Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (45 page)

“What shall you do with these?” he asked.

“For my collection of course but also to
craft werewolf banes. I believe if I carry these I can avoid
attack,” Zussek said.

The professor’s idea worried Miguel. “Reach
not into the bag of the Devil’s tricks,” he advised. “I recommend
carrying a vial of holy water, and I read that a silver cross is a
proven werewolf bane.”

“Really? In which text?” Zussek said, annoyed
that he had not come across the same information.

Miguel chuckled, a little embarrassed.
“Actually it was on a handbill someone gave me this morning,” he
explained.

Zussek rolled his eyes. “The fancies of
fortune tellers and magicians are not for true men of learning,” he
said.

Folding the papers containing the hairs,
Miguel said, “Yes, but keep your path with the Godly,
Professor.”

“My Brother is right. We must look to God to
protect us,” Vito agreed.

“Naturally. Your point is well taken. I can’t
help being curious about these magic powers, but I assure you that
I seek to destroy these monsters,” Zussek said, hoping that he had
not just wiped out all the progress he had made courting favor with
his new Jesuit neighbors.

“And destroy them we shall,” Vito said. “Now
ply your curious mind to learning what will bait these things so
that Prague can be purified.”

Zussek gathered up his items and closed his
bag. He was going over in his mind which books he would consult
when he got back to the university. He stopped in the doorway and
said, “I’ve had a thought. You know how I think that witch summoned
these beasts. Flushing out some more witches could draw out the
beasts to ground of our choosing. With all the terror the city has
endured, I’m sure the public will be enthusiastic about another
witch hunt. We can’t go wrong with that,” Zussek said.

“An excellent recommendation. I shall
instruct my brothers to beseech their pupils to tell them who is
practicing witchcraft,” Vito said, satisfied with the expedient
plan. Werewolves were proving hard to catch, but witches were
always close at hand and methods for obtaining confessions were
highly productive.

A stable hand rushed out to receive the
Condottiere when he rode onto the neat gravel lane. Valentino
looked over Carmelita’s home as if expecting to find something
amiss. But flowers still bloomed in the boxes. Doves cooed along
the eaves, and he could faintly hear Mika’s piping voice singing
inside, presumably during a music lesson.

When Valentino entered, his boots clomped
upon the gleaming tile floor. Fresh herbal bouquets wafted a
magical pleasantness. Pausing to savor the sweet place, he hoped
that nothing would ever sully Carmelita’s feminine fortress. The
dream of lounging here as the widow’s idle lover tempted him. But
like Odysseus he knew he could only listen to the Siren song. He
could not survive if he went ashore.

A servant ushered him into Carmelita’s solar.
She sat at a frame stitching a small tapestry. Morning sunshine
beamed upon her.

She stuck her needle in the heavy fabric and
stood up. Her relief upon seeing him softened her anger more than
she had expected it would.

“My Lady,” he whispered admiringly.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“I do have a room elsewhere in Prague. It
would be unseemly if I stayed here all the time,” Valentino said.
He swept forward and put his arms around the little Czech lady that
made him feel like he could conquer the world if she put her foot
down and demanded it.

Carmelita turned from him and wiggled against
his hard arms with false resistance. “Three days! I give you my
heart and you disappear for three days!” she complained.

He turned her face toward him but did not
presume to kiss her yet. “Forgive me,” he said. “I haven’t been fit
for love. My mind cannot fathom what I have seen.”

“You saw the werewolf?” she asked, discarding
her jilted upset.

The monstrous memories replayed in his head
and unmoored him for the thousandth time. His rough fingers slipped
from her soft chin. He nodded mutely.

“Everyone says Thal fought it off. I heard
the fight but saw nothing. I don’t know how he did it,” Carmelita
said.

“What did he tell you?” Valentino asked.

“Tell me? He’s gone. No one has seen him,”
she reported.

“He didn’t come back here?” Valentino
said.

“No. But at least the beast has not returned
either. I don’t know what we would’ve done without him to protect
us,” she said.

“The werewolf came here because it was
seeking Thal,” Valentino said.

