A touch of guilt ran through Demetri as he silently mourned the loss of life. He had to do something about Elron. This couldn’t go on. Not only was he a threat to the humans, but the beast also tempted fate. Sooner or later Demetri and his men wouldn’t be able to cover up what Elron had done, and their kind would be discovered.
“Have my meetings for today rescheduled, Wulf.” Demetri moved from his desk and strode toward the study door. “I have to consult with my father.”
I would rather chew nails, but I have to see if the old man will finally listen to reason.
Demetri headed to the library and pulled one of the books from the shelf. He reached in and pulled the lever on the back wall, watching as the shelf slid aside. After replacing the book, Demetri descended down the concrete steps until he reached a wooden door ornately carved with incantations. He spoke a few words in his native tongue and then opened the door to step through the veil between the human world and where Demetri had been raised. Thick trees and lush undergrowth surrounded Demetri. The sun was shining brightly through the canopy of trees, and he heard the sounds of the forest all around him. Birds were singing, and small animals were scurrying as a light breeze kissed his face.
Demetri walked the dirt path that led to Frost Castle. Tiny fairies flitted past him, shouting “King Frost!” as they zoomed by, flapping their colorful wings as they laughed merrily. A centaur moved through the trees, standing strong and proud before bowing his head. Demetri did the same before moving on.
The stone block walls of the towers loomed in sight, the Frost banners of navy blue and gold flapping in the wind. Demetri’s chest tightened at the sight. He used to love coming here, but as the centuries wore on and his father’s madness took hold, he felt only dread and sorrow when coming to this realm. Although this place held a lot of magic, the sorrow that came to Demetri as he thought about what this place used to be felt like a living and breathing entity.
There had been a time when the forests were filled with magical creatures, not just a sighting here and there. The castle used to overflow with the hustle and bustle of the servants and visitors. Now it stood empty except for his father.
Shoving the reinforced wooden doors of the castle open, Demetri walked the vast and empty halls until he reached the stone stairs that would lead him down to his father’s chambers. He grabbed a torch from the wall and descended. The air began to cool the farther he went, and the smell of death and decay followed quickly, contaminating the air with foulness.
“Elron has killed again,” Hans Frost said as Demetri stepped into the alchemist room where his father stood, poring over his books.
“Something has to be done about him.” Demetri set the torch in a sconce before turning to his father. From what his mother had told Demetri before her untimely passing, Hans Frost used to be a great king, but he’d become obsessed with immortality. He’d studied black magic until he’d stumbled across a spell that would grant him such a thing. The alchemist had to find a wandering wolf and use the creature’s blood as part of the potion. The spell had worked. What he hadn’t foreseen was that his offspring would gain the capability to turn into a wolf. Demetri and Elron had also taken Hans’s youthful appearance and strength when they were born. All Hans was left with was his immortality and his madness.
The man who stood in front of Demetri had the skin of a well-preserved mummy, worn and leathery. His eyes were too big for his face, and his body was so thin that his bones protruded just under his paper-thin flesh. His hair was dry and hung dully from his head, reminding Demetri of fall leaves that crinkled and blew away in the wind.
Hans had looked like this for so long that only the paintings that hung in the castle reminded Demetri of what his father once looked like. For ten thousand years, Hans, Demetri, and Elron had lived. There were some days when Demetri felt as if he would go mad for being alive for so long. Some humans would sell their souls for immortality, but they didn’t understand the cost for such a thing. Loss of family and familiarity. Days turn into weeks that turn into years that turn into millenniums. Just a blur after a while. Now Caleb will know that curse. But as much as Demetri didn’t want his son to feel the isolation of living for so long, he wouldn’t trade his son for anything. The werewolves that Demetri had turned wouldn’t live longer than five hundred years, but Caleb was born into this. His life was infinite, just like the rest of the Frost family.
“I will not aid in the capture of my own son,” Hans said, turning his large eyes on Demetri. “He is merely acting in his nature.”
“His nature?” Demetri argued as anger pulsed through him. “What part of nature created shape-shifters? That was your doing. Nature never intended for our kind to exist.” It was as if his father truly enjoyed what Elron had become and the blood he shed.
“Be that as it may,” Hans said as he moved around the room as if searching for something, “I will not help you.”