The Wolf's Call to the Moon Ch. 03

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***

Mallory in a dream - one where she was a third-party observer, understood everything despite the incredulity of the situation.

Yes, she just witnessed a man changing into a wolf - she had clutched at his fur while riding on his back and she had seen the wolf change back into a man.

How dare he say that werewolves didn't exist!

There was no mistaking those eyes. She knew them - man and wolf. They were the same piercing blue that had first stolen her breath back on the slopes of the Sleeping Giant. Mallory wasn't a historian archaeologist if she didn't have an eye for detail.

And she had noted that the five seemingly normal wolves who had appeared a while ago were of the changeling kind like him -but different. Not only where they smaller, they also had an air about them that denoted a lower rank in hierarchy.

The only thing she couldn't understand was why he had followed after them and left her alone in the foliage. He had even taken the assailant who was chasing them!

Fumbling around for support, Mallory tried to get on her feet but her muscles were under the attack of pins and needles after having crouched behind a bush for so long.

"Goddamn it Mallory!"

Cursing to herself, she managed to rummage for a thick broken stick and used it as a form of lever to hoist herself up. "Who says I love you and then disappear?" she grumbled. The fear that had consumed her earlier was replaced by annoyance and a tinge of worry.

Emotions aside, she had understood that something sinister was happening. Why had the man come after them? Was it Clay that he was after? Or was it her? And those wolves...

One of them - the black one -had looked straight at her before leaving, the warning in his eyes clear.

"Clay..." she whispered, her eyes following the direction where she last saw him. She didn't want to admit it but it hurt.

It hurt that she had allowed herself to let him in only to have him abandon her. Hadn't she already had enough of that while growing up?

Shipped from house to house each time her foster parents could no longer tolerate her or control her. And finally, at 18, when the system could no longer support her, she was thrown out on the streets to fend for herself.

It wasn't that she resented being left behind. Mallory had no parents, no family, nothing -she never had a bond to anyone that mattered. At every stage of her life, relationships were temporary.

That shouldn't have changed.

***

Even with his arrogant face plastered on, Clay bore the slight note of worry in his eyes - something that Sophie had picked up, despite his insistence that Mallory meant nothing to him. She was merely a human he saved from an attacking Risen, so he said.

Although Mallory was off-limits to them for the moment, Jean-Pierre had still ordered three of the scouts to continue keeping watch over her. Sophie couldn't disagree. Human or not, Mallory Roux was a piece of the bigger puzzle and they needed to figure out what part she played.

As for herself, the senior tracker had requested that she accompanied him back to Notre Dame, in a bid to coax some answers out of the two prisoners.

Pursing her lips, Sophie crossed her arms as Jean-Pierre tried to discuss his interrogation strategy. There were times when she really hated how he used her looks as a tool to acquiesce men, especially when the specimen in front of her was anything but attracted to her. Clay had not once looked at her nor acknowledged her presence.

"Jean-Pierre, please. You know as well as I do that he is not going to speak to us."

"Doesn't mean we stop trying," he replied curtly before turning his attention to the captured Risen in front of him. They weren't any more successful with him either.

Yuli was sat back in his seat, eyes wary and watchful. Though they had bound his hands and feet, he knew he could escape if he wanted to -merely disappearing in a puff of smoke.

By the looks of it, the captured Light Walker knew it too.

Their eyes crossed for a split second and Yuli caught the murderous edge in those sky-blue irises.

Finally, after a long period of silence, the two trackers stood up.

"It won't be long before we reach Paris," announced Jean-Pierre, looking intently at his two captives. "I do so wish that you would tell us something useful so we could help you out. The Shadow Lords can be merciful."

Clay resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew all about their mercy alright. Like how they mercilessly butchered his entire family.

So screw them.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Clay endured the slow descend to Charles de Gaulle Airport. He hated the place - the rank scent of decay and filth was always heavy in the air, choking him.

He longed for the vast countryside, where the air smelled of ripened grapes and wheat and fields of sunflowers.

Coming home had a bittersweet edge to it.

