Grayson's Veil
Chapter 40

The moon was beautiful.

So bright, large, and round.

It provided an intense amount of light for the lurid scene that was unfolding in front of Grayson.

Perhaps if the moon was not so bright, it would not have been so bad.

But there was so much light.

Too much…

Grayson watched as everything seem to happen in slow motion.

His group was taken down. The people they were following had turned on them, attacking their horses and grabbing hold of everyone.

One of them was extremely quick, grabbing his sword before Grayson could draw it out.

He was impressed at the speed and strength, making him silently wish he had those types of soldiers in his battalion.

Grayson inhaled deeply, only to end up coughing from the smell of blood drenched dogs.

The scent made his jaw click with anxious energy.

His brain was trying to understand where such a smell could be coming from but could not, causing the rise of his frustration to blend in with the anxiety.

So, he attempted to reach out to his demon, but silence was his only answer. He was on his own.

And Avice was nowhere to be found.

He could not feel her through their blood link, which meant she was either poisoned like he had been with Uphir or she had abandoned him and was too far away.

Either possibility made him glower, whether the actual reason was her fault or not.

A wolf howling and the loud drum beats brought Grayson out of his thoughts.

He watched as the other people formed a circle around his group and the people holding them. After a moment of everyone simply staring up at the moon, they began to take off their clothes.

Grayson eyed them. There were fifty in total, including the three detaining them and the odd fellow that was covered in mud beating the drum.

As the man with the drum continued in a rhythmic chorale, Grayson wondered how he was able to withstand the cold. The mud would surely make him colder, and it did not appear the man was wearing anything else underneath.

Maybe that was part of this ritual Grayson stumbled upon. Not that he cared, just intrigued, and a welcome distraction from the promise of being some sort of tool in their gathering.

The group lifted their heads up to the sky and howled in unison.

The sounds caused Grayson to sneer.

Annoyance creeped up his spin, these people acting like fucking animals only made him want to slash their fucking throats.

The crunch of bone and a cry of pain made Grayson turn his head.

For a moment, he thought Avice had come back to help and was shifting to an appropriate animal.

But the cries increased, and by many different voices.

Bones were breaking and realigning. Skin was sloughing off their bodies, exposing extra sensitive skin that was replaced by rapidly growing hair.

The drum beat picked up ever so slightly.

One person in particular watched Grayson as they changed. She held his eye as she screamed in agony, and another emotion he could not decipher.

She shivered as her old skin fell to the ground, her new skin red and tender. A moan escaped her lips when her fur started to grow.

She dipped a hand between her legs while her bones rearranged themselves.

Grayson continued to watch, feeling aroused and intrigued by the transformation.

The woman opened her mouth to let her new flat tongue out, panting as she continued to change and pleasure herself.

Another loud crack sent her to her knees. Drool dripped down her chin while her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her face began to extend into a long snout with pointy sharp teeth and a puppy-like nose.

She howled as she seemed to climax and fully transform into an abnormally large wolf.

When she finished, two other wolves pounced on her. She panted more as one of them mounted her and the other licked her juices from underneath.

Grayson still watched, never batting an eye at the scene.

She growled but still eyed him while getting rutted by the wolf on top. Then she opened her mouth wide.

Wider, wider, wider it went until her jaw unhinged, the skin around her mouth split and a round object covered in saliva and blood emerged with difficulty.

The object went past the teeth, then stopped. It tilted up.

Grayson’s eyes widened in shock.

It was the woman’s face. Her hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows were missing. She was completely bare.

Grayson and the woman stared at each other, his eyes never leaving her human face, even with the sounds of fur skin slapping against fur skin, her body moving forward then back as the male wolf continued to pound into her.

She smiled, pleased by his reaction.

With a satisfied moan mixed with pain and pleasure, she retreated her head back into her wolf mouth. The jaw reset, skin sewn together, then went back to panting and growling as she got mounted by another.

Grayson finally turned away; his pants tented while his mind disagreed. The atmosphere was heavy with lust, making it harder for his mind to differentiate what he knew he wanted and what was convenient. He’d rather be turned on by Eleanor than the fucked up orgy that was taking place.

“Welcome, to our full moon Lycan ritual,” the man subduing him whispered while pressing his body against Grayson’s and nipping at his ear.

Grayson tried to move away, but the man only squeezed his arms and pressed against him harder.

“What the fuck is a Lycan?” Grayson rasped out.

The man chuckled darkly, not bothering to answer.

The man was right, though. It was a fucked up ritual.

At every eye shift he saw wolves mounting wolves, wolves fighting wolves. There were even a few humans who had not turned dancing naked in the bitter cold under the moonlight. Panting, howling, growling, nipping, biting, laughing…

It was overwhelming.

The air around them became permeated with the smell of sexual juices, dog fur, and blood.

Phoebe gagged. Several times.

Noel laughed loudly before shifting into a naked woman, sticking her ass out to the wolves around her.

A few leaped at the opportunity, the man holding her had to release her and dodge out of the way so as to not get attacked.

