The Witch and the Wolf

by Tricia Schneider

  He was a werewolf.

  A monster.

  The tightness in his stomach continued to grow. At first, with his mind so wrapped around Lillian he did not recognize the preliminary symptoms of the oncoming change. Edgy and tense, he had not noticed anything but Lillian and keeping his distance from her. He wanted so much to touch her. He regretted his status as a gentleman, and wished instead he were a rake or a rogue who could take her with no regret or conscience. He remembered the way his hands shook as he unbuttoned her gown as if it were the first moment he had ever disrobed a woman…

  The sharp pain in his gut alerted him of the rising moon and his impending change. He knew without witnessing it through the cloudy sky that it reached the horizon.

  He grunted at the pain. For once, he had not been anticipating the change, dreading it, praying that this time it would not come.

  “Did you say something?” Lillian asked.

  He looked up to see her peering at him with sudden concern, her head tilted so delicately to the side.

  “No, no,” he said, clenching his fist. He needed a moment. It was simply a spasm. He would have many more before the worst came upon him. This would pass in a moment.

  He attempted to force a smile to his lips to ease her concern, hoping she would return her attention to her book, but the smile came out more as a grimace, and he groaned as another spasm quickly followed the first.

  “You are not well,” she said, placing the book forcefully onto the cushion beside her. She was about to stand when a sharp knock sounded at the front door.

  They both stiffened at the noise, which broke the comfortable silence of the house. In a moment, Amery’s footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door opened and a soft murmur of voices followed.

  He felt the cold breeze creep from the hallway into the library. It must have been his imagination but the shiver he felt did not seem to be a reaction from the cold but from a presence.

  A moment later, Amery appeared at the doorway, his face wary and worrisome as he looked between North and Lillian.

  “My lord, Miss Merriweather, may I introduce Lord Fitzwalter and Lord Prescott.”

  Lillian gasped. North wanted to look at her, to see the shock in her eyes, but his gaze became transfixed with the two new visitors.

  Lord Prescott bowed stiffly, then raised his head to look past North to Lillian.

  “Hello, my dear. I had wondered how far you had gone.”

  Chapter Five

  “Uncle Arden!” Lillian gasped, horrified to see him enter the room accompanied by none other than her fiancé. “How did you find me?”

  Arden Prescott narrowed his eyes as he glanced suspiciously between her and North. With a smile approaching more of a leer, he said, “I do not think I am required to explain to you, of all people, the efforts I took in locating my errant niece. Let us be satisfied that you are discovered at last.”

  Lillian felt foolish asking him such a question. Of course, she knew. It was a simple enough spell, if one had the correct material available to them. But she had not expected Uncle Arden to search for her. Lord Fitzwalter had followed her as she had fled her captivity in her uncle’s house. She had never suspected that Uncle Arden would take precious time away from his concoctions to come find the niece who did not wish to marry the man he had chosen for her.

  “Hello, Miss Merriweather,” Lord Fitzwalter said graciously as he stepped forward. He bowed to North who had stood at the sound of her exclamation. “I trust you have not been burdening Lord North with your misgivings.”

  She opened her mouth to respond but found North’s curious gaze upon her. She stared back into his inquiring eyes. The fear she had felt for so long now engulfed her. What a fool she was! She had become complacent in this place of comfort and security. The spell that North had woven over her broke at the sight of her vindictive uncle and his crony.

  And North looked to her for some explanation. An explanation she should have confessed to him the moment she found him in the kitchen this morning.

  “I-I…” Her tongue seemed foreign to her as she tried to formulate the words. The act became reminiscent of her first meeting with him. The shock of observing such a man for the first time had become, instead, her embarrassment at exposing him to the truth.

  “I am engaged,” she blurted.

  The horror that descended upon his face was enough to make her ill. Her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat. She knew without a doubt the color of her skin took on a ghastly shade of green. This particular sensation was much too common for her not to recognize her reactions to Lord Fitzwalter.

  She could see him from the corner of her vision. The manner in which he ogled her, staring at her like a starving creature that had just come upon a tasty meal, appalled her. It was abhorrent the way he watched her every move, listened to her every sound, her every breath. She knew his thoughts, since they were so plainly written upon his face, and she knew she had reason to fear, even if the stories she had heard about him were not true. It did not matter. The man was older than her great Uncle Arden! His hair was gray and unwashed. The skin on his face sagged with age, and she remembered his touch… She shuddered involuntarily, thinking of any excuse to leave the room immediately.

  North rescued her from her obvious revulsion.

  “Forgive my rudeness,” he said, his voice strained. “Miss Merriweather and I were just remarking about the passage of time. We keep early hours here and the evening has come upon us. As it has been a trying day, I suggested we retire for the night.” Lord Fitzwalter’s mouth opened, nearly salivating at the thought, and Uncle Arden raised his hand to object before North quickly corrected, “Separately, of course.”

  Uncle Arden glanced at his companion. “Of course.”

