Chapter 2 The Young Incantrix #3
“The bite that turns a person into a Lupus,” Adriana murmured. She could see the strain of discussing the past in Thomas’ eyes and felt guilty for asking him to disclose so much to her. “You do not have to tell me if it is too difficult.”
“If we do not talk about our past, how are we to move on from it?” he asked as he stroked Adriana’s cheek.
“We were bitten and made on the night of a full moon. From that moment, all Lupi have been at the mercy of the lunar cycle. Every night the moon is in full, mirroring the brand on our backs, we would shift into our wolf forms, and we would have one goal—one mission from Lilith. To destroy. At first we attacked anyone and anything, but then our focus turned to killing Lilith’s first creations to walk the living world. The Lamiae.”
Adriana squirmed in Striga’s lap, not bothering to hide her displeasure at the mention of the Lamiae. “I do not like the sound of them,” she said. “I have never liked their stories.”
Thomas laughed at her reaction. “They are a ruthless bunch, I have to say. But they were never our enemy, not really. They were just the enemy Lilith chose for us, because they had disobeyed her and broken free from her control. If it weren’t for them, I would never have known I could free myself from the moon’s curse.
I learnt to shift on command, and to remain in my natural form during a full moon.
And then I taught my friends; Allen, Akinyi, Rhys and Robert.
We were free from Lilith’s reach, and when any of them passed down their gifts to their family, we taught them to be free, too. ”
Adriana sat still for a moment, taking in everything he had told her. She then stood and crossed her arms, staring down at her great-grandfather with an accusational look. “But you never gave me your gift. Why not? Is it because I am a girl?”
Thomas laughed loudly and Striga smacked him on the arm in response.
“No, my Adria, of course not,” Striga said.
“Whilst the first Lupi were men and the first Incantrices women, there are no rules or constrictions to our kinds. There are a number of female Lupi in our friends’ families, and my sister, Divina, has a grandson who has shown Incantrix gifts, as well as her granddaughter. "
“The truth is, I never wanted this gift,” Thomas sighed.
He stood up, using the ledge of the fountain for support to lift his tired, old body.
“As the leader of the Lupi, I decided to never offer it to anyone else, just like the leader of the Lamiae chose not to. My friends passed the Mordet bite to their family and loved ones, but I chose to carry the burden alone, to let my curse die with me.”
Adriana could sense Thomas’ sadness in his words. His power, a heavy weight that he was made to carry since he was a young man, continued to weigh him down in his elderly age.
She had never been afraid of what he could turn into, she’d even watched him shift into his wolf a few times, though usually from afar and under the protection of Striga.
She found his transformation beautiful to watch, even with the sounds of his limbs popping and his shouts of pain.
In a strange way, she felt what others would view as the ugliness of a transformation as the most spectacular, the way in which a human body rearranged into a strong wolf.
It made her feel strong too, knowing that anyone, no matter who they were, could become such a powerful being.
She knew Thomas struggled with his transformations now, his weak and old body could not always keep up with the strain, and so he avoided shifting as much as possible.
It had been a few years since she’d seen his black wolf.
Truthfully, if he hadn’t found a way to deny the full moon and stop his uncontrollable shifts, Adriana wondered if his poor heart would have likely given out long ago.
“You are not alone,” Striga told him. “You found me, just as I found you.”
Adriana smiled at the obvious love between them both, hoping that one day she could experience even a fraction of it with someone herself. “How did you both meet? You never told me.”
“That, I’m afraid, is a story for another time,” Thomas said, as he offered his arm to help Striga stand. “Your great-grandmother can tell you one day.”
“My love, perhaps a little longer?” Strigas asked, the pleading evident in her voice. “We could share one last story before… Before we go.”
Thomas sighed as he held Striga’s hand. “My light, we must go, we are already going to be late to the Courts. We knew this time would come.”
Adriana’s eyes darted between them, confused at the sadness in both of their voices. Her lips parted, a question already forming on her tongue, but Thomas caught her eye as he helped Striga stand and gave a small shake of his head. Not now, his silent message seemed to say.
Striga sighed, blinking away the tears that had begun to form in her eyes, and put on a bright smile. “Come, you should be getting back to your governess, before her annoyance with you grows worse.”
They walked back to Amara House in silence, the sun starting to dip behind the trees as afternoon blended into evening.
Adriana’s mind was swarming with more questions, but Thomas had made it clear now was not the time to push them.
Her great-grandparents had lived troubling lives, and she knew something more was worrying them today, especially when the Courts were not due to meet for another six years.
The Courts of Daemonium were a collective group of the first Daemons, built to represent and protect the magical beings of the world.
The Incantrix Court was led by Striga and supported by her sister, Divina.
The Lupus Court was led by the Five Wolves, consisting of Thomas and his four friends.
And the Lamia Court was led by the Eight Blood Brothers, with their leader also acting as the founder and commander of the Courts.
They all met once every ten years to discuss matters of urgency regarding Daemon and mortal conflict, and so Adriana wondered what would cause them to need to gather earlier than usual.
As if sensing her worries, Striga took her hand and said, “Something has happened, but it is nothing you need worry about now. Your time in the Courts will come, when you are old enough. But until then, do not trouble yourself. Worry about your governess instead.” She winked at Adriana, as she headed towards her quarters to get ready for the meeting.
Adriana opened her mouth to call her back, but refrained when she heard a small sob escape her great-grandmother. The sound was so unlike the strong, often sharp-tongued woman she knew.
A chill snaked down Adriana’s spine as she watched her great-grandmother disappear up the stairs. Something was terribly wrong, and she was not allowed to know about it.
