A Deep Dark Call Read online

  Lucy realized that both he and the old woman were speaking Romanian. She did not know how, but as a wolf, she was able to understand what they were saying.

  “The poor child is cursed. It’s the devilish taint in her. It will finally turn her, as it did you. I wanted to save her. The priest said—” Ana whispered.

  “He is no man of God, but a madman, and you chose to believe him. You let his madness take you over and you tried to harm a child you loved,” Ioan said sadly.

  “No. You are cursed! Better off dead than cursed!” Ana shouted, starting to sob even more violently.

  Ioan shook his head, casting the old woman a look of contemptuous pity. “Leave her, draga mea. Let’s go to the house,” he told Lucy.

  Hearing the sadness in his voice, Lucy obeyed, understanding that they had nothing more to fear from the old woman. They walked together, the man holding his child, followed by the silver wolf that was his mate, not sparing another glance for the crumpled figure sobbing with grief.

  Ioan answered her unspoken question. “She won’t harm us again. She is just a broken old woman the priest has used as a pawn. There’s no need for revenge. She has already punished herself. I blame myself... I blame myself for not seeing sooner how dangerous the priest had become.”

  He was right, and Lucy started telling him so, but suddenly realized that, as a wolf, she could not speak.

  And instantly the scent invaded her nostrils. Wolf. No. Wolves.

  They were there hidden in the bushes beyond the stream. They’d come to the rescue. She could smell them now, one male and three females, waiting for their Emperor’s command.

  But she heard the command clear in her head, as if she had heard him speak it. Leave her be, leave the old woman be. She can no longer harm anyone.

  The wolves obeyed, leaving their hiding place to go toward the woods that had been waiting for them.

  Dizziness overcame her. The events of the day were twirling around her, and Lucy realized that she was again becoming Woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alexandra was sleeping in her room. Ioan had just checked on her. She was still shaken, but not in shock—she grieved. She’d lost Ana, who had been taking care of her ever since she’d been a baby. It was hard for her to understand that Ana could do something to hurt her.

  But Ioan understood. Fear was sometimes too powerful, like a beast lurking inside, and Ana had been too afraid of what he was. He blamed himself for not understanding it sooner.

  Alexandra was grieving, but the wolf inside her was unhurt. She had the guardian blood that would give her the strength to get over this. Besides, she understood that she had someone by her side who would always keep her safe.

  His child was safe. But not thanks to him.

  He’d felt it before reaching the manor, the anger that had caused her to shift, because when she was wolf, he could link his mind to hers. Mother anger—that’s what she’d felt.

  Lucy had been there, and she had been there for his child in a way that only a wolf mother could. Watchful. Sensible. Alert. In control. It had cost him not to shift. He’d felt his blood boil and his skin burn. The wolf inside him had been fiercely howling in his ears, maddened by the need to protect Alexandra but he’d understood that Sharp Eyes was right. He was the guardian wolf, but his newfound power was still too dark and too raw. It took control not to let it possess him.

  Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he studied his wife’s pale face. He stopped himself from caressing her cheek just in time—he didn’t want to wake her. She deserved her rest. Foolishly, he had thought that she’d been simply afraid of the wolfishness inside her. But she’d been wiser and braver than that. He now saw why Lucy had clung to her human identity so obstinately. She had somehow sensed, better than he had, the enormity of what being Wolf really meant, and she had finally been able to embrace it more effectively that he had. Her human side would always rule the wolf.

  He was more torn between the two sides than she was—he’d always felt the wolf trying to rule the human in him. It was always going to be so, the wolf eternally simmering inside him. But he would keep him in check by sheer will. After all, he’d spent long years learning how to leash his temper.

  Lucy stirred in her sleep. He took her in his arms, attempting to guard her sleep a little longer, and he vowed that he would never fail her again. He would be there for her.

  * * *

  Lucy awoke with a start, only to realize it was now morning. Had she slept a full day? She suddenly remembered what had happened yesterday and could not bring herself to believe it. Alexandra had been in danger! She frantically tried to get up and disentangle herself from the embrace of the man who was holding her. It was her husband.

  “Stop, draga mea. Stop.”

  “Alexandra? Is she all right?”

  “Yes, she is. You saved her.”

  “I...” She buried her face in her hands. “Will she be fine?”

  “She already is.”

  “Thank God. Thank God she’s all right.”

  “God had nothing to do with it. It was you. You saved her.”

  She nodded, though unable to believe it herself. “Ioan...” she asked. “What am I really?”

  He looked at her, his green eyes inscrutable. “You don’t know?” he asked.

  She began to shake her head.

  “You are my mate,” he told her, brushing a gentle kiss on her lips.

  He smelled of anger, and of relief, and of black wolf...and now she remembered clearly. They’d mated and hunted together as wolves. He was as beautiful as wolf as he was as man.

  “Varcolac...” she whispered, fully understanding what she had most certainly known for some time. “Did you turn me that first night when you bit me?”

