by L. M. Reed
She gave every appearance of a deer caught in a pair of headlights.
“Um…fine…” Dawn replied in a rather dazed manner. “I know from what you’ve told me that she wasn’t able to…you know…tell me anything…”
“And Emily…?”
“She’s tucked up into bed for the night.”
“Good.”
For a moment, we simply stared at one another.
Finally, breaking the silence, Dawn asked quietly, “Are there a lot of things you haven’t told me?”
I debated what to say, but no matter what I came up with, it all sounded too much like an excuse. I refused to begin our relationship that way.
“Yes,” I said flatly.
“But you were…are…planning to tell me…?”
“Yes,” I repeated.
“When…?”
“Whenever you are ready.”
“I think I’m ready now.”
“Just ‘think’…?”
“I’m ready,” she said more confidently. “I want to know.”
“There is a lot of information, dating back centuries…how much would you like me to tell you?”
“Everything,” she said decisively, “from the very beginning.”
“This could take a while.”
“We’ve got all night.”
“Shall we find a comfortable spot?” I gestured towards the leather couch.
Dawn led the way and perched in the middle of the sofa. Glancing at her questioningly, I was relieved to see a welcoming smile on her soft, pink lips.
As I moved to join her, I began my story.
Epilogue
January 1994
Sussex, England
“He is perfect, my Dawn,” Jeanluc said lovingly gazing at the newborn cradled in his arms. “You have made my life complete.”
“As you have mine,” Dawn smiled adoringly at her incredibly handsome and leanly muscled husband.
“What name have you decided upon for our strong and healthy offspring? There are many possibilities. Marcus…Luc…Philippe…?”
“None of those,” Dawn said mischievously, playing with the rich crimson and gold coverlet spread over the lower half of their king-sized bed. “I’ve changed my mind and don’t think any of those will do.”
“You do not plan to use a variation of your name…?” Jeanluc asked anxiously.
“I would never wish that type of teasing on any child,” Dawn assured him hastily. “I still don’t understand what my mother was thinking naming her children Dawn Sunrise and Dusk Sunset,” she shuddered.
“Thank goodness,” Jeanluc exhaled in relief. “So, what shall we call our little bundle of joy?”
“You know, I love that portrait hanging in the Great Hall downstairs…”
“Which portrait would that be?” Jeanluc asked absently, allowing his son to pull his index finger into his mouth.
“The one of your father…don’t you think our son has his nose?”
“My father…?” Jeanluc glanced up in surprise.
“I think we should name the baby Alexandre, after your father, and use Dupree as his middle name.”
“My father’s given name and my mother’s maiden name…” Jeanluc gazed intently at the face shining up at him. “Alexandre Dupree Minsk…how do you like it my son?”
The baby cooed and kicked.
“I believe we have a winner,” Dawn nodded in satisfaction.
“My Alexandre,” Jeanluc murmured, “I shall take you everywhere with me.”
“Jeanluc…” Dawn began.
“No, Dawn,” Jeanluc stopped her firmly but kindly, “I do not interfere with how you choose to raise Emily—even though I would rather keep her with us—but Alexandre is my son and I refuse to allow anyone else to raise him.”
“But what we do…for the Pack…and then the periodic medical trips we make to the remote parts of Alaska and all of those African countries…it’s not safe…”
“I understand how much you wish to protect Emily…she is fragilely human, but Alexandre is not. He shall stay with us.”
“Jeanluc…”
“This decision is not up for debate,” Jeanluc warned. “I would give you the moon if you so desired, but on this one point I shall remain immovable. Alexandre stays with us until he is of school age.”
“What then?”
“We shall discuss his future with him at that time, and allow him to have a say in the matter. My father sent me to a private boarding school north of London, but he allowed me no choice. I would like Alexandre to attend a reputable private school, but quite a few provide the day school option if he prefers.”
“You believe I’m wrong…don’t you? How I’m raising Emily…? Leaving her with my sister…”
“I understand your need to protect her, Dawn. It is not my place to determine the rights and wrongs of the situation.”
“I just can’t risk it,” Dawn whispered painfully. “If I lost her…she’s all I have left of Cecil…”
“Would you consider giving up our travels and settling down with the children? We could spend most of our time here in Sussex or the villa in France…I would even agree to purchasing a residence in Washington State to be near your sister. It would be your decision…”
“I don’t know if I could,” Dawn admitted chewing on her lower lip in vexation.
“I never thought I would meet anyone with as strong a wanderlust as I possess,” Jeanluc grinned ruefully, “but in you, my dear, I have met my match.”
“In every way,” Dawn smiled back. “And don’t you forget it.”
“As if I could,” Jeanluc assured her. “I am simply concerned…”
“What?”
“I do not wish for Emily to resent me for taking you away from her.”
“But you’re not,” Dawn objected. “It’s my decision now, just as it was when Cecil and I made the Alaskan runs.”
“She had you in the interim, between trips, my sweet,” Jeanluc reminded her as he placed Alexandre in his crib and sat down next to her in the bed taking both of her hands in his. “Now you only see her for a week or two at a time, and even then it is only in Rod and Sunnie’s home. She never has you all to herself.”
