Sunday morning is generally sacred in our house. Not for religious reasons, but for sleep-related reasons. I am pretty grumpy if disturbed before about ten a.m. on a Sunday, but that’s nothing compared to Duncan. If anyone enters his cesspit before midday then he hurls all kinds of abuse. So my dad and Clare have gotten into the habit of staying in bed late on a Sunday too; though they don’t sleep, they drink tea and read the papers.
But their bedroom is at the far end of the house from Duncan and me, so it was possible Fletch and I would be able to sneak out; but other people would see him if we went outside and probably run away screaming!
Bob was perched on his cushion, but now flew over to the bed and pushed his way between us, looking disapproving.
“Why don’t you go and find some food?” I suggested, “and then could you maybe pop in on Iris and see if she has any updates on the wizard?”
Bob agreed, though he seemed unwilling to leave.
I pulled a dressing gown on against the cold and slipped out of bed. I opened the window for Bob, then hastened to the bathroom. Despite the fact that Fletch was in wolf form, he was still a boy in my bedroom, and I probably had bed-head and morning breath! I really wanted to brush my teeth and look in a mirror before we talked further.
Uh-oh – my worst fears were confirmed. I hadn’t taken off any of yesterday’s make-up and it was now all under my eyes like a panda.
I jumped in the shower and though I had intended to be super quick, I ended up washing my hair and faffing about for ages.
By the time I got back, Fletch was practically pacing a bare patch in my carpet.
“I’m so sorry, you probably need to use the bathroom.” I winced, wondering how on earth that would be managed.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He growled. “I want to know my body is okay. I really want it back at some point. Will you call the hospital?”
I sat on my bed and began to towel dry my hair nervously. “I will, but… they’re going to ask me if I’ve contacted your family. And if I say I can’t, then they might involve the police to find them, which would lead them here, and I’d have to tell my dad everything and…” My voice trailed off as I struggled with my desire to help him and my desire to stay out of trouble.
Fletch sat down on his hindquarters and scratched behind one ear with his paw. I could see he was thinking.
“Okay,” he said at last, “you can call my family.”
I bent and put my arms around him. “Thank you.”
I pulled out my phone and typed in the number he gave me for his family home. It was a London number.
“You lived in London?” I asked in surprise. No wonder he had to leave; it was hard to imagine how a werewolf could manage to be inconspicuous in a massive urban city.
He nodded and I held my hand up as it started to ring at the other end.
“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. Somehow I had hoped to get his father, who was bound to ask fewer questions.
“Umm, hi. You don’t know me, but I’m calling about your son.”
“Aaron? You’ve seen Aaron?” Her voice sharpened to a desperate level and I looked at Fletch, hoping he could hear her.
The pain of guilt was obvious in his eyes.
“Is he alright?” She sounded close to tears.
“Yes, he’s fine.” I looked at Fletch who shook his head at me in horror at my mistake. “I’m sorry,” I gabbled, “I mean, he was fine yesterday, but he’s actually in the hospital now.”
“Oh my god!” Her voice broke and a man took over the phone.
“Hello, this is Aaron’s father. Whom am I speaking to?”
“My name is Emily. I was with Fletcher, I mean Aaron, yesterday and then he sort of passed out. He’s unconscious at Bonnington Memorial Hospital in Dremouth.”
There was a pause. Then his father cleared his throat, obviously totally worried as well, but trying to remain calm. “He’s in Devon?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Uh,” I cast a glance at Fletch, “the hospital aren’t sure exactly what’s wrong,” I finally said, knowing that that at least was the truth. “But he was in a stable condition last night and I thought I had better ring you first today.”
“Thank you – Emily, was it? What is your relationship with my son?”
Hmm, so much for hoping his father wouldn’t ask lots of awkward questions.
“We’re friends.” I said glaring at Fletcher.
“And he gave you our number just in case?” His father’s voice was suspicious.
