The Eye of the Wolf (8 page)

Will leaned back in his chair
and set his booted feet on the table. Flakes of mud dropped off onto the table.
He had been busy climbing the mountain that morning to get a good shot of the
island at sunrise. After the rain the night before, the trails leading to the
top of the mountain had been muddy ruts. His Jeep had handled the ruts well,
but that hadn’t prevented the mud from caking his boots when he had climbed
from the Jeep to perch precariously on a rock, the highest point of the island.
The most peaceful point of the island. The place he had spent many hours during
his childhood avoiding his obligations, avoiding the cameras, avoiding life, a
life he didn’t want. But now, here he was, immersed in that life again, with no
escape.

“What can I tell you about the
Eye of the Wolf?” He ran a hand over the rough stubble that had sprouted on his
chin over night. There had been no time to shave before heading to the top of
the island that morning for that one glorious moment when all the earth was on
fire.  “Well, according to local legend, the Eye of the Wolf is a yellow
sapphire, the rarest sapphire of all. It is roughly the size of a golf ball,
uncut. It is supposed to be still meshed with the stone it was cut from
originally. It weighs in at 33 carats, pure.”

Mikayla nodded. That
information matched the notes she had been making from the Greek document
before her. “What else can you tell me? For instance, what is the story with
it? How is it connected to Amor?”

Will tipped back further in his
chair and rubbed his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned a
loud, lengthy yawn. Mikayla impatiently tapped her foot on the stone floor
beneath her feet. Will grinned. He was annoying her; he knew he was. “Well….”
He drew it out hoping to get that fire to spark in her eyes. “I know that it
was found by one of the Crusaders in Jerusalem after they sacked the city. It
was found originally in the Sultan’s palace, according to the legend by Henry.
It was taken because it was supposed to have mystical powers. Henry took the
sapphire, along with other treasures, and loaded them onto the ship that
eventually crashed here. He became known as the Wolf, which ,” he gestured to
the cover of one of the many records where the Amorian seal was embossed,
“explains the royal family’s seal.”

Mikayla slipped her glasses
back onto her nose. “Did you know that the sapphire was never cut. At the time
of the writing of this document, which was roughly one hundred years after the
landing, the sapphire was still in its natural shape.” Will nodded. Mikayla
continued. “It also says that sometime around the reign of King Malachi, the
sapphire disappeared. It hasn’t been seen since.”

Will nodded again. “That’s just
a legend though. I don’t believe there was ever a sapphire, especially
considering the bloody history that is supposed to be attached to the stone.”

Mikayla screwed her forehead up
in concentration. “What bloody history?”

Will shrugged. “They say that
Henry’s most trusted knight, his Lancelot to his King Arthur, tried to kill
Henry for the stone while they were still in Jerusalem. That plan failed. Then,
Henry was murdered. His son Richard took the throne and ruled with an iron
fist. It was his iron fist and cunning that continued the legend of the Wolf.
There were numerous attacks on Richard, but none of them succeeded. Religious
leaders and military tyrants wanted the power supposed to be in the stone. The
stone could be called upon to cause harm to one’s enemies. It was worth more
than anything else in the world. There was a lot of blood spilled for that
stone. There was a lot of blood spilled period.”

Mikayla shook her head. “That’s
a fairy tale. I don’t believe it.” She leaned towards Will. “You realize, Mr.
Chambers, that you are suggesting that Henry may have been murdered for that
stone alone. You don’t think it is possible there might have been other
reasons?”

