Клаудия Грэй – Fateful (страница 12)

I almost want to laugh. “Are you really going to pretend I don’t know?”

Alec turns his head toward the corner; his firm jaw clenches, as he struggles against some deeper emotion: shame, I realize. He’s ashamed to be seen as what he is.

“Most people . . . prefer to forget, instead of admit what they’ve seen,” he says roughly. His voice sounds terrible—as though he had been screaming for hours. I remember how he growled and snarled. “You should go.”

“I can’t.”

“Because you want to stare at the monster?” Alec’s green eyes blaze, but with a wholly human fire now. “Or because you pity me?” I couldn’t guess which possibility he loathes more.

I fold my arms. “I can’t leave because the door’s locked. Believe me, I would’ve gone hours ago if I could have.”

“Oh. Of course.” Then he looks so abashed—so boyish, and so handsome—that I almost want to laugh.

But the strangeness of the situation keeps me quiet. I am still frightened of Alec, knowing what he truly is. And yet this morning he is weary, bruised, naked, and exposed on the floor of the Turkish bath. Vulnerable.

If I want answers, I had better get them now.

“You’re a—” I hesitate on the word, one I’ve heard only in stories to frighten the gullible. “A werewolf.”

Alec lifts his head to face me. His chestnut curls glint slightly red in the dawn light. “Yes.”

“And Mikhail, too.”

He grimaces with pure dislike. “Yes. Older. Stronger. More powerful.”

“Did he . . . do this to you?” I wouldn’t put it past Mikhail to do something so wicked. “Or were you born a werewolf?”

Taking a deep breath, Alec pushes himself up to a fully seated position, then struggles into the robe as I avert my eyes. Only now, as he puts something on, do I remember that I’m still in my underclothes, which are made of flimsy linen. Should’ve gotten myself a robe while I was at it, but now I simply draw my knees toward my chest, for a little modesty.

Once the robe is on, Alec slowly rises to his feet. Movement still seems to hurt him, and he sways as he straightens for the first time. Before I can rise to help, though, Alec steadies himself.

He looks down at me. “I’ve never told anyone this. Anyone besides my father, I mean.”

Mr. Marlowe knows? I wouldn’t have expected that. But how would I have expected any of this?

“I became a werewolf two years ago,” Alec says. “My father and I were on a hunting trip in Wisconsin.”

I’ve never heard of this “Wisconsin,” which is apparently a dangerous place. So I imagine it like the great woods near Moorcliffe, where the Viscount sometimes goes to shoot—ancient trees that stretch up toward the sky, their leaves so thick that they almost blot out the sun. The ground covered with clouds of ferns and carpets of moss. A profound silence broken only by the flapping of birds’ wings.

A bitter, rueful smile plays on Alec’s face. “It was just after sunset. My father had told me earlier to come in for dinner, but I hadn’t shot anything all day. I refused. I was going to prove what a great hunter I really was. But there was a better hunter in the forest, waiting.”

“Mikhail?”

“Another. I’ll never even know his name, or what he looks like as a human, unless he someday chooses to reveal himself.” Alec’s tone makes it clear that this would be extremely unwise for the werewolf to do; he wants revenge so badly that I can feel it in the room with us, as tangible as the walls. “I didn’t understand what had happened to me at first. I thought I’d simply been bitten by a wolf. But immediately I became sick—so sick—God, the fevers. I remember tossing and turning in bed, thinking that I knew what meat must feel like when people cook it on a spit.”

I’ve been sick like that—well, not exactly like that, but I know what he means.

“Then the full moon came,” Alec says. “And for the first time, I changed into the wolf. Luckily, I was in our stables at the time, and only my father was with me. He was able to shut me in alone. Of course, we lost all our horses.”

Meaning, he killed them.

He sounds so disgusted with himself that I feel more sympathy than horror. But there’s one thing that’s confusing me: Something from the old wives’ tales, and from what he’s just said, that doesn’t add up. “I’m sure last night wasn’t a full moon.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t. The full moon is important to our kind—that’s when the curse finally awakens in us. When our powers are at the zenith. And it’s the one night we can never escape from; no matter what, on the night of the full moon, we have to change into wolves.”

