by Cory Barclay
“Believe it or not, I was one of Count Adolf’s favorites for a time. But as I grew older, I presume the lord lost interest in me.”
Her candor surprised Sybil. Odela continued.
“I was ousted from Adolf’s court. And became bitter, I must admit. Then Heinrich left . . . for Cologne, I believe. And suddenly, I became the head mistress of the kitchens. To this day I don’t know what strings Heiny pulled, but I’m certain it was his doing.”
Rowaine nodded. “He cared for you, like a son to a mother.”
“Yes, my dear, he did. But that became something more. Oh, this is so embarrassing.” Her cheeks flushed like a shy schoolgirl’s. “My, how you three have really opened the floodgates!”
Sybil had other questions, though. “When Heinrich went to Cologne, my lady, was Gebhard the archbishop at the time?”
Odela thought about that. “No, no, it was the Catholic man. Ernst? But why does that matter?” She tapped her foot, yearning to return to her love story. “I loved that boy like a son, but when he returned from Cologne, he was a man. He had an edge about him—I’m sure he must have gotten it from Rolf. It was very . . . alluring.”
Sybil waited, but couldn’t hold her tongue. “So, did you . . .”
Odela sighed, nodding. “We became lovers. It was meant to be. I know I was almost twenty years his senior, but we were star-struck.” Then, like a storm cloud darkening a picture-perfect day, her expression changed. She tensed her thin white eyebrows. “After spending more time with him, I started noticing odd behavior.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “He would sneak away at night. One night, oh, I shouldn’t be saying this, but he returned, hands covered in”—she leaned forward—“blood. I later learned he’d shared a meal with his wolves!” Her eyes grew big as she searched the faces of her company. “I know. Quite bizarre!”
“You did nothing of it?” Rowaine asked, a bit of a bite behind her words.
“What was I to do? I was smitten. But the behavior got stranger. Until I could tell he was . . . detached. Something was off.” She glanced at the floor. “Very off,” she said, refocusing back on Sybil. “When I told him I was with child, well, that’s when he told me his secret. Believe me, I too thought I was too old to have a child.”
Pregnant?
Sybil nearly blurted it out. Then something caught her eye. On Odela’s hand. She was fiddling with a ring, absently twisting it around her finger. Sybil recognized it. She’d recognize it anywhere, as she used to fight over it with her friend.
That ring belonged to Dorothea Gabler. Sybil’s best friend—the girl whose death incited the search for the Werewolf of Bedburg.
Rowaine broke through Sybil’s thoughts. “What secret, Odela?”
The old lady wagged her finger. “No, no, I won’t betray him or gossip any more than I already have. You’ll have to ask Rolf about that. However, I will say that he became a very severe man. I started to lose the passion I once had for him. When he took the baby, well, I couldn’t forgive him for that.”
“Took the baby?” Rowaine’s eyebrows rose so high her forehead lines almost merged together. “What do you mean?”
With a slight shrug, Odela said, “I don’t know what happened to that babe. I can say that it tore us apart, though. Heinrich eventually told me—very cryptically, I might add—that he could not allow his own bloodline to continue. Can you believe that? He considered it the one noble thing he’d ever done in his life, getting rid of that baby. I still don’t know what he meant by it—but then again, I never tried to understand Heinrich Franz. I just loved him. Even at the end.”
Sybil was still gazing at the ring. “And you haven’t seen him since?”
“Oh, he’d come to visit every so often. But now? No, I haven’t seen him in some time. It saddens me, of course, but life goes on. Besides, the event with the child happened fifteen years ago.”
Despite the time interval, Sybil could see the permanent hurt in the poor woman’s eyes. She placed her hand on Odela’s knee. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lady Odela. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I cannot even imagine the depth of pain for a mother to lose her child.”
Odela’s frown remained for several seconds before she perked herself up. “I haven’t been called ‘Lady Odela’ in years, girl. You warm an old maid’s heart.”
Sybil smiled, genuinely. How could a man raised by this woman have ended up so . . . tragically?
