Page 4 of Wolf's Return
He eyed the hall entrance. It had been a mistake coming here. His father had entrusted this task to him and, as before, there were valid grounds fornotincluding his brother. The burden must be his alone. He rose and padded silently across the hall, only to have his path blocked.
Gaharet. His brother. A bigger black wolf than him. Alpha of the Langeais wolves. Though his brother’s love for his new mate coated every word he uttered, there were deeper lines of worry around his eyes and a hardness about him he had never seen before. Not even after the death of their mother, or their father.
Gaharet crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised. “Thinking of leaving so soon, D’Artagnon?”
D’Artagnon. His brother meant him. It had been many seasons since he had thought of himself as a man. As D’Artagnon. Years since someone had called him by his name.
“It is good you have returned. For now, more than ever, we need you here. Much has happened since you last set foot in this keep. Stay a moment, and I will tell you of our troubles.”
Troubles? Could things be worse than when I left?He stared at his brother’s boots, debating his course of action.
“No longer are we the strong pack you once knew,” his brother continued. “Our numbers are few, and the only females we have are those in this keep. Our pack is on the verge of extinction.”
D’Artagnon jerked his head up. On the verge ofextinction?He sat his haunches down.What had happened in his absence? Had he stayed away too long and his pack suffered for his silence? Why was his brother only telling him this now? It seemed he was not the only d’Louncrais wanting to spare his sibling a heavy responsibility.
“I see I have your attention. An archeveque named Renaud set about capturing one of us for his own purposes, and has killed most of our pack in doing so,” explained Gaharet.
Archeveque Renaud?Notmy enemy?
“The only wolves left of the pack you knew are Ulrik, the twins Edmond and Aubert, Godfrey and Lance.”
His nemesis was one of the few this Renaud had spared? Coincidence? D’Artagnon thought not.
“Aimon became one of us three years ago.” Gaharet motioned to a wall hanging where embroidered figures danced across the fabric in the flickering firelight.
Where once one embroidered panel had hung on the wall, now there were two. The second, a battle scene where his fellow pack fought on horseback. There, embroidered into the fabric, was his enemy. He pared his lip back and a low growl rumbled in his throat. That man, thattraitor,had struck him down, and yet stillhe remained a trusted member of the pack. Trusted enough to grace the walls of what was once his home.
He studied the figures on horseback—his brother, the twins, Ulrik, Lance and Godfrey. At the bottom of the piece, the young, white-haired chevalier. He lay in a pool of blood. Dying. This must be Aimon. The redheaded she-wolf reeked of him and the scent of mating. Had his brother turned this Aimon? The pack had not sanctioned a turning since… D’Artagnon could not remember a turning.
He eyed the entrance again.
Gaharet squatted before him, blocking his view. “How did Renaud slay so many werewolves, you might ask?”
D’Artagnon peeled his gaze from the doorway.
“One of our own betrayed us. I am betting”—his brother’s dark stare bored into him—“that does not come as a surprise to you, brother.”
D’Artagnon met his stare, unflinching. His brother knew of the traitor, suspected he had aided this Renaud, but did he know of the true depths he had sunk to?
“The traitor’s deception did not end there, did it, D’Artagnon?” His brother’s voice was soft, but dark shadows flitted in his eyes and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “He killed our father. He killed our mother, and in doing so, he turned Kathryn.” Gaharet pointed to the redheaded she-wolf sitting at the table. “I suspect you knew of his treachery, and that is why he tried to kill you.”
D’Artagnon swiveled his gaze to the female. Kathryn. The she-wolf who reminded him of his mother was Kathryn. He had heard that name before, yet… A memory floated up from the dark recesses of his mind. Of a little girl with flaming red hair, hazel eyes and a nose covered in freckles chasing him through the keep corridors with unrestrained glee. Kathryn. Not his sister. His cousin.
He turned his eye back to his brother. Kathryn had been there when his mother had died? She had seen her attacker? And he had let her live?
Gaharet rose and paced the floor. “Kathryn was but a child during her turning. She remembers only that her attacker is dark-haired, my height, and carries a sword with a stone on the pommel. That is all we know.”
“I keep trying to remember, but…” Kathryn hung her head, and her father laid a comforting hand on her arm.
“What Kathryn has been able to remember has narrowed it down to two,” said Gaharet. “Godfrey and Lance. And Godfrey is missing.”
D’Artagnon swiveled his ears forward.Godfrey is missing?Since when? He had followed Godfrey and Lance through the forest, only to lose them both in the storm. Had only one of them returned?
He tracked his brother’s agitated steps. Gaharet wanted him to shift, to return to human form and give him a name. Thathadbeen his intent, but now…
D’Artagnon stared unblinking at Gaharet.
“Can you tell us, D’Artagnon? Give us a clue?” His brother walked over to the wall hanging, tracing the figure of Godfrey with his finger. “I never would have thought Godfrey would betray us. He has stood by my father’s side, and now mine. He has always given me sound advice, but his absence at this time is damning, and his behavior of late has been unpredictable.”
