The Prophecy (A Legacy Series Novella) (The Legacy Series Book 4) Page 5

  Hugo’s stomach lurched and he did his best not to hide his pain as Geoffrey and the old woman continued to talk about her children still living in the west. He set his bowl down, wondering if it was the stew that upset him. When his muscles began to ache and spasm, he knew this had nothing to do with the stew.

  “Oh, no,” the old woman said. “You’re not well. Is it your night to izmenyat'?”

  Geoffrey stood from the table and moved around to help Hugo to his feet as his wolf began to barrage at the corners of his mind. “It is. Please forgive us.”

  The old woman nodded and gave them another dismissive wave. “Think nothing of it. My husband had to run out at the most inconvenient times as well.”

  His brother gave the woman a grateful nod. “Thank you for understanding.”

  Hugo growled at the pain as his eyes morphed into their werewolf gold. There was little he could do to stop the shift once it took hold. Pain tore at his body and much of his consciousness slipped away as Geoffrey jostled him out of the cottage and deep into the woods. He was old enough to have control over his beast once the shift was complete, but getting to that point was pure torture.

  Bones and joints snapped out of place as his body grew in size. The front of his face elongated to resemble a muzzle, his ears lengthening to resemble a wolf’s. Fingers became tipped with claws and the undersides of his palms grew rough. If his brother didn’t have the sense to help him undress, he would have torn his clothes to bits as brown and black fur sprouted from his skin. A tail extended from the end of his spine and dusted the ground as he dropped to all fours.

  Geoffrey joined him in the change and shared in his agony, though it wasn’t his night to naturally shift. Their cycles were a week or so apart. They never shifted alone, not even as young boys. They learned quickly how to summon the change on command, so they wouldn’t have to spend the night without one another.

  When the last of the searing pain of the shift subsided, Hugo looked to his brother. Unlike him, his pelt was a marbled mix of deep brown hues and beige like his human hair. Yet, their forms were nearly the same. They did not shift completely into wolves, but a monstrous blend of both man and beast.

  The first few decades of their new lives as werewolves had brought with it many challenges. One, being that they couldn’t control themselves once the shift took hold. It took years of training before the two minds could meld as one. Once they did, once they could dictate what they would and would not do in this beastly form, Hugo and Geoffrey realized how terrifying they truly were. It was no wonder the villagers were afraid of the bodark - the evil werewolves who chose to make a pact with the devil so they could change into monsters.

  Geoffrey, Hugo, and every werewolf in the world knew that this had nothing to do with the devil. This was what they were, not always by choice, but by fate. Those born into this existence learned to live with it and coexist to the best of their ability. If not, there were plenty of others who were willing to kill them. A silver bullet between the eyes or a silver blade to the heart would end their double-lives as man and beast.

  But that was not how Hugo and Geoffrey wanted to live. There was still more to discover, more to learn and enjoy. They may despise their father for abandoning them. They even wished they could have been born into a normal life. But they could never bring themselves to hate the wolves they were gifted with.

  With a toss of his massive wolf head, Geoffrey instructed that they should return to the cottage. Hugo didn’t argue and they lopped back through the woods toward the clearing. When they arrived, however, it was gone. The cottage, the woman, the stew, the chimney, all of it. The clearing they were once in was nothing more than a thick patch of wild grasses and flowers.

  They sniffed for any trace of the old woman who fed them, but found nothing. Not a single sign of anything remained. It was as if she were never there.

  Hugo shivered in the early night air and turned with his tail between his legs to retreat back into the woods. His brother lingered and continued looking for anything. Finally, he snorted and trotted back to Hugo with a wooden bowl in his mouth.

  It was one of the bowls they ate from, but this one was cracked and filthy. It was covered in moss as if it had been sitting in the dirt for ages before Geoffrey picked it up. Hugo’s ears folded back against his head and he slunk away. Had it all been a mirage? An illusion? If so, to what purpose? Perhaps she was a witch after all?

