G.C.W. - Chapter One, Pt. 1

Chapter One, Pt. 1

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~ Marcel Proust

It was the headache that woke me up, but when moving caused a sharp pain to shoot from my shoulder to my upper arm, I knew I had really done it to myself this time. I didn't know where I was. Didn't remember for the life of me what happened last night. All I could say with any certainty was that I was alive and returning to the real world after one hell of a strange trip into dream land.

I knew it was daylight by the way the warmth of the sun rained down on me, but wasn't ready to open my eyes just yet. The moment I did, I'd be greeted by a screaming chorus of sunshine blaring right into my face and with how hungover I felt, only misery would follow from here. Instead, I paused to take stock of myself, as though assuring myself I still had all of my mental faculties.

My name was Charlotte Mary Walker, I remembered that much. I was born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania to William and Susan Walker, two smalltown Catholics who proliferated the stereotype of being Monday through Saturday lushes, serving drinks at their tavern on the edge of town only to barter money for their souls on Sunday. Not that I was bitter toward the church or religion or anything like that. Hell, if it meant being rid of this migraine, I would have called out sweet Hosannas to the Almighty and ended my spiritual boycott right then and there, but as that was as likely to happen as me remembering the night before, I held back exultation and moved through the rest of the exercise.

I was an art student in Philadelphia when I wasn't home on break. I loved the color black and hated when people called me 'Char'. And even though I've not had another nickname since parochial school, I remember the nuns used to call me 'good Charlotte' – a title gleaned from a storybook – because I was the girl who never got in trouble and never acted up in class. I hadn't been called that in years, though, as I've been anything but these days.

No, wait a minute, someone had called me that recently.

My eyes opened beyond my own volition the moment I remembered him.

Sure enough, the sun was there to greet me, but not as harshly as I thought it would. I still squinted, though, and tried to readjust to the light as I followed this fledgling thought in my head toward the rest of my memories. However, my exploration into the details of this man with the reddish-brown hair I kept seeing in my mind was abruptly interrupted by a confusing revelation; there were trees all around me. The sun wasn't nearly as bright because it was filtering to me through whatever leaves were still left on the trees this time of year.

I narrowed my eyes at it in disbelief, because if there were trees around me, then I had fallen asleep outside. What the hell happened last night?

The next startling revelation came as a slight shift in position rustled leaves underneath my body. I was completely naked. Lying on my side, I faced a thick patch of forest that surrounded a clearing with a brook somewhere in the distance and birds were chirping and. . . oh my God, I wasn't wearing any clothing, which should have caused me to bolt upright and attempt searching for my shirt and pants right then and there. I could only think, though, that I should be freezing which brought me back to the warmth I felt when I started toward consciousness.

That's when I became aware of a body lying right beside me, pressed against my back with an arm wrapped around my waist and a mouth that was beginning to kiss at my shoulder. I caught my breath and became rigidly still. Yet, he knew I was awake just the same.

“Bon matin, chérie,” he said, ceasing his kisses in favor of pressing his nose against my skin. The soothing voice belonged to him, I could tell that in an instant. However, I was stuck for his name and how I'd wound up out here with him.

“What. . .” I began, but stopped myself when I realized something. I remember him sitting in my parents' tavern, talking to him while feeling like I was sitting on the edge of the otherworldly, but the feeling was gone now. I remembered his bright, kind eyes and the kiss while he was yet in the bar; running outside once I was through with work and following strange little lights that all bore the earmarks of Corbyn Marchand.

Corbyn. That was his name. I found him again after I followed the. . .

The reaction was belated, but I gasped and finally sat up while inching away from Corbyn. He looked perplexed when our eyes met and undoubtedly, my panicked expression had to have been behind the flash of concern I saw cross his face. “Charlotte?” he asked.

“Get the hell away from me,” I said. Sure, the gentle look was in his eyes again and the beautiful man I became consumed with was the one peering back at me, but I could see it all now. Lucidly. The wolf; the golden glow to its eyes that found its way into Corbyn's as we made love. And then the teeth, him biting me. There was nothing human about this man.