Will shrugged again. He liked
the way her eyes blazed with excitement as they discussed the more captivating
parts of Amor’s fascinating history that had been hidden in folk lore and fairy
tales for generations. Her interest and excitement suggested a passion lurking
beneath her aloof exterior that never flirted, that never teased, that never
suggested a relationship beyond the working relationship. He swung his feet off
of the table. They landed with a soft thump on the floor. He leaned in towards
the table, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I know that at some point
there was a pretty ruthless rebellion. It is recorded in a tapestry in the
Secluded City. I also know that the history of Amor is bloody up until the end
of Malachi’s reign. It is only after Malachi’s reign that peace comes to Amor.
Perhaps the disappearance of the Eye of the Wolf had something to do with the
arrival of peace in Amor. Maybe it no longer had the power to cause rebellion
because it was no longer part of the family’s legacy. Its power was gone. The
king ceased to be a predator, of sorts.” He toyed with the rose in the center
of the table. “All I know is that mysterious gems always carry a dangerous,
deadly history. Look at the Hope Diamond.”

Mikayla nodded in agreement.
She could see his point, but the idea that a sapphire supposed to be of the
finest yellow contrast was the cause of the violent history was more than she
could fathom. This wasn’t history. “I don’t know. I don’t really buy it. It’s
too much folk lore for me.”

Will cocked his head to the
side. “Isn’t folk lore history though? Isn’t there usually a factual basis for
the stories that appear in fairy tales and folk lore?”

Mikayla rolled her eyes. “Oh,
we aren’t going to have this conversation, are we?” She smiled slightly, a
motion that lit up not only her face but the entire room around her, or so it
seemed. “I’ve have this conversation many times with my undergraduate students.
They always want to study the historical basis for stories like
Cinderella,
Snow White,
and
Sleeping Beauty
. I always have to remind them that
those are stories meant to make girls believe in princesses, Prince Charmings,
and fairy godmothers.”

Will scratched his cheek and
watched the color rise in Mikayla’s cheeks. It was fascinating to see this
change from cool demeanor to avid interest and fervor. The heat in her eyes radiated
into the space between them and warmed the air, drawing him into the moment,
making him part of the moment, making him wish he knew more about the past, but
making him wish there was more of a future.

“Don’t you believe in fairy
godmothers and Prince Charming?” He paused and watched Mikayla fiddle with the
flower that lay on the table between them. “I think it is unbearably sad when
little girls grow up and cease to believe in Prince Charming and settle for
second best.”

Mikayla shrugged. “Prince Charming
only exists for those who have to make him exist to make themselves happy.”

Will frowned as sadness
enveloped him. “I believe in them. There are princes out there. Just as there
are princesses too.” He paused again and wondered where these thoughts of
sadness for her and where the sudden need to prove to her that Prince Charming
really did exist had suddenly arisen from. It was unnatural for him. It was
scary. And, most importantly, it was impossible. He cleared his throat.

When he spoke again, his voice
was strong, cool, and very academic. He was impressed with himself. “I
disagree. Fairy tales, folk lore, ghost stories, and treasure hunts are all
part of history. They are all based in something that occurred at one time.” He
reached forward and toyed with the hair that veiled her face. “What are you
scared of?”

“History is not a treasure
hunt. It is more solving a complex one thousand piece puzzle and finding that
you are missing one piece rather than hunting for treasure.” Mikayla
straightened in her chair, just out of reach of Will’s hand.

Will leaned back in his chair
and propped his feet on the table. He shrugged again and picked up his own
notepad and book. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I do know that the Eye of the Wolf is
part of the history of Amor.” He looked over his book and feet into Mikayla’s
stubborn eyes. “Maybe we should find it to fit the pieces of that puzzle
together.” He winked. “Then history would be a treasure hunt, don’t you think,
Doctor Knight.”

Mikayla rolled her eyes again.
She pulled the book and notepad back across the table to herself. “I don’t
think so, Mister Chambers. Perhaps instead we should get to work finding out
what happened during that rebellion you mentioned or maybe about why peace came
following King Malachi’s reign.” She raised her eye brows, a flirtatious move
that she was unaware she made, but made Will smirk.

“Yes, ma’am.” Will turned his
attention back to the book before him. “I’m going to read about the rebellion
now, if you don’t mind.”