  He didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. Geoffrey tossed the bowl back into the clearing and the two werewolves dashed off into the night to escape the mystery of the old woman and the disappearing cottage.

  Chapter Five

  Hugo was still fast asleep in the shade near the lake. With a cushy bed of wild foliage and flora, Geoffrey thought it as good a place as any to sleep away the long night running as wolves. What he hadn’t expected was the breathtaking view that became illuminated by the dawn.

  In the late morning sun, he watched the flocks of birds fly across the bright blue sky. A few wisps of clouds rolled by with the wind, casting shadows over the pristine, dark blue water. He had heard that Siberia could be a harsh and unforgiving land, full of dangers in the untamed nature. It had conjured images of a barren wasteland, frozen at all times of the year. No one said a word about the rich, green beauty that covered the countryside in the summer seasons.

  If it wasn’t for the promise of a deadly winter ahead, Geoffrey might have been inclined to convince his brother that they stay in this part of the country. A werewolf could survive here with little trouble and no contact with the outside world.

  Even the smells that surrounded them soothed his wolf in a way that civilization never could. Last night had been one of the best shifting nights in a long time. Besides the slight shock of the disappearing woman and cottage, Geoffrey and Hugo were freer than they had ever been. Not a single human for miles around and plenty of game to satisfy their bellies.

  Geoffrey let out a long, contented sigh and closed his eyes as he basked by the lakeshore, his arms folded behind his head and bare chest drinking in the warm sun. He let his mind drift and though the sun was energizing, he could feel himself doze off.

  A few moments passed before a scent crashed through the perfect morning. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself upright to listen. Someone was coming toward the lake. He sniffed and his suspicion was confirmed, much to his dismay. Geoffrey should have known it was only a matter of time.

  He stood and slipped on the tunic he had discarded to the side. Still clad in his trousers, he set off into the thick forest to meet Reitz. The blood servant held a long dagger in one hand, slashing through the underbrush so he could make a clear path for himself.

  The scent of vampire met him, but the scent was stale, as if Reitz hadn’t been in Michael or Anton’s company for some time.

  “What are you doing out here alone?” Geoffrey asked, taking in the human’s tired face. His garments appeared torn and stained as if he had been trudging through these woods for days on end without relief.

  Reitz panted and nearly dropped his dagger with relief when he looked up. “Thank the Lord, I found you.” The blood servant looked barely strong enough to stand and Geoffrey rushed to him, pushing aside the bushes with ease.

  “What’s happened?”

  Reitz pointed in the direction he came. “Michael and Anton. They’ve become too weak. They can’t even move. I can’t provide enough for both of them and Michael refuses to feed as much as he needs to. The sun, even if their skin is covered, weakens them to the point of exhaustion.”

  Geoffrey crossed his arms over his thick chest. “You came all this way because your masters need blood?”

  He gave the werewolf a helpless look. “I tried to catch animals for them to feed on, but it wasn’t enough. I’m not accustomed to this wilderness.”

  Looking over his tattered clothes, that was obvious. “How far away are they?” he asked.

  “They’re in a cave just to the s
outh. Michael told me to travel this way to find you.”

  No doubt one of his vampire tricks. Geoffrey looked back toward the lake where his brother was still resting. If he left and Hugo woke up, he would be furious to find out what Geoffrey had done. Then again, if he waited for his little brother to wake up and told him what had become of Michael and Anton, he would be sure to balk at the idea of coming to their rescue.

  He let out a breath and looked back to Reitz. “Let me get my brother. We will do what we can, but please don’t mistake me. We cannot travel with you and Michael anymore.”

  Reitz’s brows pinched together. “Why not? Michael wouldn’t tell me why you left. Did you find the Spirit?”

  “No, not yet.” Geoffrey’s lips twisted as if he tried to think of the best way to explain this to the human. “We are used to traveling at a faster pace. We don’t take the conventional, easy paths, and you three were slowing us down. It wasn’t our intention to abandon you when you needed the extra… resources.”

