Chapter 4
2063 Words
4
Erik walked down the plank and Greg followed. I stood at the top end on the boat and leaned over the board.
“Not to be sane or anything, but that sounds like a crazy idea,” I commented.
Erik didn’t turn around, but instead walked down the pier. “It’s the only one I have.”
“Wonderful options. . .” I muttered as I stepped onto the plank.
It bounced up and down as I walked its length, and I soon hopped onto the dock. The boards were sturdy and our shoes clacked against the hard wood as we made our way to the road. None of the lake dogs watched us openly, but they did cast furtive glances in our direction. I slunk beside Greg who walked behind Erik.
“So what happens if we find trouble here?” I whispered. “Do we claw or bite our way out?”
“Neither. Either choice would lead to worse problems,” Erik replied.
I snorted and jerked a thumb towards the locals. “Worse than being fed to these friendly people?”
Greg grabbed my hand and gently pulled it down to my side. “Werewolves are rarely cannibals,” he told me.
My eyes widened. “‘Rarely?’”
By this time we’d reached the bottom of the hill and began our winding ascent to the outskirts of the town. Erik paused and turned to us. “Gregory omits certain important details. He means to say there were instances in past times of cannibalism, but they haven’t occurred in a few centuries.”
I shot Greg a glare. “You could’ve mentioned that.”
He grinned and bowed his head. “I beg your pardon, Sophie. It was a slip of the tongue.”
I snorted. “I’m sure.”
Erik’s eyes flickered between Greg and me, and the city ahead of us. “From here on I would prefer you two not speak, and don’t follow too closely behind me,” he requested.
I frowned. “Why?”
“I’m recognizable to people because of my lineage, but you both are less known,” he pointed out. “If trouble arises from my being recognized such as happened at the docks then you two will at least be safe.”
“Like hell I’m staying back while you get yourself into trouble.” I marched forward and looped my arm through his. “Let’s get this info and get out. Together.”
Erik grasped my hand and unwound me from his arm. “You will remain twenty yards behind me with Gregory,” he insisted.
I scowled at him. “Didn’t you just hear me? I’m not-”
Erik leaned towards me and caught my eyes with his. “You will remain behind me.”
It was as though his words triggered a hidden mechanism inside me. I lost the will to fight. My arms dropped to my sides and the fire inside me was extinguished. I allowed myself to be drawn away from him to stand beside Greg a few paces off. My mind frantically shouted at my body to move in the opposite direction, but I couldn’t. It was no longer under my control. Another, stronger will owned me.
Erik turned his attention to Greg. “Care for her as though she were your own,” he ordered him.
Greg bowed his head. “As a daughter,” he promised.
Erik cast one last look at me before he turned and strode up the hill. He was over the top and out of sight before I felt the hold over me slip away. My limbs were my own again, and I swayed side to side. Greg caught hold of my shoulders and held me still.
I clutched my head and shook it. “What the hell just happened?” I asked him.
Greg steadied me and led me forward. “Merely the power a male werewolf holds over his female,” he explained.
I grabbed his arm and arrested our way forward. “Wait, what? What power?” I questioned him.
“The male werewolf can control the mind and body of his chosen female,” Greg reiterated.
I blinked at him. “Like mesmerizing control or something?”
He shook his head. “No, something far deeper and more primal. The male can tame the wolf inside his female and render her completely within his will.”
I pointed at where Erik had gone. “And he’s had this power over me for how long?”
“Since you were bound to each other,” he informed me.
My eyes narrowed at the servant. “If that’s true then why hasn’t he used it before?”
Greg smiled. “My Master is not such a man who would abuse his power, particularly when it concerns his mate.”
I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the crest of the hill. Erik had that ability all along. He didn’t have to put up with any of my sass. One word and I’d be his unwilling slave.
But he hadn’t used it. He’d taken the high road and put up with my constant escapes and dead weight in all our strange adventures.
I snatched Greg’s arm and pulled him up the hill. “Come on! If he’s going to get himself killed it sure as hell isn’t going to be alone, male-dominance hypnotism or no male-dominance hypnotism!”
Greg smiled as I dragged him to the edge of the town. “As you wish, Sophie.”
In a few minutes we crested the hill and had our first good view of the town. The metropolis stood on a flat plain that stretched over most of the island. Tall trees were all I could see of the edge of the town. The buildings were made from the dark stone that made up the soil of the island. Most of the houses were half the size of my former apartment, but some were as big and had a second floor of wood built atop its rocky ground floor. Glass windows looked out on the dirty and rock-covered streets where the rock was used to keep the dust to a minimum.
There was no zoning code in place, so houses were to be found between the workshops. Streets ran at odd angles and created triangular and square blocks. Shops with open fronts advertised their wares, everything from cooking pots to cooking. Most of the imprints of cart wheels followed a trail to the mouth of the large, open hanger doors. The other tracks led into the city down a wide street that led past what appeared to be mostly shops. The wide thoroughfare was broken into two by a small circle with a large fountain in the center. The length of the road was a hundred yards, and was intersected every ten or twenty yards by other roads that were either perpendicular or at an angle to the main road. People walked to and fro with baskets in their arms or boxes on their broad shoulders. They bought, sold, and traded away the time.