  North turned back to face Lillian. She gasped at the intensity she saw in his eyes, the despair, the pain. It took only a moment before he collected himself and then his back straightened. His expression became blank.

  “I bid you good evening, miss,” he said, bowing stiffly to her.

  She grabbed the excuse with both hands even if it meant leaving North with no further explanations of the reasons behind her flight. She had to tell him… He must know the truth… But her gaze flicked to the two men who stood at the entrance of the room. Now was not the time. She would find him later. She had to explain to him…

  Before either her uncle or Lord Fitzwalter could object, she scurried from the room. Amery stood between her and her uncle, and she skirted around him, glad that he refused to step aside to allow her room to pass. If he had, Uncle Arden could have reached for her, could have stopped her from her flight.

  She escaped into the hallway and ran swiftly to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she walked into the center of the room and stared into the fire.

  At one time, she had thought all was lost. It was the reason she had fled her uncle’s house and again from the inn where Lord Fitzwalter had tracked her down. Now, she had another thought consuming her.

  She repeated his name in her head at the same rapid beating of her heart.

  North…

  North…

  ****

  He could not believe his luck.

  North glanced at Amery who stood rooted to the spot near the entrance of the room. His friend wore the same fear and worry on his face as North felt in his heart―and his gut. His insides began to twist and spasm. It was all he could do to not fall to the floor, writhing in pain. Beads of sweat broke out upon his brow and his upper lip. He tried to control his breathing, tried to focus on lessening the pain. If he could push the beast back for just a bit longer…

  He needed time. It would be too suspicious if he left so abruptly. They might follow him, if only to assure themselves that North had no intention of joining Lillian in her room.

  “She is quite well, I take it,” Lord Fitzwalter began, stepping farther into the room. North could smell the stink on the man. It had been a while since he had bathed. North’s nost
rils flared.

  “She has been well cared for,” North said, through gritted teeth.

  Lord Fitzwalter cocked his head to the side, eyeing North with the same suspicion he found in Lord Prescott’s gaze.

  “I had feared for her health and her safety after I discovered she fled just before the storm. As you must know by now, the girl is not in her right mind.”

  North’s eyes narrowed further. He stared at the elderly man, awaiting an explanation.

  “Surely, she has prattled on about her dilemma,” Lord Fitzwalter said, glancing briefly back to Lord Prescott. “She has made no secret of her…apprehension toward our marriage. It is no love match, as I am sure you have discerned. Her uncle and I have been friends since we were boys. I have agreed to take the poor girl off of his hands.”

  “We need not explain our reasons or motives,” Lord Prescott said from his position at the entranceway. He stared at North. “That is a private matter. What I wish to know are your own motives, sir. Why has she no chaperone? A maid or your mother, perhaps, to keep her company? Why do we come upon you to find the two of you encased in this room, all alone?”

  North grimaced, not from the insinuation but from another sharp spasm, this time from his back. He silenced a snort of derision and instead stated through clenched teeth, “We have a unique situation here of which I have never before encountered.” He debated his ability to speak further. He dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor. He focused on the fibers, staring at them in hopes of taking his mind from the pain of the beast clawing to free itself from his body. Failing, he glanced up at Amery and pleaded silently for rescue from this situation.

  His friend stood, horrified, as he watched the scene unfold around him. Amery did not know what to do. North could see the helplessness in the older man’s eyes.

  He forced his gaze to the wall and heard Lord Prescott speaking but for the life of him, he could not understand the words. A loud buzz had erupted in his ears. He wondered if perhaps he should release the wolf here and now. He considered it for a fleeting moment. It became obvious Lillian had no desire to marry this man, and it appeared clear enough she was being forced into this marriage. If he could help her by destroying these men, by ripping the limbs from their bodies, by chewing on their soft, wrinkled flesh, their sweet blood dripping from his salivating mouth.

  “My lord,” Amery’s voice broke through the buzzing. “My lord, perhaps you should tell them.”

  “What?” North asked, dumbfounded. “What?”

  “Tell them the truth,” Amery insisted, his eyes darting back to the men who stood behind him. North had not realized how close Amery now stood until he smelled the man’s cologne, a sharp, pungent aroma with which he was familiar. It calmed his beast and drew it away from the bloody thought that had occupied it.

  North lifted his head to meet Amery’s pleading eyes. “You have compromised her, my lord. Tell them you have offered to marry her.”

  Chapter Six

  The wolf was nearly upon him… He would have said anything to get out of that room. It was absurd the feeling of joy that settled around his heart as he nodded and spoke the words, repeating them just as Amery had said them.

  He heard the outraged objections from both men but ignored them as he straightened his aching body and nodded to each man. “You will excuse me.” The men silenced at the growl that erupted from North’s throat. “Amery will show you to rooms where you may stay until we sort this out properly. I must insist you keep yourselves confined to them. Many corridors in this house are in desperate need of repair, and I would not wish for you to come to harm because of them. We will discuss this situation further in the morning when we are all better rested.”

  It baffled him to imagine where he received the strength for such a discourse. He spoke each word with a note of finality and after he had finished, he did not wait for any response. He strode quickly from the room.

