Virgin Sacrifice to the Last Lycan - Chapter 165: Chapter 165

Helen’s POV
The fae glanced around, but we were the only two in this section of the library. A quiet hum emminated from the sleeping machines and the last of the day’s sunlight cut long across the room illuminating floating dust. The place had an eery abandoned feel to it.
After checking to see we were alone, Russo nodded his head at the computer. “I was going to find a more gentle way to break this news to you, my little wolf. But it seems like the Huntsman isn’t the only one who has an interesting lineage.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Did you find out something about Justin?” I pulled my chair closer. “Tell me quick, so that we can try to figure out this puzzle.”
He pointed to the screen. “The Huntsman isn’t the only other piece to this puzzle. You are a huge enigma as well. Didn’t your father finally admit before he died that he fathered you on another female, that you aren’t your mother’s daughter?”
“Well, yes. He told me that my mother was a worthless whore, some tricolored coated female who didn’t have a pack and roamed from bed to bed wherever she could find shelter, paying for her keep with sex.”
“And you believed that monster? since when did anything your parents ever say even closely resembled the truth?”
“Are you saying it’s not true? That my mother wasn’t sleeping her way from shelter to shelter?”
Russo sighed and rubbed his face. “You are so delicate and damaged sometimes, Helen. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying your father is a liar, which you already knew. And I think it’s sad that you still believed him all the way to the end. Even after you knew the lies and what he was capable of, that you would turn around and believe what he said about your mother . . . How many tiger lillies tricolor coats do you know of in regular pack life?”
“I haven’t actually met any others,” I admitted. “I would assume that their parents are just as ashamed of them as my parents were of me. Perhaps they’re keeping them hidden inside their houses.”
“But the tricolor bias and explanation is still strong?”
“Oh yes,” I told him. “Everywhere I went, everyone knew that being a tricolor meant that I was weak. A tiger lily is a wolf of shame, and tri-color males are nothing better than rogues.”
“Interesting. That seems to have been a coping mechanism put forth by Justin’s grandfather, at the time the current alpha king.”
“What do you mean? What coping mechanism?” I demanded.
“I guess coping mechanism is the wrong word. Well, the simplest term would be it was a lie.” Russo scrolled up to the top of the page he’d been reading on the computer. “See? I’ve been researching your lineage based on the fact that you were a tiger lily, a tricoat. And it turns out that tricoats aren’t just born randomly into solid colored wolf families. It isn’t some mark of shame or poor breeding. After all, how, unless one of them carried the gene to have a tricolor coat, could a child of a dark coated alpha like your father and a snow white like your mother produce a multicolored pup?”
“That’s why it’s a shame,” I said. “Because somehow, something went wrong in the breeding.”
He sighed. “This is is what happens when parents don’t give their children a proper education. It’s impossible, unless they carry the gene to be a multicolored wolf, you’re going to come out to be black or white or gray or some other natural combination of your parents’ coloring. But you’re not going to come out to be some random assortment of colors.”
“I get that,” I said. “I now know that I got my coat from my biological mother. It turned out that my father and his wife didn’t actually breed a tiger lily,” I protested.
“Right. No solid color wolf in any pack is going to breed a tricolored coated child. Genetically, it’s impossible.”
“So you’re saying that we’re all bastards?”
“Yes and no,” Russo hedged.
“Knock it off. You were tip toeing around the words. Spit it out,” I demanded. “This is my past we’re talking about, my heritage. Don’t keep me waiting like this.”
“Fine. I did some research and I found an entire pack of multi-coated wolves. All of you tiger lilies and whatever they call the male multicolored wolves are descendant from someone in that pack, someone who has left that pack and found a solid colored mate or just had sex with a solid colored partner. Your coloring isn’t a mark of shame. It’s a mark of distinction. It shows that you are from a completely different genetic background from all of the regular wolf packs.”
“But how can that be? And why? I don’t understand.”
“Well, I’m not finished reading all of the history on it, but so far what I found is that your pack possessed special abilities. That’s why Justin’s grandparents were so afraid of the multicoated wolves. That’s why they started the rumor that tricolors were weak and worthless and started a campaign to essentially smear their reputation so that no one would have anything to do with them.”
“I’m trying to figure out what he was so afraid of,” Russo continued. “But there was something about your pack, the multicolored wolves, that scared Justin’s grandfather. It scared him enough that he needed to completely ruin the reputation of an entire pack and entire breed, or side breed I guess. Would you like to keep reading with me?”
“Definitely.”
He scrolled back to the point he was on the page and the two of us picked up reading together. after skimming a couple of paragraphs, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I leaned back in my chair and stared at Russo.
“How do you know this is a reliable source?” I asked him.
He pointed to the web address at the top of the screen. “This was a research paper done for a notable werewolf university.”
“Then how is it on the human internet?” I asked.
“This is a website run by someone claiming to be a half witch. I’m sure humans don’t take her literally or at least most don’t, unless they’re aware of our world. But as you can see, she’s been spending her life history of various supernatural creatures. As far as the humans are concerned, this is a compilation of folklore. But between her research and the original paper written for the werewolf university, I’m confident that this is about as accurate as any history book out there.”
I swallowed hard and slumped lower in my seat. “It makes sense, then. Why Justin’s grandfather wanted to tarnish the reputation of my pack, my original pack. Anyway,” I shook my head in disbelief, “it seems so ridiculous to think that creatures could draw so heavily on the essence of the opposite sex. Who would have thought that our powers remain basically inactive until we have sex with the correct partners. No wonder my father thought I was weak and kept me as a virgin. There was no way I could get my true strength until after I started to have sexual relationships with partners.”