Wolf Omega: The Lykanos Chronicles 2

Chapter Thirteen

I didn't have time to resent Father Piero for striking me. His hand across my face woke me up from delirium. It offered irrefutable evidence that I was conscious, and the world around me was real.

Apologize to him, Don Lupofiero told me with his silent voice.

"Forgive me, Father," I said, and I reached to help us both rise. "I don't know what to say—"

"It's perfectly understandable," Don Lupofiero said before the priest could answer. "Considering all you've endured, it's a wonder you're still standing. No apology is necessary."

Father Piero looked to both of us, still unsettled by the event.

"I want you to know that you're safe now," Don Lupofiero said. "I cannot undo the terrible sins committed against you, but no man will ever harm you again while I'm alive."

The statement was stunning. All of this seemed inexplicable—disjointed and without reason. I was bewildered as Father Piero's face softened and nodded in agreement with Lupofiero's words. It was perhaps the most disturbing part of the confrontation--the way the priest's eyes altered from frustration to quiet reverence in seconds. He even smiled warmly as if nothing happened.

"And now, Father, we must be on our way if we are to reach home before tomorrow night," he said.

Kiss his hand, his voice came again.

I turned to Father Piero and bowed, raising his hand to my lips softly.

Thank him, the voice said.

"Thank you, Father," I whispered.

The priest nodded in return as if he felt venerated and completely satisfied.

Follow me, I heard.

Without thinking, I stepped forward as the man turned to walk the little path through the garden toward the street gate. I could hardly see my way in the moonless night. But I followed Don Lupofiero's steps, the sound of his fine leather boots clacking loudly on the pave-stones before me.

He opened the gate, releasing a loud moan from its tired hinges, and entered the courtyard where torches had just been lit for the few pedestrians on the streets. Before us was a large carriage affixed with four monstrous black horses, their silky coats shining like polished onyx even in the dim light.

The driver hopped down from his seat to open the door for his master.

"Ride for the dock," he commanded, stepping effortlessly inside.

I waited to the side near the driver's ladder, expecting to sit beside him when he returned to his perch atop the carriage.

Inside, the voice said.

With apprehension, I lifted my skirt to step up into the compartment and sat down on the bench across from Don Lupofiero, my back to the horses. The driver shut the door quietly and sent the carriage moving forward in no time.

The small lantern within the vehicle housed only a single candle, but it was bright enough to reveal just how richly appointed the man's carriage was. The door's darkly stained wood was highly polished, and the gilded patterns of scrollwork captured my attention. The walls were covered in crimson satin, the expensive design of which became almost hypnotic in the candlelight as it flickered from the ride's motion. Several burned gold shades covered the plush bench cushions, which were stuffed with a soft material that moulded effortlessly to me. But most unforgettable was the rich incense of the space—a clean masculine scent, unlike anything I'd breathed before.

Duccio, his voice said.

It was not a word I was familiar with, but his intimacy made its meaning clear in my mind—Duccio was his name.