Lycan's unexpected mate

Who is he?

Daniel Neil

This is so unexpected! How the hell is this possible?! I mean, Atalanta is a Lycan! Yes, my mother told me that the Lycans aren't extinct but I didn't believe her completely. She told me about the Silent Heights Pack being a different name for a group of the Royal Pack because members of this particular pack live for centuries and it would be strange for normal werewolves. I can understand that. I can understand that their members are stronger, better fighters and they heal more easily. How wrong have I been that they are normal werewolves with a few better genes?! Unfortunately, my mother had lost her life before she could tell me more or introduce me to the Royal Pack. And even before that, we'd been on a run for months. . .

But, in any case, Atalanta is the first Royal werewolf I have ever met. When I transported us, Atalanta's eyes shone in a bright honey-brown colour. And when I looked into them, I could glimpse at her beast. She's a red wolf, correction, Lycan. Moreover, red colour is really rare all over the world. Carson's wolf Zeus is white which is a rare colour in the USA. In Europe or Canada, there are more white werewolves but during my life, I have seen only one red wolf and she died when I was a small child.

Anyway, I guess I should stop overthinking all this. There is nothing I can do about it, I just have to help Carson once he tells her about the mate bond and she marks him. Honestly, he is going to be the first white Lycan in history. It's going to be really interesting . . .

My thoughts are interrupted by a stranger opening the door to my study. I turn around and find Amelia Little blinking at me. She sneezes and reprimands me: "I can't believe you call this a study. It smells mouldy and it hasn't seen a broom and dustpan in ages."

"At least nobody comes wandering in just to come see me," I reply with a smile and go greet her. I hug her and ask: "How was the letter from Rodney? Anything important?"

She shakes her head. "Alberto has those recipes and the Royal coven is preparing for a big meeting in February." She sighs and rubs her arms although it isn't cold here at all.

I observe her face and wonder: "Why are you here? It is time again to renew that shadow of yours that you don't need?"

"No, there's still time till . . . tomorrow," she says with a frown as she tries to remember until when it lasts. Then she realises the end of my sentence. "And don't say that aloud ever again. I had no idea myself that I biologically come from the Royal coven until . . . that . . . that day."

I hang my head. It was a bad day when she found out and her heritage was what saved her. And once again, my thoughts return to genes, ancestors and heritage that we receive from our family and background. And they also lead to Amanda and Diliara and the celebration I have promised to both of them.

I blink several times and wait for Mia to talk if she's ready for it. She looks around the walls at my books, laboratory equipment and ingredients for my spells. Her eyes stop on vials of the potion which allows everyone to see in the dark as if it were a bright day. Then she says: "You could have warned me about the first Lycan Princess, you know?"

My jaw drops and I can't form a coherent sentence. Who is she talking about? It can't be Atalanta . . . can it?

My worry gets confirmed as Amelia continues: "I know about Atalanta's origins - we've already met roughly half a century ago."

I close my mouth and exhale. So she's much older than I would have guessed. However, I decide to take it one piece of information at a time. "She's what again?" I question Amelia but then realise that this query is too vague and doesn't reflect my uncertainty about the title she holds.

That's why I don't wonder when Mia frowns deeply. "But you seem to know who I'm talking about."

"Yes, yes," I reassure her. I rub my hands together and prepare what I can and will say. I mustn't mention that she's Carson's Mate when neither of them wants to acknowledge the fact. "I knew that Atalanta is a Lycan as soon as I transported her here," I begin. "It's just that I didn't think she was the firstborn werewolf Princess."

Amelia chuckles sadly. "Well, Atalanta's the future Luna Queen, so far the future Luna of Silent Heights. And, if I get it right, her early enthronement is foretold in the prophecy. She must be the forgotten party. And . . ."

I put a hand on her mouth. "Please, don't," I whisper. "We were lucky to see the prophecy in the archives before she did. Normally, it's forbidden. And it could be changed if we start to stick our noses in it."

"That's ridiculous," she says in doubt. "You're too superstitious."

I shrug. "There are some things above us, that guide us. We still have our creators, unlike humans, who can and will interfere," I tell her with a hint of respect.

"Their God died protecting them in the final battle, right?" Amelia suddenly remembers and I am nicely surprised that she still remembers what I taught her months ago.

I nod gravely. "Eternity gave up his powers for them because they were the weakest species. And still are." I cough meaningfully. "But that's not important. The thing is that Gaius Iamus set a spell on his prophecies so that they appear one at a time once the person is ready to become King or Queen. And he has seen thousands of years ahead of his time based on how many pages are left in each of his diaries."

