Alpha Moon (3 page)

“This shall be the death of me, brother,” said Ulric, as he caught himself before sliding off.

“Nonsense. Only plant thy feet where the thatch is visible, not on the slush.”

“Even the bare areas are slick.” Ulric eventually grasped the edge of the steepled roof and hauled himself upward. Out of breath, he sat for a moment longer. “This might be worse than plowing fields.”

Alaric chuckled. “Aye, ye might be correct, but at least we will have one less problem to worry about.”

“’Tis true.” Ulric surveyed the spacious land before him: rolling hills in the distance, covered in a blanket of white and glistening in the sun; the copious amount of trees creating the dark forest on the outskirts of town; the small village where he and Alaric spent the day before, filling their bellies with freshly-brewed ale. ’Twas not a bad life, but Ulric had the distinct feeling there could be more to it.

“Are ye attending the Christmas ball in a week’s time?” Alaric asked, pulling Ulric out of meaningful thought.

Ulric inhaled a deep breath of cold air, his lungs burning. “I have not decided yet. Mayhap Mitsy will be there, and she and I can share a dance or two.”

Alaric grinned deviously. “And how do the two of ye fare?”

“Well, brother. I think she is, perhaps, the only girl in Colchester I could marry.” Ulric felt uplifted by the idea of wedding Mitsy. ’Twould be a long road to reach that point, though; courting took nearly forever and a day, and Ulric was not the most patient man. Yet the notion of having Mitsy as his darling wife pushed Ulric into a happier mood. “Let us finish this troublesome roof, shall we? Afterward, we shall reward ourselves with a fine tankard of ale at Murdock’s.”

Alaric raised his eyebrows. “Brother, ye surprise me.” Placing a hand over his heart, Alaric added, “But I would not have it any other way.”

From a distance, both of their names were called. Looking in the same direction, they caught sight of Joseph, a small boy from the village, son to the blacksmith.

“Alaric! Ulric!” he cried out.

“What is it?” Alaric shouted.

The boy stopped short of their cottage, bending over at the waist to catch his breath. “A carriage has just passed through town. Seems we have new neighbors!”

Alaric and Ulric glanced at each other.

Ulric asked, “Where would they live? I have heard naught of a new homestead around here.”

“There is always the old Peabody mansion on the fringes, but nobody has lived there for years. The land is overgrown, the house is irreparable . . .” Alaric offered, but his voice trailed off. “My eyes saw men traveling through the streets yesterday, carrying loads of lumber and building supplies. Mayhap that was their destination.”

“Do ye wish for me to pry?” asked Joseph.

“Go ahead, and then tell us of thy news,” Alaric said, giving the boy a big smile.

Joseph grinned, running off in the direction of the Peabody home.

“I wonder who it could be,” said Ulric. “We have not welcomed new citizens since the prior year, when the McHannigans arrived from Scotland.”

“Could be anyone, brother. Let us not ponder on this matter for long. There is work to be done.” Alaric slapped Ulric once on the shoulder, and the two of them resumed work on the roof, until late into the day.

That night, after Alaric and Ulric entertained themselves with pints at Murdock’s, Ulric had begun preparing dinner for their father in the large, iron kettle. Alaric drank too much and passed out in his bed upon their return, but Ulric waded through the ale-induced haze long enough to prepare a decent meal for Frederic. As usual, Frederic sat by the fireplace, nose-deep in a thick, aged book, and grunted every few pages.

Cold seeped into every corner of the room, and Ulric could hardly contain a shiver. Even the fire was not providing enough warmth. The nights were becoming more severe with their impenetrable frozen blanket resting over the quaint cottage. Ulric was ready for springtime, though winter was barely upon them.

“News came today, father,” Ulric said. “Apparently, we have guests. From what I have learned, they fixed up the Peabody place and are moving in presently.” Ulric thought back to when Joseph returned earlier that evening, with information of the new landlords. The house was bought by a Theodore Lowell of London, and his wife and daughter would also be living there. Little was known about the Lowell family, but if one thing was certain, ’twas that Ulric would find out all there was to know.

