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Sliding an old book free, he blew the dust off the cover. The spine creaked when he opened it and the pages ruffled like dry leaves in an autumn breeze.
“We don’t know much about the shadow-wolves, but we do know how they came to be.” Lazarus set the book onto the desk.
The aged parchment made the tome especially thick, but there was very little to it. The cover was black and oiled with strange engravings burned into the leather. “What language is this?”
“Old Norse. It was once the language of Europe.”
Dane pulled it closer. A painting of a bright red leaf filled the first page. “What does this say?"
Lazarus glanced at the inscription and read, “When the gods created man, they also created war.”
Dane turned the page. Another crude, glyph-like illustration. This one in brown ink and depicting men fighting with spears and bows. He didn’t have to read the words for Dane to follow the story.
Men were apparently fighting in many wars, which angered the gods. A great light resembling biblical depictions of the Holy Spirit approachedan older man and a young boy and gifted them magical fur pelts, which they donned as cloaks. They were then transformed into enormous wolves. The gods wanted the wars to end. The wolves defeated the armies as the book illustrated in great carnage.
Dane turned the page. “Is this his son?”
“Yes.”
Red ink bled across the parchment. The boy lay amongst the forest trees, wounded, as the father stole the pelts.
“He killed his son?”
“Lupine comes from the Latin wordlupus,which means wolf. Shadow-wolves are a rare primordial breed, but at their core, they’re dogs—loyal to the hand that feeds them but hounds at the heart. They possess a wild magick, very different from the sort witches and sorcerers practice. It comes from the ancient gods rather than nature. Sacrifice is at the core.”
Dane turned the page. A black bird gifted the boy with a red leaf pinched between his beak. “I don’t understand.”
“The raven is offering an exchange—the boy’s life for that of another.”
“The father’s?”
Lazarus nodded. “The gods bestowed power in exchange for peace. The father abused that power and created havoc.”
The next page showed the boy healed and the father deceased. “This doesn’t make sense. The Order believed in one God. The shadow-wolvesbelieve in many. So how are they divinely called if they worship separate deities?”
“The shadow-wolves are very careful not to anger the gods since they exist at their mercy. Faith is only a story we tell ourselves. It changes like secrets stretched over generations. But the bones are all the same. Immortals—even the atheists—will eventually be called. It has absolutely nothing to do with how they pray and everything to do with what the universe decides.”
The Universe, Gods, The Bible… It was all colliding into chaos. “How long do lycan live?”
“Close to two thousand years. They’re said to feed off the essence of mortals.”
“They drink blood?”
“I believe their feeding habits are slightly different than ours.” He tapped his temple. “Remember, sacrifice. Everything they do must somehow serve the gods.”
Tension clamped down on his shoulders and neck as he thought about Grace. “Are they cruel?”
“Cruelty exists in every species. It’s an individual trait, not a predisposed one.” He removed the book from the desk and closed it. “Regardless, we cannot change destiny. It’s clear you care for the female who followed us to the cave, and I’m sorry for that. Chances are, the mating is done. There’s nothing anyone can do to sever such a bond.”
Dane couldn’t catch his breath. Seething, he got up and paced. The thought of that thing putting his hands on Grace…
He stared out the window at the black night. Had it happened already? Was Gracie’s innocence gone? Was she okay?
“I should have stayed.” Regret weighed him down like iron chains.
“There was nothing you could do.”
“She’s innocent.”
