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‘Why not?’
‘I have no idea,’ she said drily. ‘I don’t speak wolf.’
She didn’t, but I did, though perhaps not here and now, surrounded by all of the pack. Next to me, Jess sniffed; Thea was lying. She knew full well why her wolf wouldn’t come out.
Thea shrugged. ‘It could be worse. If my wolf had taken control from me, I’d be a gargoyle by now.’
‘What?’ I blurted.
Archie’s jaw dropped.
‘Oh yes,’ Thea said, sounding slightly superior. ‘We still teach the old stories in Devon, even if they’ve fallen out of fashion.’
‘What old stories?’ I asked, desperate for more information.
‘I probably shouldn’t talk about it outside of the Devon Pack.’
‘If you want to transfer here,’ I said, ‘then you definitely should.’
Thea’s eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t label. She leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered her voice. ‘Some say that knowing the threat we face makes it harder to wrestle control because the consequences are too dire. But in the Devon pack we’re taught the truth: lose control to your wolf for long enough, and the witches’ curse will take you and twist you into a gargoyle. You’ll never turn human ever again.’
‘Witches’ curse?’ Jess asked.
‘The legend goes that the golden-eyed wolves started taking over the Other realm.’
‘What are golden-eyed wolves?’ Jess asked.
‘Werewolves that have lost control of their wolves, either willingly or on purpose. When our wolf is in control, our eyes turn golden. We call them feral wolves,’ Thea explained. ‘Anyway, in panic, the Others turned to the witches and begged them to curse the feral wolves. It took hundreds of witches chanting in unison to make the curse work. When it struck the golden-eyed wolves, it turned them grey and pallid and tied them forever to the night, twisted them forever into gargoyles. To win the battle, all the Others had to do was stake out a gargoyle just before sunrise and wait until they turned into stone with the sun, then they could shatter them into a thousand pieces. The curse was only supposed to target the vicious, golden-eyed wolves but it affected every new werewolf that was born or made after that. The witches’ curse lives on.’
Her voice rose and fell in the rhythm of someone repeating a story they’d heard a million times around a campfire. ‘But like all curses, it didn’t work quite as intended, for the gargoyles were gifted with an immortal lifespan. In the years that followed, the remaining gargoyles hunted down the witches that had cursed them and killed them one by one.’
‘Then what happened?’ Archie breathed.
‘Absolutely nothing. They had hoped that with the death of the last witch the curse would be broken, but it was not. The stories say that one witch slipped away, keeping the curse forever intact. Even now, if a werewolf loses control of their wolf, they will become a dark one, a gargoyle. The curse remains, and the threat of it always hangs over us wolves.’
‘Well, shit,’ I muttered, thinking of all the times Esme had referenced the dark ones and refused to say more. It made sense; that was why the gargoyles saw themselves as guardians of the wolves – they were pack.
‘Why wouldn’t the gargoyles say something?’
‘The old tales are out of fashion. About a century ago, the werewolf council declared that anyone telling the tales would be put to death. They feared that spreading word of the curse would make it a self-fulfilling prophecy – if we feared losing control of ourselves to our wolf, we’d be more likely to do so.’
In that case, I could understand Reynard’s reticence but why hadn’t Esme told me? She knew I would never tell the council.
‘You’re not scared of the council?’ Jess asked. ‘You could get in trouble for telling us the story.’
‘We’re all told the old stories, regardless of the edict. If the council came after me, they’d have the whole of the Devon pack after them. Beckett wouldn’t let them hurt me – only he’s allowed to do that.’
‘He won’t hurt you now,’ Archie glared, putting an arm around her. She looked pleased.
‘And you won’t tell the council on me, will you?’ Thea said lightly.
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘I’m not going to tell on you for breaking a stupid one-hundred-year-old law about telling tales.’ Not when it had enlightened me on so many things. I cleared my throat and tried to appear less shell-shocked. ‘Anyway, how are you finding it here at the Home Counties Pack?’ I asked. ‘Do you still want to stay?’
‘Absolutely,’ she answered without hesitation, looking at Archie.
I decided to do some fishing. ‘I was sorry to hear about your brother Ace going missing.’ I wanted to hear her response while Jess was there to tell me whether she was lying or not.
‘I wasn’t,’ Thea retorted. ‘Ace was an asshole. Do you know he gave himself his nickname?’ She cleared her throat. ‘I think I’ll get a coffee. Archie?’
