The Scholars (A Legacy Novella): The Legacy Series, #8

By Sheritta Bitikofer

Australia - 1791
Geoffrey and Adam Swenson are imprisoned on a ship, bound for Australia – then known as New Holland – under bogus criminal charges pressed against them in England. After they escape and flee from the budding settlement of New South Wales, they find that they are not the only werewolves on this strange and dangerous new continent. In desperate need to return home, they must align themselves with unlikely allies and set aside old grudges if they ever expect to survive.
The elements, the Aborigines, and the loose laws set down in the penal colony of Sydney all work against them. Death lurks behind every corner and even though a new ally appears, both are hesitant to trust a man who has already shown himself to be a flight risk in the past. But all Alfred Swenson wants is a chance at reconciliation with his family after being absent from their lives for over four hundred years.

~From the author of the Loup-Garou Series, The Legacies Series takes you through history, revealing the events that lead up to the finale of the Loup-Garou Series. Backstories to pivotal characters like John, Michael, Darren, and Katey's parents, are told in intimate detail with each installment of the series.~

• Language: English
• Publisher: Moonstruck Writing
• Release date: Jan 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781946821317

Sheritta Bitikofer

Sheritta Bitikofer is a paranormal romance author of eclectic tastes with a passion for storytelling. Her goal with each book is to rebel against shallow intimacy and inspire courage through the power of love and soulful passion. Her biggest thrill comes when she presents love in a genuine light, where the protagonists not only feel a physical attraction to one another, but a deep emotional (and dare we say spiritual?) connection that fuels their relationship forward into something that will endure much longer than the last pages of their novel. A devoted wife and fur-mama to two shelter rescue dogs, Sheritta’s life is never dull. When she’s not writing her next novel, she can be found binge-watching her favorite shows on Netflix, doing Zumba with her friends, or painting at a medieval reenactment event.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Matilda, September 29th, 1791

Port Jackson, New South Wales

---

In the pitch darkness, Geoffrey gripped the chains of his shackles, feeling the iron links bite into his palms. The ship continued to creak and moan against the winds that tossed them about at the head of the bay. Above him, he heard the excited voices of the sailors and military men, accompanied by their hurried footsteps pounding against the planks.

They had finally arrived at Port Jackson and would see Sydney Cove by morning. He, Adam, and over two-hundred convicts were to be dropped off with the rest of the cargo brought over from England. Beside Geoffrey, his son was in no better condition. Fidgety and agitated by their confinement, he wrung the same chains that bound them together, although he had advised against it so many times.

Starvation, filth, and stenches no werewolf should ever have to endure had marked this seemingly unending voyage. In actuality, their imprisonment had lasted for only five months – four of which were spent aboard this ship. And the last three and a half were bearable, considering that they had a soldier onboard who was privileged to know of their unique condition.

That soldier, God rest his soul, had been committed to the deep just two weeks prior. Two weeks too soon.

Don’t break them, Geoffrey once more cautioned to his son in a hushed whisper that wouldn’t awake the other convicts sleeping in heaps and rows across the hold. Although many probably wouldn’t notice if they broke free of their bonds, they couldn’t afford to make a scene. Not yet.

Adam dropped the chains that connected his feet with a startling racket. A few older men grumbled and cursed him, but the younger werewolf didn’t return their vile insults. Geoffrey shot him a reprimanding look, his golden eyes blazing. His son matched his glare.

Hunger and the pressing need to shift had set them both on edge. Geoffrey could sense that it was his son’s time to change. Though Adam had shown great fortitude in times past, he was still young as werewolves went, and could not resist the shift all night. There wasn’t a werewolf alive who could deny the beast that dwelled within them.

The soldier, the only officer to die thus far on the voyage, had an uncle residing in Portsmouth who was also a werewolf. He understood that Geoffrey and Adam were given to the change once a month and would put on a convincing show of taking one or both of them away to the deepest part of the ship to receive a punishment for some fictitious crime. There, they stayed all night convalescing from a whipping. At least, that’s what the other convicts and officers on the ship were made to believe.

If only that man were still alive. If only Geoffrey, lost in a fog of delirium and silent rage brought on by an empty stomach and restless wolf, could come up with a plan for escape. If only they were at Sydney Cove already so they could put their feet on some solid ground.

Just the thought of dry land made his muscles tense and joints ache, the need to shift pressing forward again without his consent. Clearing his mind once more, he let go of his own chains and took a deep breath. He was made to suffer the fetid odors of piss, excrement, sickness, and death for four months and it was finally at an end.

But what awaited them in the budding settlement?

It wasn’t his idea to accept the charges that were brought against them. It wasn’t his idea to stay behind prison bars while their fate was decided. His son was the orchestrator of this scheme. For over fifty years, they had lived comfortably in England. They never stayed in one place for more than a decade so as not to raise suspicion, but their offenses finally caught up with them. Taxes. Bloody taxes. The government needed them and Geoffrey had neglected to pay his dues.

They could have broken free the moment they were taken into custody in Kent, but Adam advised against it as soon as they came to understand where they would be transported for the next seven years.

This bold, adventurous spirit was not inherited from Geoffrey and if it weren’t for the green eyes they shared, he might have been tempted to think that Adam was not his son at all. That enthusiastic spark belonged to someone else entirely, whose name could barely be thought of without bringing with it great pain.

