Whoa, is it time for the wolf hunt already? No. No it is not. I'm so sorry, but I thought that little Richter Trevor deserved a little more time and it helps flesh out Sonia just a bit more. I felt like she was very harsh, which, admittedly, was on purpose. She's not necessarily supposed to be a "nice" person, especially with the life she lives, and I wanted to highlight that in her relationship with her son.
So this part rounds out backstory and the next lot, I promise, is all that sweet, sweet werewolf hunting. Patience! Theodore Roosevelt said that man has no greater virtue than patience. Probably. He said a lot of things.
Young Richter tossed and turned in his bed. The silence of the night always seemed to disturb him, as though it were disingenuous, concealing some great threat. He remembered that when his father was alive, there was always the calming sound of life within the manor after Richter retired to bed. Music from his father's phonograph or Grant playing the piano would softly lull him to sleep. But these days there was only silence and the terror that he knew hid therein.
Finally slipping from bed, Richter walked to his window. The pale light of a nearly full moon shined down over the grounds, illuminating a car at the front of the manor. The young boy pulled his long hair from in front of his eyes, leaning closer to the glass to see Grant loading a black trunk into the vehicle. A coldness seized Richter, forcing him to stumble back. He looked toward the door. In an instant he was through it, racing down the stairs, his pale blue nightgown flaring as he bolted to the front hall.
"Richter? What are you doing out of bed?" Sonia asked.
The young boy froze in front of his mother. She stood, silhouetted in the moonlight, her usual dress replaced with a tight fitting black suit. He saw the shapes of pistols hugging her thighs and chain wrapped around her waist.
"My apologies, Madam," Grant called from the door, rushing to the young boy's side. "I should have ensured Master Richter was asleep before I began loading the car.."
"Where are you going, Mother?" the young boy asked.
"Richter, return to your bed," Sonia replied curtly.
"Come, Master Richter," Grant said, taking the young boy's hand.
"Mother! Are you leaving?" Richter asked, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
"Master Richter, your mother has important business," Grant assured him.
Sonia closed her eyes, sighing. Holding up a hand, she paused her servant and stepped closer to her son, kneeling. "I have important work to do, Richter, but I promise I will be back soon."
"Where are you going?" the boy repeated.
"Don't worry, my sweet child. I won't be gone long." She forced a smile and ran a gloved finger along his cheek, wiping away a tear. "Would you like Mother to bring you back a toy?"
"Don't go," Richter pleaded. "You're going to go away like Father."
"Master Richter!" Grant began before being silenced by Sonia.
"My dear Richter, I will be back before you know it. I promise."
"You promise? You promise you'll come back?"
"Yes, my dear," Sonia said softly. "And when I get back, I promise I won't go anywhere for a long time." Richter shifted, uneasy. His mother caressed his red cheek, smiling as sweetly as she could manage. "Now, go to bed, my sweet child."
Richter sniffled and nodded, allowing Grant to lead him back up the stairs. Sonia turned moving toward the door, pausing only as a small voice called out to her once more.
"I love you, Mother."
Sonia hesitated, standing in the open doorway. Without turning, she simply replied, "And I, you."
Keep your eyes open for my debut novel, The Paladin.