The Wolf Clan Chronicles:
Wolves in the Shadows
By Sharon McLaughlin
Copyright Sharon McLaughlin 2014
She took a deep breath, inhaling the sticky sweet aroma of the myriad of oranges in their varying stages of ripeness and rot and the musty smell of the cobwebbed robed trees. She could never recall exactly when it was that she had begun to haunt these abandoned orange groves, but one day she just realized that every day she would have a strange compulsion to slip away from the hustle and bustle of campus life and enter the old groves through a gap in the crumbling brick wall.
Sometimes she would lay sprawled out on her well worn red and white striped picnic blanket, reading or studying or writing in her little journal or just looking up at the clouds and thinking of nothing. Sometimes she would stroll aimlessly through the overgrown lines of trees, careful not to trip over the rusting smudge pots that had once burned with kerosene to keep away the frost. Sometimes she would simply stand still with her eyes closed and arms outstretched as she felt the peace on the grove flow around her like a lazy river. She would listen to the carefree songs of the little birds going about their little business and the rustle of the leaves being moved by the breeze and crunch of earth beneath her feet as she walked through this quiet place that time had forgotten. There was a sort of calm about this place that she could never quite describe. It would fill her the moment that she would step through the gap in the wall.
But sometimes, especially lately, it seemed like something about the grove had shifted. The calm had become a sort of watchful brooding, a quiet stillness before a storm. It filled her heart with fearful anticipation. Like she was waiting for something that lurked just outside her sight. There was a part of her that dreaded the groves in these moments, but she found that she could not abandon her daily visits.
What was it that drew her to this strange place that no one ever seemed to pay any attention to? What was she waiting for? No matter how much she pondered these questions, the answers would always elude her grasp.
She could not have known that tonight, something she had been waiting for her whole life without even realizing it, would happen and change her life forever.
Would it be for the better?
Or would it lead her down a path towards death and despair?
Only time would tell.
Thursday Night
Chapter 1
Elizabeth sighed and dropped her backpack in the chair next to her neatly organized desk. It had been a long day, and she had just realized that she had left her journal in the grove yet again. She glanced out the window at the rapidly darkening sky and frowned. When had she become so absent minded? She hardly wrote in the stupid thing anymore. There seemed to be no point as nothing interesting ever happened to for her to write about. Still, she didn’t like the idea of anything leaving it in the grove overnight.
She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a slim flashlight. It was always a pain to navigate through the overgrown aisles of trees at night. After a moment’s contemplation, she got her oversized grey Orange University sweater out of the closet and pulled it over her head. It had been a warm day, but the evening had been getting a little chilly when she had walked back to the dorm after dinner.
She locked the door to the room and walked down the hall to the stairs to the back door. It would have been faster for her to go out the front entrance, but that would have meant going through the common room in the lobby. Elizabeth had a feeling that Michelle would be sitting there with her friends as she often did after dinner. As much as Elizabeth liked her roommate of the past two and a half years, she had no desire to be drawn into conversation right now. Michelle just didn’t understand that sometimes Elizabeth just needed to be left alone. So once again, the back door would be the answer. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she looked down at her sweater. Michelle hated seeing her in it and would always say how totally unflattering it was, but Elizabeth always ignored her. It was soft and warm and had nice deep pockets. And besides, who was she trying to impress? Michelle could be the pretty on one, but she would be the comfy one.
Elizabeth made sure that no one was watching before she jogged across the street and slipped through the hedge that hid the crumbling brick wall from the street. It was more out of paranoid habit than necessity. The imposing trees that lined the road on the campus side effectively blocked most of the light coming from the campus. She had never met anyone in the grove, but she still wondered as she followed the lane between the hedge and the wall if anyone else knew about her secret entrance. She liked to imagine the grove as her own private retreat though she had made the mistake of mentioning it once to Michelle. Fortunately, her roommate had never had any interest in seeing the place and had shockingly not mentioned it to anyone. Or if she had, she must have made it sound like such a boring place that they hadn’t bothered coming to see it themselves.
Elizabeth ran her hand along the rough wall until she reached where the bricks had by chance or design crumbled away to make a narrow gap that was just wide enough for a slim person to squeeze through into the grove. The dry earth crunched beneath her feet as she walked towards her usual picnic spot. Fifteen rows to the left and twenty trees forward.
The last light of dusk had vanished behind the distant mountains and night had fallen by the time she found it. Her little journal sat right where she had left it, propped against the soot-blackened smudge pot. She sighed and dusted off the cheap cardboard bound notebook before putting it in her pocket. Why did she even bother keeping a journal? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Something felt different, the air seethed with a strange restlessness. Or maybe it was just her. Elizabeth shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. It was probably nothing. She was just frustrated at herself for leaving her stupid journal. That was all.