We can swim for it, Adam muttered beside him, a gravelly undertone in his words that told Geoffrey the shift was very near. If they didn’t find a safe way to get him below in the cargo hold or away from these men, he was liable to cause a scene.

Swim? he hissed. You can’t be serious.

One look into his son’s face told him that he was completely determined. Black fur was already trying to push its way through his dark skin, but Adam somehow managed to force it back to its source. Geoffrey was constantly astounded by his son’s remarkable abilities that stemmed directly from his close, personal relationship with the wolf within him.

Without any more delay, Adam seized his chains and snapped a few of the links. First on the shackles that bound his wrists, and then to the ones that wove through the ankle cuffs. Geoffrey reached out and dug his emerging claws into his son’s arm to keep him seated.

Don’t be a damned fool, he growled.

Adam turned on him, lips pulled to reveal a set of fangs that he could no more conceal than his golden eyes. Are you with me or not?

Like so many times before, Geoffrey was transported back to a time before Adam was alive, before tragedy and loss scarred his heart forever. It was something his brother would say. And as if those words brought back a tiny piece of his old self, Geoffrey reached down and broke his own fetters, letting the tiny shards of iron patter to the floor.

Adam was the first to bolt to his feet. What remained of his shackles didn’t encumber him as much as the hunger, and his legs refused to carry him fast enough through the ship’s hold and up the stairs to the main deck. Geoffrey followed close behind.

Guards, sailors, and soldiers in their bright red uniforms shouted and gunshots sounded, but neither werewolf paid them any attention. A few firm shoves to those who stood in their way and the path to freedom was cleared.

They vaulted over the side of the ship, plunging feet-first into the freezing waters below. In this region of the world, spring was just around the corner, but for now, winter still held a tight grip over this newly settled country.

The cold sobered him just long enough to fight back the shift. Beneath the surface, however, he could see Adam struggling. Bubbles of air escaped from his tightened lips as his human form gave way to the beast. His son sank deeper into the murky bay, thrashing and rolling.

With his lungs burning for air, Geoffrey dove down as the ship continued along its course. The shouts and alarms died away and the bullets that whizzed past lost their momentum in the water. His hands frantically grabbed for Adam’s thick arm that was now covered in hair just as his son was regaining some level of consciousness.

The shift was complete and as they struggled their way toward the direction of the shore, only his torn clothes drifted to the seafloor. When their heads broke the surface, both gasped for air. One human mouth and one wolf-like muzzle gaped and swallowed a bit of brackish water as they fought the waves that tried to sweep them under again.

Orienting themselves only by the ship that made its way toward Sydney Cove, they turned to the north and swam across the width of Port Jackson. Soon enough, Geoffrey’s bare feet slammed against the sand as they approached a beach near the head of another cove.

Adam wasted no time and charged up the shore to shake out his fur. Geoffrey, however, dragged himself onto the bank, feeling the sharp rocks and bits of broken shell prick across his skin. Fatigued by the long swim that was made even more laborious by the hunger clamping his stomach like a vice, he could barely bring himself to move. The surf washed around him as Adam patiently waited for his father. In the course of the shift, the cuffs of their shackles had splintered and fallen away. Adam’s set were now at the bottom of the bay, and Geoffrey’s would soon sink into the damp sand of the beach to lie undisturbed for God only knew how long.

As if his half-man, half-wolf form gave him renewed strength, Adam seemed undaunted by their escape or their near-drowning experience. If he had the strength to form words, Geoffrey might have cursed the boy for his inexhaustible vitality.

Slowly, his energy was restored, but he first assessed his surroundings as he always did before commencing the shift. There wasn’t another human along the beach, or in the dense woods behind Adam that stretched on immeasurably to the north. This country, wild and untamed by any European influence, was the final piece of the map, the last frontier on the earth to be claimed and molded into whatever England wanted it to be. Whether that was forever a penal colony made up of soldiers and convicts, or a lively, sprawling civilization was yet to be determined. Sydney might become the new London with time.

But for now, this was the place that Adam wanted to explore and discover. It wasn’t the last place left to be surveyed by a Swenson, but Geoffrey’s son was convinced that they should continue the adventure that began centuries ago. Only, one member of their expedition was forever lost, and because of that, Geoffrey didn’t necessarily agree. But he had given into his son, thinking such compliance was due to him after decades of training and isolation.

Geoffrey sat up on his elbows and looked up to the moon and stars above. It was the same sky that blanketed the night over England, but perhaps there was something to what Adam expected out of this idiotic journey. Maybe they would discover something worthwhile in these uncharted forests.

He pushed himself up and with aching effort, shedding the last of his clothes to shift.

Adam had never welcomed a shift more eagerly in his life. His wolf, as docile and accepting as it was at times, could not be reasoned with while onboard the Matilda. Impatient and frantic, it would not bear the internment any longer. Shifting underwater was a new experience, just as laying sprawled across this unevenly shady spot atop a waterfall was.

The morning sun warmed parts of his back as the thin canopy of leaves above him swayed in the wind. This country, untouched by the settlers that presided to the south, was unlike anything he had encountered in the place he was born or in England.

The myriad of scents was entirely foreign. The birdsongs that first awoke him some time ago were completely different in pitch and melody than he had ever heard. Even the rock on which he stretched was new and strange in its coloration. Glistening with the steady, but faint stream of water that flowed down to join the pool about a dozen