Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (49 page)

On the landing she paused to look back. The
happy party was chattering away behind her like an overflowing nest
of baby birds. Worried that Martin would see her, she sped into the
hall. The drifting smoke from candles just blown out curled past
her nose. In the cool dark, she could hear herself breathing.
Wetting her lips, she tried to decide where to start this reckless
game of hide and seek.

“This way!” a young voice whispered.

A serving boy stuck his head out a door and
beckoned her. His childish enthusiasm made it feel safe.

He left the door open and scooted away down
the hall. Inside the room, candles flickered on a table. Wax
drippings were piling up on the silver sticks. She stepped inside.
A man in the shadows stepped forward into the light. His mask was
off, and she froze with recognition. Those eyes were unforgettable,
and the mold that had cast that face had once been a kindly old
woman who had always come to those in their times of need.

Altea slipped inside and shut the door. She
could hardly believe that she was alone with Gretchen’s strange
son. The times he had come by her house, she had longed to go out
and speak with him. Now he had somehow found her, and her daydreams
about him could be acted upon if she dared.

“Thal Lesky,” she said.

He smiled to hear her say his name. “You
remembered,” he said.

“I must warn you. I’ve seen your name on
papers for wanted criminals,” she blurted.

He held up a hand. “Pray, Lady, tell me your
name,” he said.

She hesitated. This was her last chance to
flee. “Altea Kardas,” she said.

He looked a little confused but not
unhappily. “Not Fridrich?” he said.

She realized he had been looking at her house
sign. “The Magistrate is my stepfather,” she explained.

The way she said stepfather reeked of
dislike. He was pleased to learn that she was not actually related
to that guilty man. And judging from her tone, his demise was not
going to break her heart.

He came a little closer.

“I think perhaps you are truly a fox, but may
I see again your face?” he said.

Although she felt safer when it was on, she
slowly lifted off her mask.

“I’m pleased to see no tears tonight,” he
commented.

His allusion to their first meeting reminded
her of his tragedy. “I’m sorry about your mother. She was good to
me,” Altea said.

“She was good to everyone that I recall,”
Thal said.

“Where have you been? Gretchen never spoke of
you. How can you be so young?” Altea said.

“I’m older than I look,” Thal said, ignoring
her first question. “How did you know my mother?”

Altea did not mind that he dodged her probing
questions. Just being with him felt satisfying. She explained how
Gretchen had been her mother’s midwife over many years.

“I should not have left her,” Thal
lamented.

Her heart broke for him. Gretchen’s tragedy
was amplified by the simple despondence in his quiet voice.

“Where will you go now?” Altea asked.

“Why should I go anywhere?” Thal asked.

“You’re wanted for terrible crimes. I read it
in papers on my stepfather’s desk. I took the notice so he wouldn’t
see. You can still get away,” Altea said.

“You took it?” he whispered, amazed that she
would act to protect a man who she should rightly be terrified of
for stalking her.

“I burnt the paper. No one knows. You can get
away. It’s the least I could do for poor Gretchen,” she said.

“You were kind to act on my behalf. I hope it
brings no trouble to you, but my crimes have been circulated
throughout Bohemia. I am hunted,” he said.

“What will you do?” she asked, upset that her
bold vandalism of Martin’s papers was not as protective as she had
imagined.

When Thal shrugged, his wolf fur glided off
one shoulder and hung down his back. “If my true nature is a crime,
then all I can do is live with it,” he said.

“But it said you were a werewolf,” Altea
said.

“I’m sure it did,” he laughed and came
closer.

She stepped back now. The door pressed
against her.

“I arranged this meeting so I could ask some
very important questions of you, Altea,” he said.

“You arranged…” she trailed off, wondering
how he had caused Lady Carmelita to invite them.

“Can you tell me who took part in my mother’s
murder?” he said.

His attitude shifted into a cold place. She
guessed his dark intent but could not condemn it.

