Awaiting the Moon (44 page)

“Is it only males, then, who become… ?”

“Yes. It is how I always knew Gerta was not a true werewolf, no matter how much she wishes to be.”

That brought the present back to her, and what she needed to discuss with him. She watched his face, trying to overcome her repugnance, but it was not to be. Whether all love for him was gone she could not say. She doubted that was possible, but still… he was not the man she had thought him, and it would never be the same, she knew that for a certainty. Summoning all her determination, she said. “M-may I… sit?”

“Please,” he said, indicating the other chair. “I will… stay away from you, Elizabeth. I understand how you feel.”

She doubted that he truly did, for no one could understand the sundering of a human heart into two fragments; that was the pain she was feeling that moment. She sat and felt his warmth radiate towards her, and there was still that part of her that longed to hold him close. The terrible pain she saw in his eyes tore at her, for she knew it was put there by her own reaction to him. It was out of her control, though; she could not change how she felt. “Are you always part wolf… or part human?”

“There is that within me that is wolf always,” he said. “But no, Elizabeth, I am fully a man.

Even in my wolf state, the man exists; I have willed it so. And yet there is that about me that is always wolf… your scent, it drives me to distraction. I can tell when you are near. I could find you in the darkest forest just from the hint of your scent on the air. There is that much wolf left within me in my fully human state.”

She resolutely pushed away the many questions that were still unanswered. What she had to tell him could wait no longer. “I have to tell you what I have discovered,” she said, staring at the fire. Questioning him further about his transformational powers seemed useless when she could not bear to be in his presence much longer. The need to tell him what she had discovered superseded her need for answers. “I know you have been told what happened this night, that Mina was drugged. But I have learned much, and suspect more. Nikolas,” she said urgently, meeting his gaze once more. “It is your Uncle Bartol! I suspect that all along, from the beginning, he has been drugging Countess Gerta. There is a compound that can easily be made from plants, herbs, even potatoes exposed to the sun in growing… any one of the substances contains an ingredient called atropine… Nik, it causes hallucinations! It makes people think they are transforming into an animal, or that they can fly!”

He was astounded, and his face paled. “But why? Why would he… ?”

“I don’t know; someone else might know that, but I’m almost certain I’m right. He drugged me, Nik.” She told him of her odd night’s sleep and her discovery of the powder on the edge of her cup the very next night. She suspected that he had been reading her journal, perhaps threatened by her quest to figure out the dark secrets of Wolfram Castle. “And there’s more.”

She told him all she knew, including their discovery of the relationship between Christoph and his aunt. Whatever else she believed, she knew that Nikolas was the only one who could handle all of these things and straighten out his troubled family. “But Nik,” she said urgently, reaching out to clasp his arm before remembering and drawing back. “Nik, one of the affects of this drugging is… is to make the person promiscuous and unable to distinguish inappropriate behavior. Poor Gerta… she was unable to control her behavior for that reason, I’m convinced. And it is possible,” she continued, gaining conviction as she went, “that Bartol even drugged your nephew to a lesser degree. It could account for his behavior and for his improper relationship with Countess Gerta. He’s so tormented… I feel that from him and pity him from the bottom of my heart. I think that Bartol wanted to use the confusion and pain of the family to further his own ends, whatever those might be.”

As she watched Nikolas’s face, a frightening change took hold. His dark eyes gleamed silver and a ferocious expression like a shadow overtook him. If he had shouted or broke down it would have been terrible, but even worse, a cold, dread certainty steeled his whole frame. She would not have been surprised if he grew fangs or fur in that moment, for the animal part of his being was powerful.

He stood, his movements fluid. “I am going to kill him,” he said, his voice a growl.

She stumbled from her chair and backed away, but when she met his gaze again he had calmed and there was pain in his eyes.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, reaching out one hand. His signet ring glittered.

“No, Nik, I can’t,” she said, answering his unvoiced plea. She could not touch him, could not go near him. That was over.

He nodded. “I know.” He looked down at the floor for a long minute and then back up at her.

“I am going to speak with Bartol.”

“You’re not truly going to… to kill him, are you?”

“Not until I’m sure. And not until I understand why.”