“Yes,” I sighed, thinking that I was getting into a big deep hole. His dad was clearly too intelligent to be fobbed off.
“Just get off the phone now,” Fletcher interrupted, though only I could hear him.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” I said. “I just thought you would want to know.”
“Of course we do! Thank you. We will contact the hospital now and be there in a few hours. I still don’t understand what he is doing down in Devon… But, I don’t suppose it matters – can we speak with you again later, Emily?”
I looked at Fletcher again for some kind of help but he just shrugged his big wolf shoulders.
“Yes. The hospital has my details. Goodbye,” I said far too fast, and hung up before he could answer.
I looked at him accusingly. He stared back at me.
“You were the one who wanted to call them,” he said too casually, and I realised how hard it must have been on him to stay away from a family who clearly loved him to bits.
“Okay, well, it’s done now.” I patted his head. “I’ll ring the hospital.”
It took me forever to get through to someone who could answer my query. My mobile phone bill was going to sting, but I didn’t want to use the house phone as the numbers would show up on our bill and my dad would want to know why.
The news was much the same. His body was perfectly fit, but they had ascertained there was no brainwave activity. This was obviously a massive concern, because though his brain was otherwise functioning normally they could tell he wasn’t dreaming or anything. In layman’s terms, they thought he might be brain dead!
His parents were going to have a coronary when they heard that. What if they decided to turn off the machines that would be feeding his body? We had to fix this and soon!
They were really cagey about giving me any further information. So I rang off non-the-wiser, really.
Fletch got all moody after hearing what the hospital had to say, so I left him sulking under my bed whilst I went downstairs to get us both some breakfast.
I’m not exactly cook of the year; in fact I’ve been known to dissolve pasta on one occasion and make eggs explode (and that’s without any magic, just my own special talent in the kitchen.) But I decided that Fletch would need sustenance beyond the normal amount, and set about trying to cook bacon, sausages, eggs and toast and make a gallon of tea, which I put into a bowl so he could drink it. The result wasn’t exactly pretty, but I was sure it was edible.
Wrestling it all upstairs was another challenge. But finally I brought it in, and Fletch seemed incredibly grateful. I had to wonder what he had been living on, as he “wolfed” it all down with apparent pleasure.
We both felt more cheerful after some food, though I only had a bit of toast and marmite, the only thing I could make without mishap.
After that I went back to the bathroom to dress, a situation that reminded me once again of the time I had a ghost haunting my bedroom, and I smiled, remembering that we had resolved everything for him in the end, which made me feel more hopeful about helping Fletch.
Shortly after that, Bob tapped on the window. “Your aunt says that the wizard is on his way, and she will collect you both in her car in ten minutes; she doesn’t think the wolf should be seen outside.”
Fletch and I both nodded, hoping that the wizard would have some good news.
Chapter Nine
Smuggling Fletch back out of t
he house went off without a hitch. There was no sign of any of my family, and I felt only a slight twinge of concern at the state I had left the kitchen in. I wrote a note on the blackboard to the effect that I was at Iris’s house for the day – otherwise my dad would start ringing me constantly to ask where I was – and then we dived from shrub to hedge until we got to Iris’s car.
She had brought her Familiar with her, just in case she needed to do any magic. Lyra is a very traditional black cat, who thinks most humans are daft as brushes. She and Bob had reached an uneasy truce early on, mainly because Lyra is too fond of me to take a swipe at my Familiar, but her response to Fletch was noisy and disgusted.
Lyra’s fur stood on end as she screeched and hissed at Fletch, and then she rocketed around the car trying to get as far away from him as possible, before ending up on the top of Iris’s head. Iris, who was trying to drive the car at the time, found her face covered in tail, and we swerved all over the road for a few seconds before slamming to a stop.
Fletch was no help at all and growled at her. I gave him a tap on the nose.
“Oi, are you really a man or a dog?” I told him off, “Because humans don’t growl at cats!”
