Howling Thunder Book 2 Prologue

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Bad Kitty

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I, Darya, born of an old as dirt noble house in the Black City Moskva, am currently in the single most uncomfortable, black dress of my entire life.

The over skirt drags on the floor, constantly getting caught on the furniture. The corset is determined to break my ribs. The bust is taking advantage of my short, dark hair to make a show of my flat chest.

Lest I forget the sea of pointless frills, I feel like the centerpiece of a gypsy circus. Also the waist is squeezing my ass like being trapped in tight sheets. Not that my usual outfit was less form fitting but at least it was comfortable and tasteful.

I suppose this punishment is still not as bad as the rat box I was being kept in a year ago.

Casting my gaze across the room I try not to give too much thought to the ridiculous amount of gaudy black and red decor. These depressing, black stone walls have kept me prisoner for far too long.

To the perpetrator of my internment as snack food, I query, “What would it take for me to be permitted use of my own clothes?”

At least give me my hat back.

The gentleman seated on the posh, red lounge chair calmly strokes back his white hair and picks a bit of lint from the collar of his slim black suit.

He leans back, crosses his slender legs and looks at me over his glass of red liquid, freshly poured from the now bandaged cut along my wrist.

“If I permitted you any more freedom, what kind of punishment would that be for your infatuation with killing the other servants? Charming as you are, I do not fancy spending all my time in your sole company.”

I sigh into the slow burning, ancient stone fireplace, “Surely you are not pouting over the loss of cretins weak enough to be slaughtered by their own food?”

The man sips the glass, licking his lips afterward like a wild predator, “Of course not, it only proves the caliber of myself in relation to the pedigree of my personal snack.”

Raising a hand to my cheek in mock embarrassment, “Oh dear me, you flatter me so.”

With a raised eyebrow, he grins; those wicked fangs catch the light of the fire, “Sarcasm is a decent strategy towards making me kill you. It would be a rather boring and dramatic form of departure from your captivity however.”

A small laugh escapes my lips as I stroke my own black tail out of nervous habit, “I’m rather fond of living actually.”

The old baron stands with a stretch, “Yet you do not seem to have the slightest hesitation over using your own life blood to dispatch anyone you deem irksome. I believe that was the reason those ruffians sold you to me, revenge for their comrade whom you killed by removing both of his eyes.”

I cross my arms and declare, “The filthy human tried to fondle my ass, removal of his lustful eyes was fitting.”

He laughs, a deep menacing chuckle, “I do enjoy seeing how sharp your ears point up when you are angry Miss Kittin. While it’s slightly annoying to gather new servants, you may be worth the trouble.”

Faced with the thought of being a permanent fixture at this monsters side, for the first time, I wish for one of those impossible white knights that always show up in children's stories.

As the ancient evil walks towards the door, “I am expecting some rather troublesome guests within the coming month. Perhaps they’ll also find you entertaining when the time comes.”

Following him out of the room while careful not to get this stupid dress caught on anything, “What kind of guests would you consider troublesome?”

Despite the stone floor, his boots fail to make a sound as he walks, “A pair of warg puppies, while killing them would be simple, I would be at a rather severe disadvantage to their enraged father.”

I carefully think back on my schooling, “Shouldn’t all the wargs have been wiped out at the end of the Great War?”

The monster stops to look back at me, his brow raised in curiosity, “If that is what children learn these days then the elders in Yoden have done a marvelous job of changing history.”

Yoden?

He resumes walking and explains, “My pet, wargs are very much alive and doing quite well for themselves. The one in question is in fact the lord of this very land, the Fenrir.”

We enter the dining room, He goes on while taking a seat, “He is a dangerous opponent thanks to his rather masterful control over metal, silver included. As I understand it, his first born son whom we’ll be meeting takes after his father rather strongly in this aspect.”

A servant brings in a cart. She hands her master a fresh glass and a plate of raw meat. To me she hands a plate of roasted quail and sneers as she moves away. Healthy food makes for better blood I suppose.

