Wolf Omega: The Lykanos Chronicles 2

Chapter Twelve

I woke with a jolt. The heat of the early afternoon had caused me to perspire, and I pulled my cowl from my head as I sat up to look around.

I was alone. Luca had left me to slumber under the oak tree by myself, and I couldn't see him as I looked around the field from my seated position. I stood up, grateful to feel the breeze through my hair as it cooled my neck and dried my brow. With another glance, I saw Luca's figure at a far distance standing near the main road.

I gathered myself and walked down toward him. My back was already sore from the day's work, but the muscles loosened as I moved.

Arriving at the lazy decline's bottom, I noticed with a startle that the figure was not Luca. The stranger was tall and dressed in the elegant crimson robes of a lord. His brocade was of the finest quality velvet I'd ever seen, trimmed with black leather and gold buttons, matching his regal hat. He wore a finely crafted sword, sheathed at his side, the hilt made of gleaming gold and cut rubies.

Had the stranger stood beside Morbegno's elite, anyone could see this man was from another world entirely. To find him alone in the middle of silent farmland was inexplicable and disarming.

I then realized that I, too, was alone.

He stepped forward to approach me, calling out when he was within twenty paces.

"What is your name, signorina?" he asked over the distance with a strong, commanding voice.

I meant to answer, but my words locked in my throat as he came close enough for me to see his eyes. I felt the sting of fear in my blood, and the urge to flee from him overtook me. He had the face of the very demon who had attacked me in my dream.

Gasping in vain for my breath, I turned and fled with awkward footing.

"Luca!" I finally screamed, looking about me to find the groundskeeper in vain.

I noticed several farmhands in the neighboring fields turn to gauge what had set me off. I considered running to them for protection, but I was just as terrified of those strange men. I moved on, letting my feet carry me forward as my heart pounded in my throat.

At the bridge, I crossed into Morbegno and received a host of raised eyebrows from pedestrians who crossed past me. I stopped, recognizing the spectacle I was making of myself, and turned around to see with relief that the man had not followed me.

I tried to catch my breath before turning back into the town and smoothed my garments, confident that I'd made myself look disheveled. Running my hands through my hair to pull it back, I realized I must have dropped my cowl during my escape from...

What had I run from? A man standing in a field? A wealthy man who had stopped to ask for help?

I couldn't account for my behavior; I only knew that I was afraid. I was afraid of that man; I was afraid of the men who had harmed me; I was afraid of all men.

I wept quietly, unable to control my breathing or the tears that let free.

In time, I turned back toward the town to find that public interest in my spectacle had vanished. I felt safer among Morbegno's crowd, which scurried in its whirl. I should have returned to the field to find Luca, but I instead walked alone toward San Giovanni Batista's Church. I would no doubt beg Father Piero's forgiveness, but I could not return to the field alone.

I was painfully aware of my uncovered head, and I did my best to look down and stay out of oncoming traffic. After a few blocks, my heart froze to hear the noise of several women chatting as I crossed their vicinity. Looking up, I saw three faces I recognized—friends of Sofia Vervio, who had huddled together to scoff in my direction.