Werewolf Moon (The Pack Trilogy Book 1) Read Free Page A

eighty kilometers from his home. Apparently a beautiful young Countess was married to the Count of Bathory who was more than twice her age. She had a reputation for enjoying the company of young warriors. Just what Michael aspired to be, coincidently.
    Perhaps the Count would train Michael to be in his personal army. He was big enough; a rare six feet and four inches tall and his dad had trained him in arms as best he could with his limited knowledge and experience. Yes, Castle Bathory held the key to Michael’s future. On his eighteenth birthday, Michael kissed his mom and set off on the long trek.
    Having lived in the woods all of his short life, Michael was unprepared for some the sights en route to the castle. He passed through several villages where he saw people so unbelievably poor that they resembled walking skeletons. How could such things be, when on the other side of the same street men in uniforms carried women in outrageously rich clothing along at a trot? And if the small group ever passed the paupers, mostly there was no reaction whatsoever from the wealthy parties. Occasionally someone would throw part of what they were eating at one of the skeletons, but that was the only interaction Michael noticed.
    Even the dogs looked more healthy than those poor souls.
    As Michael hastily left a village behind for the open road, he was forming opinions that would be with him all of his life—a life that would prove to be a lot longer than he or his family could ever have imagined.
    Finally Michael arrived at Castle Bathory, but felt too filthy to present himself. He needed a bath at the very least. Having passed a stream, he turned around and went back.
    Somewhat cleaner but still in the same worn clothing he’d had for years, Michael passed through the castle gate and was immediately challenged.
    “Name!”
    “Occupation!”
    “Reason for visiting Bathory!”
    Evidently his answers weren’t pleasing, as the gate-keeper held his palm out in the universal ‘stop’ movement: “Denied! Next.”
    Michael dropped his head and moved back to watch how others got through. It was easy enough, he learned: offer enough money and you were in.
    People dressed worse than he was offered coins and were passed through, to Michael’s distress. How was he ever supposed to make his own way if he couldn’t get his foot in the door?
    In despair, he shook his head and dropped it into his large hands.
    “You, there. What’s your name?” A female voice spoke.
    Michael pulled his head upright and there she was: the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Ever even imagined. She had long, pale hair freshly brushed. A long dress with familiar symbols painted down one side. At one time he’d had to memorize those symbols but it had been years ago. He doubted if he could—
    “Read me the first three of these, Michael,” the woman demanded in her light, wealthy sounding voice.
    Michael gulped in absolute panic. Obediently he stared at the top of the line of symbols, and the first one suddenly made sense: it looked like a pair of ears glued together. Hearing. That’s what it meant. The second one, though—try as he might, all Michael saw there were, well, nothing he’d tell a lady about. Not that he was right! He had no recollection of Dad ever teaching him about a symbol that meant THAT. The third one was once again obvious. A fist held in the air: off to war.
    Great. He had one and three but the second one eluded him. Before he could lose his courage, he blurted that out to the woman. To his surprise, she demanded to know what he thought that second symbol meant.
    “Nothing I’d ever tell a, uh, lady,” the young man stammered.
    The blonde woman slowly grinned. “Whoever said I was a lady? Go on, give it a guess.”
    Michael felt an incredible heat rising in his cheeks as he stared at that second symbol in sheer desperation.
    “Not a penis,” he mumbled as he tried to focus harder. “Not a damn penis. NOT a