"But the events now . . . They can end up either way . . ." Mia pips up worriedly.

I stick my hands in my trouser pockets. "I believe he hoped for the best," I admit calmly. "Now, how can I help you? Surely you want to discuss more than your run-in with an old acquaintance."

Amelia laughs. "You know me so well," she complains. "Yes, I want to know how we are going to proceed with Princess Atalanta."

I smack my lips in thought, then I shake my head. "Do nothing," I offer plainly. "She's Carson's problem now."

Mia looks at me horrified and touches my shoulders to shake me a little. "You should know better. Something big is coming and the Royals will need as many loyal fighters as possible." Then she gesticulates wildly: "And guess who Atalanta's going to turn first if push comes to shove?"

And once she does that, she'll realise he is her true Mate and it may distract her so much that she may lose focus of what is important. I know that. However, I can't force the duo to mate because then Carson will be turned, and he will have to leave us. And he's the substance holding this circus together. Unfortunately, I'm the only one who knows this as Carson's Caretaker.

I look straight at Mia. "We'll solve it when we reach that point. Until then, we're going to behave as if nothing was wrong. And you can help me prepare the small celebration for Amelia and her newborn daughter for tomorrow."

I say it in a way that leaves no room for complaints. Amelia opens her mouth, closes it and nods once. "Tell me what to help with, then," she says in a resigned voice.

3rd person's POV

The room is dark except for a candle above the middle of the floor. There are five people in the room but only one of them seems to possess power over the others. This person is sitting on a chair while others are standing just outside the circle of light cast by the lone candle. The four people are wearing masks on their faces - a wolf, a bat, an owl and a monkey and they are wearing long cloaks. The person who is sitting and emanating the dangerous aura, let's call him their leader, isn't wearing any mask, but still, his features are almost indescribable. He looks around the circle and draws his long thin black index finger across the armrest. It makes an eerie sound and the others shiver involuntarily. The leader cackles drily and points his shadowy hand at the person in the owl mask. "Henrietta," he orders and the woman carefully steps into the circle of light. She has short dirty blonde hair which could easily conceal her as a man. "Report," he orders in a cold voice when she looks in his direction.

She bows in front of the leader and starts speaking from the bent position. "My Lord, the training is going great. Your fighters are getting stronger every day and they have become as ruthless with every possible weapon as you have wished them to be."

Their leader nods appreciatively. "Look at me," he says rather kindly. Henrietta obeys straight away and lifts her head up. "You've fulfilled your duty well. They know how to fight without remorse and how to defend themselves. How high are the losses?"

"Six per cent, my Lord," she answers and pulls her head between her shoulders as if expecting a punishment. But it doesn't come.

The Lord only makes himself more comfortable in his chair. "Expected losses," the man announces. "Now, choose the best quarter of your fighters and teach them how to defend magically. Shield, blasts and others. And basic healing techniques."

Henrietta takes a breath to respond but the Lord is faster. "I can read your thoughts, don't forget that," he warns her. "But yes, I am aware that they have different affinity for magic and you will need to give them magic power. I will grant you access to a part of mine but don't waste it."

"Yes, my Lord," Henrietta answers in a choked voice.

"And make them remember that it's the last resort if they have no other option left. Dismissed."

"My Lord," Henrietta bows again and holds the position while backing from the circle of light. When she is hidden in the darkness, she straightens up and walks to her place.

"Damien," the Lord orders a man to report. The one wearing a monkey mask comes forward with a slight bow. "Well?" the Lord prompts.

Damien responds in a deep voice: "The humans have all been successfully seeded. In the case of sorcerers and vampires, it is only 90 per cent." He sneezes and a huge echo resonates in the room. He pulls a hanky from his pocket and blows his nose as silently as possible. The area doesn't allow it much, though.

"Good grief and torture, you should do something about this cold, Damien," the Lord scolds him in an amused tone. "You'll disclose our sorcerers' location even before the actual attack starts."

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Damien apologises and hides his handkerchief. All this time he hasn't lifted his head, but his back is straight. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Eh . . . We have a certain degree of control over roughly 80 per cent of all seeded individuals. Usually, Mate and Ani Ame bonds make it more difficult to manipulate them."

"Roughly?" the Lord wonders dangerously and his eyes shine bright red.