Tears formed in Dawn’s eyes as she realized how incredibly sensitive and loving her wise and strong husband was, and how fortunate she was that he’d found her in time to save her.
“You’re right,” Dawn acknowledged, swiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s not fair to her, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Fortunately, I do,” Jeanluc kissed the salty cheeks gently. “I suspected you would not agree to forgo our travels, but I felt sure I could convince you to take longer breaks in between so, with that in mind, I have purchased property as close to Rod’s home as possible. Construction will begin as soon as you have approved the plans.”
“A house…?”
“We shall truly be a family whenever we are in Washington and, when it is time for one of our excursions, Emily can return to Sunnie.”
“What about the house…while we’re gone…?”
“A search is already underway for a housekeeper as well as a groundskeeper. The house will be well cared for in our absence. Also, Rod and Sunnie will be available in case of an emergency.”
Without a word, Dawn reached up and placed her lips on Jeanluc’s, tears of joy shimmering in her eyes.
“I take it you are pleased,” Jeanluc said softly.
Dawn’s emphatic nod was all the answer he needed.
The End
The following is the Preface for Bloodlines by L. M. Reed, the first full-length novel in Chrystal Bahl’s Twisted Tails Series available on most e-book platforms
Origin of the Werewolf
Bloodlines
Preface
Part 1
Bealu and Liss
Eons ago, when the earth was but an infant, a woman mourned the death of her stillborn first c
hild.
During the delivery, the mother of the dead child suffered injuries so severe that thereafter was unable to conceive again.
As the years passed, the woman’s desire for a baby overwhelmed her.
Inconsolably grief-stricken, the woman sought remedies from various sources promising fertility.
Still she remained barren.
Her husband, satisfied with their childless life, begged the woman to renounce her quest, but she could not. Unable to deal with the woman’s obsession any longer, the man eventually left her.
Finally, in desperation, the woman elicited the services of a sorcerer.
The sorcerer extracted from her a pledge of servitude to his master, promising a healthy child in return. Without thought to her own future, the woman readily agreed and allowed the sorcerer to slice her palm with a knife and capture her blood in a vial.
The sorcerer informed her that he would prepare a potion, but could not perform the ceremony until the full moon lit the sky.
Returning home, the woman waited impatiently for the next full moon.
Once the preparations were complete and the full moon was at hand, the sorcerer summoned the woman to a small hut a short distance from her humble abode.
Commanding her to undress, the sorcerer lashed her to a table with her knees bent and spread. Although the woman verbally objected, she had no recourse as her body refused to obey her, responding only to the sorcerer’s authority.
Standing at the foot of the table where the woman lay bound, the sorcerer chanted over a bowl, adding ingredients until the red contents of the bowl bubbled as if boiling over a fire, emitting a pink-tinted steam.
The sorcerer produced a crudely made wooden funnel, placing it into the woman’s birth canal.
Pouring the liquid into the funnel, the sorcerer quietly chanted, disregarding the woman’s pained writhing as well as her unearthly screams as the potion entered her body and burned a path towards her ovaries and uterus.
As the last of the liquid disappeared from the bowl, the woman lost consciousness.
Satisfied, the sorcerer released the woman from her bonds and wordlessly left the hut, disappearing into the night.
When the woman regained consciousness in the early hours of the morning, she dressed quickly and returned home amazed that she had lived through the excruciating experience, certain that the sorcerer was a sadistic demon that had simply tricked her in order to feed his warped needs.
Spending the rest of the day sitting in a chair staring out the window, wrapped in an old blanket that offered little in the way of warmth or comfort, the woman finally retired for the evening.
After a long and fitful night of odd dreams and very little sleep, the woman eventually fell into an exhausted slumber. A short time later, as the first tentative rays of light reached into the night sky, a gentle voice awakened her. Sitting straight up in bed, eyes wide with fright, she searched the room, but could see nothing.
An invisible hand soothed her brow and she allowed her body to relax and recline once more as the voice explained to her what she had done.
The baby she had conceived through the sorcerer’s magic would not be fully human and would possess no redeeming qualities. In fact, the embryo her body housed was very simply evil personified.
In the natural way of the world, all things required a counterbalance, therefore pure evil could not spawn pure evil, but because the woman had allowed the throes of complete despair to overcome her natural goodness, the dark powers had pervaded her very soul, thereby permitting her body to facilitate the insidious being growing inside of her.
The knowledge of what she had done mortified the woman, and she pleaded with the voice to take her life effectively ending the demon child’s life, also. However, the protection of the fetus by the dark powers extended to the mother, ensuring the child’s survival and subsequent birth.
Horrified at the idea of producing such an offspring, the woman begged for a chance to rectify her horrendous mistake.
Agreeing to assist the woman, the stern voice warned that the physical pain involved in such restitution could possibly exceed that of the prior ceremony. After much thought, for the agony of the previous ceremony was not an experience she wished to repeat, the woman finally agreed.