The overall feel of the place was a bustling metropolis that was one railroad line away from the wrong side of the tracks. The cookware was primitive, homemade stoneware and the food resembled stuff you’d find at an authentic Renaissance Fair. The people were dressed in plain dresses and shirts and pants. Many of them lacked knowledge of a bath, what with their dirty skin and greasy hair. Only a few pale figures appeared clean, and their raised noses led me to believe they were the owners of the larger homes.
I leaned towards Greg who stood beside me still in my clutches. “Do all the islands look like this one?” I whispered.
“Many more are far worse in appearance. The ground is poor and communication with the outside world is very limited,” he told me.
“Geez, I wonder why they’re unhappy. . .” I murmured as my eyes swept over the dreary area.
“I believe some of their unhappiness comes from a more recent source,” Greg added as he nodded towards one of the nearby warehouses.
I followed his nod and my eyes fell on the nearest wall of the close warehouse. It ran for a hundred feet and was noticeably askew. It leaned inward and forced the wood roof down at an odd, unsteady angle.
“Was the architect lopsided?” I suggested.
Greg shook his head. “It stood straight and proud on my last visit here two years ago.”
“So the earthquakes?” I guessed.
He nodded. “Yes.”
His eyes swept over the town, and I followed his example. My gaze settled on the close houses and shops, and for the first time I noticed the subtle damage the tremors had caused. Hairline cracks grew up from the ground and ran a yard up many of the stone walls of the buildings. Loose stones lay in stacks just off the road and in front of the businesses, fallen from the structures and broken from the road. People scrambled over smaller rubble in the streets, and carts pulled by animals swerved around it.
“The damage spoken of by the Councilmen,” Greg explained to me.
“But why are they just leaving all that junk there?” I asked him.
He shook his head and changed our positions so he was the holder and I the held. “That is a question to be answered later. For now we must catch up to the Master.”
“Halt and state your business,” a sharp voice barked at us. We looked to our left and found ourselves confronted by a Guard. He had hidden himself behind a stack of boxes near an alley opening. His worn cloak and ugly demeanor told us he wasn’t one of Teagan’s men, but of the Gethin squad. In his hand was a long spear that was as tall as him. “Come on, out with it!” he ordered us.
Greg bowed his head. He grabbed the back of mine and forced me to do the same. “We are humble travelers who wish to partake of the Market,” he informed the Guard.
I chanced a glance up. The ugly man’s eyes swept over us and stopped on my cloak. He nodded at my attire. “That doesn’t look humble. Where did you come from?”
“From Ariadne. It was on sale and my wifey just couldn’t resist it,” Greg replied. He squished me against his side and grinned at the Guard. “She has such a weakness for fine cloth, don’t you, dear?”
I slapped a smile on my face and nodded. “Y-yeah, I just can’t resist them.”
The Guard frowned, but jerked his head down the road. “All right, move along.”
Greg bowed his head. “A thousand thanks, kind sir.” He set his hand on my lower back and pushed me forward.
We walked ten yards before I whipped my head to Greg. “‘Wifey?’”
He smiled and bowed his head to me. “It was an honor to be your husband for a short time.”
“Uh-huh, and what was with that guy, anyway? He sounded like he had his spear up his ass,” I commented.
Greg’s good humor slipped from his face and he shook his head. “I don’t know. The Guards are meant to keep the peace among the islands, but now they seem to be taking an active role in policing visitors.”
“So what you’re saying is they’ve gotten really pushy and nosy?” I guessed.
“Correct.”
“You think Teagan knows about this?”
“He didn’t appear to be under the direct command of Teagan,” Greg pointed out.
I stuck out my tongue. “So Gethin’s goons really are making trouble out here, but why? It only makes everybody from Wolf Island look bad, even him.”
“Perhaps we will find his purpose here, but first we must find the Master,” Greg suggested.
The ‘Master’ was deep in the crowds of shoppers some twenty yards ahead of us and growing. We dove into the bustling business district and followed him. Peddlers with their wares scooted out of the shops and shoved their trinkets in our faces.
“Metal pots! The finest in the islands!” one cried.
“Fresh fish! You won’t find a better catch!”
“Paintings! Beautiful oil paintings!”
I started back when a thin candle nearly went up my nose. The seller was a thin-nosed fellow with beady eyes. “Scented candles for the lovely lady?” he offered.
Greg shoved the man to the side and pushed me forward. “Not at the present,” he replied.
“Don’t bother the visitors,” a rough voice spoke up. We turned and found another Gethin Guard close at hand.
The scent shopkeeper clutched his bottles of perfume to his chest and shrank from the Guard. His outward appearance showed fear, but his eyes told me all about his hatred for the Guard. “Of course, sir. I didn’t mean any offense.”
“Then get back to your stall,” the Guard barked. The scent man bowed his head and stepped backwards into his little hovel of a shop. The Guard turned his displeasure on us. “Go on! Keep walking!”
We hurried on our way after Erik. “Can this place get any worse?” I whispered.
Me and my big mouth.
- Writer