The journey to the grand cathedral was wordless. The captives found no reason to speak and the captors knew there was nothing more they could gleam from the two.

Clay kept his eyes on the road, noting how despite the passing of time, every building was still recognisable, the streets littered with the same type of people and the air of melancholy still permeated the city.

Even the river Seine held the same charm and serenity as before. Now that the car was crossing the bridge over her, he knew the time had come. He was finally home, in the land of his forefathers and back here he was after a century.

When Jean-Pierre tried to guide them towards the main entrance of the cathedral, Clay simply pulled away and headed up the path that he had memorised by heart. He knew the tracker was going to bring them through all the memorials and grandeur as a farce of intimidation but Clay was not one to waste time.

At the side of the spiral staircase at the back entrance was a secret door that led to another set of stairs at the end of a corridor. It was there that he had seen his family for the last time before they were all herded to the main courtyard like sheep to slaughter.

Clenching his teeth at the memory, Clay continued down the path; aware that Sophie was following him. Jean-Pierre must have set her on him while he tended to the captured Risen.

When they finally reached the end of the corridor, Clay pushed the door open and welcomed the flood of light from the open-air cloister.

But it was the chapter-house at the east side of the cloister that had his attention.

A soft hand on his shoulder. "Wait, please."

He gave her a momentary glance. "I know they are aware of my presence. There is no need to chaperon me."

"I don't understand." The tone of resignation and innocence had him stopping in his tracks.

"What?"

"You. This."

Clay continued walking. There was no need to explain anything. His business was not with her.

***

The wooden ceiling high door was heavy and damp against his fingers as he pushed it forward, the weight putting a slight strain on his biceps.

Light was minimal in the chapter house -only a stream falling from a circular sky roof illuminating the round table that was surrounded by the Alpha Light Walkers; the Shadow Lords.

Confused and bewildered eyes immediately turned to examine him; gasps muted and heartbeats stilled.

"Impossible!"

Clay caught a blur of imperial green robes, a second before he was lifted off his feet by a strong hold on his neck.

"Alkina..." he managed to breathe out; his claws drawn out and perilously close to puncturing her radial artery. He would claw it out and destroy her arms in a heartbeat if he wanted.

She caught the intent in his eyes but didn't let him go. "I don't suppose you came here to die."

The blue of his eyes locked on hers - one wolf to another.

"Put him down Alkina." The deep baritone voice of the European Alpha echoed through the room. "He's worth more to us alive than dead."

Who is he? Alexander flicked an eye towards Alkina. She was always the most knowledgeable amongst them all but she was also known to keep her secrets protectively guarded.

He shouldn't be alive.

His lips curled up in response. Just as he thought -she wasn't going to give up that information to him willingly.

Comparatively, Alexander was only a century younger than Alkina but she had been in the ranks of the Shadow Lords for much longer and held many secrets about the clans that he never had privy to. She was a guardian of their past and he respected her for that, seeing that she had also outlived all her peers -a genetic trade-off of her wolf species.

Just as well. He wasn't going to be bothered by histories and secrets. They were often kept that way for a reason.

As an Alpha, he always chose to focus on what was now -such as the arrogant young Light Walker in front of him who looked at everyone with frigid, suspicious eyes.

From his scent alone, Alexander could tell that he was of his hearth... How that could be possible was for another time. There were more pressing urgent matters at the moment.

Gesturing to an empty seat by his side, Alexander merely nodded - the invitation implied.

Rubbing at the soreness at his throat, Clay walked up to the empty chair but did not sit down. Instead, his eyes scanned the entire room, taking in the details of every Light Walker he could see and sense.

He recognised the Tasmanian wolf Alpha but the others -he only knew their names, by news and gossip that came along with them.

Turning to the one who had offered him a seat, Clay held the Alpha's calm gaze.

Unlike the other Shadow Lords, this one -Alexander Glas was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt; his face clean shaven to look like a mid-thirties IT geek.

The facade was something he constantly upheld to keep up with the time as well as his stake hold in various industries.

