Beast of Burden Page 21

  ****

  Sascha pulled the others up the stairs, panting with exhaustion. She’d heard Cianan’s call and, as frightened as she was, she couldn’t ignore it. At her side she clutched a shard from the broken mirror in the hall. He’d said if she was ever caught in the wolf’s path, she should hurt him.

  “Pain can stop it,” she repeated to herself, gathering her strength. The thought of harming him was painful, but she would do what she must to save him. She prayed it would work.

  “What will you do if you find the beast?” Kali demanded. “We won’t be able to kill it.”

  Sascha stopped, turning to look at the others. “We aren’t going to kill it.”

  “But Sascha,” Vasilia began. “Look what it did to all those people! It’s evil.”

  “I will not believe that Cianan is evil,” Sascha hissed. “This is my fault. If I had been here…”

  “You’d be dead, too,” Kali interjected. “Werewolves don’t know love.” Kali turned away. “Mindless evil creatures borne of hell and disease. I know all too well what those things can do. I’ve lived with them my whole life. It’s a curse, Sascha. You’ll be well rid of it. Take your freedom.”

  Sascha turned cold. “I will not turn my back on him. Whatever happened here wasn’t his fault. You promised to help me.”

  “To help you. Not die for you,” Kali answered. “And if it’s me or a werewolf, I choose me.” The girl looked around and finally picked up an axe that had been left lying around by the mob of townspeople. Sascha turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  When they reached the corridor, they looked both ways, searching for signs of Lescoux or Cianan. Seeing nothing, Sascha led them toward his bedchamber. She was certain that’s where the howling had come from. She took a deep breath and opened the door, praying she was doing the right thing. Kali and Vasilia were right. The werewolf raging in Cianan now wouldn’t recognize her. He was beyond reason and possessed of a terrible power. If he didn’t have some semblance of clarity, he’d kill them all without a second thought.

  The room was dark save a flicker of torchlight from a dim sconce on the wall. She could hear something moving around outside and a small whimpering sound beyond it. She stepped lightly, trying to be as quiet as possible with Kali and Vasilia crouched behind. Every step was a test of courage as she made her way through the room.

  “I don’t see anything,” Vasilia hissed, pulling at the others. “Perhaps everyone’s gone.”

  “He’s here,” Sascha answered, her voice low and trembling. “They both are. I can feel them.”

  And it was true. Even at the peak of his wolfen rage, she could feel Cianan’s heart pounding as if it were her very own. She looked down at the mercury sliver of glass clutched in her hand. She’d been squeezing it so tightly that blood had begun to dribble from her palm, staining the rug beneath her feet. She didn’t know if she could do it. She feared the beast, but she could see Cianan in its eyes. How could she hurt the one person she loved more than any other?

  She took another step forward and stumbled over something lying on the floor, going down on her hands and knees. “Damn it,” she cried.

  “Are you all right?” Vasilia whispered in the darkness.

  “I think so,” she groaned, sitting back on her knees and rubbing the heels of her palms. “What is this?”

  Sascha ran her hand across the floor, trying to place the texture. Whatever it was, it was warm, wet, and sickeningly thick. It clung to her hands, making them feel sticky. She put them to her face and inhaled deeply. The scent choked her and bile rose in her throat. There was no mistaking the coppery, bitter smell of blood now covering her hands. She could feel it running between her fingers and soaking into the delicate fabric of her gown.

  “What was it?” Kali forced through gritted teeth.

  “Hand me that candle,” Sascha answered. Kali obeyed, her shaking hands making the dim shadows shudder. Sascha took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come before shining the glow of the single candle toward her feet.

  At first, there was nothing to see, only wrinkled piles of a gown and petticoat. As Sascha moved the light higher, she realized there was a body lying dead on the floor. A blossom of fresh blood still poured from the wound in the woman’s belly. She shied away, hiding her eyes, not wanting to look any closer. She knew that petticoat. She’d seen it before.

  “Oh God,” Sascha whispered before slapping a hand over her mouth to cover the scream.