  He smiled ruefully. “Yes. No. The truth is we really turned each other. It was in my blood and it was also in yours. Our mating made it possible. Possible for us to become the wolves that had always been there inside us.”

  “So we really are cursed,” she said, still finding it hard to accept it.

  He kissed her hard on the lips, with tongue and teeth. A wolfish kiss.

  “Do you feel this is a curse?” he asked her.

  She shook her head. It was all coming back to her. That first night she’d fully turned into wolf, sharp fangs and soft paws, warm silver fur. The rustle of the trees and the beautiful moon in the sky. The scent of prey. And him. Her black wolf of a mate, with his watchful, seemingly controlled yet barely contained way of holding himself, even in his beast form.

  He told her his story then. The story of the guardian wolves and of what he and his family were. Of what she herself truly was.

  “So you knew what I was ever since I came here?” she asked in surprise.

  “The moment I saw you, I knew you were my silver wolf. My true mate,” he told her.

  “But why...why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did not know how much you knew. I really did not want to scare you. Would you have believed me if I had told you the truth?” he asked earnestly.

  He was right. A month ago, she would not have believed this was possible. The wolf in her had been so deeply buried and denied for so long. No wonder it had been trying so hard to resurface.

  With utmost clarity, she remembered that day with her odious suitor. She had been angry and snarled at him like a wolf. She had viciously bitten his hand. But, she saw now, she had not had any intention of killing him. She had not lunged for his throat.

  It suddenly all made sense. Her father had probably known that they somehow had Wolf in their blood. He had been afraid and ashamed of it. He had hurt her. But there was no horror or wickedness in her wolf self. She was wolf, but she was also herself. She would never hurt or attack innocent people, just as her husband was a guardian rather than a predator. Emperor Wolf.

 
“Rest,” he told her.

  But she couldn’t do so. “The dark priest...” she began.

  Ioan adjusted her pillow. “I’m going to the village tomorrow,” he told her, with an edge of steel in his voice.

  “Then I shall come with you,” she said, leaving no room for further argument.

  He looked at her, as if to assess how frail she really felt, and he most certainly saw the grim resolution in her eyes. “As my mate, you have every right to do so,” he told her.

  She nodded. “What about the others?”

  There had been others, she now remembered. Full wolves, waiting for her husband’s command. They had been ready to lunge, if Ioan had but told them to do so. But she understood too well why he had not.

  “It’s not their fight. It’s mine,” he told her grimly.

  * * *

  They did not go as humans. They went as wolves. And they walked in broad daylight in the village square, placing themselves arrogantly in front of the church.

  Lucy was ready to defend herself and her mate, fangs bared and ears cocked to hear the slightest noise. She expected the worst. Stones and pitchforks. Guns. It was madness to go. But it was what her mate felt he needed to do and she would stand by her mate, no matter what.

  Slowly and warily, the people gathered in the village square. There were no words or screams, only a hushed silence. They kept their distance, giving a wide berth to the two wolves that had come into their village.

  As a wolf, she could hear her mate’s thoughts, and he told her plainly that the villagers knew what they were. The village had always known of the guardian wolves. It was a story as old as the village itself.

  It was then that the dark priest stepped out of the church, surrounded by his small group of old women dressed in black. His followers started keening and making the sign of the cross.

  She was again surprised that, as a wolf, she could understand a language incomprehensible to her when she was human. But so it was. She supposed this was because of the mind link that she shared with her husband when she was in wolf form.

  “So Satan has finally decided to show his true face,” Father Parvu spat.

  Her husband made no move. He did not snarl. His paws remained planted in the snow. He looked like a wolf statue carved in black rock.

  “See how Satan laughs at us. He sends his minions,” the priest continued in his booming voice, then started to chant a prayer.

  The villagers muttered and crossed themselves, but still, they kept their distance.

  Minutes ticked by, and Ioan remained unmoving, maintaining his frozen pose. Lucy emulated him, trying to keep as still as she could, although wolf anger was mounting deep inside of her. She would have liked to lunge for the priest’s throat, but she did not. Even as a wolf, the human in her held control, and the human in her could not bring itself to coldly murder another human being.

  Obviously frustrated that his prayer had no effect on Satan’s minions, Father Parvu addressed the villagers. “Satan is strong in them and can’t be driven out. We must kill this vermin.”

  Still, the villagers made no move. It was then that Lucy saw among them Mitru and Florica, and several other people who worked in the manor. She was surprised, but then she realized that these people had been born in the village. It was their village too.

  Then Mitru spoke, in a high voice that rang with certainty. “They are not vermin. They are our guardian wolves.”

  “Guardian wolves,” the priest hissed in disgust. “Evil spirits that have kept hold of this village. Satan’s work must be ended, and they must be killed.”

  Again, she heard the people mutter and talk among themselves. She understood too well that, as their priest, he held sway over them. Hadn’t Ioan said he had refused to bury their dead or baptize their children?

  Another voice was heard then. A very old voice, which belonged to a woman who was older even than the crones with the priest. Lucy recognized her as the woman who’d sung to the fire when she’d visited the village.

