Chapter 42

-Chase-

Since infiltrating Humble’s Ravine in the middle of the night was pretty much a suicide, and we all were tired and grumpy as it was, we decided to wait until the morning. Ogres usually slept through the afternoon anyway, so it was best for us to leave early in the morning.

Besides, the rock could wait. I could not.

“So. Rassawolves.” I crossed my arms as I stopped right in front of Gus in Ben’s living room.

Frank’s old drinking buddy peered up at me, then carefully at Dante. “That’s a name you don’t hear too often,” he said.

“Tell us everything you know about them,” I ordered, and he looked back at me, taking a more comfortable position on the couch.

“He’s one, isn’t he?” he nodded his head towards Dante, his voice mixed with excitement and nervousness.

“I am. You can tell that?” Dante asked, giving Gus a suspicious look.

“You mentioned a beast that’s inside you – don’t need to be a mad scientist to figure it out,” Gus said, sifting his weight and chuckling nervously. “First, I must say I still can’t quite believe you are one.”

“A little bit of adrenalin and I can prove it to you,” Dante said with a dangerous gleam in his eyes – he did not like Gus.

That was probably a problem, but honestly, I didn’t care. I didn’t like Gus either.

“There’s no need for that,” Gus said, again chuckling and moving restlessly. He did not like Dante either, but I had the feeling it was nothing personal.

“Why are you surprised?” I asked to get the conversation moving.

“Well, I was under the impression that his kind,” Gus paused for a moment to adjust his glasses, “are extinct.”

We all stared at him, but I doubted none of us were surprised.

“I haven’t had a patient in twenty years,” Ben mumbled, and Gus gave him a curious look.

“Patient?”

I ground my teeth together all the while Ben briefly told Gus about his work with Dante and the other patients. Gus seemed very interested in Ben’s story, and it made me curious – if he actually had dug up information about Rassawolves, he must’ve found the same article that led us to Ben in the first place.

And turned out I was right.

“I know you!” Gus said, excitedly shaking his finger at the old doctor. “I came across your name years ago! I tried to contact you, but you refused to see me.”

“I… I had already retired… Too many people wanted interviews, but…” Ben smiled timidly. “But enough about me. We need to know everything you know about Dante and his… condition.”

“That’s one hell of a condition, all right,” Gus said, taking a peek at Dante. “But I believe it’s more than a mere condition. I’m actually curious to hear what you know about them – if you could answer a few questions–”

“You go first,” I demanded.

“Sure, what do you want to know?” Gus asked.

“I already told them everything you told me,” Frank spoke in the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge before joining us in the lowest part of the room. “About the symbol and that you found several of them dead, right?”

“Yes,” Gus nodded as we all sat down to listen. “So, you should already know that our mutual friend ran into one and barely escaped to tell the tale?”

“Yes.”

“Good. After he told us about his encounter, I spent months trying to find out more about them, but at first, I didn’t quite believe his story.”

“Neither did I, to be honest,” Frank grunted. “Not until I saw him with my own eyes,” he added, pointing at Dante.

“I never saw one myself,” Gus said, peering at Dante in curiosity. “Never did meet anyone else who had seen one alive either. Except for the good doctor here. I was dying to get a chance to talk with you,” he told Ben.

“I’m afraid I didn’t have much to tell you, which is why we are now asking for your help,” Ben spoke. “I still don’t know much about their condition. All I can give is a bunch of medical terms, but not a single theory.”

“Right,” Gus sighed. “Anyway, no matter how long I spent searching for more information, I found nothing. I kept my eyes and ears open, asked for favors and even paid psychics in hopes of learning more about them, but eventually, I was ready to give up. Thought Gavin had been either too drunk to tell a tree from a man or he was pulling a prank on me – he knew how much I loved stuff like that. I was heartbroken.”

“Then you found out about the dead guys,” Frank said.

“They all had the same symbol Gavin drew for me,” Gus nodded, leaning forward in his excitement. “Cops never linked the murders, but that tattoo was more than enough to convince me that the man Gavin saw had been real.”

“We already knew about all of this,” I told him in annoyance.

“Did you know I found out who killed them?” Gus asked with an expression that told me he already knew the answer.

