Page 60 of Wolf's Return
Gaharet held out five gold coins and one silver. “Onesolper man, and adenierfor the boy. Take it. It is more than fair.” He jerked his head in D’Artagnon’s direction. “Or I let my brother pay. His way.”
D’Artagnon rested the tip of his sword at the base of the man’s thick neck.
The man blanched and grabbed the coins. “Thank you, Mon Seigneur.” He backed away into the corner of the room.
D’Artagnon pushed through the doorway and rushed down the hall, following his nose. His brother cursed behind him, but he did not slow. He would take his enemy down. He would spare his brother.
At the end of the corridor, he encountered Ulrik and Aimon. If they were here, who was watching over Constance? His wolf pushed forward.
Ulrik grasped his shoulder and leaned close. “She is safe, D’Artagnon,” he whispered in his ear. “Protected along with all our mates.”
The tightness in his chest eased a little.
Ulrik jerked his head toward a closed door, Lance’s scent heavy on the air. And something else. Blood. And fear. No more. This ended today. The traitor would haunt his family no longer. D’Artagnon would avenge his mother’s death. And his father’s. Today Lance Vautour would die.
He kicked the door open and stalked into the room.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
D’Artagnon’s eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared at the scene before him. Two naked women cowered in the corner, raised welts and bloody claw marks across their backs and thighs. They huddled together, whimpering. Fully armored, Lance faced him. His sense of smell was as strong as theirs. He had known they were coming.
“Well, well, well.” Lance drew his sword. “Look who is back from the dead.” His gaze slid past D’Artagnon. “And you have enlisted the aid of the pup and the pack’s embarrassment.” His smile was devoid of any humor. “You think any of you are a match forme?” He angled his sword at Aimon. “Youare but three years turned.You”—he pointed his sword at Ulrik—“have barely had you head out of a wine barrel for years. Andyou”—he swung his sword around to D’Artagnon—"I cut you down once. I will do it again.Thistime I will make certain you are—”
“How about me?” Gaharet pushed into the room. “And them?”
Edmond, Aubert and Farren stood behind him in the doorway.
A muscle ticked in Lance’s jaw. “Well, I guess there is no point in proclaiming my innocence.”
D’Artagnon blocked Gaharet with his body and advanced on Lance. The room was small, with little space to swing a sword, but that would not stop him from taking Lance’s head.
Lance backed toward the window, but Ulrik outflanked him, blocking his escape. Lance snarled, but he did not appear cowed.
“Where is Godfrey, Lance?”
At his brother’s words, D’Artagnon halted. Lance had nowhere to go, and they needed answers.
Lance shrugged. “Somewhere you willneverfind him.”
D’Artagnon pressed forward. You could do a lot of damage to a werewolf before killing him. Of that, D’Artagnon was living proof. And if that is what it took to get information from Lance, D’Artagnon would not hesitate.
Lance scowled at D’Artagnon. “Why could you not have just curled up and died?” He jabbed his sword at Gaharet. “Andyou. Why were you not more like your father? Why did you remain so strong? It was meant to bemine!All of it.Youtook it from me.Shewas meant to be mine. And Jacques tookher.”
Spittle flecked Lance’s lips, his veneer of civility slipping. He had fooled them all. They tightened the circle, hemming in their betrayer. There was no escape for him. Time for his debt to be paid.
Lance threw back his head and laughed. “You think yourself sopowerful. Sountouchable.I showed you. I showed youall.It was me.Allof it. I may have used Renaud, but it wasIwho took away your pack and reduced you to a handful of men.” He shook his head, focusing on Gaharet. “And still you believe in your own power.” There was a smugness to his smile. “You were stupid coming here. With all of your men at your back. You have left your most prized possession unguarded.” His face contorted, his eyes filled with an unholy rage. “I will have my due! The d’Louncraiswillfall!”
The growls of his pack surrounded him.
Gaharet stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “There are seven of us, and but one of you. What makes you think you will leave this room alive?”
Unease slithered in D’Artagnon’s gut. His brother was right to be cautious, to be curious. Faced with six werewolves and an experienced chevalier, why was Lance so confident? Hisreactions were not those of a cornered man. One facing his own death.
“You think you are the only one with access to a witch?” said Lance. “That is the benefit that comes with age, Gaharet. I know things you do not.Mywitch once cooked a man’s blood, boiled him alive from the inside out. Can yours do that?”
Cordelia. How is that possible?Tumas had been but a boy. Lance might be older, and werewolves lived longer lives, but would a witch? She would have to be very old.
Lance raised his sword, but did not brandish it at D’Artagnon or Gaharet. Instead, he sliced the blade across his palm. Blood dripped to the floor. “Did your witch teachyoublood magic?”