  “Sascha, who is it?” Kali demanded, pressing a reassuring hand to her shoulder.

  “No…no…it can’t be…” Sascha rasped, pushing her hands through her hair. “It can’t be true.”

  “It’s Anya,” Vasilia answered with a bland expression, watching as Sascha threw herself over the old woman’s body and began sobbing profusely. She reached out to put a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Oh Sascha…I’m so sorry…”

  Sascha pushed her away. She didn’t want them to look at her. To see her fall apart like this. Anya was the only mother she’d ever known. The shade of the woman who stared back at her was a stranger. It was Anya who had comforted and advised her. Anya had been the one with whom she’d shared all of her hopes and fears. And now all that was left of her was this cold, empty shell lying in a pool of fresh blood.

  “Please, God…please don’t let Cianan have done this,” she sobbed. “He couldn’t have. He loved her.”

  “He’s a werewolf!” Kali shouted. “Evil. Uncaring. What did you think, Sascha? That everything would be a perfect fairytale?” Kali continued her raving as Vasilia moved toward the body. “Don’t go near that,” Kali snapped. “It might have been bitten! The venom…”

  “No…look,” Vasilia murmured. “No wolf did this.” She pointed to Anya’s belly where it was clear she’d been stabbed.

  Kali knelt beside Sascha, examining the body more closely. After a few moments, she nodded, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “I bet I can guess who did this.”

  “But why?” she sobbed. “Anya never did anything. She was kind and…”

  “In the way,” Kali answered, her tone somber and severe. She started to pull Sascha to her feet when an agonized scream rent the silence, making them involuntarily crouch down. “What was that?”

  “Cianan!” Sascha screamed, scrambling out of Kali’s grasp and running for the balcony doors.

  “Sascha, wait!” Vasilia shrieked, but Sascha never heard her.

  She could only see Cianan’s face in her mind’s eye and it blocked out all thoughts of being wise. All of this was her fault and only she could fix it. Even if it meant losing her life.

  She burst through the doors, splintering the wood as it crashed against the stone walls. “Cianan!” she called into the darkness, running out onto the balcony.

  The scene before her stole her breath, and she was immediately sorry for her foolish haste. Against the stone rail, Lord Lescoux was cornered, screaming with agony and convulsing as he held one hand against his chest. She couldn’t help but enjoy seeing the evil, son of a bitch in such obviously excruciating pain. But her satisfaction was short lived as she heard the low growling behind her. She turned to see the huge, black wolf crouching behind and ready to pounce.

  Sascha suddenly realized she’d dropped the mirror shard on the floor behind Anya’s body. For a fleeting moment or two, she thought perhaps if she stood still, he wouldn’t be able to see her, but his angry, deafening roar said otherwise.

  Bitter laughter issued up from Lescoux’s throat. “Not so protective now, little slave?”

  “Save your breath for dying,” Sascha hissed, never taking her eyes off the werewolf.

  He paid no mind and went on laughing. “Funny, life’s little turns. One minute he’s the passionate lover throwing aside old friends to defend your questionable honor. The next he wants nothing more than to devour your flesh.” He laughed at the absurdity of his own joke. “But don’t hold it against him, Sascha. The s
ame thought crossed my mind once or twice.”

  Sascha stood motionless, paralyzed with fear. If she moved even a muscle, the wolf would strike. He might anyway. Obviously, he’d bitten Lescoux as well, but why hadn’t he finished the job? Lescoux was a pathetic worm who probably deserved to die, but Cianan wasn’t a murderer. Enough blood had been shed because of her. She had to stop this one way or another.

  “Cianan!” she shouted, stomping her foot. She needed to draw his attention away from Lescoux. “It’s me. It’s Sascha!”

  The wolf turned, his gaze focused and unanswering. It snarled, showing its teeth, but did not strike.

