Chapter 21
Cosette sat in the middle of her cot. She didn’t know what time it was unless she went by the hour her meals arrived. They were brought by the same man draped in a white robe and the fare never changed. It was hardly fit for an animal, much less a human. Cosette only ate when her stomach gave no other choice, rumbling with a deep hunger. The hours could have easily turned into days for as miserable as she felt in this hovel of a room. If there was one blessing, it was that the voice hadn’t reappeared. Yet.
The only thing that helped ease her anguish was the thought of Davien. She prayed that he was finding something useful in his studies of the archives. Otherwise, she might very well be a permanent member of the Order.
She wondered how Quinn was faring, and if Charlotte had gone back to the workhouse. She thought of Shadowlawn and imagined that she was back in the duke’s chamber—in the chamber they shared. The image of that room was so clear that she could almost picture herself there—in Davien’s arms, his strength surrounding her, comforting her.
The ache to see him was almost physical at times, but she fought against it. She would not let anything bring her down when she was so close to freedom. It was in her grasp. She could almost taste it. She knew that Davien wouldn’t let her down, wouldn’t let them down.
It was only a matter of time.
She closed her eyes . . .
And awoke to the sight of claw marks on her door.
The hinges were splintered, and a man in a white robe stared lifelessly at the ceiling. She didn’t have to see the blood coating her dress to know that she was responsible for this latest slaughter. Only this time she’d done the unthinkable and murdered a human instead of a flock of sheep. And she had no doubt that she would hang for it.
She didn’t remember screaming. Only that she heard the sound of an anguished, wail, almost an animalistic cry, before footsteps came running.
~ ~ ~
Davien was forced to ride horseback to the gypsy camp that night. It was the only way he could safely carry the completed tablet back to Vadoma.
Anticipation flowed through his veins, because he knew that the end was finally in sight. He’d had a difficult time stringing the tablet together, for his mind was flooded with memories of Cosette. But with Vadoma’s help, he knew that it wouldn’t be long before this nightmare ended and they were reunited. After twenty years of penance, surely he was forgiven for any transgressions he might have committed.
As he caught sight of the encampment, he frowned, for the fire that was burning tonight was much brighter than the night before. He urged his mount forward and soon found out why.
Vadoma’s wagon was on fire, the flames so high that they nearly touched the night sky. Fear gripped him as he pulled back on the reins. His horse reared back with an angry whinny, but the black stallion stopped long enough for him to vault to the ground. He hit the ground running, his only objective to get to Vadoma.
He held an arm in front of him to block the heat that singed his face and threatened to suffocate him. He was close now. Only a few more steps and he would—
“How dare you come back here!”
Davien was spun around. He met the deadly glare of Vano—right before the gypsy’s fist connected with his jaw. Davien’s head snapped back with the force of it, causing him to stumble, but he didn’t fall. The scene caused others from the band to gather around, but none of them dared to interfere in something they were not part of.
“You spawn of Satan!” Vano roared. “You are the reason that mybunicais dead!”
Davien felt himself pale. This blow was stronger than anything Vano might have hurled at him physically. “What are you talking about?” His voice was raspy, on the cusp of an emotion too strong to even give a name for.
“She was murdered just before nightfall,englez! We had to burn her wagon to set her spirit free, and to keep others from entering in her place.” He pointed a finger at Davien. “Her demise is laid at your feet. She would still be alive if she hadn’t invited you in.” He spat on the ground near Davien’s feet. “I curse you!”
It started out as a slow, steady building of savage despondency that spiraled into something even more fearsome, lethal. The beast inside of Davien grew until his eyes glowed and his fangs lengthened. “I’m afraid it’s too late for curses,” he snarled. “As you can see, I am already damned.”
Vano visibly paled as Davien transformed into the black wolf. After all these years of trying to fight what he had become, perhaps it was time that he succumbed to the inevitable, considering the last spark of hope that had lived inside of him had just withered and died as surely as Vadoma’s body was turning to ash inside that wagon. “I had nothing to do with your grandmother’s death,” he snarled. “But I will find out who did and tear them apart.”
With a howl mixed with despair and rage, Davien ran toward the one person who could give him solace, and remind him that he was worth staying on this miserable earth.
He headed for the Abbey.
~ ~ ~
Davien didn’t even bother resuming his human form as he bounded up the steps to the Abbey. His only thought was to get to Cosette. He was tired of waiting, hoping, praying. It all ended today.
He crashed through the front door with a dangerous growl. But the sight that greeted him on the other side in the great hall was enough to make every hair stand up on end in a threatening bristle. Cosette was lying in the middle of the room, her wrists in chains, her dress split down the middle in the back. Several Brothers surrounded her in their white robes, but it was the sight of the Abbot in red who brought the whip down across her back, the crack as it hit its mark splitting the air like a burst of thunder, that caused him to leap forward.
He bared his fangs as he crouched before Cosette’s limp form, causing the rest of the assembled to back up in horror at the menacing sight he presented.
Get on my back.
