Alistair (Tales From P.A.W.S. Book 1)

Alistair

By Debbie Manber Kupfer

Tales from P.A.W.S.

Copyright © 2016   Debbie Manber Kupfer

All rights reserved.

This story first appeared in the anthology,
Writer’s Anarchy III – Heroes & Villains
. The authors of this anthology produced by the
Fiction Writer’s Group
on Facebook retained their rights to their individual works.

Cover design by ©
Rachel Bostwick

“The difficult thing, the glorious thing, was to be who you really were, even if that person was cruel and dangerous,
particularly
if cruel and dangerous. There was courage in not disguising the animal you happened to be.” (J.K. Rowling, “The Casual Vacancy”.)

They sat at the wooden table with the chessboard between them, just as they had sat every evening for the last two years. The boy scrunched up his face and concentrated. He had never once beaten Alistair, but tonight he was close. Alistair stared at him with his piercing blue eyes, his spidery white fingers casually moving a pawn.

“You think I’m a monster, don’t you, Joshua?”

Josh didn’t answer. He pondered sacrificing his knight. Of course Alistair was a monster, how could he be anything else? Every full moon he chose a victim, a victim for his feast. And every full moon he grew stronger, so that each new victim was easier prey.

But Josh was not a monster. He was proud he had never tasted human flesh—that in the two years since he’d been turned he had quenched his hunger on the night of the full moon with rabbits and squirrels.

“Maybe I am,” said Alistair, “But there are monsters worse than me in this world. You are lucky, Joshua; lucky you have me to protect you. I was not so fortunate.” Alistair took a long breath in and exhaled slowly, “neither was my mother . . .”

I was born many centuries ago in a small village just outside of Vienna. I see you don’t believe me, Joshua, but I’m not lying. I have lived for a very long time. The flesh and blood you so disdain has nourished me for all these centuries.

My father, Klaus, was a blacksmith. He was well-respected in our village. He was courteous, hardworking, someone the villagers could rely upon. He fashioned their horseshoes, molded their weapons, and mended their cooking pots. He was paid well for his services; we never went without the essentials, or the luxuries of the day for that matter. But my father was greedy. He wanted more and was always devising ways in which to outsmart his neighbors. He bent over backwards to please them, while at the same time taking their best wine and meats.

But once our door closed for the night, the façade was dropped, and he showed us, his family, his true colors—the evil that lurked beneath his smiling surface. He detested the other villagers, but knew he needed to ingratiate himself to gather their gold. But not so with us; at home he was the master and his word was law, and the slightest infraction of that law lead to terrible punishments.

The embers of his forge fires would glow white throughout the day and night, and one of us would always have to tend them, lest they extinguish. My father kept a selection of brands that the villagers used to mark their cattle. But sometimes in a fit of temper he used these fiery hot implements to punish us, to mark us as his possessions.

My sister, Elena, was only four-years-old when she first felt the white heat of the brand on the back of her thigh. My father, ever careful, chose spots to inflict his evil where the scorched skin would not show and we knew better than to take our wounds to the village doctor. We learned to bear our lot stoically and quietly tiptoed around Klaus, careful not to set him off.

I longed to escape. I studied hard with the village schoolmaster at every opportunity. I borrowed books of alchemy and magic; maybe in their covers would be a spell that would rid my family of this evil man. I poured through the legends of the region. There was an area not far from our house that was said to be the home of immortal beings with amazing powers; I longed to join their ranks, to bring down vengeance on my father.

You must understand, those were different times. There was no divorce, no way for a woman to escape the clutches of a man like Klaus, short of death. My mother, Marlena, certainly contemplated that way out, and were it not for us, I’m convinced she would have thrown herself onto the fires of the forge long before she was forced there by Klaus.

When my sister, Elena, died the villagers all came by to pay their respects. What a tragedy, such a beautiful little flower, plucked at such an early age before she had a chance to bloom. She was but seven-years-old. She had strayed too close to the fire and had slipped. Such an unfortunate accident, but there was nothing they could do. Klaus had tried to pull her out of the flames, but their heat had consumed her too quickly. None of the neighbors even had an inkling of the truth, that Klaus had grown tired of her whining and her weakness, and had determined that she would have far more worth thrown in the flames than tending them.

My mother sat there, her eyes far away, while the villagers showered us with gifts. They brought their finest wines, enough to fill my father’s cellar, plus foods to fill our pantry, and fine furs to clothe us for the winter. Klaus accepted all the gifts with a great show of humility.

“I thank you all. Such generosity. Yes, an awful tragedy,” Klaus repeated, a tiny smile playing on the corners of his lips. The villagers didn’t notice, didn’t see the terrible truth behind his expression. I wanted to kill him then and there.

When the final visitor had paid his respects, the door shut and Klaus turned his gaze on my mother and me. Slowly his smile broadened; it turned into a chuckle and then a guffaw, until he was practically rolling on the ground at his own cleverness and the stupidity of his neighbors.

