Wolf Omega: The Lykanos Chronicles 2

Chapter Fifty-One

"This is quite comfortable," Vivian noted with delight as we sat down on our bench.

Despite my request to Richards, the truth was I knew nothing about trains aside from what Maximo had mentioned about them in passing. I'd never ridden on one—I'd never had a reason to before this moment.

The handsome seating of the Washington Express was very comfortable--heavily padded and covered with a delicate floral pattern that lit the car's spirit in the early morning light. The bench was wide enough to easily accommodated us both, and I delighted at the heavily varnished wood paneling throughout the car that framed its many windows. Watching the landscape go by would be a treat.

Though ours was not one of the modern models that Maximo had described, with private compartments that transformed into sleeping quarters, I soon learned that feature was unnecessary for this journey.

"We expect to arrive in Jersey City before the sun sets," the porter assured me. "There should be at least two departures left to ferry you to Manhattan before they stop for the night."

I mused that this vessel must move faster than even my wolf could run. Offering a gratuity, I thanked the man profusely and settled in. Shortly after we rolled out of the capital, I rejoiced to discover I could open our window to allow fresh air to cool us during the journey.

By noon, we'd ventured from our bench down the moving aisle to visit the dining car. There I marveled further at the simple offerings that made such a difference to travel's normal discomforts.

And then I heard him.

I turned to look down the car from the service bar to the lounge where I found Duccio sitting alone at a small table and staring back at me. He had masked his mind completely, as he had the previous night at the theatre until he wanted me to notice him. It was a talent few possessed, and his control retook me by surprise. More than anything, I sensed he was true to his word: I had nothing to fear from him.

"I see someone over there that I know," I told Vivian. "You may wait for me back at our bench."

She looked back, locking eyes with Duccio, then nodded to me. After she'd left the car with our tea and shortbread cookies, I walked through to the lounge to approach his table.

Duccio stood, never taking his eye from mine, and nodded silently. I felt his immense power radiating within my mind, its presence assuaging any doubt I might have fancied during our century and a half apart.

How to describe the sensation of seeing his face again after so long? The most startling discovery was to learn I'd forgotten exactly what he looked like. Until that moment, he'd become a vague visage in my mind, reflective of the gamut of emotions I felt toward him.

He was exceedingly handsome with a strong, angular jaw and straight, hawklike nose that flared delicately near the tip. His sensuous lips and light olive skin might seem boyish were it not for his dark, heavy brow, which made his entire face appear exceptionally masculine.

Buried within all this accouterment were his eyes: two sharp sapphires that stared with startling presence. Filled at once with both danger and adoration, their effect unnerved me.

I wanted to slap him and rip the skin from his treacherous skull. I wanted to kiss him and remember all those days when he meant something profoundly wonderful to me.

Instead, I took a seat at his table and turned my head to stare silently out the window at the moving vista. Now that I'd come to it, I couldn't decide what to say. There were things I wanted to scream, but far too many to choose from.

I settled for silence.

"How are you?" he asked.

It was the most useless, pedestrian question he could ask. I couldn't repress a smile at how insufficient it was.