Lord of the Wolves (25 page)

“Why
did you not just ask Kingston to help you?” Sarah wondered. “Surely, he would
have done so had he known.”

“Ask?
For what is rightly mine by birth? I am the first born! The only legitimate
son!” he ground out with a thump of his fist on his chest. “And I do not ask! I
take!”

“But
it was not just about the fortune. You took his happiness. You took his bride,
his son, his home. You wanted everything.”

“I
wanted to blot him from existence! By the time the war began, the business had
begun to fail, and I decided to seek my fortune elsewhere. What better way, I
ask you, than to curry favor with the king? I have a flair for ruthlessness,
you see, and it worked in my favor. By the time I crossed paths with Sauvage
again, my star had begun to rise.” He paused, and laughed a little, fingering
his ear. “I could scarcely believe my luck when I saw my brother emerge from a
cabin in the woods last August. We had been lying in wait since before the
dawn, and the warriors wanted to take his scalp then and there, only I
purposely held them back. To give him his death was too swift a punishment. I
wanted something more—something slower, and infinitely more satisfying, so that
I might savor his torment. We waited until he was gone, and then, we set upon
the place.”

“You
raped and murdered a defenseless woman.”

Jean
snorted. “Defenseless? Hardly! She fought like a mountain lion, and she left
her mark upon me. Because she was Sauvage’s woman, I much enjoyed the conquest.
Had she not been great with child—his child—I might have taken her back to
Quebec with me after I had killed him. But the child presented a problem. He
was Sauvage’s heir, and as such one more stumbling block placed in my path.”

Sarah
thought about the child she carried, and felt a chill run through her. If he
discovered her pregnancy, he would kill her, just to ensure his inheritance. “A
stumbling block. What a cold and heartless way to view an innocent life. Do you
not fear God’s wrath for what you have done?”

The
face he turned toward her showed no trace of remorse. “Ah, but there’s the
brilliance in my plan, don’t you see? I shall buy my absolution with your
lover’s blood.”

There
was a rustling in the underbrush behind them. Jean forced Sarah up and,
wrapping his good arm around her throat, pressed the pistol’s muzzle to the
tender spot just below her ear. Kingston stepped into the open. Sarah felt Jean
stiffen.

“I
can tell by the look on your face, that you do not approve of my
transformation,” he said to Jean, taking a step closer, then another. “The
likeness is remarkable, don’t you agree? Close enough that we could pass for,
say—” he spread his hands wide “—brothers?” His smile faded. He inclined his
dark head toward Sarah. “You have what you want, Jean. I am here, and more than
willing to settle this business between us. Let her go.”

“I
am not finished with her just yet,” Jean said, nuzzling Sarah’s cheek. “She
makes a pretty shield, Sauvage. Granted, not as pretty as your first wife, but
infinitely more tender, more vulnerable, I think. And you know how I love
vulnerability. There is something about a vulnerable woman that calls out to
the beast in me.”

He
laughed darkly, and Sarah shivered. “Kingston, please. Go. Save yourself, while
you still can!”

“Such
selflessness,” Jean said. “It makes me green with envy. I fear that she has yet
to warm toward me. But then, we have only just begun to get acquainted, isn’t
that so, pigeon?”

He
was taunting Kingston, and his taunts succeeded. Seeing Jean nuzzle her cheek
and speak so suggestively to her pushed him precariously close to the edge of
his self-restraint. Sarah could see it in his face, yet she was helpless to
stop it, helpless to do anything but mouth a silent prayer for a miracle, and
hope that God was listening.

You
want her back, do you?” Jean questioned. “I shall think about that, but first
humor me, and lay down your weapons.”

Kingston
slipped the war hatchet from his belt and tossed it aside, holding his hands
out to his side. “It is all I have. Release her.”

Sarah’s
stomach clenched as she felt the cold steel of the weapon leave her throat, and
saw it swing slowly toward Kingston. “How very odd this is,” Jean murmured, “to
destroy one’s own reflection.” He cocked the piece, his finger tightening on
the trigger, and at the same instant something pale moved inland from the
river’s edge, flanked by three shapes of ghostly gray slipping noiselessly,
menacingly through the trees.

“Caroline!”
Sarah cried, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The
spirit seemed not to hear her; instead she stopped at the tree line, glaring at
Jean with eyes of pale blue fire. A wind whipped up out of nowhere, sounding
eerily like the inconsolable wail of a newborn infant. Sarah’s flesh prickled
alarmingly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jean turn his head a stare with
dawning horror at the apparition. “You are dead, damn you! Leave me! Go back to
hell where you belong!”