“Sorry.” He gave Lyra a dirty look. “It was an instinctive reaction.”
Lyra glared back at him. “The wolf smells. I don’t like him. He is not a good friend for you, Emily.”
Iris lifted Lyra off her head and soothed her fur in her lap for a moment. “Please, Lyra, I need to drive. Could you just play nicely for ten minutes? I promise you can call him all the names you want later.”
Lyra huffed and settled down in the front seat next to Iris, as far away from Fletch as possible. In true cat fashion she then shut her eyes and pretended we didn’t exist.
Iris started the car again and drove down the hill to the town Common.
“Where are we going?” I asked, surprised, as I thought we were heading for her place.
“The Welsh Wizard said to meet him in the woods that border the Common,” she answered. “He says that he can speak with Fletch better there, without the distraction of other people nearby.”
“Huh?” I registered my confusion.
Iris sighed. “I know, I didn’t really understand either, but it’s something to do with the fact that he’s not a witch. He can’t actually hear animals like we can.”
“Oh.” I thought for a minute, trying to work this out. “So, how will he talk to Fletch?”
Iris shook her head. “I’m not sure. We’ll find out, I guess.”
She drove us around the Common and out of town, before parking up on the far side of the woods that marked the end of our town, the woods which edged the Common.
“Okay, everybody out.” She held the door open for Lyra, and I did the same for Fletch in the back.
We began to trek through the woods, making our way back towards the Common, and I thought I could see The Seven Sisters through the trees nearby.
Fletch sniffed the air, and using his nose he directed us through the denser part of the woods. Lyra trotted behind, picking up her paws delicately and looking most put out to be walking on the damp ground.
It wasn’t long before we got to a clearing and there, sat on a rock, was the wizard.
He was a total cliché. Long flowing beard and grizzly white hair. He wore a dark grey robe that covered his clothes and carried a gnarly walking stick, which I later found out was called a Staff. He was probably only in his fifties, much the same age as my dad, but his skin was weathered as if he had spent a lot of time out of doors.
He looked thrilled to see us. He jumped up and rushed forward. He shook Iris’s hand and then mine and then squatted down in front of Fletch.
Fletch gave me a look and muttered, “Are you sure this guy is for real?”
“Hello.” The wizard looked into Fletch’s eyes. “Your kind calls me the Wolf Whisperer. I’m psychic so just say what you want clearly and I will understand you.”
Fletch eyed him suspiciously and then clearly said, “What is your real name?”
The wizard grinned. “Actually, it’s Brian. Though hardly anyone has called me that in a long time. I have lots of names, but I feel a bit of a fraud when people call me The Wise Wizard because I don’t think I’m particularly wise, but I don’t mind The Welsh Wizard, or The Wolf Whisperer, or even The Old Wizard. Unfortunately most of the humans I meet call me The Weirdo. Perhaps you should just address me as Brian after all?”
Fletch sat back and nodded; he actually looked amused by the wizard, but he was clearly comfortable with him so I accepted it too.
“Do you know many werewolves?” Fletch asked.
“Yes and no,” said Brian the wizard, “werewolves tend to avoid humans when in wolf form and they almost never talk to me when in human form. They try to appear normal the rest of the month. But over the last few years I’ve met a lot of the same werewolves over and over in wolf form, so I feel like I’m getting to know them. There are quite a lot where I live, but they only visit me when they’re wolves and only then if they want something in particular.”
“Okay.” Fletch nodded. “So have you met any like me that are wolves when it’s not a full moon?”
The wizard looked excited, “No, never. But when Iris contacted me I remembered reading about something similar. I found the book where I read it – it was in the year 1802. A young witch tried to save her lover from his ‘curse’ by attempting to cast out the wolf, and it went wrong and he became a wolf permanently.”
Fletch and I looked at each other. That sounded horribly familiar, apart from the fact that we were not lovers, of course!
“What happened to them?” I asked nervously.