“The rest of the time, you can choose? You chose to change and attack me last night?” The fear shivers inside me again, and I wonder how long it can be before the morning staff finally arrives. Alec is still weary, but I can see him growing stronger by the second. Restoring himself.

“No. God, Tess, no. I don’t have any control over when I change. I have to transform into a wolf every night, dusk to dawn—no matter where I am. That’s why I always try to be alone, someplace safe. But Mikhail must have found me. He had other plans.” He rubs a hand across his temple, as though his head hurts. “For both of us.”

I think back to the night before, to the casual way Mikhail tossed aside his clothes before he transformed into a wolf, and how he changed back long before the sun rose. “You mean—Mikhail can choose whether or not to change.”

“He has that power. Because he’s been initiated into the Brotherhood.”

My Lord, the hate in his voice as he says it. It frightens me, even though I know the hatred is directed at the Brotherhood and not at me. That kind of hate is terrifying no matter where it’s aimed. I shrink down, hugging my knees closer.

Alec doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring out the porthole at the early morning light. “The Brotherhood is the dominant group of werewolves. The ruling pack. There are other groups—smaller, weaker, hunted by the Brotherhood. And there must be lone wolves hiding out, the way I did at first. But the Brotherhood will stop at nothing short of absolute power. They control henchmen in the streets. They control members of Parliament and Congress. There’s no one too low for them to notice or too high for them to command. Sometimes I think they might have targeted me—sent the werewolf that attacked me, the better to bring Dad’s money and influence under their control.” He shakes his head tiredly. “My father thought he was helping me, taking me to Europe. We wondered if there might be . . . men of learning there. People who understood what was happening to me and could make it stop. We meant to search for them, no matter how long it took. Instead we found Mikhail and the Brotherhood waiting for us.”

“Why do they want to kill you? Why do they hunt other werewolves?”

“They only hunt the ones they don’t want to join the Brotherhood,” he says. “But they want to initiate me. That’s why Mikhail’s on the Titanic. To force me to join them.”

Alec says it as though there could be no worse fate. I don’t understand. The Brotherhood sounds scary to me, but if Alec is a werewolf, like them, why wouldn’t he want to be one of the “ruling pack”? It makes no sense. “If that would give you the power to . . . change, or not change, as you wanted—then why don’t you join them?”

“Because they’re monsters.” Alec glances over his shoulder at me; one corner of his mouth lifts in an unwilling smile. “But you think I’m a monster too, don’t you?”

“Tell me the difference.” As long as I’m trapped on the same ship with both Alec and Mikhail, I need to know.

“The Brotherhood kill people, to eat, or just for fun. They terrify and torment them for their amusement—especially women. And if a woman becomes a werewolf, the Brotherhood never considers recruitment. Just murder. They claim female werewolves would ‘weaken the pack.’ It’s not as though I could undergo the initiation and then do as I pleased, either. The older members can exert power over the others, once they’re initiated—perhaps even control their minds. I’m not sure. I don’t intend to find out.”

Alec, at least, is not a random killer. I still don’t trust him, but I now feel brave enough to rise to my feet.

No longer am I looking up at him as a little huddled wretch on the floor. I realize that I am one of the only people in the world who knows his secret, and that gives me power. Not much power, perhaps, and the knowledge is more trouble than it’s worth—but if I have a hunter after me, I have to take what strength I can.

“When I first saw the two of you,” I say, “near the grand staircase, yesterday morning—that was when you first realized Mikhail had followed you onboard, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Alec leans against the wall, still tired, though I think this is now more emotional than physical. “My father and I booked passage at the last moment. Yet somehow they knew. The Brotherhood has spies everywhere.”

So, they aren’t working together. But maybe Alec at least knows this: “Why did Mikhail come after me? What’s in the box I was carrying, the one he wanted so badly?”

Alec sighs. “I don’t know, though I’ve been wondering. The man is hugely wealthy, so he wouldn’t bother stealing if it were merely a matter of money. There’s something special inside that box. Something unique. Something Mikhail can’t get any other way.” His green eyes search my face. “You didn’t look inside?”