Once Upon A Time (4 page)

Of course,
life is full of irony, and in time that would come to bite me in
the butt in a big way. I was not whom I thought. My sire and dam
were not as I thought. Where does it leave me and more importantly,
where does it leave my Pack?

Hellhounds are
a simple species, by and large. We are hell-spawned and we exist to
do the will of our Queens, to protect them from their enemies and
to provide them with the energy that comes from our kills so that
they might be strengthened. The more fear and pain that such kills
might engender, the better the effect for our Queens. That is the
life of Hellhound. So what happens when that relatively simple
existence is … not threatened, but altered by a set of
circumstances over which you have no control. I didn’t feel like a
puppet, when all is said and done. But now, I must find my way and
find a way for my Pack which does not compromise what we are and
what we might become.

My initial
story is contained in “Bound”, and continues in “Caduceus”,
“Ddraig” and “Daimonas”.

So, in his
search to make us seem more approachable, and to reintegrate with
the world of humans,
Gavril
's next task
for me was give you all something from my history. Now, I don't
know if any of you noticed the necklace I was wearing at the Pack
summer picnic, but this is the story behind it. This is why the
Beta of the Cŵn Annwn will always be wearing a Star of David
necklace, because it is in memory of a young Jewish girl called
Eliana, and the woman that she became.

Up until the
summer of 1944, Hungary itself was allied to the Nazi regime of
Germany. In theory, it meant that the Jewish population was safe
from the depredations that became known as the 'Final Solution'.
Only, they were not. Perhaps they might not all have been shipped
to Auschwitz, but a fair few did have that fate. The ‘easier’
option of the labour camps was also a destination, but the result
was still the same: families were torn apart, parents lost their
children and children who should have been protected and loved,
instead found themselves alone and forced to fend for themselves.
The very fact that the deportations occurred, that families were
torn apart was the reason why Gavril had decided that, as a
Pack, we could not stand on the side-lines.

As Cŵn Annwn
we had abilities open to us which made us different. After all, the
geas placed on us by our Goddess requires us to carry out her work,
and that means the harvesting of those who would do evil. To do so,
we must be able to travel quickly. We must be stronger both
physically and mentally than those we seek to bring to justice. We
are not just killers though. For all the killers, there are
victims, and sometimes it is the victims whom we must bring to
their rest. But the thing is, we can't save them all. We have to
take into account that sometimes, even with the abilities granted
to us by our Goddess, we might not be able to save them all. But
what we can do is that we can try.

The ones whom
Gavril thought we stood the best chance of saving were the
children. He called them the hope of the future. They were indeed
that. They were the hope that from the nightmare of war, some good
might come of it. Some might find a way to forgive and for their
spirits to thrive. It was a dream; it might be said, but it was a
dream that as Cŵn Annwn, we had a chance to ensure became a
reality. However, to do so, we had to save as many of those
children as possible.

The majority
of our own version of an Underground Railroad was handled by the
daughter of Gavril and Aaleahya, Ekaterina, and the young male whom
in retrospect was probably her bonded Mate. They had been together
as children, and perhaps in a more peaceful time, they might have
become Mates in truth, but that was not to be their fate. When
Gavril had first proposed the scheme, he had known that Kat would
insist on playing a major role, and to give Kat her due, she was a
combination of her sire’s fairness and her mother’s passion to help
others. It could be said that she could have taken no other
path.

Gavril had
enlisted the help of an old friend of his, a Catholic priest, whose
first introduction to the Cŵn Annwn had been his attempt to baptise
the daughter of the local landowner, who had shown her displeasure
at the cold water by ‘flashing’ from his arms back to her mother’s
arms. Aaleahya and Gavril had laughed at Kat’s actions, and had
taken time to explain to the young priest that he was not crazy.
Over time, Gavril and the priest became close friends, with the
priest proving to be one of those individuals who could appreciate
that other faiths and belief systems existed in this world. They
had passed many an evening over a glass of wine, discussing the
finer points of philosophy. The priest’s very open-mindedness was
the reason why Gavril approached him about setting up the routes to
help the children find safety away from the war.

The priest had
directed Gavril to another friend of his, a Rabbi. Like the priest,
the rabbi was not a young man anymore, but he could see the dangers
to his congregation, and was not intending to turn down the
assistance of an individual who might save even a small number of
those who looked to him for guidance. The problem was that not all
were as open minded. For this reason, it was a careful process, to
introduce Gavril to those whom the rabbi thought might be willing
to entrust their children to a stranger, and a young looking
stranger at that. Gavril was a stranger who spoke still with the
slightly lilting tones of our Welsh homeland, albeit his accent was
tempered by Aaleahya’s own Romanian accent.

The outline
plan was that the groups of children would be assembled at a safe
location: either the home of the rabbi or at the home of one of the
sets of parents. It could be called a prayer meeting or a Shabbat
gathering, even though celebration of the latter was becoming more
difficult as the war progressed. The horror that would become known
as Kristallnacht had been but a start of the animosity fostered
against one race. Depending on the number of children needing to be
transported elsewhere would determine the number of adult Cŵn Annwn
who would meet them there. Out of necessity we dressed as most of
the population, and yes, that meant that as the deprivation of the
war became more significant, so do the way that we dressed, all the
better to avoid the attention of the authorities. Sometimes these
transports would require just Gavril, Owain and me, and sometimes
it would be more. That was a danger in itself since the gathering
of that many people would be open to an informant noticing our
activities and for the sake of some small gain, reporting us to the
authorities. Had that happened, then yes, we might take steps to
protect ourselves, but it damaged the chances of us being able to
help these people. Make no mistake, as the war progressed, that
desperation became great indeed.

