“Yes. Please, I need to speak with Abelard. He is your father, yes?”
“Abelard is not here. You must go.”
“Please, I need help. Might I speak with someone else? Fallon, or Lucien?”
“You could speak with my mother.”
A woman? No. “Perhaps you could... help me?”
The boy folded his arms. “Papa wants you dead. Honestly, you have the nerve to come here, after all you’ve done?”
“He has the wrong idea about me,” I pleaded. “He believes I am to blame for all of these attacks. I did make some... mistakes... when I first turned wolf. I had no one to teach me. But after your father told me to leave, I did.” Hopefully this son hadn’t heard too many details about the incident last fall. I had purposely left my scent there for Abelard’s sons to find. “I went south. Then I heard of all these attacks, and I returned to figure out who this beast could be. And I found him.”
The boy cocked his head. “You found the beast? Did you perhaps look in a mirror?”
I sighed. “Listen... what is your name?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“You know my name.”
The boy hesitated. I had a feeling he had been instructed to kill me on sight, but given that he was alone and not calling for help meant that he wasn’t sure he could kill me. And he wasn’t sure I wasn’t telling the truth.
“I am called Gregoire.”
“Hear me, Gregoire. I am just as appalled as you. Children murdered, so many attacks, some victims even ravaged – I met with Captain Duhamel, the man who–”
Gregoire looked bored. “I am well aware of who he is.”
“It was shortly after an attack on a young woman who claimed to have split the beast’s muzzle with an axe.” I pointed to my own face. “Do you see a scar?”
“We don’t get scars,” Gregoire retorted.
“My brother Martin has a scar now,” I said, tracing a line across my face. “A thin line, where his fur does not grow. Furthermore, the description Duhamel gathered from the young lady was of a beast with my brother’s markings. In particular, she insisted that the beast had six talons on each paw.” I held up my hand. “Martin has six fingers on his hands.”
Gregoire did not appear bored any longer.
“You found your brother, then, after the attack?” he asked.
“Yes. I followed the trail of his blood. He was thrilled to see me. He wanted me to join him on his killing spree. I had to lie and tell him I would go kill on my own and meet up with him later. Instead I came here.”
Gregoire gestured for me to follow him into his house. “Come. It is too cold to stand outside talking without our wolfskins on.”
He opened the door and called out. “Maman! We have a visitor.”
Maman Loupe stepped into the room with a musket on her shoulder aimed at me. “No need to shout, Gregoire. You know how senstive my ears are.” She cocked the gun. “And my nose.”
Once again I raised my hands in surrender.
“Maman, Georges has come to us for help –”
“Shh. You, boy. You say you came straight here after your brother demanded you join him?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“I can smell when you lie,” she said. “That girl was attacked in the middle of December. You know what month we are in?”
“February,” I mumbled.
“Exactly. It is the first of February. This is why I do not trust you to be in my home. You have done your fair share of killing, have you not?”
I put as much feeling as I could into my words, and tried not to let the fear of Maman Loupe’s musket affect me. “Please, madame, I have not killed... much. I admit I did allow my brother to bully me into helping him. But finally now I was able to escape his immediate influence. He is much more dangerous than I am. Older, more skilled. Moreover, he enjoys killing babies and small children. We must stop him before it is too late.”
“And you are so weak you cannot kill him yourself?”
“I have tried and failed,” I said.
“Maman, we can help him! Papa would like nothing more than to kill the beast. Georges says he has a plan to meet up with his brother again. All we would need to do is lie in wait.”
Finally Maman Loupe lowered her gun. “Your father will need to decide. He will be home tomorrow.”
In the meantime, Maman Loupe told me I could eat supper with them and sleep in the barn. “I will be barring the doors to the house,” she told me, shoving some scratchy, stinky blankets into my arms. “My husband is on his way. If he should find that you have harmed any of us, or even one feather on any of our chickens, he will kill you.”
Abelard had not followed through with his previous threat. He must have known I was still in Gèvaudan, and yet he, like Duhamel, had not killed the Beast. But I nodded meekly, and accepted their charity, and in the night I pulled out the piece of wolf pelt and hid it in their barn. I hadn’t been able to find a single wolf all summer. On my trek to the Loupe farm, I had come across one’s path. Easy kill – it was half-starved from the winter.
The night cold chilled me to the bone, and thoughts of facing Abelard again made my mind race, so once the moon had risen into the stars, I removed my clothing and turned wolf and slept in furs.
I heard Abelard coming long before he arrived. As human I broke through the thin layer of ice in the trough for the one cow and scrubbed the sleep from my face. He was still on the road, in a cart driven by a skittish horse. When he suddenly urged the horse faster, I knew he had smelled me.
I composed myself, made sure I was dressed and civilized looking, then sat on one of the milking stools and waited.
He blew past Maman Loupe and Gregoire and nearly tore the barn door off its hinges. “How dare you!” he roared, and then he was on me. His hands closed around my throat.
do not fight do not fight
My wolf had been tightly controlled yesterday, but this physical assault was more than my wolf could bear silently. He growled in my throat. I clenched my teeth and kept my balled fists at my side. Abelard would not simply kill me. Gregoire and his mother would stop him before that happened. I refused to fight.
