The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Romance (34 page)

Fighting the power of the music in her head to bemuse her, she picked at the lock until it gave.

There, on the shelf, just as she'd suspected, was the pistol box.

The sound of a low, wintry wind whistled outside. A great roar rose up, and, at last, the cold, distant harmonies of the wolves.

Veronica opened the box and found the pearl-handled pistol. The scarlet lining, where the silver bullets should have been, was empty. She opened the chamber and found it loaded with one precious silver bullet.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

She ran downstairs to the small conservatory. The plants looked like raised hackles against the moonlit panes. The statue of the fawn lay broken on the floor. Veronica looked through panes of leaded glass out into the yard.

The sound of the wolves was louder now. They were coming closer. Sovay would be among them. She knew it.

Rafe was still near the wishing well, hunkering down, a great mass of shadows against the whiteness of the snow. Veronica slipped to the French doors, opened them quietly, and stepped out to the terrace. Cocking her pistol, aiming it straight ahead, she prayed she would have time to reach out to Rafe, to say something before the beast completely possessed him, before she would be forced to do what he had so thoroughly trained her to do.

“Rafe?”

He swung his head up and gazed at her with dull, blind-seeming eyes. Utter surprise mixed with alarm returned him fully to human form.

“Veronica?”

His voice was gruff. His eyes, locked on hers, were filled with something like hope. “I see you’ve brought your gun. Use it then. Use it and put me out of my misery.”

He pulled his tattered shirt open, exposing his broad chest. Veronica’s heart swelled, stopping her voice. All she could do was look at him, drinking in the sight of his dark hair falling over his blue, tormented eyes. Elbows locked, the gun aimed at his heart, she shook her head and looked away. He’d taught her how to shoot. If she pulled the trigger now, the bullet would not miss.

“You’ve killed,” she said. "Haven't you?"

Rafe moaned. Swaying, lifting his hands to heaven, he sank down, collapsed in on himself, and disappeared in a ball of darkness.

Night made it difficult to know if he were still there, or had crept into the woods, if he were now wholly man, or beast, or still shimmering from one shape to another.

The old bell tolled its discordant note of doom. High, despairing howls erupted from the tower, the wolf calls of Jacqueline and Mrs. Twig.

"Rafe! Please! Tell me you did
not
kill the farm woman."

The darkness in the lilies growled.

Veronica swung the pistol toward the sound.

Curling out of the shadows, confusion clouding his eyes, Rafe bared his long teeth at Veronica and snarled.

“Stand back!” she shouted, jerking the pistol forward. “Stand back! I don’t want to shoot you. I don’t!”

“Why the devil not?” Rafe's voice coming out of this creature shook Veronica's sense of reality to bits.

His body was bending lower, his neck thickening, his jaws elongating, his face disappearing under burgeoning black fur. His blue eyes, steadily fixed upon her, turned red as blood.

“You’d better hurry, or you’re lost,” he rasped, and crouched as if to spring upon her.

Veronica staggered back. Veins of ice coursed up her arms, banged against her heart, raised the roots of her hair.

“Stay back!” she screamed.

"Shoot!" he roared.

Weeping, she raised the gun again, let it fall, then lifted it more urgently, pointing it at the beast.

“Did you have Janet summon me here? For this? Why me? Why do I have to do it?"

He seemed to laugh at her, sniggering under his steaming breath. His eyes were cold, provoking
her to pull the trigger, yet his eyes were filled with misery.

Veronica looked up to the stars so distant, so remote, and felt utterly abandoned by God.

"I am so lost!" she cried.

Just before his paws hit the ground, Rafe straightened up. Then, lifting his claws, he let out a gruesome, heart-rending roar. He howled at the stars, at the afflicting moon; he roared into the dark at the evil that had cursed him.

As if in answer, shrieks pierced the air, howls fell like motes of fire from the window of the tower.

Distracted, Veronica s
wung toward the sound. Overcome by a terrible sense of dread, she turned slowly back to Rafe.

Crouching on all fours, ears back and growling, baring its long, sharp fangs, eyes blazing red, was a fully formed black wolf. Not a trace of the man glinted through its solid, muscular form. Sly, sinister, its tongue hanging long and dripping with saliva, the creature was slinking toward Veronica.

Backing away, Veronica trained her pistol on the wolf. This
thing
could not be Rafe. It couldn't be!

“You’re not a wolf! You’re not a wolf!” she shouted.

The beast growled and leered at Veronica, its long tongue slathering, lolling out between its fangs. The fur along its back raised in spires, it began to sidle toward her.

Veronica
felt her eyes grow wide. Shaking, she jumped back. The gun was slippery with sweat. The wolf that was Rafe gazed at Veronica with murder in its eyes.

“No. No. You’re not... You're not a wolf. You can't be."

Growling deep in its chest, the beast continued to prowl slowly forward.

Veronica's words trembled out hoarsely. "You are a man, Rafe de Grimston. Be that man. Be the man I love."

For a brief second, Rafe's true image flashed before her.

Like Beauty in the fairy tale, had she found the key to the curse?

"I love you. I adore you with my whole heart. I do."

The wolf rose up and stepped toward her. Still frightened and unsure, she aimed the gun at its heart.

"Stay back!"

The wolf howled, but softly. The beast seemed to melt, to grow warm, seemed about to become human again, then stopped.

A light appeared in the doorway of the ruined chapel, a yellow light.

Bright as the moon, Sovay floated out, then quickly vanished into a swarm of white wolves streaming toward them over the snow.

Veronica waved her pistol this way and that. She had only one shot!

Rafe, now both man and beast, stood up against the ghostly wolf pack and roared.

