Her heart broke for him. To be so betrayed by someone you loved, someone you thought loved you. “You could not have known the depths of his depravity,” Elinore said, her voice low and rough with her own emotions. She smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “Whatever he has done, he was your family and you had no cause to believe him degenerate and foul.”
“I should have known. I should have sensed him lying or felt his betrayal.” His eyes opened suddenly and he tried to sit up, grimacing in pain as he did.
“Please, lie still,” Elinore pleaded. She could not bear to see him in pain. Her nose twitched and she looked down in horror as fresh blood blossomed against the sheets. “Mrs Davenport!” she called, trying to push Caleb gently back down.
“He will call for you, tonight,” Caleb managed, sitting up even though he was clearly breaking open his healing skin. “He’s been calling for you this whole time. I thought it was the omega, but it was him. He said he’s been waiting for you to shift. He… he bit Victoria, but it was too late and she died. He believes since you are younger, stronger, you will shift. He wants you to be the mistress of Ravenwood, his mistress, his mate.”
Though Elinore had already surmised as such, to hear it fall from Caleb’s lips was terrifying.
“I shall not answer.”
“You will, you must. He’ll have the most influence on you tonight, on the first full moon after your bite. Mrs. Davenport’s tonic will not be enough. You will fight your way out if you have to, all to answer the call of the one that bit you,” Caleb continued, panting slightly as he struggled to a half-seated position. Mrs. Davenport rushed back into the room, a fresh tray in her hands with her herbs and other medicinal implements Elinore didn’t care to recognize.
“Mrs. Davenport, I believe he’s torn his stitches,” Elinore said, still trying to shush Caleb. He was now trying to get himself out of bed.
“I must stop him. I will have to fight him.”
“You are in no condition to fight anyone,” Mrs. Davenport answered. Her eyes flickered to Elinore and then down to her tray. Elinore saw a bottle of laudanum resting innocuously on the platter and she nodded once. Mrs. Davenport made motherly cooing and shushing noises, much as Elinore had done, as she fixed a draught for Caleb.
“You are so badly injured, Caleb,” Elinore spoke, hoping to reason with him. “Surely you see that you cannot fight like this. To do so is madness. Suicide.”
“If I don’t, he will call for you and you will answer. He is your sire. You won’t be able to stop yourself. It’s in your blood. He’s in your blood.”
Elinore could feel herself pale at his words and was never more grateful for anything than when Mrs. Davenport held a small cup to Caleb’s lips and tipped the contents of it in his mouth. He drank it, swallowing it fully, only blinking his eyes as he recognized the taste.
“No, I can’t sleep. I mustn’t. Hayter…”
“It’s all right, dear,” Mrs. Davenport said. “It’s all right.”
Caleb’s eyes moved back and forth from Elinore to Mrs. Davenport, his eyelids starting to blink heavily. “No. I can stop him. You can’t face him,” he said to Elinore, his bright eyes starting to dim. “He’s an Alpha. He’s more powerful than you can believe. More powerful than I realized.”
“It’s all right,” Elinore said, repeating Mrs. Davenport’s words, though she wasn’t sure she believed them. “You need to rest and heal. Perhaps by tonight you shall be in a manner to assist.” She glanced over at Mrs Davenport who shook her head once. She did not believe Caleb would be healed enough by nighttime. Elinore’s chest clenched.
“Elinore,” Caleb said, his words starting to slur. “You cannot face him. You can’t.”
“Shhh. Rest. Be well.” Her voice was hardly audible to her own ears and she wondered if Caleb could hear it, or if he could feel her fingers as they trailed through his soft hair. In a moment, he was asleep, his body going slack and falling into the bed, sinking deep into the covers.
Elinore was afraid to look at Mrs. Davenport, but she forced herself. The look on her face confirmed all Elinore feared.
“He’s right, miss. It’s a long time I’ve known werewolves. My whole life. I know of what he speaks. If Hayter is the one that bit you,” her eyes flickered down to Elinore’s arm and then back again, “when he calls tonight, on the full moon, you won’t be able to resist. You’ll have to go to your sire.”
Elinore shook her head slightly. “No, I can’t. I won’t.”