“You dare come into my home, you filthy murderer,” Abelard spat, shaking me, then letting me go long enough to allow me to gasp in a lungful of air before he punched me in the face. An explosion went off in my suddenly black vision. When it cleared I was down in the hay, reeling.
When my hearing returned, I could hear Maman Loupe speaking rapidly to Abelard. “...is another wolf who is killing children...”
Abelard looked down on me, then reached down. I made sure to flinch as he grabbed a fistful of my shirt and hauled me to standing.
“Another wolf? Your brother?”
“Yes,” I gasped. That part was not an act. “His name is Martin.”
“And would he perhaps be the red and black wolf who has been seen?”
I nodded.
“I have long suspected you had an accomplice. After all, my sons told me your wolf is a burnished gray. Might have been that some could call your fur red, but not likely. Not with the black markings too.”
“Please, he forced me to—”
Abelard casually smacked me in the face. This time my wolf was harder to force down.
“Save your breath,” he said. “He didn’t force you to do anything. You killed Jean de Soissons, a man-wolf who has ruled that territory for over eighty years. He was extremely powerful, and you, a thirteen-year-old pipsqueak, killed him like it was child’s play. Your brother Martin, who did not kill your father, and would submit to you as his alpha, could not possibly force you to follow his orders.”
I did not know what to say to that, so I kept quiet. Part of me got stuck on the words “eighty years.” Papa had never mentioned that werewolves lived so long. Nor that he himself had lived so long.
“But, you wish him to be killed. I wish this also. I don’t care if this is because you are such a wea
k alpha you cannot control him, or if this is some kind of revenge for your family, but I will help you in this.”
“You will?” Could Abelard possibly be so stupid?
“Why is that so surprising? We want to kill the beast who endangers all of us who can turn wolf.” Abelard’s black eyes bored into me. “Is that not also your goal?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “Yes, of course. Martin is sloppy and careless and if we do not stop him, he will—”
“Shut up,” Abelard commanded, and I felt something strange in me then, something I had not felt since I had killed Papa.
kill him
I jerked backward and took several steps away from Abelard. It was all I could do not to lunge out of my skin and sink my fangs into him.
The man gazed at me with a small, knowing smile. “Yes, you are an alpha, aren’t you.”
-22-
Captain Duhamel was planning a large hunt in just a few days. “Enormous,” Abelard said, spreading out a map of the region. “He has called for all able hands in over 100 villages. There will be thousands out searching for the beast. Most of these will only have pickaxes and shovels, but there will be a few gunmen... myself included. It is likely your brother may be caught no matter if I help or no.”
“Bullets don’t seem to hurt him,” I said. When Abelard raised an eyebrow, I amended, “Me. I heal very quickly. Wouldn’t that be the same for Martin?”
“I am certain you are a good deal stronger than he. Bullets are the best weapon we have, although in close quarters a knife or axe or sword is even better. A wolf can die of blood loss if he sustains grievous wounds... but in any case, it is wise to decapitate the creature to insure its death.”
I pointed out the location of the cave where Martin and I had planned to meet. From the bond I knew Martin had not killed since we had parted ways. Perhaps he was ashamed still of his loss against a band of children. He should have been, anyway.
We came up with a plan. I would go with Abelard and his sons to the area near the Truyere River. There, I would use the bond to call to Martin for help. The hunters would lie in wait there, and once the wolf emerged, it would be simple as shooting fish in a barrel.
For the days in between, however, I was forced to sleep in the barn and share space with the Loupe clan. By the day of the hunt, I was ready to jump out of my skin, and had in fact spent several hours each night running as wolf and hunting small game. Creatures like muskrat, raccoon, and wild boar were far more difficult kills than humans, and I found that I enjoyed honing my skills, even if I disliked the taste.
The sky was dark when we awoke on the morning of the hunt. Snow fell gently as we loaded our weapons and gear into the wagon. It was not overly cold; in fact I was sweating by the time Abelard slapped the reins against the horse’s back. Then I found myself shivering as I sat idle in the wagon.
The cave was far from the beaten path. Not difficult for wolf legs, but for humans struggling through the snow and burdened with supplies, it was nearly a days’ trek.
I found this natural setting much more amenable than the Loupe’s territory. Not as much stink, though I was still surrounded by then. Abelard and all five of his sons, sniffing occasionally and looking at me suspiciously, especially Fallon and Lucien. I had a feeling they knew more than Abelard what I had done after I had promised to leave. How much had they told their father? In turn I felt my nerves humming, waiting for a betrayal. It didn’t help that the forest was crawling with other hunters as well, small groups of eight or ten, beating the tree trunks they passed with their sabers and hoes. The noise was driving me crazy – as it was intended.
Around noon the snow stopped and we decided to have lunch. Maman Loupe had packed all of us sausage and bread and cheese.
“How much farther?” asked one of the younger boys, Roland.
“About half a day’s hike,” Abelard replied.
Lucien made a face. “I’m not looking forward to sleeping outside in this weather.”
“With any luck we’ll be far enough from the other hunters that we can turn,” Abelard said.