  Reitz shook his head. “None of us truly anticipated this. Anton is used to hunger, but the thirst seemed to come on them so suddenly, so strongly. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Geoffrey motioned his hand in a placating manner. He couldn’t handle the blood servant’s panic, not in a place so peaceful and serene as this. “All right. We’ll come. Just give me a moment.”

  He walked back to the lake and kicked his brother’s hip. “Hugo, wake up.”

  Hugo let out a grunt and cracked open his eyes. “What is it?” he grumbled.

  “We need to go. Michael and Anton have found us… Well, more specifically, Reitz has. The poor human walked all this way to fetch us.”

  His little brother sneered and rolled on his side, his tanned and bare back sprinkled with the bits of leaves and flowers from his makeshift nature pallet. “They can burn in the sun for all I care.”

  Geoffrey grabbed Hugo’s arm and hoisted him to his feet.

  “Michael and Anton are weak, perhaps dying. There is no one else to help them.”

  He shoved Geoffrey away with a fierce, guttural growl. Hugo wasn’t moved, just as Geoffrey predicted. “Why should you care? We agreed we wouldn’t travel with them.”

  His hands balled into fists. “And we are keeping our agreement. I told Reitz we will go help, but we cannot stay. He understands and I’m sure Michael will once we explain ourselves.”

  “How do we know it’s not a trap?” Hugo offered. “What if Michael sent Reitz to lure us to them so they can kill us? What if this is another illusion, sent to keep us from finding the wolf?” He folded his arms over his chest like the stubborn child that he was. “I’m not going.”

  Geoffrey felt the rage and indignation boil in his blood. Even his wolf couldn’t bear with Hugo’s stubbornness. “Fine. You can stay here,” he barked. “I’m tired of your bickering, selfish, arrogant mouth. Stay here, puffed up in your own pride. You’ve never cared about anyone else but yourself anyway. Why should you care for two people who need our help? I’ll come back to fetch you when I’m done.”

  With that, he turned and marched back to where Reitz waited. No doubt, the human heard their heated argument, but Geoffrey wasn’t ashamed for his words. Ever since they were younger, Hugo could never own up to anything. He blamed the world and their father for his misfortunes, but he did nothing to lessen the suffering of others as Geoffrey tried to do.

  When their mother fell into her depressive, almost catatonic state, it was Geoffrey that stepped in to take care of her. When they turned, it was Geoffrey who comforted Hugo in the midst of his own terror about the future. When their mother died, Geoffrey dug the grave while Hugo disappeared for days in the throes of his despair.

  Every town they went to, every family they visited, Geoffrey poured himself into their services while Hugo tagged along and gleaned what truth he could find in the stories they told. When Hugo found love in that woman from Warminster, Geoffrey became incensed. Why should they stall their mission so he could enjoy himself in the carnal passion of romance?

  When Hugo’s son was born, Geoffrey had hopes that he would finally learn to care for someone beside himself. When they left England, he constantly questioned if Hugo wanted to return. Each time, he dismissed him, saying the boy and his mother would be fine.

  They weren’t.

  When they found the abandoned farm, and learned nothing from the locals, Geoffrey feared that Hugo would slip into a state much like their mother had. He didn’t. And that infuriated him even more.

  Hugo was his brother. His stubborn, reckless, selfish brother, and he couldn’t help but love him and care for him whenever he could. Today, Geoffrey had enough. He would come back to retrieve Hugo, but he needed some time away to simmer down.

  He and Reitz traveled in silence for nearly an hour as he brooded over everything he hated about his brother, wishing that somehow it would justify leaving him. It didn’t and the ache in his chest was a testament to that guilt.

  When he sensed Hugo’s approach, Geoffrey had to restrain himself from turning to greet him with open arms and profuse apologies. Hugo hurried up and walked alongside him without a word. The human didn’t utter a thing as he looked between the two werewolves, probably wondering if it was safe to ask if they were on better terms now.