“You will not have a choice.”
Elinore turned to see Mrs. Thistlewaite standing in the door, Alice looking pale and scared behind her, Jonah just beside her. Again, Elinore shook her head. Her stomach rolled with fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of Hayter, fear for Caleb, for the rest of Ravenwood. Her home.
Her pack.
Then, like a cold wave, she felt knowledge run over her mind, through her body. Her nerves, which moments before were frayed, started to knit back together. She looked to Caleb and Mrs. Davenport, then to the doorway where Alice, Mrs. Thistlewaite and Jonah stood.
To Alice, Elinore said, “Did Caleb return your father’s gun? The one with the silver bullet,” she enquired.
“Yes, we have it. Father has six more silver bullets as well that he’s kept hidden,” Alice said.
“I’ve got four silver knives and enough broken bits to make two more bullets, miss,” Jonah added, seemingly understanding where her question was going.
Elinore clenched her jaw, steeling her nerves. “Mrs. Davenport, call everyone to the dining room. Mrs. Thistlewaite, if you please, could you ready some refreshments. Jonah, I need to know what other sort of weapons the men have - like the ones I saw you take hunting.” A sudden thought had her heart beating madly in her chest. “If Caleb found his way to the passageways, could Hayter not as well? Could he now be underneath us, waiting to attack?”
Mrs. Thistlewaite shook her head. “Mr. Vollmond does not know the passageways. We’ve been… quite circumspect in our use of them and have never mentioned them where he may be listening.” A rueful expression crossed her face. “He may be our Alpha, but we were not foolish to trust him.”
Elinore nodded. “We should seal the entrances at any rate. If I was able to find Caleb, then perhaps he could as well.”
Jonah spoke up again. “The men and I already cleaned up the blood and we found some of Mrs. Davenport’s scent mixture.” Elinore shook her head, not understanding. “It confuses the noses of wolves. Caleb must have used some to conceal his whereabouts.”
“But I was able to find him,” Elinore said.
Mrs. Davenport rested her hand on Elinore’s arm. “It’s only meant to confuse enemies, dear. Magic has uses.”
It seemed there was much Elinore needed yet to learn of her new world. “Mrs. Davenport, I bow to your superior skills. All right, then. The entrances to the tunnels will be sealed. Jonah, after we meet in the dining room, men will need to posted at the entrances. There shall be only one way in and out of Ravenwood tonight. The front door. And if…” she paused, swallowing hard, “when Hayter calls me, if I’m unable to resist, that is how I shall leave.”
Mrs. Davenport hand clenched tightly on Elinore’s arm. “Oh, miss. You can’t.”
Elinore’s lips quirked in a self-deprecating way. “Do not count me out yet, Mrs. Davenport.” She looked around at the rest of the small group gathered in Caleb’s room. “I have an idea, but I will need your assistance. The assistance of my pack.”
Chapter Twenty
The day was like a broken thing - crawling forward in slow lurches followed by a strange burst of movement, only to return to a staggered pace.
Caleb slept fitfully, jerking and twitching in his sleep. Mrs. Davenport had to re-sew several stitches, but the drink she’d given him (a mixture of laudanum and some other herbs that she claimed were known to calm and soothe werewolves) kept him unconscious. She thought he might be healed by moonrise, but she did not know for certain. The specte
r of Hayter loomed before Elinore like a dark shadow on the horizon. She felt anxious and scared, but also… determined.
At her request, the inhabitants of Ravenwood gathered in the dining room and Elinore officially asked for their assistance. They would secure the manor, including all entrances to the tunnels. They would distribute whatever they could find as weapons and each and every person would be responsible for ensuring their own safety as well as the safety of their fellow brethren. Their fear was like a high-pitched hum in the air, but no one balked or hesitated.
It was officially now a coup d’état.
