Chapter 4: Will

Chapter 4: Will

I woke up to the sensation of great pain in the back of my head. For a second, gripped with panic, I thought I was back in that great dark prison where I had been kept for who knows how long. But when I opened my eyes and adjusted to this new reality, I saw that I was lying in a warm and soft bed. I had forgotten the sensation of sleeping in a bed.

It was not soon after that I heard the grating sounds coming from my right. To my horror, I saw my savior, the girl Alexis, being choked to within an inch of her life by a man.

I strode across the room just in time to pry this man’s fingers free from Alexis’s neck. Then I grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him across the room.

“Have I been gone for so long that the Grimms have abandoned chivalry for madness?” I roared as I advanced on this man.

“I will not be spoken to by some common…” this man began, but I had no intention of letting him live, not after what I had just seen him do. I recoiled my arm to strike a killing blow to this foe.

But before I could do that, I heard someone approach through the doorway. It was upon seeing this person that I lowered my hand and stood there in utter silence, shocked senseless. So, the girl had not been lying.

“Wilhelm?” the withered old face, covered in white beard and wrinkles, stared at me with cataract eyes. “Is it really you?”

It was none other than my younger brother, Fredrick Grimm, standing before me. Though, he looked nothing like I had last seen him. Fred had aged, and terribly so. He stood there with his weight supported by a walking cane. He wore the garb of an old man. His hair had thinned, and what remained of it looked like white cotton candy.

“Time has not been kind to you, younger brother,” I said as I walked up to him.

“And it has seemingly spared you entirely, brother mine,” Fred said as he threw away his cane and grasped me in a fierce hug. To feel my own flesh and blood hugging me like this, it broke me down completely.

“Father, you can’t trust the words of this girl,” the man whom I had pried off Alexis spat from behind.

“Maurice, I should think that I can recognize my brother when I see him with my own eyes,” Fred said. “And Alexis has done our pack a great service bringing the long-lost Grimm back to his home.”

“Alexis saved my life, dear brother,” I said to smooth over whatever confusion prevailed in the room. “Had she not been there to save me, I would have been outnumbered by the vampires, left for dead. I am eternally in her debt.”

“As are we all, Maurice,” the greasy little man who had moments ago attacked Alexis quickly changed his tone and his stance. He got up and cowered before me, holding his hands together apologetically. I ignored him and looked at Alexis instead.

She was helping herself to her feet, massaging her neck. I walked up to her and helped her as she steadied herself.

“I don’t understand,” the young boy standing behind Fred spoke for the first time. He bore a remarkable resemblance to both Fred and Maurice. “How are you still alive?”

“Will, I want you to meet my grandson, Vincent,” Fred waved his arm. “And that man over there, well, you’ve met him already. He’s Maurice, the present alpha of the pack.”

“How nice to be acquainted with you,” I said to Vincent. I extended no such courtesy toward Maurice. “And as for what happened to me and how I still am alive, I have to say that it baffles me. I have been through hell, brother, and I do not say that lightly.”

“Maurice, why don’t you go and assemble the pack? They will want to meet the founder of their pack,” Fred said as he helped himself to the only vacant chair in the room. He sat down on it and breathed heavily.

Maurice left with Vincent trailing behind him. I could not make out what they were discussing in hushed whispers, but the tone sounded hostile and angry. Now with only me, Fred, and Alexis in the room, I turned to face the girl who saved my life.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “I don’t know what happened after you told me to run. Dawn did come, and the vampires were running off, but it seems that one of them must have struck me in the back of the head.”

“No sweat,” Alexis said, still massaging her neck. “I’m just glad all that effort didn’t go to waste. I did carry you on my shoulders for about two miles. But like I said, no sweat.”

“Brother,” Fred spoke. “You look frail. You need to rest and recover, and we must have the healer tend to your injuries.”

“Aye, that would be wise. But I am starving and parched, brother. Perhaps some food and drink would sway me to loosen my tongue. Let’s just say that my captor wasn’t a very hospitable fellow.” It was strange how being out of immediate danger alerted you to your body’s less imminent needs. Now that I wasn’t trapped or hunted, now that I was safe within the confines of this quaint home, I realized just how badly I wanted to drink a cool glass of water and eat something warm.

“Captor?” Fred asked.

“Ah, yes. As I said, it is a long tale,” I said. “One that I have no pleasure in recounting, but I must tell it to make sense of all the madness. Maybe some answers have eluded me.”

“Umm…Will,” Alexis spoke finally. The tenor of her voice was not one of fear or respect. There was a subtle subtext of care, of love, in her voice. She spoke so softly, as if she was addressing my soul. “You need rest—a lot of it. You’re also wounded. If you’d just let me take care of you. You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch and fix up something for you to eat. Why don’t you rest here and talk to your brother while I make something for you and come back with some bandages and ointments?”