Odela sighed and said, “My, I feel like I’ve been rambling for hours! It really must be time for bed. I have enjoyed your visit, my dears, but if you want to know more, I think you’d better ask Rolf.”
“You keep mentioning him,” Rowaine said. “Who is this Rolf?”
“You don’t know Rolf Anders? Why, he’s the steward of Heinrich’s estates, of course.”
“Heinrich’s estates?” Sybil asked. Her heart started to race.
“It’s less than half a day’s ride east from here, between Bedburg and Cologne. I always hoped that once Heinrich received that estate from Adolf, he would allow me to share it with him. But alas, I doubt I’d let myself be seen in a frivolous place like that. I’m sure it was just the idle fancy of a torn lover.”
“You don’t suppose Heinrich would be at his estate?” Rowaine asked, rising from the bench.
“No, no.” Odela shook her head. “Like I said, my dear, he was a wild boy. I don’t think he could stand to live in such a glamorous villa, not with the vast countryside out there, always calling his name.”
Dieter stood. Sybil clasped Odela’s hands in her own, feeling the ring beneath her palm. “Thank you, Odela, you have been a delight. It’s time we allowed you to get some rest. But be assured, you’ve given us hope to find our . . . friend.”
Odela grinned, showing teeth for the first time, yellow and crooked—a stark contrast to her clear, smooth face. She gave the trio her well-wishes, then, as they turned to depart, asked, “Where are you going? The door’s that way,” and pointed behind her, where Isabel had scurried off earlier.
Sybil smiled. “If it’s all the same to you, Lady Odela, we’ll just leave the way we came.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
HUGO
Hugo tossed and turned in the dirt and gravel, unable to sleep. Every time the weight of exhaustion forced his eyelids closed, he jolted awake to the sound of Grayson’s shouting.
Don’t let the boy run!
The image of his friend crashing lifelessly to the ground face-first, the heartbreaking sound of his lute cracking open, wouldn’t stop playing in his mind.
Sweat rolled down his face. His eyes fluttered. He hyperventilated, feeling hot and cold at the same time.
Don’t let the boy run!
He knew the day would haunt him forever. So many dead people. At the hands of his acquaintances no less! His travel companions!
The thought sickened him. It was not something he could drink away, or that time would heal.
He sat up. They’d never left the area where the killings had occurred, Tomas deciding it was best to get a fresh start down the mountain in the morning.
He surveyed the camp. It was eerily quiet. Everyone sleeping, or dead. Almost like nothing had happened. Even the bodies were gone. Before going to bed, Grayson and Arne had thrown them off the cliff. So except for the carriage there was no reminder, no physical evidence, of the brutal atrocity that had taken place just hours before.
These men truly are slaves to the highest bidder. Paid pawns.
Well, not me. I will never be another man’s tool.
With sleep futile, Hugo rose to his feet. He stretched, looked to the sky, then quietly padded around the snoring bodies sleeping next to him and walked to the side of the cliff.
He looked down, inching his toes closer to the edge, again flashing on what he knew was down there somewhere, thrown away like garbage, likely being torn to pieces by scavengers.
A sudden move would mean certain death as his body bounced down the craggy rocks. But he didn�
��t care.
He closed his eyes. The image and sound of his friend’s grisly death replayed in his mind yet again.
Though I’ve never given him much credence, today’s work was most certainly the work of the Devil. I’m a fool to have believed I could trust Tomas and Ulrich. How can I trust people I hardly know? I thought I could trust them just like I thought I could trust Sybil and Ava . . .
I can trust no one.
His eyes took in the vast vista around him. Even in the dead of night, it was a glorious spectacle—rows of treetops in perfect harmony, rolling hills blanketing the land all the way to the horizon. And all of it illuminated by the soft glow of the moon and stars.
A scenario played in his head, of him falling off the edge, embracing the rocks below—maybe it would ease the chaos in his mind.
The sound of gentle footsteps brought him back to reality.