“A beast hunting the hunter?” she said.

“Sweet woman you’ve been in your lovely
little world too long,” Valentino said.

“Did you see what happened to Thal?” she
asked.

Valentino wandered to a chair and sat down as
if the truth crippled his legs.

Carmelita gaped. “Something really has upset
you,” she worried and rushed to his side.

Staring into space, Valentino said, “Thal is
a werewolf too.”

Carmelita wanted to protest but thoughtful
silence froze her shapely lips. She wanted Thal to be a man, an
extraordinary man, but just a man. But he was something more. The
truth of it clung to him like mist over the river on a cold
morning. His spirit was more than a man, or perhaps he was what a
man would feel like if all the rules in the world were gone and all
God’s creatures still roamed the dream of Paradise.

“What have I done?” she whispered, thinking
of how she had welcomed him into her home. Had her brother
known?

“I don’t know if he could land at any
doorstep and be refused admittance. Even I still wish to see him
again. He showed me his power. I watched him change. He could have
killed me. When his eyes looked upon me I couldn’t even think to
fight. He was as close to me as you are now, but he hurt me not,”
Valentino said, relieved to tell someone.

Although Valentino was filled with calm
wonderment, Carmelita became agitated. “The Devil has sent this
monster to punish me for questioning my faith,” she said.

“No!” Valentino cried. “Thal is not of the
Devil. God knows I have seen the worst of man. Butchery that would
make the Devil blanch, but none of these things I feel in him. Why
must the powers of the beast be called the Devil’s work? Maybe Thal
is here to help us. An age as sinful as ours deserves no angel to
defend it. This is what I’ve been pondering these past days.
Perhaps he is a friend we need. The other werewolf is under the
sway of Jesuits.”

“Jesuits!” Carmelita said, remembering her
political distaste for all the forces of Rome.

Valentino related his brief adventure with
the sellswords that Thal had said were attached to Jesuits. He
continued, “So you see, Thal is already the enemy of our enemy.
Maybe he can help us disturb the Church’s growing hold on
Prague.”

Scheming thoughts altered Carmelita’s face.
Hard-edged pragmatism replaced her public persona of shallow
delights. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Those who challenge the
Church will want nothing to do with this Devilry, whether it is
truly such or not. They seek righteousness for society not sorcery.
I can’t bring him into the fold now,” she said, relieved that she
had not already done so. Thal’s skillful rudeness was a courtesy to
her now, and she appreciated him in a new way.

Valentino cupped her chin and kissed her. The
slick physical connection loosened her worries a little.
Valentino’s stout confidence surged back and beckoned her with
security. “Is this not what I am for? To tend to dark deeds and
drive back sinful hypocrites who would rule us all?”

“Yes,” she whispered between kisses.

“Let Thal be our secret,” he proposed and
kissed her on the neck in a sensitive spot he had discovered on
their night together.

Very gently she moaned. The ticklish pleasure
gave her courage to continue her risky behavior.

“What shall we do with our secret?” Carmelita
asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to find him again
first,” Valentino said. He reached for a breast. The fleshy swell
in his palm invited him to conquer more of her body.

Outside, the bark of a small dog startled
them out of their play. After spending a night harried by such
insistent yapping, he recognized it well.

“His dog!” Valentino cried.

“Thal,” Carmelita said. She sprang away from
the Condottiere’s lap. They went out a side door and saw Thal
outside the servants’ quarters. The pot boy bounced around the
group of musicians and maids around Thal. Regis, Raphael, and Carlo
were taking turns embracing him, lapsing into their native language
half the time.

Thal was smiling when he looked over and saw
his hostess and the Condottiere approaching. The crowd loosened. He
took off his hat. The feathers in it had gotten bent.

“Her Ladyship does me great honor,” he
said.

“Not that you deserve it,” Carmelita
grumbled, trying to bury her concern now that she embarrassed
herself rushing out the door like a peasant’s wife.

Mika came running up behind his mother.
Relief for Thal’s return blazed in his boyish eyes.

