Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2
Chapter Twelve

I woke with a jolt. The heat of the early afternoon had caused me to perspire, and I pulled my cowl from my head as I sat up to look around.

I was alone. Luca had left me to slumber under the oak tree by myself, and I couldn’t see him as I looked around the field from my seated position. I stood up, grateful to feel the breeze through my hair as it cooled my neck and dried my brow. With another glance, I saw Luca’s figure at a far distance standing near the main road.

I gathered myself and walked down toward him. My back was already sore from the day’s work, but the muscles loosened as I moved.

Arriving at the lazy decline’s bottom, I noticed with a startle that the figure was not Luca. The stranger was tall and dressed in the elegant crimson robes of a lord. His brocade was of the finest quality velvet I’d ever seen, trimmed with black leather and gold buttons, matching his regal hat. He wore a finely crafted sword, sheathed at his side, the hilt made of gleaming gold and cut rubies.

Had the stranger stood beside Morbegno’s elite, anyone could see this man was from another world entirely. To find him alone in the middle of silent farmland was inexplicable and disarming.

I then realized that I, too, was alone.

He stepped forward to approach me, calling out when he was within twenty paces.

“What is your name, signorina?” he asked over the distance with a strong, commanding voice.

I meant to answer, but my words locked in my throat as he came close enough for me to see his eyes. I felt the sting of fear in my blood, and the urge to flee from him overtook me. He had the face of the very demon who had attacked me in my dream.

Gasping in vain for my breath, I turned and fled with awkward footing.

“Luca!” I finally screamed, looking about me to find the groundskeeper in vain. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I noticed several farmhands in the neighboring fields turn to gauge what had set me off. I considered running to them for protection, but I was just as terrified of those strange men. I moved on, letting my feet carry me forward as my heart pounded in my throat.

At the bridge, I crossed into Morbegno and received a host of raised eyebrows from pedestrians who crossed past me. I stopped, recognizing the spectacle I was making of myself, and turned around to see with relief that the man had not followed me.

I tried to catch my breath before turning back into the town and smoothed my garments, confident that I’d made myself look disheveled. Running my hands through my hair to pull it back, I realized I must have dropped my cowl during my escape from…

What had I run from? A man standing in a field? A wealthy man who had stopped to ask for help?

I couldn’t account for my behavior; I only knew that I was afraid. I was afraid of that man; I was afraid of the men who had harmed me; I was afraid of all men.

I wept quietly, unable to control my breathing or the tears that let free.

In time, I turned back toward the town to find that public interest in my spectacle had vanished. I felt safer among Morbegno’s crowd, which scurried in its whirl. I should have returned to the field to find Luca, but I instead walked alone toward San Giovanni Batista’s Church. I would no doubt beg Father Piero’s forgiveness, but I could not return to the field alone.

I was painfully aware of my uncovered head, and I did my best to look down and stay out of oncoming traffic. After a few blocks, my heart froze to hear the noise of several women chatting as I crossed their vicinity. Looking up, I saw three faces I recognized—friends of Sofia Vervio, who had huddled together to scoff in my direction.

Several men stood around them, and I saw they were the women’s servants, no doubt escorting them through the afternoon streets. And then I saw her step out from behind them.

Beautifully dressed, there was nothing but venom in Sofia’s eyes. As I stupidly believed her to be my only friend left in this horrible place, I couldn’t stop myself from approaching her.

“Please,” I pleaded, tears returning to my eyes. “I am alone and have nothing. Won’t you help me?”

As if offended that I might even speak to her, Sofia broke from the women to reach so she might slap me, but they rose in unison to stop her.

“No, you mustn’t!” one of them cried above the noise of the others. “Don’t touch her—she is cursed.”

Sofia didn’t take her eyes from me, and with a quivering lip, she spat angrily in my face.

“Devil,” she said to me before allowing her friends to turn her away.

I entered the rectory garden as quietly as I could, desperate to go unnoticed. When I retreated into the darkness of my closet, I shut the door behind me and laid down on the bed.

Curled in a ball, I smiled bitterly to realize how I could escape none of it. The pain would follow me wherever I might go.

I saw his face again in my mind; the dream made flesh so I might never forget it. He had wanted more of me than simple directions; I was sure of it now. He had desired something untoward, as all men of his age and ilk wanted. No matter how much kindness Cecco had shown me in our marriage, I knew that evil lay forever beneath that visage, and I could never trust it.

