A Werewolf's Curse -- Chapter One

Jonas Adrian is suffering from mainly two things: His love for his brother's wife and the fact that the devil cursed Jonas to be a werewolf.

Chapter One

One might say the tests are yet to come. One might say they have already passed their tests and now are at good footing with the Lord almighty. For me, God is testing me every second of every day. He has allowed the devil to curse me, to fill my blood with evil, to give me new eyes, new teeth, new ears to hear. All as a test to see if I will still love God or betray Him and scream at Him for my suffering. There are many names for what I have become. But the most common name known worldwide would be: werewolf.


I watched Scarlet from a safe distance as she emerged from the Catholic Church. She tied the bow of her light blue bonnet, securing the ribbon under her chin. I could imagine that thin, breakable face lying within my palms. I cringed when I pictured my hands clutching at her throat�"strangling her until she fell dead beneath me. My addiction to death wrapped its cold, firm hand around my heart. Ever since the change, I’d find myself imagining different ways to kill…but I had forced myself to never take the life of a human.
I blinked slowly, ashamed of my thoughts. Yet the urge to feel the warm flesh growing cold, to experience the soul leaving the body, felt like a hundred pound weight dropped on my shoulders. The beast within me needed it.
Scarlet was about to get into her family’s carriage when her blue eyes turned to gaze upon the tree line. As soon as her gaze found me, I hid myself. Her thoughts suddenly swarmed with questions and I listened to the soft wave of consciousness that was her mental voice. She had seen my cloak dart behind a tree. Scarlet replayed this again and again when she got into the carriage.
As her thoughts drifted from me with the rolling of the carriage wheels, I remained hidden, listening to the other mental streams.
I focused on my boss, Travar’s, mind. He was eager to make some more coin and he wondered when I would be back with today’s catch.
I saw through his vision as his blade chopped through a hunk of bloody meat. I closed my eyes as tightly as possible�"shuttering the image away.
More voices crowded my mental capacity to the brim. Flashes of the kill rang like an enticing song. I leaped into the forest, unable to take it any longer.
Pine trees blurred around me, mud splattered my cloak and trousers, and birds flew away from me. Insects and rodents scattered as far from me as they could. Rabbits and foxes darted into their burrows.
Thick air blew against my face, though if it was cold I did not feel it. Wind battered my clothes and ran like fingers through my long brown hair, tussling it in all directions.
There was a small herd of deer, just through the brush. They were already beginning to scatter upon smelling my wolf-like scent. My shoes were soundless on the leaves�"I was moving much too fast to be heard or leave tracks.
I shoved the branches away from my view as I passed through the thickets and into the clearing. I slowed my pace just a fraction of a second, giving the deer a chance to see their attacker. They ran from me, jumping and prancing like gazelles, their black eyes wide with fear.
I chose my victim, stopped running, drew my pistol and took the shot. The poor creature died on impact.
**
I was rewarded with ten gold pieces for my catch and walked absently through the market to the local pub.
I felt inwardly cold as I ordered one mug of ale after the other. It wasn’t possible for me to get drunk so I would often gorge myself at every tavern I came across. This tavern in particular was my favorite; just a few blocks from the Catholic Church where Scarlet attended. But beyond that point, I liked the look of this place. It wasn’t classy or high quality but it was dark, lit merely by a few candles on the walls or wooden tables. I always blew my candle out so that I could enjoy the bitter drinks without the villagers really noticing me. Cigar and pipe smoke fumed the tavern, drowning the scent of humans, but all the more, making their smell slightly less inviting to me. Yet today, I found that the cigar smoke only drew me in more to them and I would constantly find myself staring. I amused myself by watching a man who enjoyed picking fights. His head was balding, his belly looked over stuffed, and ale fumed his breath.
A small grin formed on my lips�"but I made sure it was small enough that no one could see it.
The drunkard fell clumsily back onto his stool at the bar. He cursed everyone, telling us all to go to hell.
My grin faded. A snarl pressed my tongue to my teeth. I clamped my lips shut, not allowing the sound to surface.
The bard saw that my glass was nearly empty. She strode towards me; her thoughts were a mix of desire and attraction to my mysteriousness.
I chose to ignore her, keeping my gaze low beneath my hood.
She refilled my glass; her proximity slowly pressing her bossism nearer to the side of my face. I clenched my jaw, refusing to look at the shapely bodes that was so often presented to me.
“How are you today, sir?” she said, quietly. I could hear the slight tremble in her tone. I didn’t need to read her thoughts to know she was a little afraid of me.
