The Lost Princess - Saving Lupin Borealis

Chapter Four - The Truth

Damon’s POV

I looked back into the rear view mirror at the sleeping pup behind us. I had held back a lot of information, so far this pup just thinks vampires would be out to kill her or take her as a slave. The truth was so much worse than that.

I couldn’t believe the vamps had sunk low enough to try to abduct such a young werewolf. They would have known she was at least 16 by her having her wolf, but it was obvious she was not yet even close to maturity. In human form she could probably pass for even younger. Elise’s wolf still had her puppy features and soft puppy fur, it was unmissable. I suppose the vampires are so unchallenged on that Island that what little morals they had left had been forgotten. English vampires were the worst, too rich and religious for their own good, keeping humans as pets and keeping werewolves caged, unchallenged, enslaving them and forcing them into the worst tasks imaginable. The lucky ones, healers and seers, would be put to work by the vampires to help birth their children, heal their wounded and advise them on how to get even richer, or gain even more power. Vampire births were dangerous, so they would use healer werewolves for their healing abilities, and drink their healing blood when required to survive the birthing process. They would use the healers to heal after battles and fights too, as werewolf healers were so strong, and their blood so potent. The healers at least would be kept in a room with bedding, motivation for them to keep their captors healthy and well. In werewolf societies, we treated our healers with the utmost respect, as healing takes an incredible amount of energy, they sometimes even had to sacrifice part of themselves. Powerful werewolf healers could live upwards of 300 years with the right support and care, the healers treating vampires would be lucky to see 60 before passing away, their life source completely depleted. The seers were treated slightly better, if the prophecies they gave were favorable of course. The majority of werewolves had no such gifts, and the vampires would keep them deep underground, cursed to never see the light of the day or moon again. Several wolves would be crammed and chained up in small silver cages, given potions to stop them from shifting. They would be used for feedings, the vampires becoming more powerful feeding from their magical werewolf blood, tortured for entertainment, used for all kinds of manual labour and forced into doing whatever tasks the vampires saw fit. It was a fate much worse than death. The few remaining British wolf packs had made pacts with the vampires, trading goods and Goddess knows what else in order to keep peace. My lips curled in disgust at the thought.

My eyes drifted back to Elise. I wondered where this pup came from? Her wolf collapsed within seconds of us getting there, but I thought for a second I had thought her wolf was white? It can’t have been, must have been more grey, it was pitch black after all and over so quickly. I must be mistaken, I thought to myself, shaking the thoughts out of my head.

We were taking her back to our pack and the safety of the den, thankfully we avoided too many questions about that. She would for sure be welcomed, the pups always were. It was a big change for her though, uprooting her from her hometown. I hadn’t mentioned it, but we did follow her scent back to her tiny apartment before leaving, whilst she slept in the back of the SUV. I went inside whilst Jason kept watch of her, and honestly I hadn’t found a single thing there worth rescuing, Elise had no photos, no momentos, just old clothing and a laptop that still hadn’t booted in the full 20 minutes we were there. She was so young to have so little. Jason had bought her a new laptop on the ferry, it was stashed in the boot. I’m sure she would enjoy that later. Jason came across as stern, uncaring even, but he was one of the most caring and loyal wolves I knew. He hated our excursions, he had found his mate last year and now it pains him to leave the den. His way of coping is to stay as concentrated as possible, determined to fulfil his promise to come back alive. He wants to switch to another role within the pack, but as last night proved, his ability to pick up scents is just so much stronger than anyone else I have known. Jason is too much of an asset to our cause, and he knows it.

Our Royal family had lost several family members to the vampire covens over the years, both in battle and through capture. The hardest hitting loss was the High King’s own daughter, Princess Aurelie, stolen from us at just 22 years of age. She vanished without a trace, and was never found, and it almost drove the High King into complete madness. The Royal family had decreed after her kidnap that every pack must have a whole squadron of rescue wolves as part of their army, and our sole purpose was to search for and rescue wolves before they fell into the hands of the vampires. We had even managed to take down a few covens, but this required the aid of the witches for the spells and potions to protect us from the vampires mind control, and getting a witch coven to agree to any battle was difficult. Whilst the witches hated the vampires, a lot of witch covens tried to avoid any conflict as they lost such great numbers during the wars. At one point, witches were at risk of going extinct altogether, and they’ve spent the last few hundred years regenerating their numbers and replenishing their covens. The witches are far more vulnerable than us werewolves - their powers only passed through the females in their bloodline, the men were born just usual humans, and they lived a normal human lifespan. The witches had incredible magic, but average human strength, so if any supernatural being got close enough they didn’t stand a chance. Of course, the dragonkind could wipe out the vampires far easier, but nobody had heard from those cowards in centuries. No, the fight between the supernatural was thousands of years old, and looked like it would continue for thousands of years to come.

I was glad we had rescued Elise, it was always a relief to rescue a pup, but there was something special about the girl too. I felt protective of her from the moment I had caught her scent, and Jason must have felt the same judging from his behaviour when he first scented her long before I did. He practically sprinted after her. Her hair was icy blonde, almost white, but her eyes were strangely a dark, muddy brown, creating an odd contrast. No, there was definitely something special about this girl, and her sweet nature only made me feel more satisfied with her rescue.

I watched the green fields rolling past the window. We were in Germany now. Probably another two days drive, weather permitting, and we would be home. The Lupin Borealis pack was calling us home, and I was eager to answer.