I expected Father Piero would come to discipline or banish me. Even if no one had noticed me enter the courtyard garden, word would soon reach his ears. Luca would eventually come home. A parishioner would report seeing a servant girl’s confrontation and how she ran with an uncovered head through the streets toward the church.

But the afternoon passed in silence.

When the sun had finally set, I doubted everything. Father Piero did not arrive with my supper, and as the sky disappeared into the darkness, I considered that I might walk back to Dazio. The new moon made it a dangerous night for travel, but I might use that to my advantage. I couldn’t easily see where I would step, but bandits would have the same difficulty seeing me.

However, this was folly. There were wolves in those hills, and such predators would detect me long before I could attempt escape.

As I made to light one of my small candles, I heard steps approaching from outside the door frame. A sharp knock came that caught my breath, and I stood up involuntarily.

Opening, I found Father Piero standing with a lantern in his hand but no tray.

“Child, I believe God has taken mercy on you and solved both of our troubles,” he said warmly, a light smile on his face. “An opportunity has presented itself for you to begin a new life. Do you know the town of Como?”

I shook my head. I’d heard of Sondrio and Milan only because Cecco had given me the names to memorize for our deception.

“It’s a lovely place only a couple days’ journey from here. You’ll probably find that no one knows your names or deeds there.”

“How could I possibly—”

“I have discussed your trials with a gentleman who sought me for counsel. No, do not be concerned, child. His confidence is bound to me through Holy confession, as is yours. He lives in Como and has agreed to take you into his employ there. He will provide you with a position among his servants. There you can rebuild your life in anonymity if you wish. On his honor to God’s Church, he has agreed to keep your identity secret, as I vow to keep your location a secret.”

I didn’t know what to say, but my heart leaped at the idea. To be free of this place and not a burden. To have something of my own again. I understood that I would still toil for this foreign man’s house, but I would have protection and an income.

“My mother and sister?” I asked. “Will you write to tell them of this for me?”

“If you wish. I do not mind, child,” Father Piero smiled. “In the morning, when time permits, I’ll send word to them. But you must prepare yourself to leave at once. Don Lupofiero is waiting to travel back by carriage as we speak.”

“At night?” I asked.

“That’s right, child,” the priest confirmed. “He’s a busy man and must return at once. Close the door and prepare yourself, then come to us in the rectory when you are ready.”

“But Father, I lost my cowl today. Do you have another? I don’t wish to offend this man... Don Lupofiero.”

The priest sucked his teeth at my request.

“Very well, I will look to see what’s on hand. Come as quickly as possible.”

Nodding in agreement, I shut the door. I found myself again in darkness and stumbled to light a candle. When I finished making water, I did my best to smooth out my bed and dress. I could hardly fathom the opportunity before me--to be gone from this place and away from such hatred. I would weep again if I didn’t focus on the task before me.

Through the door, I heard Father Piero’s voice several feet away in the garden. He spoke to another man, and I wondered if my new master had come with him to fetch me.

I smoothed my loose hair back from my face in vain to make myself presentable. I desperately wanted to cover my head before I met my new master, but neither master came to my door. Instead, they continued their conversation at a distance. It sounded as if the priest were accepting a donation from the man, who must surely be his patron.

They are waiting for me, I thought. It would be fine.

I looked to the basin, expecting that I should empty it before leaving, but accepted Father Piero’s order to come at once. I extinguished the candle and started out to them. I kept my head down as I approached, wishing to show respect.

“Ah, here she comes, at last,” Father Piero said.

I saw him reach his hand out to take mine. It was a warm gesture I hadn’t expected, and I was so grateful for his kindness at that moment that I could have kissed it.

“Gabriella, this is Don Lupofiero of Castello Palatino.”

“Don Lupofiero,” I repeated, bowing deeply and lowering genteelly on one leg.

When I finally looked up, I saw the man’s face. He was the very devil from the field—from my dream.

I screamed.

Father Piero squeezed my hand painfully, likely from shock. This resulted in my pulling him down to the ground with me in my clumsy attempt to flee. I writhed in desperation, attempting to escape the devil who towered over us, but Father Piero pulled to stop me.

Be silent, the man yelled in a thunderous voice.

To my astonishment, I realized his lips had not moved, and that I heard his voice in my mind. It echoed all around me, like my own thoughts—like a dream.

Father Piero slapped me decisively to stop me from screaming again.

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