  “It is said of old that when Emperor Wolf truly deserts us, our crops will fail and our children will die. Our sheep will be eaten by hungry wolves and endless winter will fall upon us.”

  “Old wives’ tales!” the priest sneered.

  “So then Satan is an old wives’ tale too?” the old woman cackled.

  There was muffled laughter in the crowd. Father Parvu probably understood he was losing ground. “What has the boyar’s family ever done for you?” he asked, reverting to different tactics.

  Another voice was heard from the crowd, a man’s gruff voice. By the silence which instantly fell, Lucy understood that it belonged to someone who held authority.

  “You’ve been in this village for only three years, priest. My family has been here forever, and we’ve known good times and bad times. But our children never went hungry. My children go to the school old Marcu built. Even the church you serve in was rebuilt with his own money. Our houses are sturdy and our sheep safe from hungry wolves. Now look at the village that belongs to the monastery on the hill. The children are ragged and hungry, and the people toil from dusk till dawn, tending the monastery’s lands and receiving a pittance in return.”

  There were grunts of approval in the crowd, and Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. There was hope.

  “Satan has obviously lured you with the promise of a prosperous life. God will turn His back on you for your greed,” the priest thundered, displeased that his audience wasn’t responding in the way he would have liked.

  “Well, our old priest had nothing against Emperor Wolf and he was also a man of God. How do we know God speaks through you?” the man in the crowd asked mockingly.

  “Filthy pagans!” Father Parvu shouted. “You wouldn’t know God if He spat in your face.”

  This was a mistake, Lucy thought with satisfaction. An answer came from the crowd, a flippant woman’s voice that she recognised as Florica’s.

  “Oh, and you do? Go to your God then and leave us pagans in peace! We’re fine as we are.”

  The men and women tittered. “Florica speaks true. We’re fine as we are. We just need a new priest,” the man who’d spoken earlier said.

  There were mutterings of approval from the crowd and Lucy watched with interest how the old women in black were slowly distancing themselves from the priest.

  “You shall all rot in hell!” Father Parvu screeched. He was beginning to foam at the mouth, like a rabid dog.

  “You go to hell!” somebody in the crowd countered, and it seemed like all hell broke loose.

  Hell came in the form of an apple core, striking the black priest straight in the nose. This item was followed by similar objects, among them rotten eggs.

  The priest did not withstand this attack for long. Picking up his black skirts, he started to run for his life, to the jeers and contemptuous laughter of the villagers.

  “Good riddance!” Florica shouted. “And never come back!”

  Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. Ioan still hadn’t moved. He was watching the villagers with penetrating golden and green eyes.

  The man who had spoken earlier came forth. He was tall and proud, with a gray moustache and a white sheepskin hat. He took it off in front of the black wolf, as if he was speaking to the boyar in his human form.

  “We know you’ll always watch over us, Emperor Wolf, and that your children’s children will watch over our children’s children. It has been always so and it will always be so.”

  It was then that he glanced at her with a penetrating blue gaze.

  “Is this Empress Wolf?” he asked, and did not wait for an answer. He turned toward the villagers and said cheerfully, “The wolf has finally found his mate. We’re going to have a good year and many good years to come. The crops will be rich and the trees always heavy with fruit.”

  Chapter Twelve
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  It was a slow walk back to the manor, and Lucy finally took the time to savor her newfound wolf shape. Tastes and scents were twirling around her. The sheer smell of her beautiful mate as he trudged through the snow by her side. The hot thread that connected their minds together.

  She understood too well that she was bound to him. But she also understood that she was now free. He had set her free. And, unlike her father, he would never seek to imprison her.

  She luxuriated in the winter outside. It was going to be a good winter, followed by a plentiful summer, just as the man in the village had said. The newfound wolf inside her already knew somehow.

  Just as she knew, with certainty, that her mate was going to claim her.

  He was suddenly behind her and did so arrogantly, without further preparation, because he already knew that she was ready for him. And as they mated, they reached that place in their dream past. A dark cave. Sunlight and moonlight mingling. Growing roots and blossoming into a tree as his essence mingled with hers.

  It was later, when they’d reached the manor and got into human shape, that Lucy asked her husband, “Do you really believe that our union will help their crops?”

  Ioan shrugged. “They seem to believe it. It might after all be true.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “It is a story as old as time. The god and his goddess bring peace and prosperity over their people. But we’re not gods, neither of us.”

  “No, of course not. We just have a bit of Wolf in us. Maybe this is enough,” he told her with a smile.

  She kissed him then. Not a wolf kiss, but a gentle one, lingering and sweet. She drank in the scent of him, both man and wolf, and passion and...

  It was there, unmistakable and clear, and Lucy understood that it had probably been there earlier, but she had been too worried and too wrapped up within herself to notice.

  “Ioan...” she told him, raising her eyes to meet his deep wood-green gaze.

  He smiled. “I know. I can smell it. Your love for me.”