But these were
the days before people realised just how far the Nazi war machine
was prepared to go. The authorities knew, but the individual man on
the ground? It was easy to fool one’s own conscience that your
neighbours had chosen only to move away from the area, rather than
to think that they had been deported. The stories of the camps were
just that surely? Stories only. How many lives have been lost over
time because neighbours turned their backs on those who might have
been friends in other circumstances or perhaps even more worrying
because they wished gain from denouncing a neighbour?

My apologies,
I am known to be the more thoughtful of Gavril’s two Betas, not
that it makes Owain somehow slow or less able that I. He has his
strengths and I have mine, and together we support our friend and
Alpha.

When we had
determined the number of children to be transported, either we did
so between the three of us, since we might transport them as long
as they had skin to skin contact with us, or we took them in
relays. Our initial destination was the cellars of The Hunter’s
Arrow Inn. Yes, I know, it seems strange that we brought the
children there, but it could be argued that it was the last place
that might be expected to be used as a relay point.

It was one of
the early evacuations after the Nazis had invaded Hungary. They had
commandeered our home, and they had commandeered the Inn, forcing
our Alpha and his Mate to accept the invasion of their home by
people who were anathema to us all. It was either accept them, or
everyone would suffer. Not just the Pack, but the village also, and
if there was one thing that Gavril would never allow, it would be
for those who looked to us for protection to suffer. We are
paranormal beings. We have more means at our disposal to survive
being starved, beaten and ridiculed. Humans have no such resources.
For us to not use the gifts given to us by our Goddess would have
been a betrayal of everything for which we stood.

So, this
evacuation. I had been sent to collect a young girl. She was an
only child, and her parents were dead. The neighbours had hidden
her, but the net was closing. She had to be moved or, the
'authorities' having the mentality that they did, the whole street
would have been made to suffer. She was perhaps 12 years old, slim,
pale skinned as were most of her race, and big, dark eyes that saw
into the soul, as much as my own abilities allowed me to do.

The house was
in a quiet suburb of Paris, and if one closed one’s eyes, it might
almost be as if the war was not real. But then things would stand
out, not least of which was the lack of children playing in the
streets. War was a real and present thing, even in this quiet
street, and here, the war against the Jews was in earnest. What was
yet to become the norm in Hungary was happening here.

She had not
said much to me when I arrived. She was old enough to know why I
was there, even if her former neighbours had not told her. One of
them waited with her, smoothing the child’s braided hair, and I
could see the fear in the older woman’s eyes, and the sure
knowledge of what might be her fate if it was known that she had
sheltered ‘an enemy of the regime’, a child. She wore a dark dress,
no different from any other child, apart from one thing: a yellow
star sewn onto her dress, the symbol on which the authorities
insisted to mark her as Jewish.

I was
conscious that my size and my height in comparison to the girl’s
slender form. Crouching down, to bring my head closer to her, I had
given her a half smile, trying to put her at ease, even in these
difficult circumstances. Her face was thin, showing the deprivation
that was becoming the norm for people here. She had no coat, so I
had pulled off my jacket to give it to her, even though it meant
that the damning yellow star was concealed, an act which might have
meant even more trouble for both her and the family which have
given her shelter. Given my size in relation to her, the jacket had
swamped her.

She had smiled
shyly. "Thank you, sir." Then she had looked worried. "I have
nothing to give you in return."

"Nothing is
required, child." I said gently.

"But my Mama
said I must always give my thanks." She looked thoughtful, before
she reached inside her dress, and pulled out a long chain. "This
was my Mama's but she gave it to me ... just before." Her voice
broke slightly. "I want you to have it. Will you wear it?"

I looked at
the chain, and the small pendant that she placed in my larger hand.
I knew that her faith was passed down the matrilineal line. Giving
me this link with her mother was more than just thanks. This was a
gift of considerable value, and one which I had to acknowledge.

"I will wear
it so that one day I might return it to you, little one." I
promised her softly. She had smiled, and placed a light kiss on my
cheek.

"Then we have
a deal." She had whispered to me.

We left the
building, walking some way down the street, before we slipped into
a doorway, and I was able to transport her to the cellars at
Hunter's Inn. Kat and Sandu took over from there. As we had for
others of her age, a family were waiting to welcome her in the
States, and she would travel there via Wales.

After the war,
even though I had never said as much to my Alpha, I could not help
but watch over those children whom I had helped escape from the
carnage of war. So many had died, and in comparison, we had managed
to rescue such a small number. When they came to the USA, it was a
far from easy process. We were conscious that this was the land
where a boatload of Jewish refugees had been turned away, and
forced to return to Europe, where many perished. Fortunately, we
were not without our connections. As the children grew to
adulthood, the Negrescu Foundation, established for reasons of
sorrow within our own Pack, provided them with grants that they
might establish businesses, attend college, build careers and in
some way demonstrate their gratitude for the fact that they lived
when so many had perished.

This girl,
Eliana, thrived in her new life, yet it seemed that she did not
forget either. Despite my best attempts to conceal my identity, she
knew who I was. I would see her flash a quick smile in my direction
sometimes, or when she stood from the bench in the park on which
she had been reading a book, she would leave something, a
thoughtful look on her face. It might be a poem or a story,
handwritten. Always it would be dedicated to “My Angel”. I felt a
sense of guilt for the way that each of these tokens became
precious to me, a reminder of a small light that had burned in a
time of darkness. As each beautiful piece of calligraphy was stored
with the others in a carved box in my rooms, I would smile. Much
had been lost in the war, but this one girl, she reminded me that
light can come from the darkness.