“Thank you, Alexis, that would be very kind,” I said and smiled at her as she walked past me and headed out of the room. The moment she was gone, so was the smile on my face. I could only feign for so long. The woman was the spitting image of Ariana. Looking at her, talking to her, being in her presence, it all made the pain come back. Ariana was dead, and she, her granddaughter, was the living reminder of it.

“She looks like the spitting image of…” I began, but I could not finish this sentence.

“I know she does,” Fred said. “Poor girl, she’s been through the wringer. Her parents died when she was a kid, and, well, I’m not the only one whom time hasn’t been kind to. She’s been dealt a rough hand.”

“Fred. I bonded with her out there in the woods,” I said. “It happened before I knew that she wasn’t Ariana. I don’t question the tapestry of fate and what it’s woven for each of us, but it has me confounded. All my life, before my capture, I had assumed that I would eventually bond with Ariana.”

The sorrow and horror of my situation hit me like a bag full of bricks. In my old life, I played things close to the chest, never truly revealing how I felt to anyone save a trusted few. It was how I made sure that my pack survived the atrocities of the war. It was how I managed to sail with them to safety. But how could one cope with a tragedy of such magnitude? Tears? No. I was beyond tears. This was a level of grief that came to the brink of madness. I clenched my jaw and dug my nails into my palms, my knuckles turning white as the moroseness of the situation started unfolding in front of me.

“What good is my freedom if all I yearned for is gone?” I asked hoarsely.

Fred’s hand rested on my shoulder and squeezed. “Not all is gone, brother. The pack lives on. Ariana’s memory lives on in her granddaughter. You are still alive. As am I. Do not despair. Tell me, instead, what happened to you.”

Someone knocked on the ajar door. I looked at who was standing there. For a second, my mind played a cruel trick on me and made me think that it was Ariana. But it was only Alexis, standing there with a tray in her hand and what looked like a medical kit slung from her wrist.

“If it’s okay with you, should I give you this food and patch you up while you tell your story?” she asked in a small voice.

I smiled at her with pursed lips and nodded. “You saved me. I think I would like to share my story with you.”

I was all prepared to share my story with them, but the moment she put down the tray in front of me, I forgot about everything. There was so much variety of food and drink available on that tray that it made my mouth water and my stomach lurch. In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten how ravenous and famished I was.

There was a bowl of steaming soup with chunks of chicken and vegetables swimming atop the thick broth. Warm toasted bread cut into thin slices, smeared with cream cheese and butter, lay along the side of the tray. On the main plate, cut vegetables lay on the side of a big, sizzling, rare steak covered in thick gravy. Slices of bacon lay crisply to the side, soaked in grease.

In one of the glasses, black Coke fizzled. In yet another glass, there was warm milk. And there was a third glass that only had water.

I looked at the tray and then at Alexis.

“Don’t look at me. Word got around the commune, and people pitched in. I normally only have takeout in my fridge. This is from all the people of the commune. They’re eager to meet you, but I told them to wait their turn,” she said, beaming at me. “Oh, I’ve also got some whiskey if that’s more to your taste.”

I could not speak much in the face of this kindness. This was the first time someone was extending this sort of compassion toward me in a long time. My captor had kept me barely sustained on scraps and morsels.

Taking a bite of the steak, the bread, and the bacon brought back vivid memories of taste on my tongue. I had craved the texture of food for the diverse variety of sustenance that the outside world offered. I had forgotten that something as simple as steak and bacon could taste so heavenly.

I tore off the bread and consumed it ravenously, barely chewing on it before gulping it down to make room in my mouth for the next bite. In my days of youth, I had never sought vegetables. Oh, how I missed the flavor of vegetables when I was imprisoned. I took each bit of carrot, pepper, lettuce, onion, and tomato that I could, letting their juices and their crispness fill the void of my mouth.

Then I drank the water. The cool, clean, nice water rejuvenated my throat. As I gulped it down, the glass of cola enticed me and forced me to drink it in two quick gulps.

“Oh, Lord, have mercy on me,” I said out loud once I was done. “This was a meal fit for a king. I cannot thank you enough.”

Alexis handed me a warm towelette to clean myself and took the tray away. She came back promptly with another tray with a pot of tea.

“I did make this tea myself, though,” she said as she poured the boiling black liquid into a cup and stirred milk and sugar into it. “Try it. You’ll love it. It’s called chai.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said as I reached for the cup. The warmth coming from the cup felt so wonderful on my fingers. I drank the hot liquid and felt a jolt of energy rush through me. I was utterly transfixed by the delicious taste of this tea. I’d never had something like this before.

“Now, brother, I must implore you to share your tale with us,” Fred said. “As happy as it makes me to see you alive, hearty, eating, and drinking, I want to get to the bottom of the matter and understand how you, the bravest wolf of the pack, were captured. And by whom? And why for this long?”