The rising full moon pressed against Elinore’s nerves and skin - a deep, incessant tingle in her marrow. Her gums ached and at times, she could feel the sharp prick of new teeth just under the surface. Her fingertips itched and once or twice, a claw would pierce through the skin of her finger and then retract slowly back in, leaving a few spots of blood on her dress. At one point, she had to stand from the table where she sat with the inhabitants of Ravenwood and pace, cracking her neck, pulling her shoulders back in an effort to relieve the pressure she felt building under her skin - as though her body was too small to contain her. She could feel as the room watched her - Mrs. Thistlewaite, Jonah and the others. Mrs. Davenport attended to Caleb, while Alice sat with her father. The smell of herbs and spices came heavily down the stairs. Mrs. Davenport used her time at Caleb’s sick bed to ready protection amulets for the pack and various other trinkets and bits she thought would be of help. Elinore tried to listen as it was explained to her, but found she could not concentrate on long sentences - losing the thread of conversation as it went. By late afternoon, Elinore had the urge to tear at her clothes and found she could no longer sit still. She maintained a steady prowl in the foyer, pacing back and forth in front of the door. She had to take off her shoes. They were confining and restricting and they angered her. Pacing in her bare feet, feeling the floor directly against her skin, was marginally better, but she longed for the feeling of cool grass and dirt, mossy bits and rock. At times she heard people approach the hallway where she paced and a low, growling sound escaped her lips. She did not want company.
Darkness fell across Ravenwood. The moon hung low in the sky, large and yellow like a fat coin. It thrilled her - made her gums itch and her stomach clench. Elinore twitched as she listened to the sounds of the manor. Far above her, she could hear the sounds of Caleb moving in his sleep - a pained sigh, a stuttered breath. A need to see him settled deep in her belly and she crept up the stairs and down the long hallway, like a wild thing stalking her prey.
As she entered, Mrs. Davenport stared at Elinore with wide eyes. “Oh, miss. You’ve the look of the wolf about you already.”
Elinore caught sight of herself in the mirror next to Caleb’s wardrobe. Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders, slightly tangled from dragging her fingers through it. Her fingers and her claws. She had four on her left hand and two on her right that hadn’t retracted in hours. She was hunched over, but at the same time, on the balls of her feet - almost comically like a creature from a dark dungeon. It was her eyes that surprised Elinore the most. Her eyes were turning a deep shade of gold, ringed around the outer edges in black. She looked feral, wild.
She liked it.
As Elinore moved toward the bed, Mrs. Davenport rose from the chair upon which she sat and left the room silently, leaving Elinore alone with Caleb. Elinore crawled onto the bed and curled up next to Caleb, resting her head on his shoulder. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the sound of his heart beating, strong and steady and the scent of him filled her nostrils. He no longer smelled entirely of a wounded animal - like blood and pain. He had a soft, sleepy scent mixed in with the hurt that made her want to curl up into a tight ball against him - her body between him and the door. He murmured in his slumber and one of his hands came and rested against her head, petting her hair. She sighed. The tight, anxious feeling crawling through her veins all day finally settled some and she dozed.
She awoke at the sound of a howl.
Hayter.
It was as off-tune as ever, screeching across her eardrums and raking its long, horrible talons down her nerves.
And yet, and yet…
Elinore sat up and turned her head toward the sound, trying to hear it better.
In the silence after the howl, Elinore looked down at Caleb. He stirred slightly in his sleep, a frown across his face. Should she wake him? Elinore sniffed the air and still smelled a lingering scent of blood and pain. He had not healed entirely, even with the sleep that Mrs. Davenport had induced. If she woke him, he would try to stop Elinore, try to face Hayter himself. He would be no match for an Alpha wolf while injured.
A second howl from Hayter broke through the night, ululating and louder than the last. Elinore felt the pull of it in her breastbone - a thick tug against her inner workings, as though there was a length of rope affixed to her chest and Hayter yanked on it ruthlessly. She lurched to her feet and stumbled out of the room. She could feel claws on her toes and looked down to see the rest of her right fingers similarly clawed. Would she shift the entire way? Would Hayter care if she did not?
Thinking became increasingly difficult. Not that her brain did not work, but it was hard to hold more complex thoughts in her mind. She moved down the stairs, wanting to drop to all fours, but not quite knowing how. Movement off to her side caught her eye and she wanted to snarl before she caught the person’s scent.
Pack, her mind supplied. It was one of the men from Ravenwood, who’s name… she could not remember now. But he was pack. Elinore kept moving past him, through the foyer, to the front door and outside.
