The curse of the wolf

Brotherly love

*Griff*

“So, you are breaking into my house now, huh?” I say as I look at my brother’s smug face. “I can’t say that I am all that surprised.”

I am always struck by how much my brother looks like me and yet doesn’t look like me at all. It is like the differences are enhanced by the similarities. Where I have always fought my wolf, seeking to tame it, he embraces it and its violent nature.

“Yeah, not sure it can be called breaking in, after all you left the window open,” he says with one of those dark grins he masters so well. “I merely accepted the invitation.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Just like I am not in the mood for problems, I am not in the mood for my brother. I do guess he fits into the category of trouble. “Llywelyn, why are you here?”

“Well, I heard some creatures chatter,” he stretches his long legs. “Word in the shadows is that prince Griff, or the esteemed Marquis de Anjou, or whatever moniker you go by in this century, stopped a terrorist… With his bare hands.”

“Someone talks too much,” I mumble under my breath, wondering who he heard it from. Who knows? Could be anyone, or anything out there really.

He raises one dark brow, looking at me, “Really? Is that what you call being low key and not revealing ourselves? Isn’t that what you are always preaching?”

“It is none of your business,” I growl. “Also, no one of any importance knows it was me, so no need to worry or hope, or whatever it is to you. I have not exposed myself or anyone else.”

He chuckles, “Oh, but you have, to me, at least. This is about a woman, isn’t it? A new mate, perhaps?”

“As I said, it is none of your business,” I tell him harshly. “Go back to your dungeon or wherever it is you reside these days and stay out of my life.”

“Tsk, tsk.” He wags his finger at me in a condescending way that makes me want to break it. “A thousand years old and still acts like an obstinate teenager. You really need to learn manners and how to address your elders.”

For the second time, he has me rolling my eyes. “You really shouldn’t be the one to talk about manners, considering the way you live your life. And my elder? I am not sure those two years really qualify you as my elder.”

“I am merely embracing our nature, as you should,” he says, raising one brow. “Instead of this tired charade, pretending to be French aristocracy… Pretending to be civil.”

“I get that it is hard for you to understand, dear brother, but I am not pretending. I am civil.” I tell him, pushing back the wolf, who right now wants to be anything but civil.

It is hard to believe we were once as close as brothers can be, but I guess a millennium sees a lot of water under the bridge and a lot of changes, not only to the world but also to one single person. Not that I have much to compare with. Most people, after all, do not live that long.

“Blah blah blah,” he says, getting up and walking to the window. “Really brother, are you going to let another female hold you back? Allow another fragile woman to torment you?”

“No, I am staying away from her,” I say, shaking my head. “For her sake.”

He chuckles darkly, “So there is a damsel. Oh sweet baby brother, when will you learn that the way to deal with the fairer s*x is to use them and discard the remains when the fun is done?” He covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh, I forgot, there is no fun for you, the courtesy of another female. You really should just stay away from them.”

A deep feral growl escapes me as the wolf inside me lunges, ready to rip out my brother’s heart. But I manage to leash him at the last moment, falling to my knees, panting from the exertion.

Llywelyn didn’t even take a step back; he just stands there, looking at me with an amused expression. “So he is still in there, good to know.”

Outside, from the hill on which the Sacré Coeur rests, there is suddenly a choir of wolves singing to the moon.

“Your children are calling,” I huff at my brother as I stagger to my feet. “You better go control them before they eat someone.”

“What is one less homeless person in this horrible world?” He shrugs. “You might even say they are doing the sordid soul a kindness and my babies need to eat.”

I shake my head. “They need to be put down. That is what they need.”

Those turned, like the ones he calls his children, are another kind of wolf than us. More feral, more animal. They have less control over the monster. Which is why I haven’t turned anyone for a long time, ever since I realized the price there is to pay. My brother suffers no such scruples.

“Yeah, about that,” He walks towards the window and sighs before he continues.

“Could you please stop killing them off? It is such a hassle having to find suitable subjects and going through the whole turning ritual.”

“When hell freezes over and the week has two Sundays,” I tell him through clenched teeth. “What about you stop making your little pets and try controlling those you have?”

He makes a face. “Nah, at least I let my pets run free. You keep yours in chains. Isn’t that like… cruelty to animals or something?”

“At least I take responsibility,” I huff at him. “And they are not my pets.”

“Sure.” This time he is the one rolling his eyes. It reminds me of when we were kids and he would do it behind our father’s back. “See you around, brother.”

With that, he turns into his wolf form and jumps out the window, landing almost silently on the street below. Another perk we have that the turned wolves don’t have is that our clothes change along with our bodies. Part of the magic, I assume.

Walking over and closing the window, I sigh. My brother really should try to conform a little more to human life. It is nothing short of a miracle that he has not been discovered yet. I guess it comes down to people not really wanting to know, so they can explain away a lot of things in order to keep the world as it is.

2 days later:

I look at myself in the mirror. I look like an impeccable gentleman in my tailor-made midnight blue tuxedo. At least I fit the part to perfection. No one would ever guess I have a wild animal inside me.

Brushing my fingers through my hair I notice the slight sprinkle of grays that has been emerging at my temples. I guess it is expected after a millennium that my age starts showing. Honestly I do not mind it, it looks distinguished.

Knowing that I should not have accepted the invitation to this, I feel my Wolf’s impatience to get there as soon as possible. Sadly, I was not strong enough to deny myself the chance to see her again. To soak up her nearness. To truly feel for a few hours.

They are holding a fancy reception for Anaïs on the second floor of the Eiffel tower, giving her a medal for her bravery during the terrorist attack. And as one of the select few, I have been invited. I keep lying to myself, pretending it would have looked bad if I did not come.

“You will make an appearance, keep your distance and leave as fast as you can without offending anyone,” I tell the image in the mirror.

When I hear the town car approaching, I grab my keys. There is really no reason to bring anything else. Especially not when I have already decided to leave as early as possible.

Locking the door behind me, I walk down the stairs and exit the house just as the car arrives.