Nikolas left Elizabeth, unable to bear the distrust in her eyes and the fear in her expression.

Though broken of heart, he admired the strength of will it took in her to come to him alone to tell him her suspicions and findings. Selfishly, he had breached the barriers of her heart, and now she suffered. Too late he understood how much he loved her, and how great his pain would be once he allowed his heart to feel what it was to find one’s life mate and then lose her.

But not now. Now was the time for blood. He was gaining a fierce determination to at long last put down the terrible evil that had laid hold of his family when Bartol Liebner had come to the live at Wolfram Castle. Though he had been blind to the man’s pernicious influence, now he could trace back a hundred—nay, a thousand—instances when Bartol had the opportunity to infect his sister and his niece and nephew with his dark domination.

As he made his way to his uncle’s quarters, Nikolas remembered all of the terrible happenings of years gone by. Was it possible? Could much of that turmoil be laid at Bartol Liebner’s feet?

He would learn the truth if he had to shake it out of him.

But where was he? He was not in his quarters, nor was he in any reasonable place he was likely to be. The dark house was alive with servants rushing here and there, and he took a moment to reassure himself that all was well with his family.

Elizabeth had gone directly up to Charlotte, who was confused and frightened; he looked in on them but said nothing to either. Adele was with Uta and his aunt Katrina, who were keeping watch over Gerta; she slumbered on a cot in the corner of the room, her complexion pallid, her pulse slow but regular. The women beset him with questions, but all he did was ask if any one of them had seen Bartol. Not one of them had, and he would not answer when they asked him questions. There was no time for explanations.

Nikolas, baffled to know where his uncle was, stopped everything and closed his eyes. The full moon called to him, and his animal heart felt the threat of the fell presence that tainted and imperiled his family. If only he had felt this before, or at least understood what he felt, for he had, indeed, sensed the evil permeating his home. Sadly, he had always feared that he himself was the evil presence. Now he knew the truth.

Where was Bartol Liebner?

His eyes closed, his head thrown back, his nose flared, a hundred scents traveled through him; he could hear a scrabbling in the walls, like a rat crawling to safety. Blood heating like pitch, Nikolas’s heart throbbed and pulsed and fury gripped him.

Bartol. He was in the secret passages. He knew them and was slithering like the serpent in the garden with his poisonous message. That was how he had done much of his ill deeds, perhaps, slipping into rooms, spreading his venom.

Raising his hands and stretching to his full height, Nikolas tamped down the urge to howl and instead shouted, “I will find you Bartol Liebner!”

Bolting into his library, he pushed back the panel. He had no need of a candle or lantern; his eyes were sharp with the animal blood of the full moon, and he loped along the passages, crouching and listening at times and padding quietly often, but then the scent of fear reached him, assailing his nostrils with its foul odor. The man was near, and the urge to transform was like a hunger that gnawed.

However, never had Nikolas done so in his own house, and never would he, even though he didn’t even need the wolfskin kirtle anymore to change; that was a relic of bygone days. He used it to speed the transformation, but as angry as he was, and as hard-driven to protect his own, he could make the change in seconds if need be.

But no; in his home he would face his mortal enemy in his human form.

The passage rose and fell, steps, then a flat run, and then… he grabbed hold of cloth and Bartol squealed with fear, his whole plump frame shivering. Roughly, Nikolas hauled his uncle through the passages and into his library, throwing him on the floor.

“Nephew,” the man cried, one hand up in a pleading gesture, his palm scraped and bleeding.

“What has come over you? What have I done to displease you?”

“What have you
not
done? That question is more to the purpose, Bartol Ignasz Liebner. I accuse you of drugging my sister and my niece, and perhaps even my nephew.”

“How can you say such things?” Bartol whimpered, pulling himself up with the aid of a chair arm. “I live only to serve your family. I have given my life in devotion—”

“You have given nothing! But why? What have you wanted that you did not get? Why have you poisoned this family with your evil?” Nikolas pinned the man with his gimlet gaze and waited.