“How idiotic they are,” he said, “and how lucky I am. Look around you at all this treasure. If one worthless life can bring me so many riches, just think how wealthy I will be when I finally rid myself of both of you. But come let us celebrate! You want to try a little wine, boy, in honor of your poor dead sister?”

“No!” I screamed, “I want nothing from you.” I ran from the room, my father chasing me and grabbing my arm hard, pulling me back.

“Oh no you don’t! Don’t worry I will not kill you today. And I will leave your dear mother alive. If I killed her who would clean for me and cook for me? Who would wash my clothes and tend my fire? Come taste a little wine, boy!” With that he grabbed my ear and pulled me towards him. He wrenched open my mouth and poured the blood-like fluid down my throat. I gagged and wretched the noxious liquid up onto the floor. Klaus laughed–amused by the show. My mother grabbed a rag and silently started cleaning the puddle of red liquid on the kitchen floor.

That night in my bedroom all alone, I desperately missed my sister, who had slept in a small bed by the window–an empty spot, which I tried to blot out of my mind. I could hear my parents arguing in their bedroom next door. I desperately tried to block out their voices by placing my pillow over my head, but the walls were paper thin.

“Stop your crying, wench. Or I’ll stop it with my brand. Elena was worthless. It’s easy enough to make another, a boy this time.

“But not like Alistair. That boy’s not a worthy apprentice. He sneaks off into the village to meet with the schoolmaster. He thinks he’s better than me. But I will show him. Come Marlena, let us make another son.”

I scrunched up my face, desperate not to hear my mother’s cries from the next room. I knew I had to get out of there. I’d read stories about vampires that lived deep in Transylvania and could only pray they were true. I sought immortality and power. If I gained those things I could easily get revenge on my father.

The vampires turned out to be a myth, but in Transylvania I found another breed of magic—one that would give me the power and immortality I was seeking.
Werewolves
.

There I met Roman. Roman was to be my mentor, rather like I am to you, boy. He saw promise in me and tutored me in the way of the wolf. He was very selective. Only the best could join his pack. And once he believed we were ready he would send us on the ultimate test.

To gain immortality and awaken our true powers, we needed to consume one who was truly deserving of this fate—ideally a family member. I knew who it had to be.

I had taken to watching my family’s home. My mother was pregnant again and the pregnancy was difficult. Klaus was angry I had disappeared before my time, and he took his anger out on my mother. Her body was covered in scars from the fire. I shuddered when I thought of the future of the baby.

And then she was born—another sister, a beautiful girl, with haunting blue eyes that reminded me so much of Elena. My father was furious, but as always, he let his anger brew under the surface during the day, making nice with the villagers, while he forged their horseshoes and tools. But when night came, the bubbling anger rose and my mother was the target for which he took aim.

“You’re worthless, Marlena. I told you I needed a son, especially since Alistair left, and what do you give me? Another pitiful girl! How will she have strength to tend my fire? Maybe it’s time to take a new wench. There are many in this village that would beg for a chance to be with me.”

I was watching at the window. I watched Klaus grab the infant from my mother's arms. The baby girl remained strangely quiet, staring up at her father’s face. “Maybe she can still be of some use. It worked the first time and my wine cellar is running a little dry.”

“Give her back, Klaus. Please I beg you!”

“You’d better keep your voice down, my dear, there’s room in the fire for two.” With that he flung the baby high into the flames.

My mother flung herself forward, but it was too late. She stumbled and fell into the fire. Klaus watched, a smile playing on his lips. “So sad,” he muttered, “so very sad.”

There was to be a full moon that night. I waited, biding my time. I watched the sky darken and the moon slowly rise. I welcomed it into my limbs. Tonight I had a purpose. Tonight I would achieve my destiny, my immortality, and I would make Roman proud. Tonight justice would be mine.

My transformation started to take hold. Today I have complete control, but back then I was still at the mercy of the moon. My limbs lengthened, the fur on my body grew and bristled. My facial muscles stretched. Some of Roman’s new recruits feared the metamorphosis, but I have always enjoyed my lupine form—believed somehow this is what I was always meant to be.

I flexed my now fully-formed claws and bared my canines. I put out a paw and tapped on my father’s door. I imagined him inside preparing his story of the terrible accident that had occurred, preparing to bask in the gullibility of his neighbors.

He didn’t expect me. He opened the door and peered out. My wolf form is formidable on all fours, but I reared up on my hind legs and pushed him to the ground. I placed my paws on his shoulders and enjoyed the fear in his bloodshot eyes. I willed him to understand who I was, to understand that I had come for vengeance for the murders of my mother and sisters. Then I tore the shirt from his chest and sunk my teeth into his flesh.

It was the best meal I have ever eaten.

As I consumed his body, I gained power beyond measure, and when I returned to Roman after the full moon I was welcomed as an equal.

“So am I still a monster, Joshua?” Alistair asked.