The sound of a penny whistle rose up from the wishing well, playing that mysterious, mesmerizing tune. Everything went still. Light swelled in the dead lilies, and two pale children in birch bark hats came out onto the snow. Enveloped in misty white light, holding long-stemmed lilies like magic wands, they stopped a few feet away from Rafe.

Papa... Papa...
the voices vibrated softly on the air.

"Sylvie! Jacques!" Rafe's voice rumbled out.

Caught off guard, Veronica lowered her pistol.

Fast as lightning,
a heavy weight fell on Veronica and knocked her down. She hit the ground hard. Breath knocked out, her stomach heaving, she was helpless as a ragdoll as wolf teeth tore her hair, gnawing toward her throat. Desperate, panting, she groped in the snow for the pistol that had flown out of her hand. The beast began snarling, rolling her over and over. Beating its head with her fists, Veronica screamed.

A terrible roar shook the night. The weight of the wolf lifted. Veronica scrambled onto her back, and looked up.

Standing over her, was the lady in yellow.

Fixing Vero
nica with flashing green eyes, she laughed.

From somewhere beyond the obscuring light of the lady's yellow gown,
a huge ball of darkness lunged at Sovay. Surprised, she fell forward, then rose up into the air. Crouching low, Rafe pinned Sovay with his eyes, bared his fangs, his throat gurgling with menace.

Sovay stared down at Rafe and laughed even harder.

It seemed hundreds of white wolves had gathered round. Their red eyes glinting, excited by the prospect of battle, they hooted like banshees.

Sovay's mouth elongated to jaws and she
roared as if she'd set the universe on fire.

U
ncontrollably shivering, Veronica was dumbstruck with astonishment.

Crouching,
ready to spring, eyes burning red, the black wolf glared up at the hovering yellow-gowned lady. A fanged grin spread over his face; the rumbling in his chest was like thunder.

Veronica scrambled through the snow, flailing this way and that until her hand fell upon the hard steel of her gun. A foot slammed down on her wrist. A hand came down, wrenched the gun away, and then fell back.

Eyes blazing, Sovay held the gun on Veronica.

A woman's voice filtered into her mind.

How dare you try to steal my husband? You who are a plain little nothing!

Veronica shook with
fear and wonder that a spirit was holding a gun.

Sovay’s face darkened almost to black.

Get rid of her, Rafe. It’s me you love. It’s always been just we two. She’s just here to break us apart. Get out of our lives!

"Rafe! Rafe!" Veronica cried. "Don't listen to her. I love you more than she does."

The heavy gun fell to earth. Veronica leaped for it, only to be thrown back. The white wolf screamed, then flew, claws slashing, at Veronica.

Veronica rolled away. The white wolf skidded in the snow, then, hackles ra
ised, she bared her fangs and slunk toward Veronica.

The swarm of wolves crept closer. Why didn't they attack? They could kill everyone in moments. They just kept staring with their bright red eyes, slowly moving in. White fur blending with the snow, they seemed insubstantial as a fog. Veronica was unsure if they were real
or merely ghosts. Ectoplasm.

An outcry went up in the tower shaking the very stones.

A woman shouted.

Something far ab
ove slammed and rattled.

Sovay whined, jumped in her skin and spun toward the sound.

A small white wolf had jumped through the broken bars of the tower window and was running toward them over the snow.

Using the distraction, Rafe charged at Sovay. She quickly vanished and re-appeared on the other side. Rafe rose high into the air with a powerful leap, twisting in the air to land straight on her. Sovay whirled away, snapping at his haunches, then charged at Veronica.

Dodging the attack, Veronica plunged through the snow for the gun. Where was it? She scrambled around on her knees, feeling everywhere for the pistol.

"Where is it? Where is it?" she screamed.

She turned in time to see two wolves, white and black, rolling over and over each other, biting, tearing, shrieking with pain as tooth and claw drew blood.

No, no, no, no, no, no...

The wolves were running around them, yowling and circling.

At last Veronica's hand fell on the pistol. She picked it up, jumped to her feet, and aimed at the snarling wolves. They fought so tightly, it was difficult to know where to shoot.

A voice rang out.
Mamma! Mamma!

The white wolf stopped and raised its head in the direction of the sound.

Bam!
A shot rang out.

In the same second Veronica pulled the trigger.
Bam!

A flash of sparkling brilliance blasted the air. Her body jerking with the force of the explosion, Veronica fell over on her back. There was a terrible scream, a squeal of pain.

Veronica tried to jump up, but nausea kept her down. She lay still for a moment to catch her breath. Then, expecting to see the worst, she sat up in time to see the white werewolf dancing away in a dreamlike motion, darkness yawning before it like a vacuum in the night.

Jacqueline was standing in the moonlight, Rafe's discarded gun smoking in her hand. She looked frozen, stunned.

The shades of Jacques and Sylvie, bright as reflections in a mirror, did not call out, had not moved. They couldn't move. They weren't real! Neither were the wolves that encircled them, but did not attack. As if prompted by Veronica's realization, they dissolved into mist.

Only one of their number
remained, Wolfgang, looking as if he'd seen a wonder.

Veronica looked around for Rafe.

But for the chill breeze blowing his hair, he lay crumpled on the snow. Terrified she’d killed him by mistake, Veronica staggered to her feet, and fell over him, covering him with her body.

“Rafe? Rafe?”

She passed her hands over his face, his neck, his chest searching for signs of life. Her hand struck wetness at his neck. Lifting her fingers, she found them coated with blood.

“Oh no. Rafe? Rafe, please.”

He didn’t move or make a sound.

“Rafe? Rafe! Oh my God! Oh my God! Rafe!”

She leaned over the prone figure, stroked his back, ran her hands through his hair. “Rafe?  Are you with me? Rafe!”