Grimm Wolf by Julie Steimle (well read books TXT) 📕

A general rumble went through the crowd, approving of this call. Rick closed his eyes, knowing this was going to be the end. He hadn’t expected any different. He whispered up to his half-brothers and sister, “You don’t have to die with me.”

They were pale when they turned, the echoes of the crowd’s cheers for Rick’s execution if not for the death of all four Deacon wolves, sounding loudly in their ears. But Louisa crouched down and hugged him. Her sweet soft voice whispered into his ear, “You saved Marie, Genevieve, and Margarete—and Victor and Carole. It is more than we have ever done. We let Claude go the wrong path. We let him die. We will not let you die.”

“But what about your kids?” Rick murmured, reading her face as tears rolled down her cheeks to her chin. “What about your life?”

She kissed him on the forehead. “Oh, what a sweet dear you are. They have been taken from us long ago. You must know that. The Loup Garou owns them. They are no longer ours. So what do I have to live for? I die with you.”

His eyes widened. He looked to Henri, who despite his Adonis shape actually looked gaunt—or gaunter than he remembered. Most model types had a starved look anyway. But a lot must have changed with him in the pack since Rick’s last trip to Paris. It had been over five years. Fond regret was in Henri’s he-wolf eyes. Perhaps those years since then, he had desired to join Rick and his father in Massachusetts after all—but he probably believed that window had long closed.

“I’m so sorry,” Rick murmured, gazing up at them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remy rubbed Rick on the head, ruffling his rusty brown hospital hair. Tears crested in his amber eyes. “You’re just a pup. Stop trying to carry all that weight.”

“We have decided.” The elders rose in their seats. They could not see it in the darkness, but it was clear their watchers could. “We will grant Monsieur Schwitzer’s petition, and execute the heretic by death of a thousand bites. Those who do not wish to die with him will leave the arena now.”

“Go,” Rick whispered to the three standing around him, desperate for no one else to die because of him.

“No,” Remy said, shaking his head. “We are family.”

Henri stood firm. So did Louisa, stiffly lifting her chin.

“So be it,” Monsieur Blanc said.

“Over my dead body!” Tom Brown dropped down through the ceiling and landed heavily onto the floor in front of threesome and Rick, his Walther p99 in hand, finger on the trigger.

Chapter Eleven

Tom’s orange eyes were glowing. He looked like a ghost in the spotlight—a ghost in a nicely pressed suit.

“Demon!” Schwitzer shouted, pointing.

Tom turned his gun on him. “I’ll shoot. I shot your son, and I will blow your brains out.”

Rick scrambled up, out of the wheelchair. “Tom! How’d you find me?”

“We have a tracker on you, you idiot,” Tom snapped, not taking his eyes off of the German werewolf.

“We?”

The far doors burst open. It was perfect dramatic timing. In marched Andy in his red armor and Semour in his silver armor. There were still blood splatter on Semour’s armor, proof he would kill without hesitation.

“Let the wolf go!” Semour said, pointing his cross bow quickly to the elders.

Andy’s sword was drawn. He marched straight into the room directly to Rick and his wheelchair. His eyes raked over Remy and the rest before hugging Rick. “Damn. Why can’t you stay put?”

“Sorry.” Rick was so glad to see him especially.

Andy quickly looked to Henri, then Louisa, and Remy. “I see. You three. You’re his family, right?”

They nodded, taking in Andy, his armor and sword, but also his smell. They looked to Rick who faintly nodded.

“Abey, this is Remy, Henri, and Louisa,” Rick said.

“Shut up and sit down, you look like crap.” Andy shoved Rick back into the wheelchair. He turned to Henri. “Can you push him?”

Henri nodded, but then he looked to the pack elders. Rick looked also, especially seeing Monsieur Blanc bristling as if with hackles raised. He grabbed Andy’s arm and hissed, “Abey, we can’t do it this way. We have to make peace with this pack.”

Remy and Louisa looked to Rick with gratitude. So did Henri, though he stepped from their group and approached the elders. “Monsieur Blanc, Madame Freyna, Monsieur Mbulu, please reconsider and listen. I smell wolf on this man.”

Andy closed his eyes and groaned. He shot a look to Rick, but Rick was nodding, looking hopeful. The reason they smelled wolf on Andy was due to a transformative curse Andy had been affected by back in high school when the entire basketball team had been turned into their school mascot, the timber wolf. And though the team had been turned back into human, there something wolfish still lingered about them.

“What?” Monsieur Blanc snapped, glaring at Andy. “What are you claiming Henri? That the hunters that killed wolves are wolves?”

“Their leader is,” Henri said. He looked to Andy. “You are the leader of the Holy Seven, are you not?”

Standing tall, Andy replied, “I am. And you messed with my best friend. You will release Howie—ugh, Howard Richard Deacon the Third—and you will leave his family alone.”

Monsieur Blanc sneered down on Andy, snorting. “The Loup Garou do not take orders from the likes of you.” His eyes then rested on Tom. “You consort with demons. And you kill wolves.”

“I’ve killed many wolves,” Andy confirmed with a sharp nod, which caused a deeper rumble in the room.  