Grayson rolled his eyes, not really bothered by Noel’s actions.

‘The succubus can take care of itself.’

He looked over at Phoebe.

She was shaking. The man holding her was barely paying any attention to her fear. Instead, he was parading her around, allowing the male wolves to get a good sniff of her.

Grayson’s eyes widened in realization.

She smelled of sex.

From Noel.

’That dumb fucking nymphomaniac,’ Grayson thought as he tried taking a step forward. The man holding his arms tugged him back, causing Grayson to stumble on the uneven ground.

A few of the wolves sniffed near Phoebe’s dress. They nipped their teeth at the fraying edges, causing a yip to leave her throat.

“Now now my fellow Lycans. Let’s pull back and give the woman some breathing room.”

A man with black double-breasted coat, a black waist coat, and black trousers walked through the blood and sex filled atmosphere. Even with the winds and small specks of snowfall, followed by a treacherous thunder, the man appeared calm and unbothered.

The drum stopped mid beat and many of the wolves stopped their endeavors, watching the newcomer with such an intensity that Grayson wondered if this man was in charge of them.

The man walked right up to Phoebe. Her breathing was ragged and her body was breaking out in convulsions due to the cold and fear gripping her. He brought a hand to her cheek, cupping it almost lovingly.

“Do not fear, my dear, I just need to ask you and your companions a few questions.”

Phoebe whimpered in response, her eyes slowly starting to glaze over as she began to drift from her body.

Her hail Mary in surviving.

The man simply patted her cheek, then turned to Grayson.

“Sir Grayson. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” The man stepped one foot back and bowed over his other outstretched leg. He kept one arm in front of his body while the other was out to the side.

Grayson recognized the bow. It was given to the servants who served high royalty.

This small detail peaked his interest.

“I am not a sir. Who the fuck are you?”

The man righted himself, his back impossibly straight, making Grayson think there was a stick up his ass.

“My name is Richard; footman to Master Eilif.” He tilted his chin up higher as if he was insanely proud to serve such a lord.

Grayson could not help the snort that resounded in the air.

“So you’re the asshole’s servant.” A dark look crossed over his features and his voice lowered as he demanded, “Where is Eleanor?”

The footman ignored his question. “I am also a part of this pack. As you can see,” he gestured around him, all the wolves and few humans still watching Richard with increasing fervor, “They follow what I say and do. Do not be difficult, sir Grayson, and your flock will remain unharmed.”

Grayson narrowed his eyes. ‘He just called us sheep. Vulnerable sheep in the presence of hungry, depraved wolves.’

Realization hit Grayson as one of the words he said finally registered.

‘Part of the pack. He is a Lycan too?’

Grayson studied him under a new light. The man was incredibly tall and sinewy, though you could not tell by the clothes he wore. He had an air of unnatural power around him, making Grayson believe what he was saying.

Grayson thought over his words.

“What is it you want?”

The corner of Richard’s lip tilted up in a smug, half-smile. Just as quick as it came, the smile disappeared and he was back to his strict, servant self.

“My master and his equals are curious about the path of destruction that seems to be coming from you. What is your end goal?”

Grayson stared at the man.

“You must have me confused with your Master. He is causing destruction, not I.” Grayson grit his teeth in annoyance. “And my goal is to get my wife back.”

Richard turned his back to ambulate, waving a hand in the air, “Do not concern yourself with Miss Eleanor, she is safe with my Master.”

Grayson stiffened at Richard’s use of Eleanor’s name. He spoke it like she was another he served.

“She is my concern, she’s my goddamn wife,” he ground out, anger building in his chest.

Richard turned his head, eyeing him warily. “Like I said, Sir Grayson, she is safe.”

A growl crawled up Grayson’s throat, causing everyone to stiffen in response. All except Richard.

Richard sighed loudly, obviously irritated by the lack of cooperation.

“Let’s ask your companion,” Richard mumbled as he walked over to Phoebe.

He stood in front of her, looking directly at her nebulous eyes.

He gently took her chin and moved her face back and forth. Studying her this way and that.

Richard looked at the man holding her.

“She’s of no use. Her mind is gone.” Richard turned to Grayson, “most likely could not handle all the unsettling things happening around her.”

“…What?”

Richard inhaled deeply. “Do you not smell that? She pissed herself. Her terror overcame her desire to live.”

As if those words were what Grayson needed to hear, the smell of her urine invaded his nostrils. He sneezed at the sudden assault.

Looking back at Phoebe, he saw her slump form, her dead eyes. Her ability to fight was gone. She was gone.

Grayson shook his head.

Phoebe was Eleanor’s friend. They grew up together. They helped each other.

Grayson did not want to be the reason she was mentally gone.

“Leave her be,” Grayson choked out, a small amount of need lacing his voice, “Eleanor would never forgive you if you hurt her friend.”

Richard snapped his eyes back to Phoebe. “We’ll leave her be… for now.” Nodding at the man, he snaked his arm around Phoebe until his hand was on her neck.

Grayson sagged a little, his shoulders uncomfortably taking on some of the weight of his body.

