Wolf's Cross (19 page)

T
here was no question now that her eldest brother, Władysław, would escort Maria to the fortress and fetch her back. Even though she wanted to object, there was no way she could. A man had approached her in the woods, after all. It was clear that she needed the protection, and she could not explain her fear for her brother without explaining what had happened.

And even if she could have convinced her stepmother that
Władysław was best off working on the farm, he knew that his half sister had come home weeping and with her clothes torn. She had seen the look in his hazel eyes and knew that even if he did not leave the cottage with her, he would follow.

So she accepted his unwanted company as they walked from her father’s farm, she in her hastily mended surcote and borrowed chemise, he in his leather breeches and linen shirt, with an axe slung over his shoulder.

Władysław was two years her senior, the inheritor of her father’s household. He had not spoken very much since their father had died, and it had been longer since she had seen him smile. While Maria and her stepmother had tended to her father during his illness, Władysław had been the one to care for the farm.

Walking silently next to him, Maria saw for the first time how that responsibility weighed on him. She saw the wear in his face and felt a wave of guilt for not thinking of the responsibility he must feel: for his mother, for his brothers, and for her.

Władysław caught her looking at him, and she turned away.

After a time, he asked, “Did he abuse you?”

“No,” Maria said, shuddering a bit inside. Did he know what she was? Her father must have, and her stepmother; they had put this cross around her neck. But had they told Maria’s brothers? She looked at Władysław for any sign of the horrifying fear she had seen in her father’s eyes and, to a lesser extent, her stepmother’s. “No. No one has raped me.”

Władysław visibly winced at her language, and she wondered at it briefly; that was what he had asked about, after all. Then he shook his head and said, “Promise me, if anyone ever—” His voice caught and he looked away from her. “Promise you will tell me.”

“Nothing happened to me.” The lie was out before she even
knew she was lying. How could she say nothing had happened? What had happened was worse than any rape. She hadn’t lost her virginity, she had lost …
everything
. Everything that made her herself.

“Promise.”

How could she not? “I promise.”

After a few moments of silence, he added, “I have been thinking, since Father died, of what our family should do, and how I should handle what we have.”

“Oh?”

“You aren’t to be serving at the fortress anymore.” He hefted his axe. “You will stay with the farm and help.”

Maria sucked in a breath. She didn’t know what to do. “Władysław, I work there because the taxes—”

“The burden is not that great, and it will be easily borne with another set of hands to bear it. You belong with your family, until you make one of your own.”

Maria shook her head, wondering how she could be touched, terrified, and angry all at once. The prospect was terrifying. How could she risk her family, knowing what she was? With something inhuman inside her?

And, on a very basic level, Władysław infuriated her. Here was her big brother, with barely a wisp of hair on his face, acting like the head of the household and presuming to solve problems he had no knowledge about.

She would end her service at Gród Narew, and that was that. As if she had no say in the matter, or as if she were nothing more than a horse, some dumb beast led to plow wherever Master wanted. All to save her from … what? For all the terror she had endured, the attention of someone like Lukasz was beneath notice as a possible worry.

Lukasz should be frightened of
her
.

And there was Josef. The last thing she wanted was to abandon him. Even if her caring for him, and how she felt, would be doubly impossible with this thing living within her. She owed him more than to simply vanish without a word. She had commitments, she had duties, and she would not renounce them to save her brother from some phantom worry.

She found the strength within herself to speak, slowly and deliberately: “Władysław, I will continue to work at Gród Narew.”

“No, Maria. It is too dangerous.”

She whipped around, her fury barely contained. She felt something within her body and thought that, if not for the cross on her neck, they would both be in true danger. “You are not my father!”

Władysław took a step back at her outburst. “Maria!” he snapped, putting a force into his words that didn’t reach his eyes. “This is my family now. Don’t defy my wishes!”

“Your wishes?
Your wishes?
Did you even consider
my
wishes?”

“As a member of this family—”

“Stop it!”
She shook her head violently, the anger intense and horrifying. The anger fed off the fear, and the fear fed off the anger, spiraling away from her so that she wasn’t even clear what had sparked it.

“Maria?” Now she saw the fear in his eyes—eyes that looked so much like her father’s. He reached out for her.

Did he know?

Did it matter?

“No.” She backed away from him. “You should stay away from me.”

“Maria, what’s the matter?”

“Stay away from me!”
she screamed, and in her panic she imagined a hint of a growl in her voice. She turned and ran, as fast as she could, away from him.