He didn’t need to turn to feel the presence behind him.
To his surprise, Severin stepped beside him, gazing along with him at the majestic scenery.
“A beautiful sight,” Severin said in a low voice.
Hugo said nothing.
“Did you ever imagine we would see a sight like that, living in Bedburg?”
“No.”
“I suppose we weren’t really living in Bedburg, were we?” Severin added wryly.
“Whatever we were doing in Bedburg was much better than what we did today.”
Severin turned to Hugo. “What we did? If I remember correctly, you merely stood there.”
Hugo felt his ears get hot. “You’re right, Sev. I didn’t want to kill the minstrel. He didn’t deserve it. None of those people did.”
Severin scoffed. “We all deserve it, Hue. We’re highwaymen, robbers, bandits . . . we’ll never be right to those people. We’ll always be outcasts. Don’t you see that?”
“We can change.”
“Yes, we can change. But that won’t change who we are, or how the aristocrats and nobles see us. But now, going into Trier with new identities and new lives, we really can change our fate. We can become something we’ve never had a chance to become before.”
Hugo met Severin’s gaze. “And what will we become, Severin? We are a gang of liars and killers.”
Severin frowned, his beaked nose moving inches from Hugo—a hawk ready to descend on its prey. “We can become whatever we want to be. That’s the beauty of it. If those people had to die to let me change my destiny, then so be it. I’d gladly do it again.”
Hugo exhaled. “That’s where we differ. You are able to do barbaric things to further yourself. I am not.”
“That’s because I’m strong and know what I want. You are weak.” Severin scowled. “Why do you think Tomas made me inquisitor’s assistant, and you the cook?”
“Because you’re older. And his nephew.”
Severin clicked his tongue. “No, it’s because you are not ready. I doubt you ever will be. You can’t fault me for being ambitious, Hue. Once, I thought you were too, that we weren’t much different. But now I see that we are.”
“Thank God.”
The wind bit at Hugo. Shivering, he tucked his hands in his pockets. That’s when he felt the ring he’d stolen for Ava, cold against his palm. He’d never had the chance to give it back to her after rescuing her from jail. Just when he was about to, he’d caught her and Karstan embracing.
But Severin was right. Back then, they weren’t so different from each other. Maybe in temperament. But they’d both wanted to impress the girl, pilfer the biggest catch, find the lost treasure.
We were bandit-brothers.
As Tomas said, sometimes you have to take what you want.
And we did. Together.
Hugo scratched his brow. “That day in the town square, when we were doing the Bird Coup . . . do you remember?”
Severin cocked his head. Hesitant, he said, “What about it?”
“Right before the guards came upon us, I searched for our Owl—you. But he was nowhere to be found. Where were you, Severin? You were supposed to alert us.”
shoulders went stiff. “I don’t know. I didn’t see the guard, Hue.”
“Maybe you wanted us to be captured. Maybe your ambition outweighed your loyalty.”
Severin twisted his face. “That makes no sense. Why would I want to split up the group? We had a good thing going.”
“Because you loved Ava, and you wanted her for yourself.”
“If I loved that foolish girl, why would I want to see her arrested?”
“So you could free her and be the hero. Isn’t that why you tried to steal this?” He pulled the ring out of his pocket.
Severin’s eyes widened as he stared at it, the emerald reflecting off the moonlight. He raised his eyes up to Hugo’s. “You have quite an imagination, Hugo. But you’re wrong. I didn’t want your little girl. I gave up on her, like I gave up on you.”
“And that’s what shows your weakness, Sev. Your lack of loyalty—your short-sightedness. You may have ambition, but you’ll betray everyone you know to reach your end.”
Severin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he said, “That’s a hell of a thing to say, Hugo. I carried all three of you on my back for months! I deserved to be the leader of our pack. I was the oldest and most experienced.”
“And the weakest link in the chain, Sev. But I forgive you, as I’m sure Kars and Ava did. You never were one of us. Maybe you were just better than us.”