“We did not,” I said, trying not to let him know I wanted to murder him in his seat.

“It was none other than Donovan Taylor,” Gus said dramatically, and Dante immediately tensed up next to me.

I turned to look at him, but he was looking away from me.

“Donovan Taylor?” Frank repeated. “That’s supposed to ring a bell?”

“He was a famous hunter,” Gus said in disbelief. “You must’ve heard of him!”

“Sorry,” Frank shrugged, and I shook my head.

It didn’t look like Ben or Zane had heard of him either, so Gus let out a frustrated sigh.

“Come on, guys! He was one of the best hunters in the entire world! He was a hero to a lot of humans, saving a lot of lives from–”

“Supernaturals like me,” Dante ended his sentence.

“Well, yes,” Gus said. “He had a family, but his wife was killed by a werewolf. He hated all supernaturals, but he was especially mad at werewolves.”

“Sounds familiar,” Dante spoke with a dark voice. “Did he have a son?”

“I think so yes – never did find out what happened to him…”

Dante nodded, his hands balled into tight fists.

“Dante?” I spoke his name gently, placing my hand on his. “What is it?”

“I know what happened to the son,” he said, looking at me. “He’s the reason I’m in this mess.”

“Killian?” I breathed out.

“Killian Taylor,” Dante spat out the name. “He also hated us with a burning passion, but he hated me the most.”

“You’ve met him?” Gus asked with wide eyes. “How? When?”

“It’s a long story,” Dante said with a voice that told us all he wasn’t going to talk about it now. “So Donovan killed them. How is that going to help us?”

“It confirms that Killian was a part of something, or at least knew about it,” I said, turning to look at Gus. “A secret society?”

Gus nodded. “I believe so. Donovan Taylor was famous not only because of his hunting skills but also because he wrote several books about hunting supernaturals. His family was wealthy and had many friends in high places, and Donovan himself had a nice future ahead of him. But then his wife was killed. After that, it looks like Donovan cut all contacts with them. It took me a lot of digging to find this information, by the way. Taylors were guarding their secrets well.”

While Gus spoke, I kept most of my attention on Dante. He was relaxing little by little, but I was still worried he’d transform again.

“But not well enough,” Gus continued. “Donovan Taylor was briefly considered a suspect in one of the murder cases, but they let him go. When I studied the case years ago, I didn’t know him either, so I paid no attention to him. But that tattoo! That tattoo linked his family to the murders – it was their secret symbol. Taylors used it as a part of their family crest, and it was pure coincidence that I spotted it!”

“How did you spot it then?” Frank asked.

Gus smirked. “Like I said, pure coincidence. I was looking into another case and ran into one of the books Donovan wrote. The book had that same symbol carved on the cover.”

I doubted Gus noticed the way Dante, Ben, Zane and I exchanged wide-eyed looks since he continued talking without taking a break.

“It’s really hard to find any of his books nowadays, and that got me suspicious. He was a famous author, and a lot of hunters used his guides, but finding one is damn near impossible.”

“Are you suggesting that someone is destroying the books?” Frank asked.

“They must be! After Donovan cut ties with his family, he also stopped using the symbol in his covers. Those books are everywhere, but the ones with the symbol have simply vanished. Almost as if his family didn’t want anyone to get their hands on them. Almost as if there are secrets written on those pages,” Gus spoke enthusiastically. “The one I found was about vampires, but I’d love to find his book about werewolves.”

“Uhm…” Ben muttered, looking at me. “We… have it?”

Silence fell in the house. Gus blinked at Ben. Twice.

“You… have it?” he then asked.

“I’m… pretty sure we do,” I said slowly, feeling awfully odd all of a sudden.

“Where is it?” Gus asked at the same exact moment when Roe appeared in front of him, pushing the said book in his face.

“It’s this? Right? Right?!” my master almost yelled – he was getting crazy again.

Gus was way too bewildered by the book that he hardly paid any attention to the mad-eyed demon right in front of him. He grabbed the book and stared at it for a long time before breathing out, “Yes…”

“How do you have it?” Frank asked us. “Where did you get it?”

“I got it from Njizrski,” I said. “From a merchant called Arthyzn.”

“Oh, bad idea,” Roe grimaced at me, then peered at Frank, who had fallen silent.