She switched on her flashlight and started to walk back towards the dorm. She was glad that she had recently changed the batteries. During the day, she could wander aimlessly for hours without getting lost, but at night, the trees seemed so foreign and imposing, strangers in the dark. As she walked, she started to feel a tingling sensation on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She stopped and looked around. The cobweb draped trees looked almost ghostlike as the beam from Elizabeth’s flashlight swept over them. She squinted into the darkness. There was nothing but trees and the smoke stacks of smudge pots sticking out of the undergrowth here and there. She shrugged and continued on her way.
The sharp sound of a twig snapping behind her made her almost jump out of her skin. She spun around. Her knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on her flashlight. Why hadn’t she invested in a heavier flashlight? Then at least she would have something that she could use to cause some damage.
“Is anyone there?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. There was no response. She ran her free hand through her hair and forced herself to laugh. Surely she was just imagining things. It was just a squirrel or something. She turned and started to walk again, determined to calm down and stop jumping at nothing.
“Don’t be afraid.” A deep voice spoke out of the darkness.
Elizabeth stopped in her tracks but did not turn. A shiver ran down her spine at the sound. There was something eerie about the voice, something strangely cold and inhuman. Not mechanical, just not human.
“I’m not afraid,” Elizabeth tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke, but she could hardly breathe.
“Deception does not become you.” The speaker seemed to materialize in front of her. His pale blue eyes looked down at her from under thick brows. There was an intensity in his g
aze that seemed to be able to pierce right through her. Honey blonde hair fell around his temples, framing his broad forehead. His smooth face seemed young, but there was an air about him, a whiff of an ancient world. He was like something that Elizabeth had only imagined. She knew instinctively what he was, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept it. He couldn’t possibly be. No, it was too much. She clearly had been reading too many crazy novels. She wanted to say something bold and threatening, but there were no words.
“You’re right,” she said after she had forced her thoughts to stop whirling out of control. She was used to looking up at everyone one she met, but he absolutely towered over her. She had never felt quite this small in anyone’s presence. “I’m absolutely terrified.”
A smile flitted across the stranger’s sharp features. “See, much better.”
Elizabeth found that she could breath easily again, though her fear did not diminish.
“I am Sir Marcus of the Wolves,” he said. “And I mean you no harm.”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply as a large grey wolf with bright yellow eyes appeared out of the darkness and started to circle her. It was so close that she could have reached out and touched its rough fur with her fingers if she felt so inclined.
She did not feel so inclined.
“You want to run,” Sir Marcus said. His voice was gentle, but there was a deadly edge to it. “But you know that would not be wise.”
Elizabeth nodded. Fear had indeed rooted her to the spot, but she did not trust herself to say it out loud. She didn’t want Sir Marcus to think that she was being rude by not responding. She jumped and had to bite her tongue when the wolf abruptly pressed his cold nose into her hand. He kept nudging her hand until she gave him a tentative pat on the head. The wolf grunted and tilted his head so that she could scratch behind his ears.
The scream that had been growing inside her came out as a nervous laugh. “I’m actually amazed that I’m still able to stand,” she said. “Running is certainly out of the question. Though now I’m beginning to question my own sanity.”
Marcus tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. There was a hint of a frown on his lips.
“I’m petting a live wolf,” Elizabeth continued. She had not seen the look on Marcus’ face, but she felt compelled to explain herself. “And I’m having a conversation with a-a very scary looking guy in a dark abandoned orange grove and not screaming and running in the opposite direction. That doesn’t seem very sane.”
“But you said running was out of the question.”
Elizabeth looked up to see Sir Marcus’ teeth flash in the darkness as he grinned suddenly.
She gave him a small smile in return in spite her fear. “That’s beside the point,” she said.
“You really think I look scary?” Sir Marcus sounded both pleased and amused.
“You’re a v-” Elizabeth stopped herself. She couldn’t say that. “Well, er…um,” she stammered awkwardly as she tried to think what to say. “You’re over a foot taller than me, and you have a pet wolf.” She winced as the wolf nipped her hand lightly. He obviously did not like to be referred to as a pet. Elizabeth was grateful that he had no bitten down hard; his teeth were sharp. “Sorry, Romulus,” she said.
The wolf whined and licked her fingers.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as the realization struck her. “How did I know his name was Romulus?” It had just come to her like she had met him once long ago and had just now remembered his name.
“That should be the least of your concerns right now,” Sir Marcus said.
“You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked before she could stop herself again. She inwardly cursed her curiosity and started to chew on her tongue. What kind of idiot was she? Asking a complete stranger if he was some mythological creature just because there was something about him that seemed strange. It was just pathetic!
Marcus did not reply right away. He stood still and studied her features as if he was searching for something in her face.
“Yes,” he said after he had found-or perhaps not found-whatever he had been looking for. “And I’ve been waiting a long time to finally meet you, Elizabeth Morden.”
