Claiming of the Demon King (ICS Book One)

Chapter Twenty-Five - Vincent Loses His Wolf

Vincent Loses His Wolf

It was too quiet within his mind. Vincent gripped at his head, the world spinning briefly. He was slipping into madness and there was no perch to stop his fall.

He should have listened to his wolf. Too many times he'd denied it.

So foolish.

Shaking his head he concentrated on sharpening his blade, watching transfixed as the smooth stone moved along the cold steal.

Too damn quiet.

His wolf no longer spoke to him.

Sweat dripped from his brow, clouding his vision. Angrily he wiped his forearm across his face. His body hurt in ways he didn't know were possible. The pain was in his bones, in his mind.

He doubted his next course of action. Doubted his motives. Doubted himself.

If only his wolf would speak.

He could no longer turn. The full moon had reached its peak and for the first time since he'd welcomed his wolf into his soul he did not turn. It was unnatural. It was madness. He wanted to run with the moon, to hunt and howl in victory at the stars.

Many times he'd debated returning to Gabriel's keep and begging for release from his torment. Begging like a dog.

He laughed cruelly to himself.

There was only one way out of this. Kill the demon, take the halfling.

"Your not looking so hot, hunter," Grace's smooth voice reached him. Finally, a break from this torturous silence. The old witch had been kind enough to let him stay with her while she acquired what he needed. He had to admit he'd probably be in far worse shape if not for her care.

"I'm fine," he lied.

"Are you?" she asked. Standing beside him Grace stared up at the moon, her familiar curling around her neck. Absently she reached up and scratched one of its fluffy long ears. "Not natural for a werewolf not tae turn on this night."

"It's nothing," he grated.

"You can lie tae yourself, but not tae me." Crossing her arms Grace looked out over the Irish landscape. The land stretched on as softly rolling hills behind her shop. Snow fell, lightly coating the lush green grass.

Vincent sighed, raising his head to the soft flakes. The coolness eased his burning skin.

"You know I loved a werewolf once," Grace remarked absently.

He frowned, glancing over at her. "Is that so?"

She nodded, her eyes growing distant. "He was a member of your old pack. Did you never wonder why I spent so much time with your kind?"

"I take it there's a point to this," he grumbled.

"There is." Turning towards him Grace pulled aside the collar of her jacket. Through the softly falling snow the mark on her neck gleamed in the moonlight.

Vincent's eyes widened briefly.

"That's right, hunter. I was a member of your pack."

"What happened? I don't remember this."

"You wouldn't. You were just a pup then." Grace sighed, replacing her collar over her neck. "I was his mate. O'course, back then witches weren't looked on so favorably by your kind. He tried to deny it, to deny his wolf."

"Clearly you two worked it out," he said.

She went on as if he hadn't spoke, "I weren't tae keen on him at first, he was a right bastard. Witches donna have mates, not in the sense that your kind does. Our souls are bonded to our familiars."

Dragging in a deep breath he wiped another hand over his sweaty brow. "Is there a point to this, enchantress?"

"Hush and listen," she scolded. "He was alpha and already had his queen. She was a powerful she-wolf with deep influences."

Scowling, he stared up at her. "He claimed one that was not his mate?"

Grace nodded. "He wanted tae be alpha. Not just any alpha, the alpha. He chose a queen that was not his mate tae gain more power fer the pack." She raised a brow at him. "Sound familiar?"

Vincent growled. "Don't."

"Then I showed up, changed it all. He tried to fight it, fight his wolf. But he kept seeking me out, drawn tae me. Overtime, I fell fer him too. One night I told him I was gonna leave, thought it would be best fer us both." Her familiar gave a small whimper. Reaching up she cupped its head against her own, patting it gently. "He lost it, went crazed."

Vincent could understand that. No male would simply let their mate leave them, their wolf wouldn't allow it.

"He chased me down, claimed me." Grace shuddered. "I never thought I could share my soul with another except my familiar. But as soon as he bit me I felt it, my soul broke, part of it went tae him, just as part of him went intae me." For a moment grief flickered over her features, then her face turned hard as stone. "Then he lost it. He went mad. He'd already made the claim with another, already created a bond. As soon as my soul entered his body he was lost. The rest of the pack felt it, turned on him. They had no choice. Ripped him apart right in front o'me."

"That was you?" He'd known that the old alpha had lost his mind, but never the cause. The result had nearly ripped the pack apart. "Why are you telling me this?" Vincent asked, his tone harsh.

Grace glared at him. "You know why, hunter."

"I can't go back now," he grated.

"You can. Seek the alchemist."

It's too late. He had no doubt the Cursed King knew who the she-elf was, why else would he have paid such a high price for her? It didn't help that Gabriel was gearing up to send everything he had after the halfling. It would be all out war.

Too many hands were in motion. He needed to move, now.

Bowing his head Vincent continued sharpening his blade. He refused to fail in this. He would be damned if he ran with his tail between his legs. "Has it arrived yet?" he demanded.

Grace pursed her lips before nodding. "Aye." Pulling out a leather purse she tossed it to his feet. "I hope you know what your doing."

"Like I said, no choice," he answered curtly. If he lost now there would be nothing left for him, no future.

"Vera' well." Heading back into the shop Grace paused, glancing over her shoulder at him. "If your mum could see you now."

Vincent flinched, despite himself. Grace left him alone. Once again the world was too quiet.

Kill the demon, take the halfling, he repeated over and over in his mind as stone slid on steel.