“Oh, they both died.” Brian nodded sagely. “Sad story, really.” He looked from Fletcher to me and back again, then realised what he had said as both of our expressions gave away our feelings of dismay.
“Oh dear.” Brian shook his head. “That wasn’t what you wanted to hear, was it? But I don’t think this will be the same. I gather the two of you have only just met?”
I nodded, still feeling a bit stunned. “Uh, why did the witch die?”
Brian sat back down on his rock, and Iris and I perched on other boulders in the clearing to be at the same level.
“According to the lore I can garner from my books, werewolves and witches can never be involved. There is an unnatural draw between them because of the bond between a witch and an animal Familiar. If they are in a romantic relationship then the animal part of the werewolf can bond with the witch in the same manner as her bond with an animal Familiar. Unfortunately it doesn’t require a blood exchange, as the same effect is triggered by a sexual act and thus the bond is made. Wolves mate for life, and so if the wolf animal becomes bonded with the witch, then the bond is a mating for him. The wolf will have no other but her.”
I looked at Fletch in horror. He had kissed me; did that count as a sexual act? I was too embarrassed to ask.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, the wizard was a psychic and he read my mind.
“You kissed?” he asked with interest. “What happened?”
“You did what?” Iris was on her feet in seconds, shouting at me. Lyra hissed her disapproval and Bob, who had been absentmindedly pecking at some moss, jerked his head up.
I flapped my hands at them all. “It was nothing! Just a quick kiss. We didn’t bond.”
Fletch annoyed me by laughing. “No, we didn’t bond, I’m sure of it. Though we did set the world on fire.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I huffed, “Can I have no privacy? Okay, I might have produced a few sparks, but that was because you caught me unaware, and there is that weird sparky thing when we touch.”
Iris looked like she wanted to kill Fletch. “Weird sparky thing?” she repeated in a dangerously low voice.
I sighed, “Like when you first touched Fletch, only it didn’t stop after the first touch. But it seems to be lessening over time.” I tried to make it sound l
ike it wasn’t a big deal.
“To you maybe.” Fletch raised his eyebrows. “It still feels pretty electric to me.”
I glared at him, feeling like he wasn’t helping the situation.
“Oh. Oh dear.” Brian sounded sorry for us, but his expression was still fairly enthusiastic, and I got the impression he was actually quite pleased by this information.
I gave him a cross look. “What happened to the witch and the wolf in your book?” I asked sternly.
He shifted on his rock. “The wolf took over the human inside him, and wanted the witch for his mate. He bit her and she didn’t survive the turn. He died soon after from a broken heart. I don’t know how much of it is true, but it would concur with what I have learned. The majority don’t survive the turn, and many wolves never recover from the loss of their mate.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Most of the werewolves I have met have told me they are married in their human lives, but they don’t bite their partners; the human part of them holds them back. The trouble only comes if they fight the wolf and the wolf takes over their total consciousness. Or, I suppose, if their mate is a witch and they have made a paranormal bonding, which takes their relationship beyond that which is normal between a man and woman.”
Fletch didn’t speak but the wizard looked at him curiously. “You think you have no control over the wolf?” he asked him.
Fletch glanced at me, then focussed on the wizard. “I have struggled with the wolf during the full moon.” He eventually answered in a concerned voice. “I feel he is trying to take over and I can’t control him.”
Brian was silent for a moment whilst he thought about this. “You have not made peace with your wolf. You must embrace him and the two of you must become one. Otherwise, you are right, he will take you over.”
Fletch began to pace. “So why do I feel like me right now?”
“I can only speculate.” Brian tugged at his beard. “But I would say that it is because it is not full moon and so the wolf is, for want of a better word, dormant. He is sleeping inside you, but as we get closer to the full moon he will start to wake up and get stronger. If he takes you over then the chances are that we will never be able to return you to your human state.”
Werewolf Magic & Mayhem (Book Two, Magic & Mayhem Series) Page 5