“Frank?” I spoke his name in a questioning manner. “You know him?”

“Oh, very bad idea,” Roe whispered at me.

Frank let out a grunt and glared at Roe, then at me. “I know him. An old bastard if you ask me…”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Frank turned to look at the book, letting out a deep sigh. “He’s my master.”

I could only stare at him. “I… I thought your master died.”

That’s all I ever heard of Frank’s master. He never spoke about him. The look on his face told me there was a reason why he had pretended his master was dead for all these years. I was dying to know why – warlocks were nothing without our masters.

“It’s a long story, but we haven’t talked in years,” Frank said. “Weren’t we supposed to talk about Dante?”

“I’m getting a headache,” I muttered, turning my attention back to Gus. He was reading the book, looking like he had completely forgotten all about the rest of us. “Gus! What else can you tell us?”

He looked up in excitement. “This really is his book! I’m amazed you had it just lying around!”

“So am I,” I muttered.

“This symbol is exactly the same the dead men had tattooed on their chest,” Gus explained, showing the carving to us. “I don’t know if it’s a cult or a secret society, but Taylors have something to do with it!”

“But you don’t have solid evidence?” I asked in frustration.

“Do we need more evidence?” Dante asked. “Killian told Lena something he shouldn’t have, and he clearly regretted that decision after I was reborn as this monster.”

“There’s a possibility that Killian isn’t Donovan’s son though,” I suggested, but Dante shook his head.

“That would be one hell of a coincidence,” he said, and turned to look at Gus. “What about the Rassawolves? What do you know about… them?”

“Oh… Not much, I’m afraid,” Gus sighed. “That’s the reason I tried contacting you,” he spoke to Ben.

“Tell us everything you know,” I asked as kindly as I could, but I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t disappointed.

“I know there weren’t many of them to begin with. I’m assuming they’re a young race since there’s no mention of them in any lore books, and for all I knew, they went extinct years ago,” Gus spoke.

“And you’re sure it was Donovan who killed them?” Dante asked.

“I have no solid proof, but I know it was him. He was linked to one of the crime scenes, and all those men were murdered the same way: decapitation. No signs of struggle, no witnesses, no evidence – except for that one time when someone spotted him leaving the forest a few miles away from the crime scene.”

“You definitely need a skilled killer to cut my head off,” Dante murmured.

“The murders were so perfect that I doubt it could’ve been someone with lesser skills,” Gus nodded. “He was ranked the best.”

“A race…” Ben sighed, shaking his head. “I thought it was a sickness.”

“I’m not completely ruling that out,” Gus spoke slowly. “They appeared and disappeared in a matter of decades.”

“I was created by human scientists,” Dante spoke quietly. “I was born human, turned into werewolf and then into that monster.”

“Tell me more,” Gus asked, leaning towards him.

After we were done briefing him in, he leaned back and made us wait while he let this new information sink in. I was way too impatient to wait, but finally, he cleared his throat.

“At some point, a thought occurred to me,” he said grimly. “Taylors became well-known scientists a few hundred years ago. Before that, they used to breed dogs. Fighters, hunters and guardians, or in one word, killers.”

There it was again, my sudden urge to throw up.

“A secret society of monster breeders,” Dante muttered and got up from his seat to walk a few steps away from us. “Is that what you mean?” he turned to ask Gus.

“Again, I don’t have solid proof,” he mumbled. “It was just a thought, but now that I know you were turned into one…”

We all fell silent for a moment. I was disgusted, and so were the others. I tried to gather my thoughts, but the thought of those sick bastards using the wolves in such a sick way…

“How do you know their name?” Ben asked when the rest of us couldn’t speak.

“I found this,” Gus said, pulling a folded piece of old paper from his pocket. He opened it and showed it to us.

It was a crude drawing of Dante’s beast form. It was not drawn by someone who had positive feelings towards them. The lines were thick and dark, almost as if the artist had drawn it in anger.

“How did you get this?” I asked, leaning closer to take the paper from him.

“Donovan died several years ago. I was keeping tabs on him even after he retired, and I managed to find out where he lived – he was teaching new hunters. After he passed away I… broke in,” Gus shrugged. “He didn’t have much, but that was taped on his bedroom wall.”