Rick closed his eyes, cringing. He wished Andy was not so honest. They needed to be diplomatic for pity’s sake.

“And I will slaughter you all if you lay one more finger on my friend,” Andy added.

Opening his eyes, Rick stared. He then rose. “No, no, no, no…”

But Andy nodded to him. “Howie. We’re best friends for life—and to death. Besides, that beast killed Jordan.” He pointed the German with his sword. “So he deserves to die first.”

“Uh, technically,” Tom said, still aiming his gun at Schwitzer, “It was his son. And I already shot him.”

Andy lowered his sword. “What? Wait a second. You mean, these aren’t the guys who killed Howie’s friends?”

“They were the Germans in Cochem, Red,” Semour said, his aim still on the elders. “And we killed pretty much all of them.”

Swearing, Andy massaged his forehead and sheathed his sword. The werewolves around him shifted, watching with the inclination to pounce, as the knight before them appeared to disarm. They were still disposed to punish them all with a thousand bites. “Then what’s their problem? They weren’t even involved?”

Monsieur Blanc drew in a breath. He looked to his fellow elders. But the huge crowd of wolves still watched with a swell of mob-ish loathing.

Remy whispered to Andy, “The German, Schwitzer, has asked for justice.”

“Justice?” Andy then drew up a flame in his right hand. All the wolves pulled back from him. “You mean revenge. As I see it, those wolves challenged my friend to see who the more powerful wolf was. And Howie won.”

“Because he called in hunters!” screamed Monsieur Mbulu.

Andy turned a dry eye on him. The flames in his hand licked up higher, like a torch. “He called in his friends.”

A shuddered rippled through the room with growls.

“No one messes with the Deacon family,” Andy boldly declared. He eyed every wolf within his sight. They each felt as if he were seeing them to the core, and they realized they were staring at a savage red wolf and not a man at all. “He is protected by the Holy Seven, and will be to the end of time.” He then looked to Remy, Henri, and Louisa before gazing back to the Loup Garou elders “I didn’t even know you all existed until today. He has kept your secret, you stupid wolves. We would not have even known you existed if you had left him alone.” His eyes especially settled on Schwitzer. “His loyalty to wolf kind had remained perfect until now.” He then looked to Tom who continued to maintain his aim on Schwitzer. “But when you attacked him and his friends, you exposed yourselves.”

Remy stared at Rick. “Is that true?”

“I hadn’t told them a thing,” Rick whispered nodding.

“He does not tell us about wolf packs,” Andy said with bite, clearly angry about it.

“Because he knows we’d slaughter them,” Semour said.

“And when we get you home,” Andy said to Rick, “We are going to have a long talk.”

Groaning, Rick shook his head. He wondered if death would be better than the tirade Andy was going to get into once they were alone.

“You are now under our radar,” Andy said to the crowd. He then waved to Remy and the rest. “And how you treat these folks will matter a great deal to us.”

“Do you actually think you can get out alive?” Theon called from the sidelines, approaching a step.

Andy’s grin crooked to the side. He quenched his flame and drew his red sword. The light around him began to swell like the sun. “I can burn this place down and walk out unscathed. But you would all be cooked.”

Rick jumped out of his wheelchair, grabbing at him. “Hey! Don’t you actually do that!”

All the wolves stared.

“And why not?” Andy snapped back. “They intend to kill you. And your family. This place deserves to be burned down.”

“They’re not man-eaters!” Rick snapped back. He waved behind himself. “Just that one!”

Kaspar Schwitzer backed up, eyes wide.

“Leave the wolves alone,” Rick said, begging. “Come on.”

All the Loup Garou stared more. Whispers and hushes erupted in pockets among them. They started to realize Andy probably could and would burn the place down—if it were not for Rick.

“Red…” Semour called out. “He has a point.”

Andy looked his way. “Sir Cooly, are you freaking? This? From you?”

Lowering his crossbow, Semour walked over to Andy’s side, nodding. “Yeah. This is probably one of the most civilized pack of werewolves I’ve ever met.”

“Exactly,” Rick said, deciding not to mention the Loup Garou’s past of oppressing his family with certain breeding protocols. That issue had to be broached on another day.

The pack elders sat back in their chairs.

“True savages would have attacked right away, regardless of argument,” Semour said.

“Thank you.” Rick nodded gratefully to him.

Semour nodded back. However, his eyes were still on the elder wolves.

“Can I still shoot the German?” Tom asked.

Schwitzer backed away more, sweat breaking out on his upper lip and forehead.

Rick glared that way. Technically, Schwitzer was still a man-eater. However, the location of the Cochem pack was now exposed, and the SRA were sure to hunt down stragglers in that area after this. The natural course of the true hunt would take over. He didn’t need to do anything. “No.”

“Ah man!” Tom swore. He lowered his gun.

“I thought you hated guns,” Rick shot back, his body aching.

“I’m learning to like them,” Tom said, his eye still on Schwitzer.

Rick looked to Andy again. He had not sheathed his sword.

Andy shifted his eyes to the pack elders. He lifted up his hands and said, “Well? Are you going to say anything?”

“Who are you really?” Monsieur