“Maybe I was. Maybe I still am.”
“Well, here’s your reward.” He lifted his hand, the ring still resting in the middle of his palm. “You want it, don’t you? Of course you do.”
“It doesn’t mean as much to me now as it once did.”
“Nor to me,” Hugo said through clenched teeth, his mind flashing to Ava and Karstan again. “Take it anyway . . . as a celebration gift for becoming the new inquisitor’s assistant.”
Severin chuckled. “I’m simply a glorified secretary, Hue . . . not really worthy of a celebration.”
“I know that. But you heard Tomas. You could move up the ranks.” He held his hand forward, until Severin could resist no longer.
He took the ring.
“Well, thank you, I guess . . .”
He brought it close to his face, holding it up to the moonlight between his thumb and forefinger.
As he was admiring its green brilliance, Hugo pushed him off the cliff.
Sometimes you have to take what you want.
He wondered whether Severin kept hold of the ring all the way down.
Hugo awoke feeling resolute, though a bit sleep deprived. The sun was not yet up, nor were the others in the group. He folded his blanket, then started a fire in the cooking pit. By the first hint of morning light he’d made breakfast for everyone.
Which was not really so difficult considering there were just four of them leftHugo, Tomas, Grayson, and Arne.
Tomas woke up to the smell of scrambled eggs nearby. He groaned pleasantly and blinked his eyes open. Hugo was standing over him with a plate in his hand.
“Hugo?” Tomas blinked rapidly, sitting up and taking the food.
“We’ll want to have breakfast if we’re to get to Trier.”
Hearing their voices, Grayson and Arne got up and joined them by the fire.
For the next fifteen minutes everyone ate in sleepy silence. No one spoke of what had taken place the day before. Hugo wasn’t even sure if the group had noticed Severin’s absence yet.
When the breakfast was finished, Grayson stretched, then began readying the horses. Arne joined him. Tomas stood up and, after scratching his scalp, surveyed the campsite. After scanning the area for a few minutes, in an odd tone he finally asked, “Where’s Severin? Has anyone seen my nephew?”
No one answered.
Grayson and Arne both shrugged as they finished with their horses.
When Tomas’ eyes landed on Hugo, they stayed there.
He knows.
But instead of shrinking under the weight of Tomas’ stare, Hugo stood tall, staring back at him with equal intensity, thinking back on some of the reasons why Severin got what he deserved: He’d betrayed their gang early on; he’d tried to steal Ava’s ring, and Ava herself; he’d murdered innocent, sweet Klemens; he’d attempted to take Hugo’s place within Tomas’ group.
With cold eyes that Tomas had never seen before, Hugo spoke in a steady voice.
“You told me I wasn’t ready to be the inquisitor’s assistant, Tomas. But I believe you were mistaken.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
GUSTAV
Gustav’s crew rode into Bedburg just after sundown, the unrelenting wind making the horses snort and shiver. There were fifteen of them in all—Gustav, Hedda, Mia, Adrian Coswell, Alfred Eckstein, Kevan, Paul, and eight other pirates. After leaving Daxton Wallace’s house in the Dutch countryside, they’d been riding hard for nearly three days.
Gustav felt certain that, after traveling hundreds of miles on land and sea to get to this point, his mission would finally succeed here. He knew he’d find Dieter and Sybil, though he wasn’t sure if it was a true premonition or just the laudanum.
And how fitting it would be to finally bring them down in the same town where they’d killed his brother Johannes.
“Now let’s find them!” he instructed his party. “They won’t be in plain sight, that much is certain.”
“How can you be so sure they haven’t left already?” Hedda asked. She sat behind Gustav on the back of his horse with her arms wrapped around his waist.
“I can feel it.” He turned sideways. “Can’t you, my dear? It’s in the air.”
Overhearing him, Adrian Coswell grunted. “All I feel is the cold against my bones. I say we head to the nearest brothel and continue the search tomorrow.”
“No!” Gustav spat. “We haven’t come this far to sleep. Not yet.”