I looked from Alexis to Fred and then to Alexis again. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer of whiskey.”

“Got it,” she said and disappeared once again, only to come back with a full bottle of caramel-colored liquid and three glasses balancing in her other hand. She handed Fred and me the glasses and poured us quite a lot of whiskey. I immediately brought the glass up to my nose and welcomed the tangy and sharp smell of the spirit in my nose.

Once I’d taken a deep sip from my glass, I took a deep breath and began my tale. After all, it was clear from both their faces that they were impatiently waiting for me to begin.

***

The greatest calamity I had seen, the Second World War, had been officially over for a year, or so they said in the news. I had no way of knowing, obviously, as I had taken my pack and traveled across the seven seas to the safety of another continent.

We had settled here, in Fiddler’s Green, as it was the first port we came to after months of sailing the open seas. The air was fresh, the grass was green, and the locals who lived there greeted us and treated us very amicably.

In time, the members of my pack integrated into the fabric of the town, becoming essential workers along the wharf, helping with the loading and unloading of cargo on ships, and taking up jobs that would help them survive in this new world, America.

A year passed, and I adjusted to a commoner’s life in this quaint little town. I was the alpha of my pack, and my best friend, my brother-in-arms, Kenneth Richards, was the second in command. We built the commune known as the Grimm Abode by hand, laying down the foundation for each house using Kenneth’s architectural knowledge and my knack for lifting and setting heavy things. Of course, wherever he could, my younger brother Fred always lent a hand.

All this while, I had my eyes set on the fair maiden Ariana Brubaker, my pack’s beautiful woman who hadn’t yet bonded with anyone as a mate. My heart was set on her. Sometimes, I would take her with me into the forest, and we would take long walks and talk with each other.

I had become acquainted with her company, and if I’m being honest, it was her company that had helped sanity prevail in my otherwise tumultuous life. But despite my advances, she would never reciprocate the love that I felt for her. She would be polite with me, courteous as one can be, but the more time I spent with her in the solitude of Fiddler’s Forest, the more I realized that this love was one-sided.

It was one unfavorable night in 1946; I think Ariana and I were taking one of our walks in the forest. It was late at night. This was usually when she and I used to wander and ponder together, usually after dinner.

Despite the realization that her affections did not extend towards me the same way mine did towards her, I still preferred her company, as she was a kindred soul. She would humor me and tell me the most affirming things, making me feel confident in my decisions as the alpha.

I hadn’t exactly made my peace with the notion that we hadn’t bonded, but for all intents and purposes, I believed that I would bond with her the moment she felt for me the same way I felt for her.

That never came to be.

On that night, as we walked side by side, the forest came alive with the sounds of rushing steps. Soon after, the sight of lit torches warned us of marauders in the forest. I knew that the forest was a wild place, particularly dangerous at night, but I had never before encountered any danger, and perhaps that had caused me to become lax.

It was an ambush. Those were not mere marauders but mercenaries under the order of some powerful man. At that point, I did not know anything about who that man was. All I knew was that I had to keep Ariana safe.

Those men referred to us as wolves. It surprised me that they knew that both of us were wolves. It meant that someone had let slip our identities to these soldiers. They attacked us from all sides, surrounding Ariana and me.

The look of terror on her face made my heart sink. I could not risk getting her in danger, not after I had brought her to another land for the sole intent of escaping from danger.

And so, I shifted and fought off those men while Ariana made her escape. It wasn’t that she was being selfish; I had commanded her before shifting that she should escape and call for help.

I never knew what had happened to her after that. It turned out that the sight of her running through the forest would be the last time I would ever see her.

Those mercenaries had tranquilizers of some kind that they used upon me, knocking me out. I had been putting up a brave fight and would have surely continued to fight and would have eventually won had they not cheated. Had they not used those tranquilizers.

When I came to, I was in shackles. I was no longer in my wolf form. I regained consciousness just in time to see my captors bringing me to a humongous Victorian-style mansion in the forest. I tried to free myself, but those men had me in a cage. They prodded me with sticks and threatened to sedate me if I didn’t stop fighting.

And so, helplessly, I witnessed as the architect of my capture stepped out of the door of his mansion, a menacing man with madness lit like fire in his eyes. Despite the maniacal aura he was emitting, he was a man with manners.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said as politely as he could, completely ignoring the

fact that his men had a noose around my neck and were dragging me out of the cage like I was a rabid dog. He kept on talking as if he was at a tea party. He had a thick British accent that made it harder for me to understand what he was saying. “I am Lord Edward Beckett, retired from Her Majesty’s service in the East India Trading Company. My various adventures and quests have brought me to this brave new world. Personally, I find the freedom that this country offers quite liberating. The air is alive with opportunity. And that’s where you come in, my friend.”