Ignoring Noel, who appeared to be taming a few of the Lycans, Richard turned to Grayson again.

“Cooperate, and your friend will live another day.”

Grayson clenched his jaw, but nodded stiffly.

The footman folded his arms behind his back and cleared his throat. “Why is there a path of destruction following you?”

A twitch in Grayson’s cheek gave the footman pause.

“Do you know of the destruction? Of the church?”

Grayson said nothing.

“What about the witch’s home?”

This made Grayson’s eyes shift to the woods, subtly looking for Avice. “What?”

The footman raised a perfectly combed eyebrow. “The witch’s home? Did you not have a small tiff there with a few of our ghouls?”

Grayson straightened, his eyes dancing with malevolence. “You sent those ghouls?”

“My master did. Ghouls are one of his specialties, and he will not hesitate to make you one if you do not cooperate.”

Grayson’s jaw clenched harder. “What happened to Alice’s home?” He asked, ignoring the threat.

The footman shook his head slightly, mildly entertained by Grayson’s stubbornness.

“It was dismantled. Once she was dead there really was no need of a witch’s house hidden in the forest anymore. We took what was valuable then tore it down, one log at a time.” The footman spoke matter-of-factly, like he did this sort of thing all the time.

“You killed Alice, didn’t you?”

Silence followed the accusation. The Lycans watched the footman, waiting for the command to tear into Grayson, Phoebe, and Noel.

“Yes. I was instructed to, so I shot her.” He calmly replied.

Grayson launched forward, his eyes filled with anger and the need for revenge.

The man holding his arms tugged back, effectively popping both Grayson’s shoulders out of place.

With a slight grunt, Grayson continued to push forward.

‘He has to pay. Alice was important to Ellie; I cannot let him go unpunished!’

Drool began to drip down Grayson’s chin, his teeth grinding together as he fought against the pain in his shoulders.

Ripping into the cold earth with his feet, he began dragging the man with him. His leg muscles bulged and strained against the extra weight.

Grayson panted, but continued. The footman was in front of him, just a little further.

Richard did not look concerned.

However, he looked at the man that had a claw on Phoebe’s throat and nodded.

The claws dug into her flesh deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

Trickles of blood began to flow out, making it look like the fingers were bleeding.

But it was Phoebe’s neck. The blood was hers.

In one swift motion, Phoebe’s trachea was ripped out.

“NOOO!” Grayson yelled, thrashing and pulling on his arms that were still held.

She was bleeding profusely. Phoebe’s eyes went wide as her mind snapped awake. Her hand instantly flew to her neck, making pathetic attempts at trying to hold her blood, muscle and skin back together.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only a gurgling sound managed to escape.

Phoebe fell to her knees. Tears mixed in with the blood as waves of shock took over.

Grayson was finally let go, sending him tumbling toward Phoebe. As he fell, one of his shoulders managed to pop back into place. He breathed out a pain filled breath before reaching for Phoebe.

He grabbed one of her shoulders by his good arm to try to get her to look at him.

“I’ve got you,” He choked out as he watched the remaining muscles in her neck twitch and contract. The more she tried to speak the more blood pumped out. Skin dangled off the area like shreds of fabric, making him panic slightly at his own thoughts of trying to sew her back together.

There was nothing he could say or do to save her. So, instead of trying to give her a false sense of hope at saving her, he decided to give her comfort.

Grayson cradled her, putting her head under his chin and wrapping his arm around her.

She let go of her neck to grip his shirt, blood pouring out onto the two of them.

He began to rock her back and forth, tightening his hold as he felt her go from shivering to convulsing.

Grayson closed his eyes, continuing to rock the woman who soon slowly stilled.

With her last bit of strength, Phoebe turned into Grayson’s chest and nuzzled.

Grayson’s adams apple bobbed up and down at the action, trying to swallow the sorrow that was about to burst out.

That was her last childish act.

The woman’s hands fell from their clutches into her lap.

Grayson tightened his arm around her and stared off into the cloud covered sky. Its thunder a sad melody of a girl who never had a chance.

The dress on her rose above the ankles, showing off how pale and ashy her skin had turned.

Her blood now came to a trickle.

The smell was intoxicating, but the memories of who this woman was was drilled into his mind.

Richard raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The Lycans all gathered around, nipping and snapping at Phoebe’s dead body.

“Get away!” Grayson yelled, trying to keep an eye on all of them.

But there were too many.

“I warned you, Grayson.” Richard spoke, snapping his fingers in finality.

Several Lycans jumped out and bit onto Phoebe’s legs.

Grayson held on the best he could with his good arm. They played tug of war with the body, the Lycans puppy instincts kicked in and began to shake their heads violently while hopping up and down.

But before he could protest again, the pummel of his sword met the back of his head.

Black fuzz lined the edges of his vision. He swayed before falling onto his bad shoulder.

The snow and grass nearly covered his entire sight. New snow started to fall, beginning to cover his limp body.

Through his darkening sight and white flurries, Grayson watched with utter hopelessness as Phoebe’s body was torn to pieces.