I inched backward a few more paces as if on impulse, ignoring the cold that had suddenly made its presence known. “I have no idea what you are, but. . .”

He reached out toward me. “Charlotte. . .”

“Don't touch me!”

The outburst drew his hand backward and a guilty expression enveloped him, but I didn't remain in place to watch much more. Instead, I scrambled to my feet and began grabbing at my clothing from the ground. My shoulder groaned at me in protest and a dizzy spell smacked headlong into me, but I brushed it aside. The son of a bitch bit me. No wonder my arm hurt.

“Charlotte, where are you going?”

“I'm getting away from here,” I said, quickly threading my legs through my underwear and sliding my jeans on top. “And you'd better not follow me or else I swear I'll hurt you as much as possible before you kill me.”

“I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Oh yeah?!” I scoffed and pointed at my shoulder with the hand holding my bra. “What the hell do you call this?! Huh? Is this. . . is this what you do? Do you lure women out here and screw them before you kill them slowly?”

Corbyn shook his head. “Charlotte, I need to explain a lot to you. Please stay so we can talk.”

“Oh, no. No way. I'm going home.” I scooped my shirt up from the ground after securing my bra into place and shoved each arm through the sleeves, wincing against the pain once more while determined to think past it as much as possible until I could get home. Corbyn stood, but only to begin dressing himself; I didn't give a damn about it, either, because my shirt was on and I was already walking briskly away from the clearing. I didn't even bother putting on my boots before I launched into a jog. I merely grabbed them from the ground and headed in the direction of the creek I'd heard when I woke.

However, Corbyn wasn't so easily deterred. He picked up the remainder of his clothing after securing his pants around his waist and plucked his shoes from the ground as well, in favor of pursuing me barefoot. “Charlotte!” he yelled. “Please stop. I promise I'll not touch you if you stop.”

I shook my head and let that suffice as my answer. Half-tripping in the process, I slipped one boot on while still walking and slid to the ground on a pile of leaves while attempting to put on the other. It came on easily once I was sitting, but when I shot my attention toward Corbyn once more, I saw he was already only a few feet away, threading his arms through the sleeves of his shirt while not bothering with the buttons. The sight spurred me on to action.

I clamored to my feet and began to run.

“Charlotte!”

Clenching my eyes shut just for a second, I attempted to block out the sound of his voice with an adamant head shake before opening my eyes and whipping around a tree. The sound of the creek grew louder and the running water became visible just shortly up ahead, beyond a dense collection of trees and into another clearing. Thinking to myself that I could follow it to civilization, I was more focused upon it than I was the location of Corbyn.

Which is exactly why I hollered in surprise and fell onto my ass when he suddenly appeared in front of me.

His eyes continued to entreat me. “Chérie, there is a lot we need to talk about before you can go anywhere. You must trust me, if just for this moment, and allow me to explain.”

I inched backward again and stumbled to my feet. “How did you do that?”

“This is what I need to speak to you about.”

“No.” I whipped around and turned my back to him in favor of running in the opposite direction. That sense of tumbling into the rabbit hole made its presence known again, only I began to realize I was already on the other side of the looking glass. Nevermind that; I wasn't about to stick around and give him a chance to work his mystical crap. . .

I came to an abrupt stop when Corbyn appeared before me again and walked toward me with his hand extended. “How many times do we need to do this before you'll agree to stop, Charlotte?”

My heart leaped into my throat. I walked backward, keeping my eyes set on him while anticipating when he'd finally charge at me and pounce on me. “How are you doing this?” I asked. “Is this one of your tricks? Are you going to hypnotize me again, too?”

He stopped walking and I did as well, listening to the racing pulse of my heart while Corbyn furrowed his brow at me. It's not that I lost the desire to put as much distance between us as possible. It's the way that he shook his head and chuckled despite himself. “Hypnotize you? Charlotte, I cannot hypnotize anyone. Where did you get such a notion?”

“Oh yeah? Then explain last night to me.”

“I did not hypnotize you last night.”

“Bullshit,” I retorted. “How did you get me out here, then?”