The
wail grew louder, rising in pitch. Jean tried once more to focus on Kingston,
who snapped a command just as Jean pulled the trigger.

The
wolves leapt, pushing Sarah aside, knocking Jean to the ground.

Sarah
screamed, covering her ears in an effort to block out the howl of the wind, the
snarls of the wolves, and Jean’s horrified gurgling cries as they tore out his
throat.

In
an instant, it was over. The wolves left Jean’s lifeless body, slipping back
into the trees where they lingered. Then, Kingston was there, lifting Sarah,
cradling her close, lending her his warmth, his strength.

Shouts
and the sound of running feet were coming from the direction of the village. Kingston
glanced at the path, frowning. “We must go, before they come and find us.”

“What
about Jean?” Sarah said, glancing back over Kingston’s shoulder. Jean lay very
still, his handsome face as pale in death as that of Caroline. “He was your
brother. Must we leave him like this?”

“There
is no time to do otherwise,” he said. “Besides, they will find him and do right
by him. To the Huron, he is a hero.”

He
started toward the darkened wood, but the wind rose again, enough to ruffle the
hair at his face, to carry the soft, sighing voice clearly to Sarah’s ears.
Sauvage,
wait....

He
went deathly still at the sound, and with Sarah clasped tightly to him, turned
one final time to face his painful past.

A
few feet away, Caroline stood, a shimmering, ethereal figure that was already
beginning to waver and fade.
Come close and look... look into the eyes of
your son....

Hesitantly,
he approached her, his breath catching in his throat  as Caroline pushed the
blanket aside to reveal the tiny face, the very image of Kingston’s, so ghostly
pale.

The
small lids fluttered up, and the spirit child stared up at him for the space of
a heartbeat. Sarah saw tears well up in Kingston’s dark eyes, cascading
unchecked down his lean cheeks, and felt her heart squeeze painfully in her
breast. Then, as he reached out. Both mother and child faded away.

Sarah
kissed his tear-ravaged face. She knew, as he did, that Caroline Sauvage,
Kingston’s protector and her very own guardian angel, would not be coming back.
Her task on earth had been fulfilled; her restless soul had at last found
peace.

In
time, Kingston’s heart would heal. Sarah would see to it. And in Kingston
Sauvage, she, Sarah Van Alt Marsters Sauvage, timid mouse of a woman, had found
her courage, her strength... her destiny.

The
Shining City, on the Muskingum River

June
1758

 The
full moon was riding the treetops when Sarah Sauvage emerged from the cabin at
the edge of the Shining City, her husband, Kingston, strolling slowly,
purposefully, by her side. Since the birth of their daughter, Caroline
Angelica, several weeks before, they had been the subject of much speculation
among the residents of the Moravian settlement, for a host of most unwelcome
visitors had arrived the night before the birth and, oddly enough, seemed wont
to stay.

Even
now, Sarah could see them, lying quietly among the great rocks near the banks
of the river, their tawny fur silvered by the light of the summer moon. It was
unnerving to have great mountain cats, creatures that were normally reticent to
mingle with mankind, so close at hand. The planting of the new fields had been
undertaken with a prayer on the lips of the workers, and the children had been
banned from playing out of doors for fear that they would be carried off by the
catamounts. Sarah had heard talk at service, and shared in the general sense of
unease.

Among
the residents of the religious community was Hergus Samp, who had somehow
fallen in with Angel the night of Jean’s death, and travelled with them to the
Shining City in the days that followed. The crone’s work-worn hands had brought
little Caroline Angelica into the world, and the old woman, who had since
decided to stay, shared Kingston’s apparent lack of concern about the presence
of the great felines. “If them cats was here to eat somebody,” Hergus had said
a few moments ago, “they’d have supped on that rogue de Angelheart, the
Frenchified dandy! Beggin’ yer pardon, Monsieur Sauvage.”

“Think
nothing of it, Madame Samp,” Kingston replied, then, with a conspiratorial
wink, he’d placed the swaddled babe in his wife’s arms and taking a firm hold
on her elbow and made for the door.

Sarah
was properly shocked. “Kingston Sauvage!” she said now, as they made their
unhurried way across the dooryard. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Taking
my wife and child for a stroll in the moonlight,” he answered evenly. “The
night is beguiling, and I think it’s time our daughter comes face to face with
her legacy.”