  Sascha took a step forward, her hand outstretched in front of her. “I know you can hear me. One so strong and powerful couldn’t be a slave to the whims of the moon.” The wolf had quieted, but still stared motionless from his perch. “Remember who you are, lover. You aren’t…” She gasped as the beast loped down from the ledge and took a step toward her. “You aren’t a murderer,” she whispered. She could feel the blood from the cut on her palm dripping between her fingers. She knew he could smell it because he put his muzzle in the air, sniffing. The wolf gave a bark—Lescoux’s blood was confusing it. He’d said before, as his mate, he could smell it in her blood. Only now the scents were mingling.

  “It only takes a second,” Lescoux groaned, crawling to his feet. “Just one second for the tables to turn.” His voice sounded gravelly and weak, and there was a frightening undertone that made Sascha’s blood run cold. “Pity…I had hoped to kill you myself, pretty slave. But I suppose watching will be enough.” He took a pained step in her direction, pausing to shake off another convulsion.

  “Stay away!” she screamed. Suddenly, she found herself trapped between a murderous beast and a werewolf. “Just run. Run away and never come back.” She fought to keep the quavering tone out of her voice, but it wasn’t working very well.

  “And miss all this?” Lescoux chuckled.

  “He’ll kill you.”

  “Will he?” He laughed again, this time devoid of mirth, bordering on maniacal. “Stupid girl. His venom is running through my veins now. In a month’s time, I’ll be just like him.” She watched as he picked up something that glistened on the floor. He began to lurch toward her, seemingly uncaring about the wolf pacing restlessly behind her. “Maybe then you’ll want to fuck me, too.”

  “You will never be like him,” she shouted. “No poisonous curse could ever make you anything more than what you are right now. A spineless, pathetic weakling.”

  With a roar of unadulterated rage, Lescoux threw himself at Sascha, knocking her to the ground. She lost her breath as her body hit the ground and he landed on top of her. She saw the silvery dagger flicker in the moonlight just over her head. As he brought it down, she ducked to the side just in time. The blade struck the stone floor beneath them hard enough to make sparks. Luckily, the bite had weakened him, and she was able to get her feet under his belly before he could rear back again. She scrambled backward and out of his reach. And then she remembered the stalking wolf behind her. Spinning around, she braced herself for the attack, but to her surprise, it didn’t come. She opened her eyes and gasped. It was gone.

  “Who’s going to save you now, bitch?” Lescoux roared, rising up behind her.

  Sascha turned just in time to grab his wrist, blocking the dagger just short of her throat. Even weakened, his anger and the venom were quickly besting her strength. She pushed back and twisted, trying desperately to make him drop the dagger. She heard the bones in her wrist crackle as he shattered them with the force of his grip.

  “Who’s pathetic now, slave whore?” Without warning, he launched himself forward. She wasn’t sure what was happening until she felt his teeth at her breast. She screamed as Lescoux tore at the flesh until blood splattered, staining her cheeks. Blood rushed from the wound, dripping bright crimson onto the white marble that glowed in the light of the full moon. Her breaths grew shallow and slow as she sank to the ground under his weight. She could feel her life slipping away through her lips like tendrils of pipe smoke. Everything deepened to fall into shadow around her until all she could see was Lescoux. She wanted to move, but her body was trapped.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. The beast crouched at an impossible angle on the window ledge above her. With a howling scream, it leapt, landing atop Lescoux and shoving him backward and away from her. Surely the force of the impact was enough to crush his chest, but he screamed. Wrapping his arms around the heavy wolfen body, he fought the beast, rolling over and over, trying to get a grip on the dagger and avoid its razored jaws. The wolf snarled, snapping its teeth threateningly. It was accustomed to bringing down prey, and Lescoux would be no different. In an instant, it had Lescoux’s throat gripped in its teeth. Sascha’s head lolled to one side weakly, and she watched the scene before her with fascinated disgust. The beast jerked its head back and forth until she could see the sinew of Lescoux’s neck pull away from the muscle. One last scream and gurgle and it was over. The lifeless body that had once been Ioin Lescoux was tossed aside like a child’s toy.

  Sascha watched as the werewolf stood over the body, its muzzle and flanks stained with blood, and he howled once more to the wolf moon. Then everything went black.

