A werewolf?
Magnus panted as he raced through the palace lawn carefully not stepping on his sister’s sunflowers or falling into the gardener’s freshly cut rose bushes.
His sister and two maids were waiting for his arrival when he stepped inside, and they shuffled him past the dining table. He caught a glimpse of his mother and her guests: all elegantly dressed, holding fancy wine glasses, and pouring liquor… and more liquor.
He closed his door once getting to it, and slumped down onto his tiled floor, crawling over for the TV remote. Turning it on, static transitioned into actual coherent sentences and moving pixels.
He undressed, and slid into the bathroom, with a quick shut of the door.
After bathing, he examined his scratches in the mirror. There were teeth marks on his shoulder, and scratches on his knee, and arms. Nothing too serious.
He slipped into his pajamas. Lightly heading out of the bathroom and to the bookshelf that lined the wall circling the TV. He had picked out a golden crested book with the title ‘Dragons and Other Lore’ which was written by a Chinese author from northern China in the city of Qingdao. And translated into Portuguese, Spanish, English, and Japanese amongst other languages.
He sat down at his desk that faced the large window. The ink that had been splattered yesterday night had been removed. Most likely by Maria, the personal handmaiden for his sister and sunflower fanatic. He flipped the lamp switch on.
He had flipped the book open to the page that had the only orange tab. A page on werewolves. Well, not werewolves, nor lycans, but that’s what people have been calling them for centuries. However, in reality, it was called the hellhound’s blessing.
The text was tiny but neatly written. He had been through this book about 12 times to count, so he could recount what some of it said.
Werewolves have existed for centuries, and have gone back to the times of ancient Mesopotamia, and weaved it’s way into both Greek and Nordic legends, although, this may prove false. That’s to the mundane. We’ve existed ever since wolves touched the earth of the ancient grounds of Hell.
He flipped through it so more, at least two more pages, to find another helpful excerpt.
Hellhound marks vary from person to person. It may in the form of a wolf or dog paw print or the form of a scratch mark anywhere on the body.
He lifts his shirt to reveal a scratch mark, one that hasn’t come off like the rest. It was pink in color, still freshly made, as in the coloring was dark around the edges. It didn’t hurt to touch. This was one sign.
Hellhounds may mark you for several reasons. One is that they have taken a liking to you, or that you have been selected for “protection” by the demonic royalty. Or that they see you as deserving of their skills and abilities.
Another excerpt reading:
Like Hellhounds, abilities will vary. However, they gave the simple and standard enhanced senses and agility, stamina, and durability. They resemble wolves but much larger than even regular Alphas. Their eyes resemble that of the hellhound species that marked them, while their coat is the color of the mystic’s hair. Abnormal dyes may or may not show up. Clothing will disappear in bound form and reappear when back in human form, accessories are optional but not advised.
At this point it wasn’t hard to tell, he was a werewolf. But of which hellhound species was unknown. How was he going to break this news to his mother? How was he going to tell Ethan and Anna, and especially Ramiro, who was a late bloomer to this? Who could he trust? This was a big revelation. Ethan and Anna were the standard demon hybrids, cambions. He was different. Anna was the most understanding, but she was prone to slip-ups. Ethan was a total ass and would keep his mouth shut, but would probably tell Anna. He could trust his maid, Elena, but she was feeling down, so it wasn’t the best idea.
This was something new and exciting. And scary at the same time. He wouldn’t have anyone to talk to about this, so he would have to do it on his own.
Seriously though.
Him? A werewolf?