Damien swallows thickly and corrects himself: "It's 79 per cent, my Lord."

"Don't assume more than you already have, Damien. I've learnt that the hard way," the Lord warns him. "Make it at least 85 by the end of the year and I won't punish you. Dismissed."

Damien backs quickly, sniffling. When in the darkness, he blows his nose again but, strangely, the echo doesn't repeat it more than once and even so faintly.

"Claudia, what about your task?"

The woman in a bat mask walks to the light shamefully. Everyone understands that she doesn't bring good news. She repeats the antics of her colleagues and explains herself: "My Lord, I haven't been able to locate the Sorcerer, yet." She swallows nervously. "Nevertheless, I can guarantee that he isn't a member of any coven."

The Lord doesn't respond and Claudia waits silently in a deep bow. Suddenly, a whip with an invisible holder slashes her back ten times but she bears through the pain, only whimpering after each hit.

When her punishment is complete, the Lord informs her: "You have had only one job to do after your predecessor managed to kill every member of the first Royal Sorcerer family but this little brat. If he manages to contact other Royals, he could revive the old spells and banish me back. And we don't want that, do we, Claudia?"

"No, we don't," she says with pain in her weak voice.

"Do everything you can and even more and find him. Bring me his head or don't ever return to these meetings," the Lord recommends her icily. "If you return again without satisfactory information, I'll have you removed. If you don't come, I shall spare your life till the new order after the final battle." He looks at the poor woman's trembling form and tsks. "It would be a pity to lose you due to this," he adds wistfully, probably mainly to himself, and it makes Claudia shiver again and break in cold sweat. "Dismissed."

The last person to report adjusts their wolf mask and takes a deep breath. They seem fearful or nervous. They rub their arms a few times while Claudia is carefully making her way to her position. Nobody helps her as she struggles to move and keep quiet.

"Angel, you're the last one," the Lord announces, and the last person enters the light. It's a black-haired well-built man. He bows to the leader. "My Lord, I'm keeping track of the white werewolf and I'm making sure that he's going down the wrong moral path."

The Lord nods once. "I'm glad to hear that the vessel for my soul is getting ready. He must be corrupted completely for when I manage to resurrect."

"I understand, my Lord," Angel replies and dares to look up at the Lord. "The last attack he ordered on Blue Moon Pack has almost toppled him over the edge and I believe we will only need one or two more. The main problem is his companions who keep him down the earth. He's overly compassionate but they don't let him break down as we need."

The Lord taps his finger on the armrest. "Then we need to isolate him some more," the Lord suggests. "Make them move once again. Choose the most remote place with a certain possibility of conflict."

"Yes, my Lord," Angel replies as he nods at every piece of information. "I would consult the ideal location with the counsellors."

"Permission granted," the Lord claims. "And take Sorcerers to do the job. Then get into my vessel's head and navigate him. If it is possible, hook to him. We will need to do so sooner or later." The Lord rubs his chin, but it looks like smoke only. "Make sure that he is as depressed, resigned and torn as possible. Plus, of course, mateless."

"Yes, my Lord, I will follow your orders to a tee," Angel promises. Then he bows again. "There has been an Alpha werewolf meeting recently. They are worried about rogues getting out of control although the firstborn werewolf Princess is protecting them. She's a defect in our well-prepared plan," Angel reports.

The Lord seems angry at the assumption. "She's still a nobody. She holds no power; she can't persuade anyone to do what she wants. And it must stay that way," the Lord warns. "A Princess without a future King is no match for us. Keep an eye on her and keep me updated. Dismissed."

"Of course, my Lord," Angel tells him with a bow and walks out of the light.

The Lord gets up and rubs his forehead. "This astral projection is exhausting me in my current state. We'll meet again at the winter solstice, and I expect only good news. You can call me sooner if a huge issue occurs, otherwise, solve it yourself. Remember, from the solstice, there are only ten days left for the final preparations."

With that, the Lord disappears in a wisp of smoke, and everyone visibly relaxes. They look at each other but don't take off their masks. Suddenly, Henrietta says loudly while turning her head: "If it were me, Claudia, I would have punished you more severely than giving you a few strikes that can be easily healed with a compress from chamomile, echinacea, goldenseal and garlic."

Claudia looks up appreciatively and the two women nod at each other curtly. Then Claudia disappears in a teleport. The two men don't comment on the exchange and soon everyone leaves the space. The empty black room collapses into itself as if it never existed, and the space is back to being the desert it must have been before the meeting.