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 ba