“Did you kill the werewolf?” Mika asked.
Silence seized the gaggle of servants awaiting an answer.

Thal glanced at Valentino. “The thing shall
trouble this house no more,” he said, hoping it was true.

“Really?” Mika said, astonished by the
answer.

“Did the beast hurt you?” Carmelita asked. A
nasty scrape was healing on his cheek. His shirt hung open and
revealed scabby scratches.

“These are but trifles,” he said and brushed
a hand over his chest.

Carmelita said, “We shall speak of this in
private.”

Her knowing eyes told him that she knew some
or all of what had happened. Presumably Valentino had told her, but
Thal did not mind. She deserved to know.

“At your convenience, my Lady,” Thal
said.

“Tonight then,” she said and gathered Mika to
her hip. She withdrew to the house while looking over her shoulder
at him.

With the lady of the house now out of
earshot, Thal said to Valentino, “I’d like to get that gun if
you’re available to help me.”

Valentino was stunned anew to be back in his
presence. “We could do that,” he finally said.

“Good,” Thal said.

“Not good,” Regis interjected.

Thal sympathized with his friend’s
disapproval. His call to peace was good hearted.

“I must speak with my friends before we go,”
Thal said.

“I’ll be here,” Valentino said.

Thal disbursed the curious servants and
withdrew to his little room with his three friends. He flopped onto
his bed and let his booted feet hang over the end. The straw
mattress and smooth linen reminded him that the forest did not
provide all the creature comforts.

“Thank you for sending my clothes. That was
very thoughtful of you,” Thal said.

“You must not let this happen anymore,” Regis
insisted.

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want you to get hurt or
caught,” Regis said. “We should head for Paris where no one has
heard your name.”

Thal sat up and swung his feet back to the
floor. He sighed heavily. “My friends, I don’t want my troubles to
touch you. We will part ways soon,” he said.

The trio protested but Thal held up a hand.
“I’ve taken on a dark duty that I must complete,” he warned.

“Don’t do it, Thal. Vengeance has no value,”
Regis said.

“What vengeance?” Carlo asked.

“It’s best none of you know my plots,” Thal
said.

“Maybe we can help you,” Raphael said.

Regis flashed with anger because the proposal
undermined his goal of getting Thal to forgo avenging his
mother.

“I don’t want my crimes to taint you,” Thal
said.

“You’ve done no crimes yet…” Regis trailed
off. He had meant to argue but then realized that Thal might have
already done something terrible during the last three days. “Where
have you been?” he asked softly.

I have been at peace, Thal thought. While he
lingered in the fragrant countryside the woodland chatter and the
whispering breeze through the meadow flowers had soothed his
grief.

“Mostly in the country. Then last night I
ventured across the river into New Town,” Thal said.

“What’s in New Town?” Raphael asked.

“Everything. I saw hay markets and horse
markets. There’s wool markets and cattle markets. Tanneries and
weavers. Many traders. I discovered some good primero games,” Thal
said and patted his purse.

“Did you win enough to start our journey to
Paris?” Regis asked.

“But you’ve hardly even been in Prague yet,”
Thal argued.

Regis shrugged. “Paris will be better,” he
predicted.

“I hear the French lands are war torn,” Thal
said.

“Then we can go somewhere else. Please Thal,
let’s stay together. We do well with you and you can’t stay in
Prague, not unless you go with that Condottiere and let him change
your name,” Regis said.

“I’m not going to war with him,” Thal said.
“But I do need his help buying another pistol.”

“I beg you not to do that,” Regis said.

“Would you leave your mother’s murder
unavenged?” Thal said.

Regis hung his head, defeated but also
ashamed of his selfish need to keep Thal to himself.

Thal set a hand on Regis’s shoulder and
looked to his other two friends as well. “All of you must think
about what you will do without me. I don’t know when, but it won’t
be long before I must leave you. I will simply disappear. I must do
this so those that hunt me do not come for you. You must disavow
me,” Thal instructed.

Raphael swore an oath in his native language
and threw up his hands. “Regis is right. We should leave town
together. Do what you must do and then we go,” he declared.