“I asked you to come and you came.”

“No, no, no.” I shook my head and pointed an accusatory finger at Corbyn. “You hypnotized me. I was dizzy and foggy all evening while I was with you, so don't play innocent with me.”

The look on his face turned serious, with a frown becoming pronounced the longer he looked at me. He took one, final step forward, but only to lean his weight against a tree and sigh. “Mon amour, I have abilities, but not that kind. I cannot influence anyone's mind to do anything beyond their will. If I could, then I would stop you right now and force you to come with me so you wouldn't run away.” He paused. “And. . . If I intended to do you any harm, then I can assure you that you would not run but two paces before I had you pinned to the ground. I have not done this to you yet, have I?”

I stared at him for a tense moment, sensing that honesty in him again. The man had a point. If he could run ahead of me that quickly and beat me off at the pass, then I wouldn't last a second trying to escape on my power alone. “Tell me what happened then, Corbyn,” I said softly, my gut twisting at the prospect of being a puppet to something more than a human-looking man.

Corbyn nodded and pointed in the direction of the creek. “Come sit with me,” he said. “Please. I will answer all of your questions, I promise.”

He stood straight and motioned toward me, but I took a step backward and cast a wary gaze at him. The motion forced him to pause in his steps, then drew a nod from him as he gave up the attempt to draw closer to me again. Instead, he offered me a conciliatory glance and started to walk back to the creek, implicitly indicating I should follow which spurred me to start walking in the same direction. I made absolutely certain to maintain a healthy distance between us, though, which meant the occasional tree or two separating us along the way.

We walked in silence only for a moment, Corbyn's head bent with his eyes studying the ground at first. He sighed as he began to talk. “You are ever the skeptic, chérie, so if I asked you what you believed in you would not know how to respond. I will just state facts to you, instead.” His eyes flashed at me as we walked past another tree. “I am not human; I belong to wolfen kind and am able to exist in both wolf and human form. Your people usually refer to me as a werewolf or a lycanthrope, but these terms are not acknowledged by my kind. Too many. . . negative. . . connotations.”

I nodded, but didn't respond otherwise. So far, he only confirmed my suspicions, surreal as it was to hear them voiced aloud.

He paused in favor of waiting until we broke through the forest again and arrived at the creek I had been headed toward. I watched him sit upon a large rock and drape the coat he still had in hand across his lap, but as I sat upon my own natural bench, I visibly shook away a sudden wave of wooziness that encroached upon me. Something was strange; different. But I couldn't put my finger on just what it was yet.

Corbyn looked at me before I could investigate it any further and began to speak. “I'll spare you the long stories,” he said. “Histories and explanations into what we are. . . at least for the time being. For now, last evening.” He paused, as if to gather his thoughts, and let his eyes drift toward the other side of the creek. “What you sensed last evening is something I've been pulled by for ten years now, chérie; that sense that your footsteps have been planned ahead of you without your consent. Especially these past two months. They are what caused our paths to intersect.”

I watched as Corbyn frowned and looked at me. “I was not lying when I told you about the arranged marriage. I was betrothed and set to be married to a woman picked out for me. In fact. . .” He huffed a sardonic chuckle. “We were supposed to be wed last evening. That was not a coincidence, I'm sure.”

“Why did they want you to get married?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “Because you ran away before?”

He looked toward the ground and inhaled deeply. “That is one of the reasons, but there are more not worth discussing. I did think they had forgiven me for running away ten years ago, but they made sure to mention it again this previous time.”

“How long had you been back?”

“Seven years. I was only away for three.”

“So, why did they demand that you get married if you'd been back for so long?”

“Because I am their only son. Le seul fils. The child of the highest elder within our pack. This is why I told you the Marchand name is important. With it comes the burden to continue our line.”

I frowned as I looked at him and as his eyes drifted away again. “So, they picked your wife and you were stuck with their decision?”

“More or less, that is the truth. We've fought over this for some time, though, because their choices have been all wrong. Political posturing, at times. Like being part of the European monarchy. However. . .” Corbyn's eyes returned to me. “I told you I have abilities.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, not liking the way he looked at me. “Yes, what about it?”