Noticing the likely intentional lack of silverware, “I’m afraid you may be minus another servant quite soon.”

He keenly observes the source of my annoyance and passes me the bottle of blood.

“Such a gentleman as always,” I pour a trickle of blood out that hardens into a crystalline red fork, “So what motivation do these puppies with a troublesome father have for visiting your secluded abode.”

He frowns as he accepts the bottle back from me and pours his glass, “The local ruffians have been over farming travelers to sell to me and my servants seem over eager to accept.”

The quail is slightly undercooked, I’ll add the chef to my list, “So they’ll be arriving expecting to deal with the issue, they may even possibly attempt to dispatch you.”

The monster smiles once more, “While it could be entertaining, there is the most infinitesimally small possibility of them succeeding. Having lived this long already I feel disinclined to death. I’ll strike up a deal and send them on their way.”

I put down my fork, “I might guess you intend to involve me in this deal?”

With a sip of his glass I see him scowl and glance almost longingly at my bandaged arm, “That is up to you, the real deal shall be between us. If you agree to send me a bottle of your delicious blood monthly, I’ll use you to make them leave.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, “You’re confident they’ll be persuaded so easily?”

“They’ll accomplish their goal and rescue a damsel in distress without even needing to fight. Meanwhile I both keep my favorite snack and avoid the Fenrir's bad side.”

He looks at the label on the bottle again. All things considered he seems to be accepting the worse end of this deal.

Let him be depressed, “Sounds fine to me, I’ll play my part...By the way, who was that woman who left in such a huff this morning?”

With a short sigh he rolls his eyes, “Just an old hag with misplaced ambitions and poor manners.”

“Is that so?” I have to raise an eyebrow, she didn’t look much older than myself really. Not really my business though I suppose.

A sharp pain lances through my mouth as I bite onto a shard of bone. Looking at my meal I now notice several small cracks along many of small bird bones. Did the fool in the kitchen slam this against a wall before cooking it?!

I gently wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth and stand from the table, “If you’ll excuse me master, I require a few words with the chef.”

Annoyance, clear in his voice, “I only have one chef, Miss Kittin.”

Despite his warning, “You can cook food with one eye.”

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Gone Fishing

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Just a quiet, simple, half-dragon girl enjoying her book on the docks of the city harbor.

Right as I’m reaching the climax of my book a small shock to my left wing makes me jump a little.

A little voice behind me pouts, “Mowa!”

Closing the last entry in a series of books Lord Nox bought for me I look back at the bundle of trouble now pulling on my grey scaled tail.

The sun is shining, the cool river waters gently rock against my feet over the side of the dock. Dark blue fur with golden tips ruffles with the breeze on this tiny Lycan Clan girl beside me.

She should be nearly six months old now, born not long after the pink feathered harpy girl hanging onto her back.

I chuckle as the poor blue pup is pulled down into another wrestling match of fur and feathers. Eventually they both get tangled up in the ropes that harness them to my waist, Lord Nox’s idea.

He seemed to be too worried to bring them along unless he was absolutely sure they couldn’t fall in the water. A rare, sweet side to the sinister looking young lord that the public will never know of.

The man himself is only a stone's throw away on a small fishing boat he overpaid for. Of Course he doesn’t care, he just told the previous owner to keep it in good condition and that’s the only work he’ll have to do for the rest of his life. Surely the words would have carried more weight if the Otterfolk fishermen didn’t look only a few years away from his grave.

On the boat is Lords Nox, Fenrir, Raijin, and Lady Akane. Ulfa should be helping me watch the two toddlers on the dock but I’m fairly sure she’s fallen asleep like she does every time.

“Mowa!” cries the harpy princess.

Glancing back, the poor thing is being sat on by wolf pup girl, eyes full of tears and looking my way.

Separating them, “Tesla, Iris, you two play nice please...please.”

I try to sound stern but honestly this is so far outside of my ability. Training in the Bastion never involved care for small children.