As the woman made to rise and begin to undress, the voice forestalled her, bidding her to lie down once more. Steeling herself against the pain, the woman stiffened as she felt something entering her, expecting the worst.
Instead, she felt a type of peace flow through her and over her…a sense of contentment, completeness, and love that overwhelmed her to the point of poignant tears…and she sighed in relief, reassured that the goodness filling her must surely counteract the evil.
The gentle voice explained that while the child already growing inside of her was indestructible, by repenting of her wrong and agreeing to suffer tremendous anguish in order to rectify her mistake, she had made an equally powerful counterbalance possible.
Instead of one child, the woman would birth two children: the one…pure evil, the other…pure love.
And so, the world would remain protected against the ramifications of sheer evil incarnate effectively releasing the woman from the sorcerer’s master.
However, she would not survive the birth.
The woman accepted her fate as the consequence for meddling with the natural order of things and carried the two unborn children for nine months…nine months of great physical discomfort as the two embodiments fought for dominance.
In reality, Evil fought while Love simply endured.
On the day of delivery, the sorcerer arrived ready to claim both the baby and the woman but, upon entering the small abode, sensed that something had changed. Furious once he realized what the woman had done, he called upon every ounce of dark magic he possessed in order to destroy the second child, but in the end, all was for naught. He had no recourse open to him other than to stand by and watch as the two babies arrived.
Love waited patiently as the time approached, entering the world in the normal way of things.
Evil clawed through the walls separating it from the outside world, insensitive to the screams rending the air, emerging at the exact same moment as Love and killing the woman in the process.
The sorcerer, realizing he could do nothing about the second child, produced a knife from under his cloak, cut the umbilical cord binding Evil to the corpse then, once again, vanished into the night taking Evil with him.
As the sorcerer disappeared from view, a young woman in a flowing white dress and waist-length matching white hair appeared at the door. As she lifted the infant into her arms, the umbilical cord fell away and a soft, white, woolen blanket appeared around the baby.
In an instant, the corpse alone remained, small insects already in attendance.
Part 2
Enter the Werewolf
At the dawning of the 11th century, a group of rather wealthy men—led by Marcel, Duc de Vichiers—gathered privately from all corners of the known civilization to discuss the fragility of their riches.
In order to ensure the continuation of their prosperity the group, to a man, agreed that steps should be taken to guarantee the fortunes they had amassed.
Entering into a blood pact, the men swore allegiance to one another as well as to a plan of action and so the Society for World Order was born…the single-minded goal of which entailed nothing more than seeking power, for each agreed that power alone assured the continuance of affluence.
The first test of their resolve arose with the instability of Great Britain.
Having the ear of Duke William II, two members of the Society whispered visions of greatness into his mind…convincing him that his cousin, King Edward of Great Britain, had verbally chosen William to succeed him as King.
When, on his deathbed, Edward chose another, the Society persuaded William to take what was rightfully his.
And so began the bloody invasion.
>
In Great Britain, however, a different group of men led by Renaud le Wyse, 3rd Earl of Lancashire, possessed a dissimilar objective. In devout loyalty to their king, the men, all of noble birth, resolved to thwart William’s planned takeover of their land.
Banding together, the influential group of Noblemen trained soldiers, planned strategies, and sent out units to report on the movements of the enemy.
The Society, having well-placed spies in key positions, soon learned of the efforts of the Noblemen and gathered together for secret assemblies in order to devise a plot designed to incapacitate said Noblemen.
Without the leadership of the Noblemen, and Renaud le Wyse specifically, the Society suspected that Great Britain would fall to William thereby solidifying their own positions, but alas, every contrived scheme failed to achieve the desired outcome. The Noblemen continued to foil William’s takeover bid.
Finally, out of sheer desperation, the Society sought out the services of a well-known sorcerer—though many of the group refused to acknowledge the existence of dark magic—to incapacitate the Noblemen.
Although the sorcerer’s efforts yielded modest outcomes, it soon became evident that his powers alone were not enough to ensure victory for William.
As the bloody battles continued to rage in Great Britain, the Society grew desperate, demanding that the sorcerer produce more tangible results.
Arranging a ceremony in the deepest and darkest part of the Black Forest—and requiring the presence of all members of the Society—the sorcerer set about preparing to summon a force more powerful than he to assist the Society in their efforts to dispose of the Noblemen.
Even warning the men that the ceremony required a binding blood contract to serve the sorcerer’s master for generations did nothing to sway the group from their single-minded purpose.
On the following full moon, the Society assembled, eager to put plans into motion with which to defeat the Noblemen resisting William’s efforts to conquer Great Britain.
Building a fire in a clearing deep within the forest, the sorcerer combined his own blood with the blood of each of the members in a large cauldron, chanting over it in order to summon the most powerful force of darkness ever born into the world…evil incarnate…Bealu.
Bealu arrived among the assembly in a silence more terrifying and awe-inspiring than fire and brimstone or thunder and lightening…for Bealu personified the insidiousness of pure unadulterated evil.