Corbyn shifted his position to face me directly. “I see the future. Sometimes, that is to say. I cannot control when or how it comes upon me, but it's what led me away at first. I saw a woman in my dreams ten years ago, when my parents last demanded I settle on a wife, of an outsider who captured my attention immediately. My parents would not acknowledge it because they loathe the outsiders, as I told you last evening. I went to find her anyway.

“When I did not find her that first time, I returned and began to doubt even my own precognitive abilities. Yet, still. . . J'ai pensé tout le temps à toi.” He didn't bother to translate it, but I knew somehow it had to do with me by the way that our gaze converged. “And then, two months ago, when I allowed myself to be pulled into this betrothal, my dream resurfaced and reminded me what I had been searching for when I left last time.”

I swallowed hard and felt the dizziness resurface as my heart skipped a beat. “The woman in my dreams was you, good Charlotte Walker," he said. "And I've been chasing you these days until I finally found you within your parents' tavern.”

“How do you know that name?” I asked, somewhat in a daze. “Nobody's called me that for years.”

“That's what you were called in my dream. Hearing you say it only confirmed you were the one.”

“No, I mean the 'good' part of the name.” I shook my head and looked to the ground. “Nothing about this makes sense. How you know my name. Dreams and the strange feeling I had when I was first with you. And yet, you say you weren't the one doing that to me.”

Corbyn shook his head. “I did nothing special to you, chérie. I let you know that I was a different being without speaking it, but I don't have the capacity to make you act outside of your will.” He paused. “Now, do you see why I asked about destiny?”

My eyes raised toward his again. “What do you mean?”

“Whatever led you was leading me as well. It's brought us to the point we're at right now.”

I sighed and moved my shoulder a bit, just as the pain began to make its presence known to me again. This caused Corbyn's gaze to become more set upon me. I perked an eyebrow at him when he looked to be so forcibly restraining himself from dashing over. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“It bothers me on and off. Brings with it a little bit of a dizzy spell.” I surrendered to a smile, but only because he looked so worried. “I know the sex was good and all, but did you really have to bite me?”

While I issued the comment to generate some sort of reaction – preferably a laugh – from Corbyn, the guilty look returned to his face and he finally gave in to the compulsion to stand and walk toward me. “There's something you must know, Charlotte,” he said. I shifted over on my seat to allow Corbyn some room to sit and watched him settle into place with a nervous posture, placing the coat upon his lap again before knitting his fingers together. “Do you know what it is like to wait for something so long, chérie? Knowing that it's been woven into your future, but not knowing when or how you will find it?”

I glanced at him and looked away. “No,” I said, frowning. “I can't say that I do.”

Corbyn nodded. “It was all I could do not to tell you everything last night. I wanted to show it to you in one large picture, but there was no way you would have understood it at the time. However. . . I knew with all certainty that I was to invite you in to my world. This is why I asked you. I knew who you were meant to be, because I saw it so long ago.”

A newfound sense of dread crawled up my spine, twisting my gut on its way to the base of my brain. Something prevented the full realization of what he was about to tell me from breaking all the way through into my mind, but it couldn't stop the dizziness from returning. Corbyn, in return, took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “When we take someone –” he said, “– as our spouse, after the traditional rites of passage, the man bites son amour on the shoulder to stake his claim on her after. . . to put it more sensually. . . making love to her. This is no small matter, chérie; they are bonded together and if the woman is not of wolfen kind, she shall shortly become so.”

His eyes penetrated mine as my heart skipped a beat and my throat became dry. “By the time of the next full moon, the change shall be complete and you shall be as I am, Charlotte. You shall be wolfen as well.”

While the words only bounced off me at first – with shock acting as the barrier – the longer the thought processed, the more lightheaded I became. Another wave of throbbing pain shot from my shoulder as I brought my hand to my head which only served to make matters worse. Before I knew it, the world was going black and Corbyn was reaching for me to catch me in his arms.

My eyes rolled back just as the landscape began to spiral.

Within seconds, I was unconscious once again.