son of a whore’s existence was kept a secret from me for so long.

  How could this have happened? How in the hell did Elias Adelbrecht manage to create lycanthropy? It’s unheard of. Lycans aren’t made, they’re born. This is a level of unnatural I’m not used to…and I come from a family with strong ties to black magick and the occult.

  As much as I care for the wolf, I would be lying if I said I’d be as emotionally compromised if it were revealed that Eustace was simply an untrained cub. As tragic as that would be, he’d only be the twelve-thousandth sad story of lost lycan parents waiting to be published. I would still sympathize with the poor man, it’s true. But his existence wouldn’t perplex me nearly as much.

  A man who’s been chemically engineered to shift into a wolf?

  No blessing from the Great Wolf required?

  How fucking absurd.

  But evidently, this situation isn’t absurd enough to be impossible. I honestly can’t decide if I’m more upset over the injustice done to Eustace Bertram or the sheer fact that science, my biggest passion in life, was used as a tool to bring about the most disrespectful act of blasphemous spite I’ve ever seen. How dare Elias Adelbrecht spit in the face of our mighty father. How dare he use his blind ambition to murder over four-hundred lycans. For someone who obsessed over the Great Wolf, he sure seemed to not care enough to respect his boundaries.

  As a scientist, I understand it is sometimes necessary to cross boundaries in the name of progress. Religion has never had the strongest chokehold on the scientific community. Fundamentalists prove to only spew hearsay from their saliva-flooded mouths. Rarely do any so-called “believers” provide the world with earth-shattering evidence that proves their religion is valid and accurate. Once they learn that the Bible has never been a credible source for any debate or research, zealots will be one step closer to being successful scientists.

  I am aware my beliefs may be ignored, too.

  Nevertheless, scientists must be mindful of just how many boundaries they cross. If an approach seems unethical, assess the severity. Will someone be physically harmed? Will informed consent be ignored? Will the participants be exploited in any way? If the answer to all questions is yes, then do not follow through with the approach.

  For God’s sake, Eustace is only able to walk as a man once a month.

  Once a month!

  The longest time I’ve ever stayed in my wolf form has been a week.

  Absolutely horrifying!

  Even if I’m to cast aside my devotion to the Great Wolf, I can still see that my great-uncle committed an unforgivable injustice to an innocent man. Eustace Bertram did nothing to deserve this fate. All he wanted was to escape his already unfair life. He wanted to run away from the glaring problems he was facing and start over.

  Just like me. Only the Great Wolf doesn’t shun me when I ask for guidance. The mighty father doesn’t neglect me of his blessings. In his eyes, only I am valid, not Eustace Bertram. No wonder Eustace has never been able to truly escape the woes of his past.

  Vile man, my great-uncle was. To rob a man of his humanity? To stuff him into an artificial wolf body? For him to be as remorseless as he was over his actions, even likening the Adelbrecht bloodline to a curse?

  Who the hell was Elias Adelbrecht to make such a bold claim as that? What curse? Who cursed an entire bloodline? Why are there no historical records naming wizards who had the capability of casting spells that fruitful?

  And the claim that he “lost” his connection to the Great Wolf?

  Rubbish.

  Absolute rubbish!

  Upon birth, lycans are immediately blessed by the welcoming howl of the Great Wolf. It’s not a howl heard by every lycan at the time of birth, but it’s certainly loud and present within the ears of the newborn cub. The mighty father’s song blesses all his children. Whether it be in birth, in love, or in death, his music has always been our guide, our teacher. For Elias Adelbrecht to have the gall to call it a curse…I cannot think of a bigger insult to my people or myself. He was like the damn humans. He was a damn human, arguably the worst of them all.

  “Sir?”

  My frantic pondering is temporarily interrupted when I hear Mister Norris calling for me.

  “Begone, Mister Norris. I’m busy.”

  “Master, come now,” deadpans the servant. “Are you truly too busy to take care of yourself? Missus Norris hasn’t run you a bath in almost a week. Your dinner is filling up the waste bin more than your stomach. Are you leaving the library at all anymore?”

  “Yes,” I bark at him, my patience nonexistent. “I take walks throughout the hallways at least twice a day. I relieve myself in the lavatory when I need to.” I look over at the lifeless husk
, eyes as wide as moons. “Isn’t that enough time spent away from my work?”

  “What work?” Mister Norris retorts, tone predictably unchanging. “You haven’t explored the grounds in days. I fail to believe you are coming up with any useful geology research within this library. Please, Master. Put that book down and go to sleep.”