I noticed something written on the back of it, so I turned it around.

“Rassawolf is not my legacy,” I read out loud. “What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure, but this is why I know it was Donovan who killed those men, and why I’m certain he didn’t want to have anything to do with his family anymore. This is why I’m absolutely sure Taylors are behind everything,” Gus said.

I nodded and gave the paper to Ben with a sigh. “But none of this helps us cure Dante.”

“Cure him?” Gus frowned.

“They all die within months after their first transformation,” Ben told him quietly.

“I don’t have much time left,” Dante added. “This condition is getting worse, and eventually, I won’t turn back to human. After that, I die.”

“I… I didn’t know that,” Gus muttered in shock.

I wanted to scream in frustration. We still had nothing. No cure. All we got was a brief version of Taylor’s family history…

“We need to find Killian,” I said. “That’s the only way we’ll get the cure.”

“If there is one,” Dante muttered.

I stood up and stepped in front of him. “There is a cure. We’ll just have to find Killian and force it out of him!”

He watched me closely for a moment and then gave me a crooked smile. “If you say so.”

“I know so,” I told him sternly.

*****

While the rest of us packed everything we could need on our trip to Humble’s Ravine, Dante had to wait upstairs in our room. The day had been long and eventful, and we all were worried that he would turn if he helped us to pack. I felt sorry for him, but we couldn’t take the risk.

Once we were finally done, I climbed upstairs and opened the door to our bedroom as quietly as I could. I thought Dante would be asleep by now, but he was standing by the window, staring out in the dark yard.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I stopped for a moment to admire his physique. He was getting more impressive by each day, and it really was a joy to look at him now.

“You know, this whole thing with the Eavesrock isn’t our mess to take care of,” I spoke as I closed the door and walked to him.

“I made it our mess,” he replied, turning around to look at me.

I smiled at him and placed my hands on his shoulders. “That’s so hot,” I admitted, caressing his skin.

He raised his eyebrow at me. “Is that so?”

His intense stare made me feel hot in my clothes. He was becoming more impressive, all right, and it had only a little to do with his physical health. My smile grew wider, and I tried to give him a kiss, but he moved his head just enough that I missed.

“You made me drink piss,” he said, squinting his eyes.

“It wasn’t technically piss anymore,” I grinned. “And I only used a few drops.”

“It was still piss.”

“I was only doing what was best for you,” I purred.

“You think acting cute will get you away with it?” he asked, placing his hands on my hips.

“Is it working?” I asked.

He let out a low growl, but I guess we were done talking since he suddenly pulled me into a hungry kiss. As we made our way to the bed, never parting our lips and our clothes falling here and there, I was a bit surprised that he was in the mood after everything we had learned that day. Maybe he needed to get his mind off things, and God knew I was more than willing to be the person to help him with that.

A short moment later, I found myself sitting on top of him while he lied on his back, his hands traveling on my body. There was heat in his eyes and a damn-near wicked smile on his lips as he studied my naked body. With a snap of my fingers, I summoned a bottle of lube and a condom. He let out pleased groans while I put the latter on him.

His hands never left my hips as I lowered myself on him and started riding, keeping my pace nice and slow. I wanted him to enjoy my every move, and by the greedy look in his eyes, I knew he truly did enjoy himself. I had never really cared about my partner’s pleasure before. I only cared about Dante’s.

If only I had seen his worth years ago…

After we both got our satisfaction, I leaned in to kiss him. His hands were on my back, caressing me slowly and making me feel especially good. When I broke the kiss and tried to get back up, those hands moved up on my shoulders, preventing me from getting away. I raised my eyebrow at him. He smiled, but his eyes were already traveling down on my arm – on the bandages around it.

His smile faded as he touched the fabric. It was replaced by sadness and regret and self-loathing. I hated that look on his face. I wished those emotions were a physical being that I could fight off. I wished I could kick the sickness out of him.

But I couldn’t.

I smiled gently and pecked his lips, but he didn’t return that smile. Instead, he looked… lost. Lost and scared. I lay down next to him and hugged him tightly as he buried his face against my shoulder. I brushed my hand through his hair and wrapped my limbs around his body, trying to give him all the comfort he needed.

And he desperately needed it that night.