Thomas knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, his gaze intense and unwavering.
He did not say anything, but his eyes held a sadness she longed to place.
If only she knew what had made her great-grandparents so upset, maybe she could fix it, maybe she could help.
Her magic was growing, Striga had said as much.
She just wished she was powerful enough to help with whatever reason the Courts were meeting for.
As Adriana’s eyes began to fill with tears, Thomas raised a hand to brush a finger delicately across her cheek.
“You are so strong,” he softly spoke, once again somehow understanding exactly how she felt without her having to explain.
“Your kindness and your heart are so strong. Never forget that. Never forget that where there is love, there will always be a home.” He kissed her forehead as he rose and made his way to the staircase.
Adriana grabbed his hand before he could leave, a thousand questions and worries darting through her mind.
She knew that Thomas wouldn’t budge, even if she pushed and prodded for more, he would not tell her whatever it was they were keeping secret.
And so instead, she settled on the first question she’d had earlier.
“Who is the other man, the one great-grandmother spoke of? She told me you were one of the two best men she knew. You called him a moody bastard.”
Thomas doubled over, cackling at Adriana’s choice of words. “I suppose I should have been more careful with my cursing around you,” he said as he ruffled her hair. “She was talking about the leader of the Lamia Court, the founder of the Courts of Daemonium. Alexander Duran.”
Adriana lay restless in her bed that night. Her hand ached from the lines her governess made her write when she returned to her lesson with her head sheepishly angled down.
She longed for her great-grandparents to return so she could ask them more questions. How had their meeting fared? What was their reasoning for bringing it forward? Why had Striga seemed so reluctant to go?
She had met several Lupi, including Thomas’ friends and their relatives at her family’s ball a few years back.
They had been an odd group, clearly the majority of them were not ones for formal dances, but had been lovely nonetheless.
She’d even managed to gather the confidence to ask some of the younger Lupi to show her their wolf forms, something which her father had scolded her for after, calling her reckless.
She’d also met Striga’s sister, Divina, a while ago.
She was a tiny woman with bright green eyes that shone against her black skin and curly grey hair that framed her petite face.
She’d been most excited to meet the strange relative that never left her manor, but that excitement soon faltered into nerves after Divina took one look at Adriana and began to mutter words she could not understand.
Striga had heard, and though a look of panic quickly flashed over her face, she did not disclose what had been said.
But Adriana had never met a Lamia. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to, for they were the most feared Daemons in the stories told in children’s tales and in Striga’s history lessons. But she was a curious child with a curious mind.
It was that same curiosity that led her to the cellar later that night.
As she had finally begun to fall asleep, she heard raised voices from outside.
She could hear her great-grandmother shouting, along with two other male voices she did not recognise.
But it was the screaming that alarmed her.
A howling shriek that sounded like someone, or something, was in immense pain.
She watched out her window as three figures dragged a fourth towards the house, thrashing in their grip.
She watched as one of the figures, her great-grandmother, stepped away to open the hatch to the cellar under the house.
They brought the screaming creature beneath the building, shutting the hatch door and leaving the night quiet once more.
Adriana couldn’t hear the screams anymore, but it was as if she could feel them rattle the very walls of her room. Whoever it was—whatever it was—they were in huge amounts of pain, and they were very strong.
She slipped on her robe over her nightgown and carefully tiptoed down the spiral staircase to the servants quarters, where there was another door that led to the cellar.
She pressed her ear against it to try to hear what they were saying but could not understand anything from muffled whispers of Striga and the two men being drowned out by the pained cries.
She heard them open the hatch door and watched through the windows as the three of them stepped into the night, walking across the gardens and beyond the trees. They had left the fourth person down there, she realised.
She knew she should have gone back to bed. If her great-grandmother had left something in the cellar then it was unlikely she wanted it to be found. But once again, curiosity got the better of Adriana, and she found herself unlatching the door and taking the first few steps down.
She heard a deep voice whimpering, not in the way that a babe whines for food, but in the way a predatory animal struggles to get out of a trap. Her foot slipped slightly, causing the stairs to creak, echoing across the cellar. The sounds stopped, and the room was silent.
“Who is there?” a deep voice rang out from the middle of the cellar. Adriana could feel the great power the voice held, his words sending a chill down her spine and settling in her mind. “I suggest you come out of the shadows, they do not appreciate being used as a hiding place.”
Adriana could feel the shadows around her moving, their touch cold and smooth against her. She should have been scared, but she found herself soothed by their caresses. “I am not afraid,” she said as strongly as she could.
“Then show yourself.”
She took a deep breath, balanced her emotions to feel connected to the air around her and the ground beneath her feet as Striga had once taught her, and took the final steps down the staircase. As she rounded the corner, she looked to the owner of the voice.
A man lay strapped down to the wooden table in the centre of the room, his face illuminated by the moonlight. His dark hair was a mess of curls, his clothes torn and bloodied, and his arms carried dark swirling patterns that looked just like the shadows dancing around him.
Then she noticed his hands. His fingernails had grown into talons that gripped the sides of the table.
Chunks of wood were missing, presumably where he had clawed at it.
She then studied his face. His eyes were void of any colour, only black was visible, as if his pupils had grown too large.
His ears were pointed and poked out of his hair when he moved his head to get a better look at her.
She recognised him, the man in the shadows. Even in his Lamia form she recognised him from the portraits Thomas had shown her of the Courts. The most ruthless immortal creature, the strongest Daemon to exist, was strapped down to a table in her family’s cellar.
Alexander Duran.