The moon was full - so fat and heavy in the sky it could drop to the earth from the sheer weight of it. She squinted at its brightness - more silver than yellow as it rose. She wanted to throw her head back and howl at it herself, but no, no. She had work to do first. She had a home to protect, a den to keep safe, a pack to secure. The grass was cold under her feet, the earth soft and she could feel the claws of her toes, sink into the ground as she moved. Hayter howled again, louder now that she was outside, and the pull of his call was strong. She had to go to him, she had to answer it. She was her own person, but his call would not be denied.
Her ears twitched as she heard footsteps behind her, beside her, falling into place at a distance. The denizens of Ravenwood, following her, silent sentinels at her back - far enough away that she would appear alone - their sounds and scents hidden by Mrs. Davenport’s clever magic. Elinore moved quickly through the forest, dodging branches and roots, having no problems seeing in the night. A riot of emotions ran through her blood - fear, anger, hatred, nervousness. Yet although she had several claws and now more wolfen eyes, she did not feel anything akin to what she thought she would for a shift. A strong emotion, wasn’t that what Caleb had said? What could be stronger than the fright coursing through her body at this moment? More visceral than the wrath she felt toward Hayter? More inflamed than her anger for him biting her, for harming Caleb? She broke through the trees and crashed into a clearing with a cacophony of sounds including a snarl that broke through her still-human lips when she saw him standing in the cleaning.
Hayter.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Hayter was shirtless in the moonlight, the silver light shining down on his bared chest. There was a dark scar on his shoulder, sickly and foul looking. Her bullet wound, Elinore realized. From when she shot him in the forest. Another long black mark travelled across his torso, from the knife she’d dug into him. The wounds made her proud. She did that. She could hurt him. He wasn’t indestructible. His feet were bare like hers, claws on all his toes. His fingers too - sharp, wicked looking things. She thought of Caleb’s wounds - bright red and the hurt animal smell that had lingered on him. Hayter smiled, long canines coming down from his upper palette and he yawned his mouth open. There was nothing fatigued or slumberous about it. It was an opportunity for him to show of
f the sharp line of the rest of his teeth - his fangs glistening in the moonlight. Another low growling sound came forth from deep in her chest, but she didn’t rush forward. Her mind, her thoughts, seemed simplified, uncomplicated. He was a threat. An animal larger than her. Until he made a move, she’d be foolish to attack him. He moved toward her, small, light steps on the forest floor and she stepped sideways, unblinking.
“Do you feel the pull of the moon? Against your skin, against your humanity? I know you’ve a wolf in you, dear Nora. I’m looking forward to meeting her tonight.”
The shortened form of her name made her even angrier. She’d not given him leave to change her name, to call her by another. He moved again, trying to circle her and she countered his movement. She was hunched over, her skirts dragging on the ground, her hair around her face, hanging down, her hands twitching with claws extending out from some of her fingers. She’d never felt less civilized in her life. But also, she’d never felt so powerful. She could feel the white wolf within her, snarling to be released and as she stared at Hayter, at his lithe form in the moonlight, she thought the white wolf just might win against him.
“When I heard I had a niece, all alone in the world, I thought to make you a simple member of our pack. But then… oh, then I wondered. You were young. But youth has temerity about it. A brutal survival instinct. Would it be foolish of me to choose you for a mate before meeting you? I feared I’d made a horrible error when I saw you first. Wet. Bedraggled. Fearful in the night. But then, you raised the pistol and shot me.” He laughed. “Little girl alone in the woods, but not quite defenseless. Not quite powerless. Oh, how that bullet plagued me. I had to dig it out.” He motioned with his claws, swiping them at her, and she snarled at the movement. “But it was worth it. To see you now, with your sharp puppy teeth, gangly paws and unsteady legs, trying so hard to play with the big wolves. It’s been very amusing playing with you this last month. I’ll teach you all sorts of games.” His eyes glinted yellow in the moonlight, demon-bright. “Speaking of puppy games, how is my dear nephew doing? Did he manage to bleed out when he scurried back to his den? Using witchcraft like a weakling to hide from me? Or is he still alive, licking his wounds somewhere safe.”
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