Love Bites (Crescent City Werewolves: The Short Stories)

A Chain of Pearls (Part 3 of 3)

Author's Note: Here's the final part! Although, I may add a short epilogue as its own part.

In the thin, grey hours of dawn, Charles' car brought them back to the castle. To Lili, the party already felt like a dream chased away with the night, all freedom and excitement flattened to a weariness as stale as spoiled champagne. She stared at the fog shrouding the road ahead, so thick that the waves could only be heard while they frothed on either side. Their roar matched the one trapped behind her ribs, vibrating the very flesh and bone of her body. It felt as if something had woken deep within, a restlessness that refused to leave.

Despite the early hour, servants had coffee and cream-filled pastries ready in the breakfast room. Charles seemed in a pleasant enough mood, although he offered nothing beyond the basic pleasantries. Lili didn't fill the silence, suddenly aware of how cold and harsh the air always felt between them, of how they spoke to each other like strangers. Had she ever even laughed in his presence? Had he ever tried coaxing one out of her? The warmth of gold eyes flashed through her mind, and she quickly sipped at her coffee before something—a cry, a shriek—could escape.

As soon as Charles finished breakfast, he left for work, as inflexible in his commitment as a clockwork toy. Lili gave up trying to eat and went to bed, hoping her throbbing headache would go away with enough rest.

Fitful sleep. Vivid dreams. The darkness of shuttered windows thickened into beguiling night, and the glitter of her wedding ring into the sweet, heavy moon. The brush of Nicholas' fingers against her throat melted into the thrill of fur against bare skin while she clung to him and cried, tears rolling down her cheeks as pearls. Silent shadows watched from all around, their glowing eyes as numerous as the stars. Then a great howling started up, Nicholas loudest of all. Making her bones sing, making her teeth ache. Inviting her to howl with them.

The shrill ring of the telephone woke her, and she blinked at the ceiling while wiping the wetness from her face. A servant would answer it, she knew, but the very fact that it rang at all was as chilling an omen as the cry of a carrion bird. The phone was always silent in the day, brought to life only when Charles came home in the evening. It could only mean someone was calling to speak to her.

A knock came at the door. Then a voice drifted through, meek yet clear. "Ma'am? The call is for you. They refused to leave a name."

"It's all right, Hilda. I'll take it in here," said Lili, her gaze already on her husband's bedside table. The telephone waited there, a big, brutish thing gilded with golden swans. Her fingers felt damp against the handset as she picked it up. "Hello?"

"What were you thinking?" hissed out a familiar voice.

"Mother." She tried to sound calm even as her heart flinched. Not this. Not now. She felt too raw to face anything with the composure expected of her.

"Have you checked the morning papers?" The words were cut through with the crackling of a bad connection, but their anger was undeniable. "No? Well, I have, and I've never been so ashamed in my life."

Lili found herself hunching over in bed, one hand braced against the velvet and silk as if each syllable had been a blow. "I don't know what—"

"Don't you dare lie to me, you stupid girl. Being seen with a wolf. Going off with him! After everything we've told you."

Panic itched up from a well deep within her heart, one that had existed as far back as she could remember. The desperate need to do the right thing was as instinctive for her as breathing was for others, and failure was as terrifying as water in the lungs, carrying the threat of suffocating on her own guilt. Nothing hurt as much as her mother's voice.