Frederic grunted, showing no sign of interest.

Resigning from the absent conversation with his father, Ulric finished preparing the meal, stoked the fire, and retired to his room. He wished he and Frederic had a relationship where they could speak openly, but Ulric was afraid that time had long since passed.

Restless, Ulric stood at his window, allowing the cold night air to stroke his face. He shivered. The evenings were worse than he remembered last year, and he hoped spring would come sooner than expected. If he and Alaric could begin a harvest earlier, they would have less work to perform during the boiling heat of the summer months.

Small movement on the forest’s edge caught Ulric’s eye. Any townsperson out this late, and in the bitter weather, would be half out of their wits. But the shadow on the tree line stalked back and forth, and was far too short to be a human. A child, perhaps? No, that would not be accurate. Ulric squinted, as if that would help him see the figure more precisely. The shade stopped its slow strides and searched the nearby cottages, smoke billowing from their hearths.

Step into the moonlight
, Ulric thought,
so I may see ye.

As if on cue, the black phantom stalked forward, into an open field and into the moon’s glow. Ulric gasped. This was no mere man; ’twas a creature of darkness. A wolf, stockier and larger than any Ulric had ever come across. Its eyes shone, even from afar: a deep yellow, almost gold. The creature’s snout rose into the air, sniffed, and returned its head to a normal position. Every time the wolf breathed, a fresh, white wisp coiled out of its nostrils. Ulric had never seen anything so beautiful yet so frightening.

Unsatisfied with the other cottage, the creature turned its attention to the Conway residence, and its eyes met Ulric’s.

Air vacated his lungs.

Though ’twas deathly still for a heartbeat, the wolf’s lips peeled back, displaying long, pearly incisors. Its head tilted toward the heavens, and out of its mouth bellowed a lengthy, guttural cry. When it locked eyes with Ulric again, its body lowered into a pouncing position, and the creature kicked off and sprinted directly toward Ulric’s window, with no signs of slowing down.

“Saints almighty!” Ulric screeched. He hurriedly boarded up the window, and ran into Alaric’s room, doing the same. The front entrance was the last to be checked, but ’twas safe and secure, just as he left it before supper. He returned to his bedroom, taking refuge below the window, listening for any disturbance the creature would create.

None came.

Ulric sat in the same position for the night, wondering if the mad wolf sat opposite of him, waiting as he did. He could chance it. He could take a giant risk and open the window, but fear kept him in place longer than he anticipated.

When the sun rose the next morning and roosters crowed across the valley, Ulric gained just enough courage to open the window, only to reveal naught was there.

Chapter Five

One week later . . .

T
he town was alive with talk of the Christmas season. Wreaths made of red ribbon and pine needles decorated every door in Colchester, and, over the last week, women bustled in and out of Fiona’s Fabrics to buy cloth of gold, red, green, and white to fashion their Christmas ball gowns. Mistletoe dangled from the eaves in Murdock’s, so the men would receive more kisses than usual from the tavern wenches—at no cost from their pockets.

“My seasonal gift to all of ye,” Mr. Murdock shouted over the noisy patrons. His kind gesture was rewarded with cries of: “Hear, hear!” And toasts: “To Murdock’s, the best tavern in all of England!” Mr. Murdock, being the modest man he was, waved off the attention and returned to keeping the regulars in line.

Alaric and Ulric smiled amid the warm and cheerful atmosphere, raising their tankards during the toast and throwing back several gulps in honor of Mr. Murdock. Alaric was constantly bombarded by the barmaids. Ulric sat back and watched his brother savor the interest. He supposed Alaric was handsome; his dark hair was to his shoulders, his eyes were the color of golden wheat harvests in the summertime, with flecks of green dotted around the middle, and his smile shone brighter than the sun on a midsummer day. Aye, women had every right to be attracted to him. However, if Ulric had anything nice to say in his own defense, he would argue that he had the brains of the two, beating out his brother. Alaric was becoming lazier and more brazen with his imprudent antics of drinking, and Ulric knew that would one day be his downfall.