  Once he entered the hallway, and he had moved a good distance away, he sprinted for the stairs. Jumping down the steps in one huge leap, he ran toward the secret chamber he had built at the bottom level of the house. No one was allowed near this section of the house. Amery had concocted wild rumors about ghostly encounters and such that kept the staff fearful of entering such a haunted place.

  Just as he neared the doorway to the chamber, where he would lock himself, his body spasmed again, and he fell groaning to the floor. He could not keep silent as the pain twisted his body. He curled himself onto the floor in a fetal position and prayed that Amery would soon find him. His eyes squeezed shut against the pain, but he knew he laid only a few steps away from the chamber that would protect his guests…

  And Lillian.

  He needed to lock himself within. He needed to keep the wolf away from her, from tearing her to shreds… Oh, God… If he harmed her in anyway, he knew he could not live with himself. The pistol he kept in his room and had leveled at his head so many times in the past would be the necessary recourse for such an action. He had no doubt that he would murder himself if he killed his sweet Lillian. He would murder the monster hidden inside him.

  He shouted in pain. His shout morphed into a howl.

  He jerked his arm out in front of him, curling his fingers into the floor. Slowly, he pulled, dragging his pain-wracked body closer to the chamber. He tried to ignore the sharp tearing of his fingers as the claws of the wolf began to protrude.

  ****

  Lillian had stayed in her room all of one full minute before she moved to the door and crept back through the hallway and down the stairs. She had the feeling North would not linger long with her uncle and fiancé. From his look prior to the intrusion of such unwanted company, it seemed that he had been stricken ill, and she was certain he would find seclusion more to his taste than entertaining two old fools.

  Just as she suspected, a few moments after she had left, North exited the library and proceeded stiffly down the hall. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, she stepped forward and whispered his name.

  At that very moment, he broke into a run.

  Startled, she stared after him. In that fleeting instant, she took note of the dreadful pallor of his skin and the beads of sweat that dripped from his forehead. The look of sheer terror and pain in his face was enough to leave her gasping.

  What had her uncle done to him? He must have cast some sort of spell over him. It seemed the only answer. Uncle Prescott had be-spelled him with something horribly dreadful, and Lillian knew she needed to help him. Perhaps she could counteract the spell. That is once she found out which one her uncle had used.

  Without another thought, she took chase. She followed him down the lengthy bit of stairs, surprised at the manner in which North jumped in a huge animal-like lunge. He descended far more quickly than she could keep up, but at the bottom she found two passages. Both appeared as dark as night.

  Had he not taken a lamp or a candle? She reached for her necklace, yanked it from her neck and held the amulet flat in her palm. Whispering a few words, the amulet began to glow, illuminating the passages she faced.

  Biting her lip, she peered anxiously down each passage, searching for any sign of North. She was about to choose one when a sound echoed eerily from the opposite end. She turned back, listening as the hair on the back of her neck stood.

  After a brief silence, she heard the sound again.

  Heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, she boldly walked along the passageway in which she had heard the animal-like groan. It did not sound human but it had to be him. What else would she find down here? She chose not to think of any answers to that particular question and instead hurried forward. The groan denoted great pain, there was no hiding that fact.

  What had Uncle Arden done to him?

  Lillian muttered a foul word under her breath, something she had heard Melora say. Not a lady-like reaction, but Lillian could not breathe as she contemplated the many spells that Uncle Arden might have cast.

  Oh, North.

>   This was all her fault. If she had not run away… If she had not come here…

  What would she do if she couldn’t help him? What if she could not deduce what spell Uncle Arden had used?

  Movement caught her eye, and she gasped as the light from her amulet revealed a figure lying twisted and bleeding on the floor. At first, she could not comprehend the image forcing itself onto her brain. She must have made some sort of sound because North turned his head, his face looking up horrified into hers.

  “Oh, God, no…” he groaned.

  “Jeremy!” Lillian said, using his name for the first time. It spilled unsuspecting from her lips. “What has he done?”

  “Go… Lillian,” North ordered, turning his face back into the floor. He squeezed his eyes closed, and she could see the sweat pouring from his skin, soaking the floor beneath him. She knelt beside him, placing her hand on his back. The skin rippled beneath her fingers. She gasped and pulled her hand back, staring at North’s body, her vision finally coming to grasp with what she saw.

  His body contorted, twisted, the skin rippling as the bones beneath moved and realigned themselves making sick popping noises. He groaned again, shuddering uncontrollably. She stared, horrified at what her uncle had done. How could she fix this? What should she do?

  Only now did she realize she had left her bag in her room.

  “Little fool,” she mumbled to herself. She had no time to retrace her steps now. North needed her help. Only… “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Help…” North groaned, lifting his head. With one bony hand, he pointed up ahead. She lifted the light to see a door. Then she turned her attention back to his hand. Were his fingernails growing? Or were they claws…?

  “Help me,” he said, and he pushed against the floor, trying to drag himself toward the door. “Get to…cell…lock…door…”