Book One in the Lycan Chronicles
Evander Rue had his entire life planned out even before he was born. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and parents who never had time for him. A family who barely called or cared for him left him to be rais...
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The woman strutted through the warehouse towards the back, avoiding eye contact with the men manufacturing guns and all sorts of medieval weapons used to hunt and kill werewolves, whispering a small protection prayer over herself. She did not want to be the minister of the unpleasant news, but it seemed as if she were left with no alternative as she marched up to her father's office firmly, knocking on the door, knowing that if she hesitated, he would have known. Hesitation was a form of weakness in his eyes, and anility was requited through unrelenting discipline.
The door was promptly opened, revealing a man in his mid-twenties and over six feet tall. His intense bright blue eyes stared down at her expectantly. "I bring news for father, is he here?"
He standing at the doorway stepped aside, letting her in the private office closing the door behind her before leaning on it. The man that had opened the door for her had been her eldest brother and her father's right-hand man. The office was filled to the brink with books, scrolls, and other forms of valuable documentation. Sitting behind the massive desk looking through some of the financial reports of the month was her father, who was smoking a cigar, not bothering to look up at the arrival of his daughter as he took another drag. Her father had been a notorious werewolf hunter throughout his prime when he had been sworn under the Church wearing the mark with pride hunting down the abominable beasts that lurked in the shadows of the moon. Those were the days where he thought he could trust the Church, that they didn't fight just the heroic aesthetic of vanity and that they were truly fighting a warrior's battle to end the reign of the lycanthropes.
"I expect that you bring me quality news because I am not in the mood to be disappointed today, Pestilentia." Her father discoursed up as he exhaled a gray cloud of repugnant-smelling smoke into the air. She inwardly flinched at the indifferent, uncaring tone he often harangued her with. Pestilentia wasn't just his only daughter; she was also the youngest of all of her siblings, intending she ought to follow the example placed to her by her superiors.
"I apologize, father, but I just received word from Nightshade that he had approached the potential werewolf and revealed to him that he was acquiring more erudition concerning the Alexavier clan. He also stated that the Rue boy told Midnight this, furthermore expecting Luna to discover the revelation of this and that she would become involved in the situation." She bowed her head, not daring to look up in case he did. As a child, she was taught never to look her predominant in the eye, it was a challenge that would result in her probable demise or traumatizing punishment.