Something bubbled inside of him -an instinct Clay recognised as the dominance game. It had been so long since he ever felt it necessary to tussle with a fellow pack mate to ascertain his rank and to feel so now was an indication of how long he had been away from the pack life.

Not that he had one anymore.

Sensing the same, Alexander simply gestured once more to the wooden chair.

"Please sit. I'd love to introduce myself but that would just insult your intelligence. So why don't you introduce yourself instead?"

Smooth, very smooth, thought Clay.

"My name is Clay." He sat down.

"Do you know why you're here?" asked Alexander, ignoring the non-verbal cues from Alkina who wanted to take reign of the interrogation. He preferred to call it conversation.

He knows about the sarcophagus Alex... don't beat around the bush you idiot. You're wasting precious time!

At Clay's non-committal shrug, Alexander lifted his gaze and nodded to Sophie who had been standing guard by the door.

"We found this Light Walker during our investigation of the sarcophagus. He has implicated himself by being around the chief historian of the expedition and has been known to be in the presence of another Risen." Biting her lips, she paused.

Then her eyes found Alexander's, seeking permission to continue. "We had initially thought he was one of them... for he bears no common scent of the five families..."

"Enough." Alkina stood up, her palms imprinting itself on the wooden table. "Why isn't this chief historian brought in for questioning as well?" she demanded.

"Because I told her not to."

The simple answer left the room in a mess of commotion.

Alkina, her eyes glowing amber, crossed the room in giant strides to stand next to Clay.

"What right do you think you have over any pack business? Or any other right for that matter?"

"None whatsoever." Clay returned her icy stare with his own; a warning for her to back down.

"Argh, why you imbeci..." Her wrist was caught mid-slap by Alexander.

What the fuck is wrong with you? It should not take an Alpha this long to acknowledge the most basic reason.

The gold of her irises shot angrily at him.

He dares to command your kin! Are you not threatened by this?

No I am not.

And that was the truth. To him, Clay was nobody and had chosen to remain that way. Regardless of Clay's dominance, the only command that a Light Walker will not ignore was when it concerned...

"She is his mate." Sophie's voice broke the tension filling the room.

The silence that ensued was stifling.

The only sounds that could be heard were the shuffling of heels approaching the main chamber doors.

A creak and a sliver of light later, Jean-Pierre entered with the captured Risen tagging behind him.

"Finally! Something useful I could use," snarled Alkina. "We will deal with you later."

Turning her back to him, she waved her hand nonchalantly. "Guards! Have this Light Walker removed from this chamber. Should he attempt to escape..." Her lips curled; her face reflecting her pleasure. "Kill him".

***

Jamie stood in front of the twin sarcophagus with his back to his laptop screen. The Risen Council members had requested to have the virtual conference set up in lieu of their physical presence for the progress report.

This method had been commonly used since the advent of technology for having 13 head of the bloodlines congregating in one location usually led to an increase in death in that area. It was as though having that many powerful Risens fed the bloodlust of their kind within the vicinity.

"So, have you cracked the code yet?" asked Klaus, his silver eyes twinkling behind the computer screen.

Nodding, Jamie moved towards the centre of the conjoint twins where the 'hands' held a dual-disk dial intricately carved from stone.

"The inscriptions were in the form of a love poem. Mallory deduced that it was possible that the iambic pentameter..."

"Cut the crap Jamie. Just open the damn lock already!" snapped Klaus, cutting him from his explanation. Jamie could hear the other Elders murmuring under their breath but no one dared to voice their opinion as yet, seeing that Klaus had spoken.

"It's a mathematical equation, locked within the words," he said quickly as he started to move the top dial to match the corresponding symbol on the lower stone disk.

Jamie felt even more alone in the room at the moment despite the fact that twelve other Risens were listening and watching intently. It was as though each one was holding their breath...

Click.

Jamie gave a tentative push at the crack in between the dial.

"And we have a problem." Jamie let out a loud sigh. He knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Beneath the shell of the sarcophagus, the two bodies were encased in individual cases. There was no way to tell which was which.

"What! What does that mean!"