  Geoffrey wasn’t even sure of that.

  Was it something he said that made Hugo change his mind? Or was it the idea of being alone that scared him into running after them? Geoffrey hoped against the odds, hoped against the two hundred years they had spent side by side, that Hugo finally realized that his behavior was unacceptable.

  He set them aside for another time. There were more pressing concerns to deal with at the moment.

  It felt as if they have been walking for hours. Or perhaps that was the hunger talking. Hugo’s belly growled angrily in protest, in spite of the feast it had received the night before. Even Geoffrey’s stomach made its complaints known. Evening shades of deep purples and blues blended into the sky above them. Reitz’s fear had abated the longer the three of them walked together.

  He told Hugo how his masters had fallen so gravely ill from a thirst of their own, hence the reason he came to find the two werewolves and pleaded for their help. There wasn’t a human around for miles. At least, that’s what Hugo had thought before he caught a whiff of something sweet on the winds that snaked through the trees.

  Hugo and Geoffrey both stopped, the captivating aroma holding them in place as Reitz continued ahead. Only when he was a few yards away did he realize that he was walking without them. He turned and regarded them with a perturbed look. “What is it?” he asked.

  The two brothers looked to one another and Hugo could see the torn look in his brother’s eyes. They needed to eat, but his saintly attitude toward helping those who were less fortunate, must have been tugging at his heart.

  “What’s a few minutes going to hurt?” Hugo asked with a shrug. He could feel his wolf press against the surface, begging for a meal that seemed long overdue. After the long night running as a wolf and the lack of sleep to recover from it, Hugo needed some sort of nourishment or he would collapse. Or worse, his wolf might take over and go on the hunt. Yet, that didn’t make much sense because of the bountiful feast he and his brother devoured. Now, there probably was little to nothing to hunt. It was as if the forest had completely emptied itself of life besides the two werewolves and blood servant.

  Geoffrey told Reitz to wait there for them as they set off to follow the promise of a meal. It didn’t take long for them to catch something else carried on the wind with the scent. A child was crying in the same direction and her sobs troubled them.

  They quickened their steps and found her in the middle of a clearing, her legs curled up to her chest and weeping on her knees. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old at best. Clad in nothing but a thin peasant dress that must have reached to her knees. Her long dark hair a tangled mess around her ears. It was indeterminate
how long she had been stranded out in the wilderness. There wasn’t another town or village within miles of here. The last home they saw belonged to the illusion of the woman they met the evening before.

  Hugo and Geoffrey watched her, their faces colored with shock and wonder at the scene. Testing the air, there was no mistaking that this girl was the source of the delectable scent they followed. Never in his life had Hugo ever considered a human a meal. He and Geoffrey had known of those werewolves who devoured the flesh of the innocent. They were the true monsters of the fairytales that the peasants told.

  Geoffrey took a few steps backward as Hugo did the complete opposite and drew closer to the edge of the clearing. His eyes fixed on the child as she continued to cry, oblivious that two starving werewolves were so near.

  His brother grabbed at his sleeve and yanked him deeper into the shadows. “No,” he whispered.

  Hugo knew what his brother must have been thinking, but it wasn’t true. Though he was starving, ravenous with hunger to the point that it was a struggle just to keep his wolf at bay, he didn’t want to eat the little girl. Far from it. His heart bled for her. He could never stand to hear the feminine sobs, no matter their age. That was why he left Martha so suddenly. He couldn’t bear to hear her wail and cry against the unfairness of losing her lover. If he had stayed or tried to explain himself, he wouldn’t have had the strength of will to leave.

  He ripped his arm from his brother’s grasp and hurried into the clearing. The little girl’s head shot up and looked at him with wide, green eyes that looked like glittering emeralds in the waning light. She watched his approach, her nose running and lips quivering with the need to burst into more weeping.