Bartol squirmed. He shuddered, and then his eyes darkened, the pupils large and dark and the smooth ovoid face twisting with malice. “Do you want the truth? I saved you all pain! Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law… they were fornicators! Anna Lindsay fled to Hans and told him lies about me, and then they began their filthy little intrigue, pawing each other in secret and escaping to that dirty woodsman’s cottage to pursue their scandalous affair. I cleansed this family of that filth!”

A wave of dizziness passed over Nikolas as he understood the implications of Bartol’s confession. For years he had feared that Gerta, heavily gravid and emotionally unbalanced, had set the fatal fire herself—he hadn’t any proof, just a deep-seated fear—but his poor sister had been innocent. It was Bartol; he was the plump figure scuttling away in the dark, he had set the fatal fire, and perhaps even… had he even poisoned Johannes? He looked at the man, trying to understand. “You say Anna told him lies about you. Did you… did you try to seduce her?”

Emotion flicked over Bartol’s face: fury, fear… guilt.

“You did. Or perhaps worse. And she told Hans. But why did she not tell Johannes?”

There was silence. He was not going to answer. He began to creep towards the door, but Nikolas thundered, “Stop!” and grabbed the man and hauled him back to the center of the room, throwing him down like a doll. “She did, didn’t she? She did tell her husband, my brother.”

“Lies!” Bartol shouted, rising to his knees. “All lies! But Johannes, he was a good man. He didn’t believe her filthy lies.”

“And so she went to Hans, and that was how the affair started, no doubt. I remember Anna, she was beautiful and kind, but she was weak, too, and would have turned elsewhere if Johannes expressed some doubt.”

“She was a whore, and yet I was not good enough to bed a whore?” Bartol raged, his watery eyes gleaming with hatred. “Your father was just as bad! I was never good enough, not good enough to marry Adele, not good enough even for feebleminded Gerta!”

Nikolas felt a sick lurch in his stomach as he finally understood it all. “You wanted to marry one of my sisters?”

“And why not? If my sister was good enough for your father, why was I not good enough for one of his daughters? I would finally have had a life away from my family… away from you all. I watched them in their cradles and planned my marriage! I would have been a good husband, I would have been a kind husband. But no! Jakob said no.”

Horror seized Nikolas. “You watched them in their cradles? You… you planned this even as Gerta and Adele were children? And then… you killed Johannes. You killed my brother!” He had heard enough and he knew enough; it didn’t matter anymore why Bartol had killed Johannes, it was enough to know he did. “While you were at it, you should have killed me!”

he shouted.

“I tried,” Bartol said, hatred in his sneer. “I tried but you… you would not die!”

With a roar of fury, Nikolas lunged at the man, seized his collar, and hauled him toward the door. At the very least he was going to horsewhip Bartol Liebner to within an inch of his life, and then… and then… would he kill him? The call to blood was fierce. But the human was stronger; Nikolas would take him to the village and the fiend would be tried for his crimes. A court of law would decide his death or life.

But the door burst open just then, and Fanny, the little English-speaking maid he had assigned to Elizabeth, tripped in, breathless and wide-eyed with terror. She could not speak and stood staring, whimpering.

“What is it? Fanny, speak, I command you!” he thundered.

“I don’t know what this means,” she cried out, wringing her hands. “I don’t understand the message, but Miss Stanwycke… she said to tell you or I would not have burst in on you like this ever, sir…”

“What is it? Give me the message!”

She closed her eyes against his ire and said, “Countess von Holtzen awoke and tricked Countess Uta and Frau Liebner, telling them she needed privacy to relieve herself. She has slipped away from them and run towards the woods again, and Miss Stanwycke has followed.

She tried to warn the servants, but they will not listen. She needs your help, Count—”

But Nikolas had already pushed Bartol away. “Enough! I understand.” He turned to his uncle and stabbed a long finger at him. “You stay here on pain of death. I am not done with you, but if you do or say one more thing, I swear I will kill you, and I promise it will be painful and slow.”

THIS COULD not be happening again! Would this awful night never end? The moon was beginning its descent, and the night was even more chill, the scent of fresh snow tanging the air. And again Elizabeth had been forced to run after the countess, for she had no idea where Nikolas was, and given the happenings of earlier that night could not risk the countess being alone in the woods with the hunters possibly still there.