Page 62 of Wolf's Return
Gaharet halted. “This is pack business, Lothair. Do not involve yourself in it. It gives you plausible deniability if Faucher does become involved.”
“On no.” Lothair squared off with Gaharet. “Lance is as much my problem as he is yours. Do you not remember your vows that you so recently swore to me? You serve me, and in return, I grantyoumy protection. You are my most trusted vassal, Gaharet. Dare I say you are my friend? I protect what ismine. If you are going to face Lance, then so am I. With my keep guard at my back. Let them all see we are a united force.”
D’Artagnon rounded on Lothair and his brother. “We are wasting time.”
“Very well, Lothair. Your men may prove helpful,” said Gaharet. “They will grant us clear passage to my keep. But I warn you, no one, not even you, will interfere with pack justice. And if the witch should make an appearance, leave her to us.”
His brother trusted Lothair?Wariness leaked from his brother. No, Gaharet did not trust their comte. Not completely.
“Of course.” He held his hand out in front of him. “Shall we?”
They hastened through the square, murmurs of Mon Seigneur Comte following them. D’Artagnon’s skin crawled. So many people. Too many. He quickened his pace. He wanted to be free of the village and on his way back to the keep. If the spell Lance had used was anything like the one on the amulets, Lance was already there.
It was a half day’s ride to the keep. If they pushed their horses hard, they could cut that time down, but the horses had already done the journey once. Riding them beyond exhaustion would not get them there any faster. His wolf could.
They reached the gate as the keep guard returned, mounted and in force, with their horses in tow. Gaharet handed him a set of reins.
Ulrik nudged him. “As much as riding with Lothair is unappealing, shifting now would not be wise.”
The keep guard gathered around them, their horses agitated.
D’Artagnon grunted. Was he so easy to read? His wolf screamed at him to shed his armor and slip into his animal form, but Ulrik was right.
Gaharet took up his reins. “Remi, give your horse to the Comte and take his.” He turned to Lothair. “Best you keep your men and their horses at a distance. They do not like our presence.”
Lothair accepted the reins and mounted up. “I did wonder how you managed that.”
D’Artagnon swung into the saddle and spurred his horse into a canter. Lothair could keep up or fall behind. He did not care. All that mattered was he get back to the keep and stop Lance. He prayed they were not already too late.
* * * *
Lance landed in the dirt with a thud, his body screaming with the pain of a thousand stab wounds. The witch’s spell had sent him through space, but not with effortless ease. Not as it did when one used an amulet. It was as though the spell had forced his body through a rent in the fabric of the cosmos, its jagged edges ripping and tearing at his flesh and his soul. He would hate to think what it had been like for Godfrey—when he had spelled him through timeandspace.
He coughed and spluttered, spitting out dirt, saliva and blood. He must have bitten his tongue. Lance grunted and pushed himself to his feet. He was a werewolf, not some weakhuman.
He stilled. Moonlight glinted in the many eyes staring at him. Villagers, pitchforks and scythes in their hands, watched him, some rising to their feet and advancing. On the hill, looming like a sentient being, the d’Louncrais keep mocked him. Above it, the almost full moon was high in the sky.
Merde. How could this be?
It was barely dusk when he had leftthe pleasure house. Had the spell sucked away time as it had pulled him through? Had Gaharet returned already?
He eyed the villagers firming a circle around him.No. The villagers would not be on guard if he had.As if they could pit themselves against me? A werewolf.
Old man Tumas approached him, his pitchfork held in front of him. “SeigneurVautour?”
“What eve is this?” he snarled at the old man.
Tumas narrowed his eyes, but did not answer him.
“Has Gaharet returned to the keep, old man?” Lance called his wolf close to the surface and put power behind his words. Some of the villagers shrunk back. Not Old Tumas, but no human could resist a command from a wolf, not one like him who was alpha enough to rule the pack. Whoshouldbe leading the pack.
“No. Seigneur Gaharet left the keep this morn and has yet to return.”
Lance stared at the moon, tracking high in the night sky.Stupid witch.She had not said her spell was inaccurate, that it ate up time. And it had spat him out, not inside the keep, behind the lowered portcullis and beyond the reach of Gaharet’s men lining the ramparts, but in the wretched village. He glanced at the road leaving the village, weaving its way to Langeais. If Gaharet pushed his horses hard…
“Merde. Merde.”
An evil grin twisted Tumas’ craggy face. “By yer cursin’, Seigneur Gaharet is soon to return. Perhaps we will wait right here until he does.”