  “Don’t you bark orders at me, peasant!” my voice comes out much louder and hoarser than intended, but I don’t care. To hell with this peon that thinks he can boss me around. Me! His goddamn boss. “The last time I checked, you were not an Adelbrecht. I am, me! I am the heir to this estate and you will respect me and my demands. You do not get to decide how I spend my time. I will sleep when I am ready. I will eat when I am ready. Now piss off, I’ve more important things on my mind at the moment.”

  As expected, the personality-devoid wanker continues to stare at me. “And what of the wolf? Have you spent any time with him lately?”

  I bare my teeth, a bestial growl rumbling in my throat. “He’s not a wolf, you insipid fool. He’s a man that was forced to change into a wolf.” The servant blinks once, choosing not to respond to my bombshell. Of course he wouldn’t. He never wanted to admit anything else about this estate’s history. Why would he start now?

  “Don’t be like this, Master. Your ancestry already has a repeating cycle of madness. Do not succumb to it. Be the better Adelbrecht and put that book down. You’ll find your mind is much sharper and prone to taking on new ideas when it’s had a full night’s rest.”

  Giving up the already half-hearted attempted to control my inner wolf, I howl loudly and allow the pain to overcome my body. As my bones shrink, Mister Norris makes no effort to flee the library. Brave man, this servant. Of course, I suppose puppets aren’t capable of feeling emotions.

  “Wollo, wollo wadda wadda.”

  I snort loudly, taking full advantage of the newfound language barrier. With another thundering howl, I charge at Mister Norris. The servant doesn’t budge and I ready myself for my big leap atop his body.

  Before I know it, the smell of muddy feet and sweat fills my senses.

  My body lifts itself off the ground. Unfortunately, the new scent interrupts my train of thought and ultimately undermines my jump. Instead of tackling Mister Norris, I end up overshooting the leap. My feet land on the floor right beside the nonchalant servant.

  “That’s enough, Kenneth. You need to calm down.”

  I growl loudly, slowly turning around to see Eustace Bertram standing in the doorway. He went an entire week without bothering me and now he wants to tell me what to do? How frustrating. Did he not remember giving me his diary?

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, Eustace. I have every right to be angry with this feckless slave!”

  “Your anger is misplaced,” the wolf states with a rather low, melancholic tone to his whines. “Mister Norris wasn’t the one who did this to me. You know that.”

  I continue to bare my teeth for the smaller creature. I know how to read. I know who did and didn’t conduct the unholy experiment on Eustace Bertram. He doesn’t need to come in here and patronize me, dammit!

  “He might’ve not been the one playing the role of the Great Wolf, but he certainly didn’t do anything to help you. He never objected to Elias Adelbrecht forcing you to be his guinea pig. At no point did Mister Norris ever stick up for you. With that level of complacency, he might as well have shoved those chemicals down your throat himself.”

  Eustace whimpers quietly. “Kenneth…I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t be happy with what I’d written in my diary. But I never, ever suspected you’d destroy yourself over it.”

  I snort gruffly. “What happened to you was wrong, Eustace. It’s a disgrace to lycans everywhere. Someone has to be punished for this injustice.”

  The brown wolf takes a step back. Judging by his wide eyes and downward wrinkles, my assumption is he is more appalled by my behavior than he is his situation. I have exchanged my time with him to read the same book over and over again. He doesn’t understand where the warm, protective Kenneth has run off to. Stupid man. I am still warm and compassionate. I’m trying to avenge his lost humanity, but I just need more time.

  I need more time.

  “Kenneth, please stop. Y-You’re scaring me.”

  I tilt my head slowly, maintaining my lingering growls. “How am I scaring you? I’m on your side. I’m upset because this seemingly impossible atrocity turned out to be more than possible. And at what cost? Your humanity. Don’t you want your set of human legs for longer than a few hours?”

  Eustace takes another step back. “W-What’s done is done, Kenneth. I’ve been like this for a long time now. Sacrificing your own health over a meaningless cause is a worse fate than being turned into a wolf.” With one final step back, he turns himself around to face the stairwell. Before he walks away, he makes one more comment that successfully knocks me down a peg and leaves me speechless. “Obsessions are eating the world. There was already one world-eater who lived in this estate, Kenneth. Don’t be his successor.”

  * * *

  Still in my wolf form, I pace around the library for what seems to be hours. Mister Norris had quietly left sometime after Eustace did, which once again left me alone with my thoughts. Excellent. Those fools would be idiots to try dragging me away from this room. I’m no pushover. When I set my mind to a thought or task, I commit to it, obsess over it until I can come to a satisfactory conclusion. I personally view this as a strength, but I suppose others think I’m a bloody cock-up. People are allowed to have incorrect opinions.

