The Wolfman (45 page)

The goddess who had saved him.

He wanted to say something to her. To tell her that he loved her. To say thank you, but there was not enough of him left. Lawrence used the last of what was left to touch her hand, to stroke the smooth skin. Would she understand? Would she know that there was no need for him to forgive her? Salvation does not require forgiveness.

His fingers trailed along the back of her hand.

It was all he could do.

He was safe now.

He could sleep.

G
WEN CONLIFFE FELT
him die. His body settled against hers and when she looked at his face, so clear in the moonlight, there was no trace of pain. His eyes were closed, and all of the pain and fear was gone. She bowed over him and wept as the hunting party swarmed into the clearing.

The men stopped and stood at the edge of the grassy slope, staring at the weeping woman and the man she held. The sound of her desperate, broken sobs struck them all to silence, and even the dogs stopped baying.

A moment later Aberline himself came out of the shadows. His wounded arm hung at his side, but the bleeding had stopped and he no longer staggered. The men held their ground as the inspector walked out onto the rocky lip of the gorge and stood over the sobbing woman.

Aberline looked at Lawrence Talbot’s face and knew that this hunt was over. The poor man was at peace. He felt a strange twist of grief for Talbot, and more for the woman. Moonlight glittered on the blade of the sword cane he still
carried. Aberline raised the rapier and looked at the reflection of his own eyes in the slender mirror-bright blade. Then he raised his eyes and stared at the laughing face of the Goddess of the Hunt.

Jonathan Maberry
is a multiple Bram Stoker Award–winning author, magazine feature writer, playwright, content creator, and writing teacher/lecturer. His novels include
Ghost Road Blues
,
Dead Man’s Song
,
Bad Moon Rising
, and
Patient Zero
. Visit him online at
www.jonathanmaberry.com
.