Free Alistair (Tales From P.A.W.S. Book 1) by Debbie Manber Kupfer Page A

bloom. She was but seven-years-old. She had strayed too close to the fire and had slipped. Such an unfortunate accident, but there was nothing they could do. Klaus had tried to pull her out of the flames, but their heat had consumed her too quickly. None of the neighbors even had an inkling of the truth, that Klaus had grown tired of her whining and her weakness, and had determined that she would have far more worth thrown in the flames than tending them.
    My mother sat there, her eyes far away, while the villagers showered us with gifts. They brought their finest wines, enough to fill my father’s cellar, plus foods to fill our pantry, and fine furs to clothe us for the winter. Klaus accepted all the gifts with a great show of humility.
    “I thank you all. Such generosity. Yes, an awful tragedy,” Klaus repeated, a tiny smile playing on the corners of his lips. The villagers didn’t notice, didn’t see the terrible truth behind his expression. I wanted to kill him then and there.
    When the final visitor had paid his respects, the door shut and Klaus turned his gaze on my mother and me. Slowly his smile broadened; it turned into a chuckle and then a guffaw, until he was practically rolling on the ground at his own cleverness and the stupidity of his neighbors.
    “How idiotic they are,” he said, “and how lucky I am. Look around you at all this treasure. If one worthless life can bring me so many riches, just think how wealthy I will be when I finally rid myself of both of you. But come let us celebrate! You want to try a little wine, boy, in honor of your poor dead sister?”
    “No!” I screamed, “I want nothing from you.” I ran from the room, my father chasing me and grabbing my arm hard, pulling me back.
    “Oh no you don’t! Don’t worry I will not kill you today. And I will leave your dear mother alive. If I killed her who would clean for me and cook for me? Who would wash my clothes and tend my fire? Come taste a little wine, boy!” With that he grabbed my ear and pulled me towards him. He wrenched open my mouth and poured the blood-like fluid down my throat. I gagged and wretched the noxious liquid up onto the floor. Klaus laughed–amused by the show. My mother grabbed a rag and silently started cleaning the puddle of red liquid on the kitchen floor.
    That night in my bedroom all alone, I desperately missed my sister, who had slept in a small bed by the window–an empty spot, which I tried to blot out of my mind. I could hear my parents arguing in their bedroom next door. I desperately tried to block out their voices by placing my pillow over my head, but the walls were paper thin.
    “Stop your crying, wench. Or I’ll stop it with my brand. Elena was worthless. It’s easy enough to make another, a boy this time.
    “But not like Alistair. That boy’s not a worthy apprentice. He sneaks off into the village to meet with the schoolmaster. He thinks he’s better than me. But I will show him. Come Marlena, let us make another son.”
    I scrunched up my face, desperate not to hear my mother’s cries from the next room. I knew I had to get out of there. I’d read stories about vampires that lived deep in Transylvania and could only pray they were true. I sought immortality and power. If I gained those things I could easily get revenge on my father.
    The vampires turned out to be a myth, but in Transylvania I found another breed of magic—one that would give me the power and immortality I was seeking. Werewolves .
    There I met Roman. Roman was to be my mentor, rather like I am to you, boy. He saw promise in me and tutored me in the way of the wolf. He was very selective. Only the best could join his pack. And once he believed we were ready he would send us on the ultimate test.
    To gain immortality and awaken our true powers, we needed to consume one who was truly deserving of this fate—ideally a family member. I knew who it had to be.
    I had taken to watching my family’s home. My mother was