Tesla goes and kicks over the bait box that our noble fishermen seem to forgotten here on the dock. Her and the harpy girl’s names were supposedly chosen before birth according to the Inari. The miniature wolf girl pokes the worms and cooks them with small blue sparks.

Hurriedly pulling it away I mutter over to Miss Ulfa, “Tell me again why we’re here almost weekly these last couple months?”

It’s beyond me, they spend half the afternoon on a small boat, barely off the dock. They’ve yet to catch anything to date, and they sure don’t seem likely too without the bait.

Ulfa rolls over and yawns, “Call it family time if you like. Be happy, this is probably the last occasion for some time. The pup Walther ends his training here in the city tomorrow, I believe he will be dispatched south and Nox will be accompanying him part of the way.”

The woman always seems to have ears for such events before they reach Lord Nox or myself.

But this brings a different set of problems, “Do you think this pup will be alright? My Lord Nox has been rather vocal about his frustrations over Miss Patra’s...inattentiveness.”

She glances back at the blue sparkler, “I’ll be remaining here for that reason, and I’m sure the Raijin will be more than happy to help. The Anubi lass never had aspirations towards motherhood, you saw her fury when she found out she was with child and her relief when it was decided she didn’t have to go back to the den...You should grab the pup Mora.”

“What?”

I turn my head just in time to see little Tesla grab my spear left lying nearby. Blue energy pulses up the haft and arcs out, hitting the side of the fishing boat causing it to spin.

The poor girl immediately sways and faints from magic overuse, harmless really in this case.

Laughter reaches over here from the boat as the Raijin chides, “Look there black pup, your daughter has better sparks then you!”

Lord Nox growls, “Whatever old joker! Mora, what are you doing?!”

I give a slight bow and pick up the exhausted girl. I know Lord Nox has no ill will, he has been a bit on edge as of late. Miss Lupa finally left for the den last month so it he has been on constant father duty, an oddity in their culture.

Ulfa pokes me with her foot, “You’re getting better at not flairing your temper just being near the spear, good work.”

Honestly I hadn’t even noticed, just a few months ago I accidently attacked a pick pocket. Progress towards attuning the weapon has been frustratingly slow. An entire year since I received it and I can only now have it out without the nagging urge to fight everyone in sight.

A gruff voice shouts, “I got a bite!”

Lord Fenrir begins pulling his line rapidly.

Lord Nox doesn’t even look over as his father presents a chunk of ice crudely formed in the shape of a fish.

Miss Akane promptly sends a small burst of flames to melt it away whilst the Raijin gives his usual loud chuckling. The flaming girl plops down back beside her brother in a huff.

Even I admit she seems slightly odd with the little time I’ve spent in her company. As brutal as she is intelligent, normally such traits should oppose each other let alone be found in the same person. And yet the Inari insists on grooming the girl constantly towards leadership.

The harpy girl unsteadily walks over and pokes her playmate in my arms. Even this little girl is an oddity in that her wings are separate from her arms. Attached at the back like my own, unheard of for her race.

“This family…”

Ulfa finishes for me, “is filled completely with unique rarities?”

That is one way to put it.

A mischievous giggle escapes the worgess, “I can’t wait to see what adorable pup comes from that bear girl. Maug told me, the warrior lass made the silver pup swear on his honor to obey any request should she beat him in a duel. Poor Walty doesn’t even know she’s pregnant yet.”

“Oi! Is that true?!” Yells the Fenrir from the boat.

All four are looking this way, Ulfa just shrugs, “Secrets don’t last long in this city.”

Lord Raijin chuckles again, “I’d like to see Walt explain that to his grandmother with just grunts and a few head nods.”

Lady Akane glares at Lord Nox as if expecting him to admit a similar event.

He gives a single laugh and conjures a bit of fog to push the small boat back against the docks.

“As if I’d ‘swear on my honor,’ that’s like asking the gods to jinx me on the spot. Alright, all ashore, Admiral Nox’s Royal Navy has arrived in port.”

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