“Is
that wise?”

He
bent a dark and knowing look upon her. “You want them to leave, do you not?”

“Yes,
but—-”

“This
is the only way,” he assured her. “They have come to pay
homage
to the
child.” The fingers that gripped her arm were strong, so competent, and Sarah
noted that his expression held no fear, not the slightest trace of doubt or
hesitation. “Sarah, my only love, my angel, trust me. I know about these
things.”

Sarah
did trust him, though as they neared the huge cats, she could not help pressing
closer to his side. At a little distance, he halted and, taking the babe from
her arms, carefully unwrapped the blankets and held her sleeping form aloft.

Behold,”
he said in his mother’s tongue, “here is the child that you will serve and
protect. Caroline Angelica Sauvage. Guard her well all of her days, for her
like will not come again!”

To
Sarah’s amazement, the cats rose in unison, creeping near to roll on their
backs in the new grass close to Kingston’s feet.

Unlike
Sarah, who was filled with awe at her husband’s strange and mystical powers,
little Caroline seemed unimpressed. She yawned widely, briefly opening her
sapphire eyes to contemplate the star-studded heavens above her small raven
head, then went to sleep again, secure in Kingston’s big hands.

One
by one, the catamounts rose, slinking soundlessly off into the shadowed wood. Within
moments, they were gone.

Strangely,
Sarah felt a twinge of regret. “Will we see them again?” she asked as he handed
the child into her arms.

“From
time to time,” he said. “Our daughter, Madame, has the gift.”

Sarah
frowned. “From whence does this gift come?”

“Why
from the Creator, of course. The giver of all life. His knowledge and wisdom
far surpasses our own, and so we must be glad in our hearts for what we have
been given. For everything He does, there is a good reason.”

“You
have become very wise, husband.”

“It
is wisdom that comes from experience,” he told her. “After all, He saw that I
was lonely, and so He gave me you. Gil told me just the other day that one good
work begets another. And since the Creator has smiled upon me, I, in turn, will
never question His motives again.”

His
words warmed her. She had all that she had ever dreamed of having. A home among
her friends, a loving husband, a child, and Gil had welcomed her and Kingston
with open arms. Even Brother John Liebermann had forgiven her for breaking
their troth, and since had married Bethany Williamson, a woman from New York.

Angel
had come for a prolonged visit, staying to welcome little Caroline into the
world. Then, growing restless again, he’d departed for Montreal, but not before
he’d surprised Kingston with a package from a solicitor in Quebec. Combined
within were all the complex details of his inheritance. Never caring much for
money, Kingston had promptly signed over half of everything to Gil Marsters, to
benefit the community of which he was now a part. The other half would be
placed in trust for little Caroline and overseen by Angel, who had a better
head for monetary matters than Sauvage.

Sarah’s
mood was oddly reflective, and as they turned and began the short walk back to
their home, flashes of scenes from another more desperate time came to mind. “Kingston?”

“Yes,
my love?”

“There
is something I have been meaning to ask you, about that day, on the bluffs
above the river.”

“Yes,
my love?”

“When
you leapt at Tall Trees, I could have sworn that I saw—-that you—-there was a
brush of silken fur and—-”

“And?”
he said, with the same secretive, all knowing smile he’d worn so often since
the birth of their child and the arrival of the lions.

“I
know it must sound silly, but I could have sworn that you had changed somehow—-become
a wolf. The Indians present seemed to think so too, and Angel said—-”

“Angel
talks too much.”

“Then
it is not true?”

He
turned to her then, with the huge silver disk of the full moon smiling at them
overhead, and brought her close to him, their babe nestled securely between
them so that their three hearts beat as one. “Sarah, my sweet. Would it truly
make a difference if it were true? Would you love me any less if I said that I
possessed such mystical powers?”

Sarah
stood on tiptoes to kiss his mouth. “You have absolute power over my heart,”
she said, “and you always will. But what about the child?” She looked nervously
back to the riverbank, where for weeks the big cats had prowled. “Will she?”

“Sarah,”
Sauvage chided. “She’s but a babe in swaddling! My love, you must learn to
relax.”

“I
suppose you are right,” she said. Yet, as they walked back to the house, little
Caroline Angelica wriggled in her blankets, and made a sound that sounded
suspiciously like the mewl of a kitten.

Sarah
gasped, and looked with wondering eyes at Sauvage, but Sauvage only smiled.