“I don’t know. She was in jail before I heard
anything. I didn’t go to her…execution,” she regretted the word
when Thal winced. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

He shook off his rage. It was not something
this wonderful woman should have to see.

“You can guess what I mean to do to the men
who hurt her. This is why I need some confirmation about the
guilty. It’s not my wish to hurt the innocent,” Thal explained.

Altea spun and grabbed the door handle. She
had to flee. She should not be a party to his crimes. She had
already erred by trying to help him. Her redemption depended upon
turning him in, but such a betrayal would be beastly. She
hesitated.

Thal was suddenly close behind her. His heavy
masculine presence made her legs tremble. He presumed to remove her
hand from the door handle. He ran a thumb across her soft palm. She
tried to contain her shaking. She straightened her back and faced
him.

Always brave this one, he thought
admiringly.

The sweatiness of her hand in his hot hand
distressed her. Wild sensations were heating her body everywhere.
Great strength radiated from him. The unadulterated reality of his
spirit separated him from all others. He made all men chaff to his
golden nourishing wheat.

“You mustn’t harm the Magistrate,” she
whispered.

He tilted his head, surprised by her advocacy
for him when he could sense her hate. “His guilt I am most certain
of. He would’ve sentenced her to death,” he argued.

“But it’s only something he must do. He
couldn’t let her go. All witches confess. His hands were tied,”
Altea argued.

“My mother’s hands were tied!” Thal fumed and
let her go. “He’s only your stepfather. What do you care?”

Although ashamed of defending Martin, Altea
had to do what was right. “He has four sons. They’re my half
brothers and I love them. We’ve lost our mother. If Martin dies
they’ll be orphaned. What will become of us?” she pleaded.

“His sons will inherit his estate,” Thal said
blandly.

“Boys need their father,” she said.

“Shall I go without justice because boys need
their father?” he demanded.

Altea nodded.

Her good-hearted request softened Thal’s
anger. He wished he could make this beautiful woman happy. He had
told himself he did not want her, but that had been when he thought
she was the daughter of the Magistrate. Now she was a woman who had
cared about his mother and who his mother had cared for.

Memories of the dazzling alpha females that
had been his mates dug into his heart with nostalgic claws. His
loneliness salivated for the comfort of a partner who could give
him greater purpose.

“Tell me your stepfather is a good man and I
will be merciful,” he whispered.

“He’s…” Altea trailed off. Her ugly fear
about what he might do to her strangled the words in her throat.
She was so afraid to go home, to go to sleep in her bed, but she
could not be a party to murder.

“He’s a good man,” she managed.

Thal shook his head. “I’m very good at
knowing when people lie,” he said.

Ugly truths assaulted her. She sickened
herself speaking in Martin’s defense. She wanted to ask Thal for
help. There was no one else she could turn to for protection, but
what safety could a wanted man give her? She had already imperiled
herself more by sneaking away to converse with him.

Thal continued, “There’s no guilt in
answering my questions. You can make sure I don’t include the
innocent when I strike. I saw you cry for my dead mother. You must
want justice for her. She was tortured. She was burned to
death.”

Altea’s face fell in her hands and she sobbed
a little. The agony and confusion that she had fought against for
months escaped. Words that she could speak to no other she cried in
Thal’s presence. “How am I to live in world where my neighbors
watched her burn and called it good?” she said.

Thal put a hand on her shoulder. His mother’s
brutal death had been hard on more than just him. How many people
in Altea’s community secretly mourned those who had been killed?
Altea fell against him and he held her.

“It is done so that you will live in fear,”
he said.

“I’m so afraid,” she confessed and looked up
at him with teary eyes.

He wiped a tear with his thumb. “But you’re
brave,” he said.

His comment startled her. Brave was a word
used in stories and about men. When had she ever been brave? But it
did not matter. His high opinion of her gave her new strength.

“I’ve seen that you loved Gretchen. She used
the last of her magic to call me to Prague so she could have
justice. Repay her many kindnesses and help me fulfill her final
wish,” Thal said.