  Chapter 19

  The first thing Sascha saw was blinding light. It streamed in so bright that at first, all she could think was that she had died and this was the white light she’d heard about. But strangely, she was warm. Surely death wouldn’t be this comfortable. Testing her muscles, she wiggled her fingers and toes, making sure her body still obeyed the commands of her mind. When she was satisfied that she was still, in fact, attached to her skin, she started to sit up.

  Her body ached all over as if she’d been beaten. She put her hand down to push herself up on the pillows and gasped with pain. Her wrist. The one that Lescoux had broken in his rage. She lay there a moment, holding her head to keep the aching at bay. How had she gotten here? She didn’t remember anything past seeing Lescoux’s eyes grow cold with death. She wished she could block the image from her mind, but she had a feeling she would be seeing it for the rest of her days. She sighed. At least he was gone. Wiggling, she managed to sit up against the pillows so she could look around. When her vision cleared, she recognized this place. Cianan’s bedchamber. Everything looked as it should, roaring fireplace at the hearth, rich gold tapestries hanging from every wall, and the balcony doors were intact and open slightly to let in the morning breeze.

  She sighed with relief. She was safe here in his bed, and perhaps it had all been a nasty dream. Anya would be in at any moment with a tray of tea and sweetbread for her breakfast. Carefully, she picked up the heavy coverlet and pulled it up to her shoulders. As the rough satin hit her chest, she shrieked with a new pain. A burning sensation like nothing she’d ever felt ran across her chest and down her arms. Reaching up, she placed her hand over the spot where the pain had originated. Her fingertips ran across the soft fibers of a bandage. The burst of pain when she touched it afforded her a little clarity, and she remembered what had happened. Lescoux had bitten her.

  “Cianan?” she called in a meager voice. She was frightened, and she needed his reassurance that everything had been a bad dream.

  “You’re awake!” Vasilia’s tinkling voice wafted through the room. The small girl bounded across the rug and leapt into the bed beside her. “We thought you’d never awaken. Like some cursed princess in a fairy tale!”

  “Vasilia?” Sascha croaked.

  “And you remember me.” The girl threw her arms around Sascha, squeezing her gently. “The physician said you might not remember anything when you woke.”

  “Of course I do.” She held tightly to the girl, letting the reality of all that had happened sink in. “I just don’t remember much else. What happened?”

  Vasilia pulled back, looking up at her strangely. “Lord Marek…he slew the werewolf.”

  “What?” More clouds of confusi
on blew over Sascha’s brain. “But Cianan…”

  “The night we came up here looking for Lord Marek, Kali and I were hiding in here when you ran out on to the balcony. The wolf attacked and Marek saved you.”

  “But the wolf…”

  “Lescoux! It was him the whole time. He killed that girl from town, and Neesa too. He would have killed you if it wasn’t for Lord Marek. We heard you scream and by the time we got there, he was carrying you away.”

  Sascha looked on in shock. “But you saw him. That night after Ioin tried…”

  Kali entered from the hall, smiling. “We didn’t see anything. Ioin rushed us down the stairs and out the door so fast that it was a blur.”

  “But…” Sascha stammered.

  Kali and Vasilia looked at one another and back to Sascha. “We didn’t see anything,” Kali said again, an eyebrow arched. Sascha understood. They would lie for them. Let the townspeople have their vengeance with the body of Ioin Lescoux.

  Sascha nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

  The door behind them opened, and Cianan stood in the arch of the inner doors. Vasilia blushed and rose from the bed. “I’m glad you are well, milady,” she said with a curtsey. She went to Kali, taking her arm. “My lord,” they said, both bowing to Cianan as they slipped out of the room.

  “Cianan!” Sascha exclaimed as soon as they were alone, trying to rise from the bed.

  “Sssh…” he whispered, pushing her gently against the pillows. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  He sat down on the bed, immediately pulling her into his arms. Her body relaxed against his as she nuzzled his neck, inhaling his scent. For a long time, they were silent, not wanting to speak for fear that the spell would be broken and both would awaken to their previously miserable lives.