“Wait! Maria!” She heard him call after her, then heard him begin to run himself. He couldn’t catch her, though; she had always been faster.

D
arien saw them argue and, again, almost attacked the axe-wielding man. But he had already heard enough to know that the death of this Władysław would not make it easier for Maria to come to him.

Although it would be satisfying to taste the blood spilling from that arrogant neck, Maria saw the man as family, however impossible that actually was. Darien knew too well what the loss of family could do to the spirit, and the hatred it could nurture. He would never touch Maria’s “family,” if only to avoid igniting such hatred directed at him.

But she had turned on the man, so perhaps she was already shedding this human family.

If so, so much the better.

Darien wove through the woods and followed her, leaving the axe-wielding Władysław alone on the path behind them.

S
he reached the end of the forest before the morning bells rang. She looked up the hillside, to the walls of Gród Narew, as if staring at an apparition out of a nightmare.

What was she doing here? What was she doing anywhere? A monster lived inside her, a raging beast, and now that it had been loosed once, she felt it pushing against her skin every time she breathed.

“Stop it!”

She surprised herself by speaking.

“Stop it,” she told herself again. Directing her anger at herself, at the spiraling loss of control, seemed to shock her renegade emotions into a moment of clarity. She took deep breaths and reined in the fear.

She didn’t know what had happened to her; she didn’t know what Darien had done. But she knew that right now, at this moment, she was herself. She knew that, for all the rage she had felt, she hadn’t lost control. She didn’t even know if what she had experienced was real. She might have suffered from some waking nightmare. Perhaps Darien had bewitched her.

There was no reason not to live her life as she always had, if she wore her cross and took care for her anger.

But there was another reason to go up to Gród Narew. Josef had seen something. He and the men with him had been attacked by something. And her father had thought that something might have been her.

She needed to know exactly what that was.

W
hat attacked you, Josef?”

Josef opened his eyes groggily. He used to wake for dawn prayers, but during his convalescence he had allowed sloth to overtake him. Maria’s voice woke him, and he was alarmed at how late in the morning he must have slept. He blinked and looked up at her. Her face was radiant in the rosy light from the window.

“What attacked you, Josef?”

When she repeated herself, the sense of the words finally penetrated his sleep-addled mind. “Maria, I am not permitted to speak of—”

She leaned over him and said, in a low voice, “I am not asking what is permitted.”

Something had changed in her manner—enough that he imagined that her appearance had changed slightly, too. Her skin almost glowed, even as her eyes bore down upon him. “What happened?”

“I need to know what you chased into the woods here. What did you bring with you?”

“Why are you asking me these questions?” He pushed himself
upright and realized that the sky outside was lit only with the first rays of dawn.

“Why?”
He saw her ball her fists, and her arms seemed to vibrate. “Why did you tell me to avoid these woods at night?”

“Did something—”

“Happen?” she whispered.

Josef looked at her and felt fear grow in his heart. Obedience was a weight upon him, and he was being forced to ignore the danger to Maria—to everyone at this fortress. They had chased this thing here. Could they not take
any
responsibility?

“It is not my place to reveal my Order’s secrets,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“Is it anything like a wolf?” she snapped.

Josef froze, staring at her.

She knew.

Maria stared into his face and whispered, “But not a wolf, is it? Something horrible, something so angry …”

Her breath caught, and her eyes glistened. Her shoulders shook, and Josef reached up and put a hand on her arm. “How did you—”

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted, knocking his hand away. She ran out of the room before Josef could respond.

He didn’t know what shamed him more, the fact that he had placed the Order’s rule between himself and Maria’s safety or the fact that he was considering placing Maria ahead of his vows to the Order.
I am an imperfect servant
.

In his heart, he knew what was right. He pushed himself out of bed.

It was clear now that the creature they hunted was still present, closer to this place than they might have imagined. He needed to tell Komtur Heinrich, and they needed to act before the demon left another village in ruins, before Maria was hurt.

But as he moved, driven by fear for her, he remembered the
bruise on her face and how it had disappeared. That quiet, ugly voice told him that there were other ways to know what they hunted.

He forced the thought away.

O
utside the chapel, Komtur Heinrich said, “We know that the legends of these beasts are manifold.”

Josef pulled in a shallow breath; deep breaths ignited fiery pains in his gut. “Sir, forgive me, but this servant seemed to speak from direct experience.”

“I see. What details did this person provide to you? Was there anything that could be of help in our search?”

Josef shook his head. “I thought just the confirmation that it was still in the woods was worth bringing to your attention.”