I hid a smile. I could only imagine what havoc would occur should a human stumble upon a pack of wolves surrounded by clothing.
The afternoon was quiet. We hiked in a tighter group now that a fog had risen from the snow. Men had lit lanterns that looked like floating orbs among the trees. I could not see the men, but heard and smelled them.
We heard the water long before we would reach the river. By now we had outdistanced most of the other hunting groups. Abelard called for a halt. “You should turn now, and we will pretend to chase you,” he told me.
“Turn?” I asked. That had not been part of the plan.
“Yes. You think your brother will not be able to figure out that you are not in danger if you are still human? You must play the part of the wolf who is about to be killed.”
“I’m not sure it works that way,” I said. “I’ve never been able to ‘see’ what he does. I can only hear his thoughts.”
“You do not know anything about being a wolf,” Abelard said with contempt.
“How do I know you won’t try anything?” I asked him. “Once you have my clothes, I will have to stay a wolf, or risk all of these hunters seeing me turn. Or seeing my nakedness and coming to the conclusion that I am a werewolf.”
Abelard cocked his head and smiled. “You will have to trust us.”
I narrowed my eyes and considered my options.
My plan had been much safer, for me. I had imagined I would simply call Martin, and Martin would arrive looking for me. Instead of finding me, he would find the hunters who would kill him while I watched from a safe hiding place.
This plan of Abelard’s, however, might still work, especially if he was correct in Martin being able to see or feel that I was not wolf. When he arrived, he would see that I was truly in danger and he could help. And yet, this plan was risky for me. If any other hunters came along, they might believe I was the beast and try to kill me instead. I would not be able to turn until I was alone, and even then, I would need to be alone and with the Loupe family so that I could have my clothes.
A large part of me did not trust Abelard. What was I to do now? He and his sons had muskets. I had an axe. They could kill me easily for refusing to go along with this plan.
I sighed, exhaling a plume of steam into the air.
“All right.”
-23-
The moment I removed my clothing, my skin beaded up with moisture. With the eyes of the Loupe pack on me, I folded each article and laid it in a neat pile at the base of a tree, where there was a little crook that might hide it from casual observers. I let them look at my naked body, at the muscles I had built up over the past year. I hoped Fallon and Lucien could see how much I had grown since they had last seen me in this state.
I made my turning swift. There were no other hunters within a mile – this I knew from smell alone – and yet I did not wish to chance anyone seeing. As I turned toward them, between one breath and the next, I became wolf. From the way Fallon blinked at me, I knew it had impressed him.
As per the plan, I attempted to reach Martin through the bond.
(Martin—)
Abelard raised his gun. A click snapped through the air as he cocked it.
I stood still, waiting, my ears twitching and senses on high alert.
He drew in a breath, and the finger of his leather glove squeaked slightly.
I sprang out of the way just as a bullet hit the snow.
The chase was on.
The bond between Martin and I snapped tight and I felt him thrumming inside my brain.
(Martin, help me)
I ran toward the river. Yes, it was part of the plan. I was supposed to run toward the river and get trapped. As if a wolf could not swim! I did not have the time to consider another option.
My wolf was faster than the Loupe pack on foot, and if I could get closer to anoth
er group of hunters, they would be prevented from turning and chasing me down as wolves. Granted, this plan was hatched as I dodged (and didn’t dodge) their bullets, but keep in mind that guns in those days could hold only one or two rounds, and were not as accurate as they are today. I knew that I would not die from a bullet unless it hit my heart. So I continued running even when I felt the sting of bullets in my hide.
(MARTIN)
I hit the river full force. The icy cold, thankfully, took away any sting of the wounds I had sustained. My paws churned the water with a heavy numbness.
(Georges, I am coming)
The current pushed me under; I clawed my way to the surface, choking. Dimly I could hear voices that were unfamiliar.
“...heard shots...”
Then Abelard’s voice, “We spotted a wolf. It has escaped into the river.”
“There should be a group on the other side.”
The river carried me farther and farther away from the voices. I had not realized the Truyere River was quite so wide, or was it simply that cold had set in and confused my mind? Finally, my paws touched the rocky bottom of the opposite shore, and I dragged myself out.
Everything felt heavy and numb and I wanted to sink into the snow and sleep. A group of hunters was supposedly waiting for me on this side – Abelard’s safe guard, I assumed – and yet I could not force myself to care.
(Brother, I am coming)
His voice was the loudest thing in my head. With one last heave, I got my hind end out of the water and I crawled into the bushes on the side of the river. Good enough cover as any.
In my head I could hear his footfalls pounding on the forest floor, vibrating like they carried through the ground, loud as hoofbeats. And still my eyes slipped closed.
-24-
I awoke with a start, what seemed like mere minutes later. Footsteps crashing through the trees. I collected my legs beneath me and, after a long moment where I wasn’t sure I could do it, I bolted from the bushes and ran.
There were humans around, hunters, yet through the fog I could not see them. Their calls echoed oddly in the mist and confused me, but I kept north and headed straight for the cave.
(Brother, help me)
I nearly stopped dead in my tracks. Martin was in trouble now? Or could Abelard somehow have turned my own plan around on me?