Altea stepped away from him and finished
wiping her own tears. Her moment in his arms had been immensely
comforting. He understood her pain. He did not condemn her normal
feelings as sympathy for witchcraft. She wanted to stay in his arms
but the physical contact was overwhelming. The heavy feeling in her
lower torso warned of an impending passion that she had no
experience with.

She thought about the horrors Gretchen had
surely endured, and then she remembered her delivering each of her
brothers into the world and all the aid she had given her mother,
even through the torments of her final disease.

Softly Altea said, “Constable Bekcek was the
one who brought in all the witches. Any of the men who work at the
jail would have played their part. There could’ve been other men.
I’ve heard Bekcek mention that he hires extra men from time to
time, but I don’t know who. As for my stepfather…”

When she hesitated, Thal said, “You don’t
have to condemn him. No need for you to put guilt upon your
heart.”

Altea regarded the crushed remnants of her
floral nosegay. Her wrist was still sore. She had always tried not
to be a sinner. She cared about her soul, but speaking the truth
was not bearing false witness.

“My stepfather resented Gretchen. He had no
qualms about condemning her,” Altea said.

“Thank you for confirming the guilt of those
involved. I’m sure you should go now,” Thal said.

The final words had been dragged from him. He
was saying what was for the best not what he wanted.

“I don’t think you want me to go,” she
said.

“No,” he whispered and looked at her with
such longing that Altea wanted to make him happy. They had spoken
of so many sad things. Perhaps they could enjoy a few easy
moments.

“Put your mask on. Come dance with me,” she
said.

Thal heard the music through the floor. He
wished he was a normal man with a normal life so he could give this
lovely woman everything she deserved.

“They’re playing my song,” he murmured.
Although muffled by the structure, the voice of Regis singing “I
prayed for an angel to save me and got the Devil instead” was
audible.

“Your song?” Altea said.

He smiled and explained that the musicians
were his friends and apparently he had become their Muse.

“You know the musicians?” Altea said.

Thal laughed. All the girls were the same
when it came to his talented friends.

“Come dance,” she urged. “Trust in your
mask.”

“As a courtesy to my hostess I shall not show
myself again. If my presence here were known it would bring trouble
onto her,” he explained.

“Oh,” Altea sighed, deflated. She had only
wanted to feel normal for a while, but it was impossible with
Thal.

He took her gently by the shoulders and drew
her close. When her breasts pressed against his hard chest, their
thudding hearts resonated across their bodies. Their lips met with
tentative tenderness. Then his tongue slid against her teeth and
playfully nudged her tongue. A red blur washed away her ability to
think and the moist connection of their mouths deepened until she
wanted only to yield to the excitement. His taste, his warmth, and
his strength consumed her fear. She wanted to draw him inside her
and keep him forever.

His arms tightened across her back and she
pressed against him. They fell against the door. Their kissing
accelerated. Unthinking pleasure obscured all societal rules that
sought to constrain human passion.

Finally Thal let her go. He had to return to
the shores of mindfulness and escape the deep waters of her
flesh.

“I’ll come for you tonight after everyone is
asleep. Look for me out your window,” he said.

“How?” she asked. “I can’t just go into the
street in the middle of the night.”

“Can’t you? Is not the lock on your cage
operated from the inside?” he teased.

The conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes was
enough to tell Thal that she would dare to do as he suggested. He
kissed her again. The pleasure of holding this woman astonished
him. Finally he had a good thing to strive for in his life as a
man.

“Go. Your family will be looking for you by
now,” he said.

“Thal?” she whispered.

“What?” he said encouragingly.

“You will come to my house?” she said.

“I will,” he promised.

“I’ll watch for you,” she said. The hope that
he would be coming in the night gave her the courage to go
home.

Martin had to help his son into the carriage.
Elias was humming a song and drunkenly happy but definitely
stumbling. He dropped into a doze when Altea sat next to him.
Martin plopped down across from her. She could feel his eyes on
her.