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He studied her determined face, wondering if she was right. The town needed to change, if it could change. Maybe she was the one to set the chain of events into motion. Maybe all she needed was someone to help her onto that path.
“I will do it for you.”
Surprise and relief showed on her face. A flicker of something wicked flashed behind her brown eyes, then quickly softened. “Thank you.”
She stepped aside to let him through the door she held open.
He glanced up through the porch overhang, riddled with holes, and wondered if this would be the start of a new era. After all, the century was almost over. The moment word spread that the Wolf was being used again, it would strike fear in hearts all over town, and diabolical people would soon fight for the scroll. If there was anything he’d learned in his centuries of life, it was that history always repeats itself.
Unless Red can stop it. Even if there was darkness in her, a power-hungry creature lurking under the gentle façade, perhaps it could be prevented from rising. If I do this for her, perhaps it will quench her desire for blood.
Her family’s murder would not go unnoticed. The townspeople would string her up from the first tree they found. The thought of her hanging from a noose, her feet kicking, and hands scrambling to remove the thick rope squeezing the life from her throat was enough for him to walk through the door.
He stepped into the house. Not a single candle was lit inside, and he was thankful. Hopefully, Red would not be able to see him clearly. The process—though he couldn’t truly witness it—was horrific.
“Avert your eyes,” he growled.
Red complied, remaining on the front porch and shutting the door.
He quickly removed his trousers, folded them, and placed them on a small table. His night-adjusted eyes saw every obstacle, and his nose picked up the scent of sickness in the far room. Red’s grandmother was too stubborn to die; he could taste that in the air. The stale scent of mildew hardly covered the odor of approaching death.
Allowing himself to make the change, he let out a groan of pain as his bones began to crack, his spine shortening and his elbows twisting. Collapsing to the floor, he thought he heard someone call to him, but he could not look. His eyes were shut tight as the transformation took over, thick hair springing from every inch of his flesh, his skull stretching and forming into a beastly snout. All at once it was over, and he was left panting, the pain a haunting memory, and nothing more.
He could smell Red’s fear, but he did not look back at her. Instinct kicked in, bringing with it the desire to kill the weakest in the area, and that was the elderly woman sleeping in the bedroom. He could smell her strongly now, so close to death, so close to decay. Lumbering through the house with effortless grace, he weaved through the furniture, dust billowing up around him. The bedroom door was left open a crack; his snout fit in, and he nudged it open with his robust shoulders. Drool dripped from his jowls, followed by a deep, carnal growl.
The woman woke, jerking upright. She recognized the creature of legend immediately, and the deep-set fear that had been with her for her entire life bubbled up as her face contorted, mouth parting, and eyes bulging. She scrambled out on the other side of the bed, searching frantically for a weapon, but found only the glass lantern beside her bedside. Hoisting it over her head, she lobbed it at him, missing the sleek black wolf by half a meter.
“Get back, beast!” she howled.
His long claws clattered against the floor, his haunches prepared to lunge, his tail low and hair on end. His maw parted wide to show a seemingly endless row of sharp teeth before he made the leap. His powerful muscles sent him straight across the room, his front paws knocking the woman down and pinning her to the ground. She opened her mouth to scream as he brought his jaws down over her throat, biting through the soft, wrinkled flesh and ripping everything apart. He felt her arteries split and tear, blood soaking the floor and his black fur.
Her scream never made it out, a silent memory in his mind for the rest of time.
When he was sure she was dead, he backed off and transformed back to man. Stumbling through the house, naked and covered in blood, he wiped his face with the back of his forearm and reached for his trousers. He stepped into them, then took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he saw Red.
He regained his composure, but not that last piece of himself he lost in the bedroom. I guess there was something left of me to take, he thought.
He stumbled out onto the porch to face the young woman, her wide eyes swimming with a combination of fear and excitement. Her lips parted ever so slightly, as though she was breathing in the horror of the scene. Despite the innocence of her youthful features, she looked hungry for more carnage.
He’d seen that look before.
Even though her hands were clean, she was changing, already losing part of herself, minute by minute, and nothing he could do would change that.
He was wrong. He was so wrong about her.
“I want to see,” she said, shoving past him before he could stop her.
His voice croaked as he tried to call her back, but speaking after a transformation was always difficult. He never should have helped her. He should have known by the way she looked, spoke, and acted.
He waited in shame, knowing that the body was mauled and distorted. The face frozen in shock with its mouth wide, the throat devoured so deep that the head was almost severed from the body.
When Red came back out, a grin stretched her pale pink lips.
The sight disturbed him so much he looked away and out into the welcome calm of the dark forest.
She was so much like Ana it made his gut twist.
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