At the castle of the Marquis, things were faring far worse that in
Black Cat’s castle. The demonic wolves, of course, had failed in their
quest; thus Kurnos was much altered.
Unfortunately the majority of residents within the Lioncourt castle
were unprepared for the ghastly beast that suddenly appeared within the
ancient halls. A surviving chambermaid swore that the thing had come
shuffling down the stairs of the great tower, perhaps even from the
chambers of Kurnos himself. Few were able to identify the monstrous wolf
that stood upon its hindquarters as the missing magician. There was little
resemblance whatsoever, unless the onlooker happened to stare long enough
to notice a scant few facial features that could conceivably have belonged
to a man. Yet with the face elongated in the front and all the features
stretched out of proportion, there was very little with which he could
have been identified.
At any rate, the demonic man-wolf became accustomed to its nature all
too quickly, and judging by its actions the beast was furious. It tore
through peasants and servants with chilling speed, swallowing great
mouthfuls of flesh from a still-living body before moving on to fresh
prey. It glutted itself mercilessly, wreaking terror in a steady
progression down from the tower room, through the castle, and out into the
forest. It left more than fifty men and women rent to shreds. Their moans
could be heard echoing up and down the corridors of the castle and into
the village for an hour after the beast had departed.
The Marquis and his wife were unharmed. Jean-Luc, however, had been
injured when the creature had caught him off guard at the castle gates.
His belly was a mass of tissue, sagging organs, and rent flesh. He had
died within moments of his arrival home, having found his bride earlier
than his brothers. The woman was sobbing uncontrollably in the corner of
the game room whilst the Marquise confronted her husband within the
enclosed chamber. “This is your doing, René. These ludicrous quests you
keep sending your sons on are a ruse. You want them dead so you can keep
the land and title to yourself!”
The Marquis collapsed into a chair, his breathing labored. He struggled
to retrieve a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “Quiet, woman, and let an
old man think!”
“I shall not be silent, René. You’ve benefited from my silence for too
long and our people are suffering for it.”
René mopped his brow anxiously. “I warn you, Gabrielle, mind your
tongue else I’ll give you the beating of your life.”
The Marquise laughed harshly, her voice utterly devoid of warmth. “You
are a pathetic old man, and a sad excuse for a marquis. A mongrel could
show better character in your stead.” She approached the window, gazing
out upon the landscape with mournful eyes. Below, the village was a din of
despair and savagery. “You care nothing for them. You care naught for me,
for our sons, even for the dead. That wolf was not the first beast to
cause havoc in this place.”
“Were I younger, you whore, I would destroy you with my bare hands. How
dare you speak to me in such a fashion.”
“Jean-Luc is dead, René. Your favorite son is dead, your other two out
on some ridiculous quest proposed by you! I despise your cowardice, and
were that I could have been born a man, I would seek my justice upon you
in the worst way.”
The Marquis stood and glared at his wife with a murderous gaze. “You
would dare no such thing. That bastard Lestat is only alive because you
and I have reached a stalemate in our quarrels. If you attack me, I will
have you publicly executed as a witch, and Lestat stoned upon his return
to the castle. Do I make myself clear, woman? I am old, and though you
bide your time until my death, I am still strong enough to break your
bones, fling you out a window, or bring about your timely death in some
other manner. Do not cross me. Have I made myself clear?”
“As glass, my lord.” Despite her fury, Gabrielle could only bite back
her harsh words. The opportunity would arise eventually, and when it did
René would find a well-placed knife in his back. She only hoped Lestat did
not return anytime soon. The Marquis might well take out his anger in
other ways.