All the torture and experimentation that followed would have been far more bearable had the man fit some evil archetype. But the very fact that he was such a polite, mild-mannered, well-dressed, articulately-spoken gentleman made everything worse.

Tied in shackles, I was dragged through his mansion to his basement, where there was an elaborate trap made of some form of glass. Once they put me inside it, I was unable to move or shift into my wolf form.

With no windows or any source of exterior light in that murky basement, it was impossible for me to know what time of day it was. All I knew was Edward would appear periodically with vials and syringes and inject me with pain-inducing chemicals that would make me go berserk with agony. I would pass out and wake up weaker. He would drain my blood and take it away.

During these sessions of torture, he would talk to me, almost like one does to a friend. He told me that he was an occultist who knew all too well the existence of vampires and werewolves. He wanted to derive the secrets of my genome. He wanted to unlock the secret to strength and immortality using my blood.

He’d keep me sedated for long stretches of time, barely keeping me alive. After a while, I was too weak to struggle or even think of fighting back. His men would torture me whenever he wasn’t in the room, prod me with electrical sticks, and bludgeon me with batons. When I’d be at my wit’s end, they’d feed me scraps.

I was robbed of my sanity. The perception of time was completely lost to me. But even in that delirious state, I noticed that the mad occultist was aging. His hair was graying, and his face was becoming populated with lines and stretch marks.

The only thought that kept me alive was Ariana. She was out there, waiting for me. If or when I’d escape, I’d make my way back to her and become her fated mate. We’d be married, have children together, and grow old alongside each other. This was my sole tether to whatever sanity I had left.

But the occultist, it transpired, was not having any success with his experimentations, despite the effort he had put in. Soon, he stopped visiting me altogether. I was left stranded alone in his basement, tied to iron chains, locked away in an inhumanly small cage, malnourished, a mere ghost of the man I once was.

Then one day, his soldiers rushed to the basement, telling me that my imprisonment was at an end. My captor had issued the order that I be set free by way of death. They said it was his dying wish.

It brought me bittersweet joy to know that Edward, my captor, was dying of old age. This notion gave me enough strength to defend myself against the soldiers. Somehow, and I don’t know how, I was able to escape from the basement, leaving a pile of corpses in my wake.

I could just as well escape by then, but boiling vengeance was coursing through my veins. So, I searched the mansion and came upon him, lying withered on his deathbed, tied to machines that beeped and whirred.

He laughed at me as if this was what he had expected.

“You will never truly be free. Not after what I have done to you.” These were his last words.

I shifted after ages and pounced upon him, tearing into him, rending limb from limb and ripping apart his body, leaving a mess of entrails, bones, and torn muscles in my wake.

And once I was done, I escaped into the woods, thinking it had only been a short while since I had been imprisoned.

***

“And that’s when I met you, Alexis,” I finished my tale, my hands quivering as I struggled to hold the empty glass. “And that’s when I realized that my merciless captor had me imprisoned for seventy-something years. It’s only now that I understand that his experimentations on me altered me in some way, robbing me of the ability to age normally, leaving me stuck in a young man’s body with an old man’s mind and soul.”

Fred was at a loss for words, and his mouth hung wordlessly open.

Alexis’s hand closed around mine and squeezed. “To think that you have been through such horrors…I can’t even imagine,” she said.

But upon listening to her empathetic words, instead of feeling reassured and comforted, a bizarre emotion took hold of me: Wrath.

“How would you be even able to imagine?” I said, my voice rising. “I have just recounted a tale as harrowing as one could ever hear, and you bring me this hollow sentiment?!”

“I…I’m sorry,” Alexis whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

For some twisted reason, this enraged me even more.

“What would I do with your apology? Would it turn back the wheels of time? Bring back the woman that I loved? Unbind me to you, a complete stranger I don’t know? What does your extra apology accomplish?”

“Wilhelm,” Fred said softly as if to warn me that I was letting my temper get the better of me. I had no control over it at this moment.

Watching her rush out of the room, distraught, made me feel a wicked sense of satiation. As if by projecting my misery onto her and making her miserable, in turn, quenched the desolation I was feeling.

And just as swiftly as this malignant rage had consumed me, it left just as fast, leaving me confused at my outburst. I intended to go after Alexis in an attempt to make amends for my behavior, but Fred put his hand on my shoulder and sat me down.

“I don’t blame you. You are at your most vulnerable right now, having just told us your story. She’ll be fine. I want you to rest and recover your strength. When you wake up, I want you to meet the pack. Rest now; rest here. I am glad you are back,” Fred said.

“I feel like I am a mutated man,” I said as I lowered myself into the bed, feeling wearier by the second. “I feel like I will never be normal again.”

And with that statement, I fell deep into slumber, my sleep haunted by cloaked occultists, mercenaries running through the forests with torches, and snarling vampires with their strange firearms.