  My stomach hurts.

  White flashes blind me at times, presumably hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation.

  My own foul scent is so strong, I can hardly smell anything else.

  Despite all these ailments, I’m not mad.

  No, no, I’m rightfully infuriated.

  It’s a shame Eustace doesn’t appreciate my efforts to come to terms with his predicament. I’m truly hurt by his reaction. Why would he care that I’m neglecting my personal needs? I’m doing all this obsessive pondering on his behalf, aren’t I? At this point in time, I’ve read his diary so many times I can stand to bash him in the back of the head with it.

  I can tell him he’s a fucking imbecile for coming to Stagwood Grove. Eustace felt entering a stranger’s abode would help him, for some reason. I understand he has a strong hatred for the rain, but surely a man would know better than to trespass onto another’s property without at least knocking. His lousy sot of an ex-lover obviously drove him to a hysterical state of irrationality severe enough for him to fall into Elias Adelbrecht’s trap. Piss on Ambrose Pemberton. I will spit on his grave.

  To think I was once happy to move to this estate. It was my chance to finally escape the everyday tedium of city life. At last, I had a way out of the perpetual guillotine known as society. It was my time to shine, my time to blossom into the scientist I wanted to be. Then Eustace Bertram shattered the invisible glass wall protecting me from the truth. His own naivety served to expose the darkest portions of the Adelbrecht bloodline. I knew we were capable of evil but never shameless sacrilege.

  Perhaps I should refrain from attacking Eustace with his own diary.

  If anything, I ought to be bashing the book against my own head.

  My legs finally grow too sore for more aimless pacing. I sit on the floor dividing the cooking and theatre sections. This proves to be a very bad idea, as I almost immediately feel my eyes close. I try to stop it, but the floor is just so comfortable, so inviting.

  I will persevere.

  Once my legs feel better, I will get back to work.

  I will stay awake!

  11

  Back to Present

  Eustace

  Present Day Stagwood Grove, Spring 1874

  The young Adelbrecht is a curious soul, desperate to uncover enigmas wherever they may be. His laughter carries like a gentle breeze, pleasant and light. He has a smile that takes me back t
o one of the few fond memories of my childhood. The genuine giddy excitement expressed by the curvature of the man’s lips reminds me very much of my younger sisters. All five of them adored picking flowers, declaring that petals of specific colors represented different facets of personality. If you picked a blue flower, it meant you were brave. If you picked a yellow flower, it meant you were smart. Purple flowers represented creativity and red, beauty. Regardless of what color any of them picked, they still smiled and giggled like there were no worries in the world.

  That same childlike glee radiated from Kenneth Adelbrecht the day he arrived at Stagwood Grove. I watched his arrival from within the forest neighboring the castle. When his driver opened his carriage door, I instantly caught wind of a strong but alluring scent. My nose caught the distinct mix of vanilla and alcohol. Returning to my human years, I recall encountering only a few people that possessed similar scents. The fancy upper-class, naturally. Considering the carriage, I wasn’t surprised to see that the young man was just the same.

  And I could hear him.

  As in actually understand the words coming from his mouth.

  Gone were the godawful wadda wollos I’d been forced to listen to for so long.

  My favorite detail of Kenneth’s appearance was his eyes. Unlike everything else my canine eyes had seen over the last fifty years, Kenneth Adelbrecht’s eyes possess color. Bright yellow, like the last Adelbrecht who lived in the castle. Interestingly enough, I only saw the brightness of Elias’s eyes in my human form. As a wolf, the old codger’s eyes were white and grey like every lightly shaded object. With what I’d learned about the old man over the years, the excited intrigue ceased, turning more into an apprehensive understanding.

  Of course I can see his eyes.

  Kenneth is an actual shifter.

  Elias was never a shifter, despite his claim that he’d had his connection to the Great Wolf stolen from him.

  The fury Kenneth expressed over reading my diary sent my senses into something of an overload. His scent consisted of a cold sweat with a tinge of salt from the tears silently escaping his eyes. The noises ringing in my ears sounded like the combination of a rapidly beating heart and a ravenous beast preparing to slaughter a herd of sheep. While I’m not entirely sure whose heartbeat I was hearing, the growling monster was unmistakably Kenneth. I have his growls permanently imprinted within my memories from when I first met him as an uninvited house guest.