I squinted. “Fine,” I made sure my voice was sharp. To my surprise it carried a hint of sarcasm.
She steadied herself, switching her weight from one foot to the other. My glass was now full and she held the pitcher awkwardly, knowing she should walk away. To stay and pay me special attention would make it too obvious of her intentions. We both knew that.
Her thoughts raged suddenly in hatred. ‘Why doesn’t he notice me? Am I not appealing to him?’
I wanted to chuckle when her mental voice cursed. She really had no idea. Here she was thinking that she wasn’t beautiful enough for me, when it was me who wasn’t good enough for her.
I decided to correct her opinion of what I thought of her. I turned very calmly to face her, careful to avoid glancing at her breast, which was level with my face. From my seat I said, “How are you, Rose?”
Her mouth opened in disbelief. Never had I looked directly at her�"that she knew of. A mumble of words sputtered in whispers on her tongue.
I grinned openly at her. I saw myself through her eyes; my black irises appeared very intimidating to her, my fair skin seemed to gleam from the candle light, but she found my lips to be the most captivating.
I lifted my tongue across my teeth to make sure my fangs were put away. Everything was as it should have been. I appeared normal to her. Yet she was still enamored with my lips. She became quickly obsessed with studying the curve of my upper lip�"seeing it’s down falling ridge and its smooth decent to the corners.
Her brow furrowed, “I am…well…sir.”
I became immensely curious of my appeal to women…or at least, my appeal to this woman.
“How do you know my name?” she asked, after a pause.
I had known her name for the month I’d been here. Whenever I read someone’s thoughts their brain is in scripted with their name.
“You are a very beautiful woman, Rose,” I said, my voice low so no one would hear. “But you must not try to win my affections.”
She caught the seriousness marked on my expression. Her heart thumped rapidly. “Why?” she breathed.
I inched closer, again careful not to look at her midsection. I skillfully pulled a gold coin from my cloak, keeping my eyes locked with hers. Her brown irises stared at me in anticipation.
I held the coin out to her. If there was one thing Rose loved more than a man’s company, it was gold in her pockets.
“For your leave…and for your silence,” I whispered.
She looked to me, blinked, then looked at the coin. Rose’s delicate fingers purposely enclosed around mine, as she took the gold. I removed my hand from her grasp. Her hand hovered for a moment. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder at me as often as she could.
An hour passed but I remained in my chair, breathing calm shallow breaths. I got my heart to beat exceptionally slow while I tapped my finger on the table, matching my heart’s rhythm. My gaze was set on the blank paper before me. A quill waited to be dipped into the small glass of black ink.
My eyes flickered up at the drunkard who’s thoughts were of disgusting actions yet to be performed. He was scanning Rose�"his face masked in a dazed lust.
I stood, far too quickly.
The man yanked Rose by her arm, causing her to gasp and slosh ale onto the floor. He pulled her close to him, muttering drunken whispers into her ear.
I charged. Rose felt the slight sting of my grasp as I removed her from his arms. But she didn’t seem to notice the little nail marks that I had made on her forearm. Her thoughts were a blur of gratitude.
The man protested, trying to get in my face. He was a few inches shorter than me so I cocked my chin high and glowered at him.
“You make me sick,” I said, nearly spitting the words. “Leave before you make things worse.”
I could already feel my nails extending into claws. I forced my heart to its original slow beat.
The man’s lip twitched in rebellion. “And what if I don’t want to leave?” he flicked my hood with one hand and it rolled off my head, resting on my shoulders.
The smell of Rose’s human blood filled my lungs. Her open wounds caused my head to spin, but only for a second. I bit my tongue. I swallowed the blood that had erupted on my tongue and gave the man a devilish look.
I took a step closer to him�"closing the distance. My eyes turned their darkest shade. I sneered.
“Leave before you make things worse…” I repeated, drawing out each word. He noticed the blood on my teeth and felt the full force of my influence.
He took a step back, appearing a little shaken. The tavern doors slammed upon his exit.
Rose and I didn’t move for a long while. I lifted my hood then turned around to face her.
I purposely glanced at her forearm. She followed my glance.
“You should take care of that,” I whispered, dejectedly.
Rose caught me when I tried walk from her. “Thank you…sir. For saving me.” She brushed a brown ringlet from her cheek.
I froze for a few seconds then resumed gathering my things from the circular table, acting as though she hadn’t spoken.
Rose watched me curiously. “But I suppose I can’t thank you if I don’t even know your name…”
“Jonas,” I said, under my breath.
“I’m sorry?”
I faced her. “Jonas.”
Rose was about to say more but I tossed a few shillings on the table and was out the door before she could form a full word.