“Ye are not enjoying thyself, brother!” said Alaric.

Ulric grinned. “And it seems ye have too much merriment.”

Alaric chuckled. “Here, then. Take one of these wenches.” Alaric pushed one of the women toward Ulric, causing him to nearly choke on his ale when she sat in his lap. Alaric threw his head back and laughed even more so.

Ruckus at the entrance of Murdock’s caused every head to turn in that direction. The Captain of the Watch was yelling, “I call upon thy attention!” The tavern went silent, save for a few patrons who could not control themselves. “Our gracious new neighbors have invited everyone to join them for the Christmas ball. As ye all know, they have reconstructed the old Peabody mansion and would greatly appreciate if the townsfolk would join them in celebration. Tonight, the festivities officially begin.”

More cheers erupted throughout the inn.

“Count me in!” yelled one man.

Another inserted his thoughts: “If there is more ale to be enjoyed, then I shall make an appearance!” This, of course, was met with raucous laughter.

“What say ye, brother?” Alaric asked, turning toward Ulric. “Are ye joining the joyous celebration of Christmastime tonight?”

“Aye,” said Ulric. “I believe I am.”

Later that evening, Alaric and Ulric made preparations to attend the ball, along with much of the townsfolk who could afford to dress fancy and stay out until the wee hours of the morning. Alaric and Ulric wore their best attire: linen shirts, doublets, and riding boots. Both said their farewells to Frederic, who did not question where his boys were headed, although Alaric and Ulric guessed he already knew the answer.

Ulric remembered a time not so long ago when his father and mother attended the Christmas festivities at Murdock’s Inn. Their mother was always a quiet, kindhearted soul, who never missed a celebration with her family and friends. Now those days were gone forevermore.

As Alaric and Ulric arrived at the Peabody estate, they recognized several of Colchester’s townsfolk, many of whom were regulars at these events.

“I must say, brother,” said Ulric, “they have surpassed my expectations of the household. I fear I may have underestimated their restoration capabilities.”

Gone was dilapidated mansion from years prior. Presently, the Peabody home looked as if it did when they were children—expansive land with the forest as a backdrop, broad lighting in every room, chandeliers which caught candlelight in their crystals and spread glittering rainbows across each wall.

“’Tis magic,” Alaric whispered.

Ahead, greeting their new guests, were the Lowell’s. Mr. Lowell stood at the foot of a grand staircase, and his daughter and wife stood on either side. One glimpse at his daughter caused Ulric’s heart to seize. Never had he felt like this before. She was a golden princess, a goddess among peasants, a fairy queen. Her gold and white dress shimmered in the bright illumination of candles and lanterns. Her hair was laced with satiny ribbons, and white flowers graced her head like a crown. Her face, however, was harsh despite her beauty.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alaric Conway, and this is my brother, Ulric.” Alaric made a gesture toward Ulric. Both of them bowed, as if they were before royalty. They might as well be.

“A pleasure to meet thee both,” said Mr. Lowell. “Please, call me Theodore. This is my wife, Angelica,” he continued, placing an adoring arm around her. “And this is my daughter, Daciana.” Daciana seemed indifferent to both Alaric and Ulric, as if she was too good for their company. “I hope thou enjoy the revelry tonight, as we are most humbled by thy presence.” Theodore raised a hand toward a room to his right, which Alaric and Ulric could see was decorated with red and gold bows, and evergreen swags.

Making their way toward the large ballroom, Alaric and Ulric schmoozed with the locals and danced with several women. A small orchestra played familiar and unfamiliar tunes, but neither Alaric nor Ulric cared in the slightest; they were only here to escape their mundane daily lives and drink the night away.

During one of the final dances of the evening, Ulric asked Mitsy for her hand, but she was already accounted for by another. Deciding to take a short break and bask in the cold night air, Ulric stepped outside, into the gardens. Hedges were as tall as his him, and a fountain sat at the middle of an outdoor court, where the water had frozen into ice. Too preoccupied with admiring the statue, Ulric failed to notice someone appear on the other side of the sculpture.