Elizabeth felt a mixture of fear and excitement course through her. “How did you know my name?”
“I know many things.”
“Are you going to kill me?” Elizabeth was amazed at how calm she sounded when she asked it.
“I said that I meant you no harm.” Sir Marcus replied.
“People lie sometimes.” Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand. She could not believe that she had just said that. She looked away from Sir Marcus in embarrassment, worried that she might have offended him.
But Sir Marcus chuckled. “Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be long dead.” It did not sound like a threat. It was a mere statement of fact. “I’m here to take you to my father.”
Chapter 2
Elizabeth felt as if she must have been in a dream as she walked through the grove with Sir Marcus and Romulus. On a seemingly random impulse, she shut off her flashlight and put it into the pocket of her sweater next to her journal. She found that she could still see Romulus leading the way with his tail held jauntily high. The night, which had seemed so dark and quiet before, seemed to be ablaze with life and sound. She could hear the scampering of little critters hurrying through the undergrowth and in the bush-like trees looking for food or their mates or for shelter from larger creatures that would swallow them whole. She could hear the swoosh of hunting owls as they descended upon their prey like shadows of death.
There was heat rising from the earth beneath her feet and from the trees that surrounded her, but the rusting smudge pots that once burned hot were as cold and dead as Sir Marcus as he walked beside her. She had always taken for granted the sounds of a person’s breath and footsteps and the rustle of their clothes when she might have walked with them, but Sir Marcus made no noise as he moved. It seemed especially strange now that Elizabeth felt like she could hear so much.
The darkness seemed to melt away before her eyes, and she could see the long lines of trees stretching out before her. The moon shone brightly in the sky, reflecting off of the milky white strands of spider webs that covered every tree. Elizabeth could see the dimpled oranges peeking out from behind the stiff dark green leaves as clearly as if the sun was shining down upon them.
“How is it that I can suddenly see so well in the dark?” She asked, turning to Sir Marcus. “And I can hear everything to, except for you. You don’t make a sound.”
“You are with us,” he replied. It was a simple enough answer, but Elizabeth had no idea how it was possible. She wanted to ask him to clarify, but there were too many other questions clamoring for attention inside her head.
“Who is your father?” She decided to ask.
“My father, Lord Reginald Wolfrick is the master of the Wolf Clan. He is very old and powerful and commands a great deal of respect.”
Elizabeth swallowed nervously and said, “Sounds scary.”
“He is scary,” Marcus replied. After a moment’s pause, he added, “but you have nothing to fear from him.”
“Why not?” Elizabeth winced at her words. Something about Sir Marcus made her feel like she had to say whatever dumb thoughts came into her head. It was getting frustrating. “How can you be sure?”
Fortunately, Sir Marcus did not seem annoyed by her impertinence. “Because Romulus likes you,” he said simply.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and looked down at Romulus. The wolf had turned and stood staring up at her with his bright yellow eyes.
“Romulus has been with my father for well over 600 years,” Marcus said. He stopped just before they reached where the wolf had stopped. “If my father had any intention of harming you, Romulus would know and want nothing to do with
you.” He seemed more serious than Elizabeth had seen him since she had met him. “As it is, he has already told you his name and is helping you see the world as he clearly as he sees. And beyond that, I would not take you to my father if he was going to harm you.”
Elizabeth grimaced as a sudden pain shot through her temples. A strange sensation overtook her as half formed images shimmered before her eyes.
“Romulus,” Sir Marcus said sharply.
The pain and the images vanished before Elizabeth could make any sense of them. She blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond.
“Forgive him,” Sir Marcus said.
“What was that?” asked Elizabeth. She was glad that they were standing still at the moment. She felt like she needed a moment to get her thoughts organized. She ran her fingers through her hair nervously.
Sir Marcus did not reply. He just looked at Romulus and then looked back at Elizabeth.
“Is he a were-wolf or something?”
“He’s something.” Marcus replied
“So your father,” Elizabeth said when it became clear that he was not going to explain exactly what Romulus was. “Lord Reginald Wolfrick was it?” Elizabeth tried to think how to ask it without sounding absurdly ignorant. “When you say he’s you father, what exactly does it mean?” She hoped it wouldn’t come across as rude, but she was just curious. She had never met a vampire before and wasn’t quite sure how to talk to him yet.
“It means he’s my father and my father.”
Elizabeth failed to stifle a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Marcus asked. His looked genuinely perplexed.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Your answers to my questions seem so simple, but I have no idea what you mean.” The words were out before she could stop them. “It’s like you’re speaking in riddles.”
It was Sir Marcus’ turn to chuckle. “You are a forthright and inquisitive girl aren’t you?”
Elizabeth shrugged. There was no point in trying to answer when he already had made up his mind. He had a frustrating way of getting her to say exactly what she was thinking.