The questions started pouring out, filling the room with thundering noise. Jamie was thankful that none of the Elders were with him at the moment, for surely they would be all over the artefact, trying to break it open for themselves.

That would have been stupid.

Had Mallory not break the first code correctly, they would have released a stone-corroding acid onto the second set of locks; causing the liquid to eat away at anything else that remained within it.

"It's a second set of code..." sighed Jamie as he took the laptop camera closer for everyone to inspect together with him.

"It looks like a key hole to be honest," said one of the Elders.

"Yes... but it's like a shape of a well..." said another.

"I don't suppose... we need a sacrifice?"

Jamie put the laptop back on the desk. The last Elder might be on to something. Taking a closer look at the incision on the stone, Jamie instinctively knew what was needed to fill up the well -

About 5ml of blood.

But he kept it to himself for now. Turning to face the other Elders once more, he assured them of another progress update soon and logged off before they could protest.

That wouldn't hold them off for long. He had caught the recognition and understanding in the eyes of some of the quieter Elders. It was a matter of time before they made their way to Cambridge and be the first few to bow at the feet of the Forbidden one.

Jamie was going to beat them to it. If the legends were true, the one who unleashes the creator of all Bloodlines would be rewarded greatly.

And to be at the side of Forbidden one at the onslaught of a new era for their kind made his blood boil with anticipation, his head giddy with excitement.

Taking a scalpel from a nearby tray, Jamie carefully brought his arm closer to one of the wells. This had to be the one. It was carved intricately to depict some sort of coat of arms, with symbols written in a spiral manner ending at the core of the well.

He knew he should wait for Mallory to ascertain what the symbols meant but his patience was wearing thin. He had to do this now.

Even as his hands trembled slightly, Jamie knew that to mistakenly awaken the wrong ancient would alter the course of history. If he awaken the 'Other'... he and his entire race will die.

Deciding to take his chances, Jamie brought the sharp end of the blade close to the thudding vein on the back of his forearm and held his breath.

And stopped.

He had not noticed it before but right at the centre of the well of the other tomb casing was a slight discolouration that appeared fresh -like blood had spilled in it very recently. This well had been carved in almost haphazardly such that it was merely a few cracks in the stone. Surely this couldn't belonged to the great Forbidden one?

Bringing his nose closer to the well, he took a whiff and felt his bones shudder.

Yes... The Forbidden one had sensed its kin nearby and found a way to draw blood. But how?

Jamie crouched at the foot of the sarcophagus; curious as to how anyone or anything could have gotten in without having opened the outer casing first.

Examining every inch of the stone, Jamie came to realise a crucial detail he had missed previously - a swath of colour, almost as though it was a paintbrush pressed over the dust.

Putting the tip of his finger to the rust-coloured area, he smiled as he gathered the image of an injured mouse limping across the floor.

The stone itself was carnivorous, wanting to feed its occupants at every chance it had.

Swallowing the lump that had collected in his throat, Jamie moved his hand to the cracked well.

"Master, I am your slave," he chanted as the tip of the scalpel sliced through flesh to draw scarlet.

Drop upon drop of blood disappeared through the crack.

The sarcophagus shook slightly; a distant sigh echoing in the room.

And then...

Nothing.

"What? What, I don't understand!" Jamie was shaking his head vigorously, as though the reality was unthinkable. Pressing the scalpel deeper, he allowed more of his blood to seep through, ignoring the pain that sliced through him.

"No, this has to be it..." he insisted, giving the dead a shake.

And still nothing.

His hands fell limp on the stone, the scalpel falling to the floor with an unmistakable clang of metal. As his knees crashed onto the tiles, Jamie gave a low howl.

"Noooo" Hands cradled his head; blood staining his shirt. He must have missed something... Or had the Forbidden one deemed him unworthy?

Eyes hardening, Jamie got to his feet.

Mallory. She would know what to do.

***

The shadows cast by the prison bars marked him like zebra stripes. Clay hated being down in the dirty, freezing cellar again; hated that the memories were rushing back to choke him once more.