His tone carried a hint of the
royal in it making her grin. “Yes, you do that. I will read more about the Eye
of the Wolf and the arrival of the Crusaders here in Amor.” Mikayla returned
with a snooty tone of her own.

Why on earth she had agreed to
let this annoying, yet humorous, man help her, she still didn’t know. What she
did know was that she wished for just one moment that she was as light-hearted
and flirtatious as the women she had gone to college with so that she could
enjoy the mindless flirtation she was sure Will could provide if she was game.
However, she knew she was there for a specific job and that she was going to
accomplish that job. It was part of her character. She would never be anything
other than a professional historian; and professional historians were boring.
It was in the make-up of anyone who would spend her life looking as the
remnants of people long gone. It was also very scary to let someone in close
enough to know all of you, to know what passion was inside of you. Once a
person had the chance, then there was power over you. It was best to remain the
cool professor and get the job done, rather than risk the injury that came from
getting too close.

And that was what she was going
to get to right that moment, looking into the evidence of people long gone and
determining the secrets of those people, and stop thinking about roses and
fairytale princes.

Stone skittered down the wall,
making quiet splashing as it hit the water far below. The fingers dug into the
stone, searching for purchase. As feet slid along the loose gravel, the keening
reached its pinnacle. Golden eyes gleamed through the darkness as the icy voice
of the Wolf hunted the prey who tried to shrink away into the darkness but was
unable to free himself from the power in the eyes.

Blood smeared the stone wall as
fingers scraped along the roughly hewn stones. Fear laced through his heart as
saliva pooled in his mouth. The Wolf’s hand grasped his shoulder, freezing him
into place. The servant’s hand took his other shoulder and forced him to his
knees. Stone bit into the flesh, but only whimpers escaped his lips. He peered
up into the night, into the golden eyes of his master, the Wolf. He knew he was
going to die.

The Wolf looked down into the
tear-streaked, terrified face of this servant who had failed him. He felt power
within him grow and smiled a feral smile into the night.

The servant’s cold voice
growled in his ear. “You have failed us, Evan. You have failed your master.” A
small keen arose from the mouth of Evan as he cowered at their feet. “You
realize the payment that must be given to your master for your failure.” A
silvery blade glinted in the moonlight as the servant pressed it against Evan’s
cheek.

Greek babbled from his lips as
his eyes grew wide. The Wolf leaned in close to his ear and whispered softly.
His growl low and venomous. A cry releases itself from Evan’s lips as the Wolf
straightens and releases his grip. He gestures from the servant to release Evan
as he struggles to free himself. A low laugh escapes the Wolf’s lips as Evan
scrambles for the stairs leading away from the parapet, his feet slipping on
the gravel, his hands scraped by the rock, leaving a trail of blood as he runs.

The servant wiped his hands on
a pristine handkerchief as the Wolf’s amusement floats on the moonbeams of the
night. He watched the worthless Evan stumble into the darkness as he carefully
folded his handkerchief and placed it into his suit-coat pocket. “Letting him
go is dangerous, Sire.”

A small flame illuminated the
Wolf’s cunning face as he lit the tip of a cigarette. Smoke wafted into the
night air as darkness surrounded them again. The silence of the island
surrounded them. The waves of the ocean lapped quietly at the base of the wall.
He smiled into the night, realizing the power that was growing within him as
each day passed, as he grew closer to his ultimate goal: the Eye of the Wolf
and the crown of Amor. His long fingers tapped the stone of the wall, sending
small bits into the darkness. “My friend, have no fear. He won’t get far, nor will
he have anything to tell anyone.”

The servant exhaled a ring of
smoke into the night, watching it drift on the night breeze. He said nothing,
waiting for the Wolf to reveal all in his own time.

The Wolf turned, piercing the
servant with his predatory eyes. “When he’s found and the autopsy is performed,
they will assume he over-dosed on Phenobarbital. You will release to the press
that he had been relieved of his position within the Secluded City after
testing positive for a Phenobarbital addiction.”