Buried In Blue

by L G Rollins

  Elise watched the still, though deadly, animal. It always started like this. The wolf seemed so tranquil at first. Docile. Many a victim had been tricked, lured in, by the werewolf’s initial calm.

  “Just imagine,” William whispered, his mouth close to her ear. Elise pressed herself as far back against the wall as possible. “What will the Committee think when they learn that Lord Chauncey and one of their own members had their throats ripped out by a werewolf? Thanks to your Elixir, nonetheless?”

  As if understanding William’s words, the wolf raised his head. His eyes trained on Lord Chauncey and Sackville, the smell of blood a strong lure to the wild animal.

  Stalling time was up. The wolf would attack in only a few moments. Elise wanted to yell, to throw something at the wolf. Anything to draw it away from the injured men under the table.

  Elise tried lunging to the side, but William pinned her easily with his gun.

  “Your future is gone, dear. You put everything into your werewolf studies, gave up every other option”—he pointed briefly toward himself—“and now it’s all over. You’ve lost it all.”

  He was right. She had nothing outside of her work. For years she’d been intently focused, only to have it all swept away from her in less than the space of an hour.

  William’s head listed to the side, his voice lilting as though speaking to a child. “Do you regret it?”

  He meant, of course, regretted turning him down. But Elise’s mind flitted from that thought to others. Faces of those she’d worked with and helped, such as Wimple and Brownsea. People she learned from, such as Pearl and Lenton. People she cared for and who, after everything, stilled cared for her—Nathaniel, Melissa, Lord Chauncey.

  Elise shook her head—she didn’t regret it. Off to her side, the wolf sniffed loudly. He would strike. Time was up. More likely than not, William would shoot her for what she was about to say.

  She chose to say it anyways. “I don’t regret any of it. Life is an adventure worth valuing, even if one is a werewolf. I believed it then, and I believe it now.”

  William’s eyes narrowed, his sneer turned nasty. “If you are so bent on us not living together, then we shall die together.” He lifted the pistol to her face. The barrel, icy cold, brushed the bridge of her nose.

  “And that shall be just as sweet.”

  athaniel’s gun shook in his tight grasp. He was proud of the way Elise defied Cunningham, but, devil take it all, he was still stuck outside watching the vile man grab and hold her with disgusting familiarity.

  His eyes jumped once again to the giant wolf. It was up on all fours, sniffing the air.

  Panic skittered across Nathaniel’s skin. The beast was getting ready to strike. Nathaniel trained his gun on the animal, but paused. If he fired, he’d be giving himself away and Elise was still in Cunningham’s grasps. But if he didn’t, Lord Chauncey and the other man were dead.

  He glanced once more at Elise—an aching need to hold her close and keep her safe pulsed deep inside—then fired twice. With a howl the wolf dropped.

  Every eye jumped to the window where he crouched. So much for sneaking in. Nathaniel swung his gun over to Cunningham, but the man already had an arm wrapped around Elise and was backing away, cherished Elise his human shield.

  Cunningham’s gun pressed against her temple. “Well, the mighty captain has arrived to save the day. Why don’t you drop your gun and come down from your holy perch before anyone else gets shot.”

  Nathaniel would sooner be keelhauled than bet Cunningham would let any of them live. Nathaniel lowered his legs over the ledge—he’d have to get closer to Cunningham for any chance of pulling Elise away from him—and dropped into the room.

  “Gun down. Now!” Cunningham’s eyes were wide and wild.

  Nathaniel placed his gun on the floor by his feet and kicked it away, but not far. There was always the chance he might have a split moment to reach for it once more. Nathaniel stood with hands raised.

  The wolf lay not far off, blood matting his fur as he breathed in short gasps. The room was heavy with the metallic scent. The wolf’s golden eyes followed Nathaniel, but he seemed unable to get up and fight any more. At least that was one opponent down.

  Nathaniel shifted his gaze back to Cunningham and Elise, and he took a small step forward. Get close—get Elise away. It was his only plan.

  Cunningham retreated three steps. “Don’t move. Don’t move or I’ll blow her head off.”

  Nathaniel rocked back on his heels. He was no trained negotiator. What could he say that would convince Cunningham to let Elise go? His palms were sweaty, as was the back of his neck. But he didn’t dare lower his arms; what if Cunningham saw the movement as a threat?

  Cunningham’s face dropped closer to Elise, his mouth directly beside her ear. Elise squirmed at the intimate touch and Nathaniel clenched his fist. Bloody gears, Cunningham was going to regret ever coming back to England.

  Elise caught his gaze, then nodded, almost imperceptibly, toward the wolf and then toward the large table.

  Was the wolf up again? Was she warning him? Nathaniel glanced the direction indicated. No, the wolf’s breaths were becoming more shallow than before. Which seemed off. The shots were on the mark, but the wolf shouldn’t be dying this fast. He hadn’t hit the beast in the neck or head or heart.

  Nathaniel glanced at Elise. Again, her gaze jumped to the wolf and back to him. William was speaking—something about how they were getting what they deserved. But Nathaniel ignored him and focused solely on figuring out what Elise was trying to tell him.

  Directly beneath the window Nathaniel had hid in moments ago, blood pooled on the floor around the wolf’s back leg. It was dark and spreading. And it brushed up against a bullet casing. Slowly being enveloped in burgundy blood, the casing stood out, a sharp contrast of blue.

  He’d not hit the wolf with normal ammunition.

  His gun still held silver bullets.

  He’d put them in the day Elise and Lord Chauncey came to visit him.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” Cunningham cooed to Elise. The rough tone brought Nathaniel’s gaze back to him. “The reason you turned me down.”

  Relentless, persistent Elise only clenched her jaw tighter at the touch, then once again motioned toward the table with her eyes. She had a plan, but how did a table fit in? He searched both the room and his brainbox for a reasonable—

  The half empty syringe lay by a toppled chair.

  Brilliant woman. It would be tricky, but her plan was far more likely to work than his own. Nathaniel gave Elise a small nod; he understood.

  Cunningham raised his gun, his voice angry and course. “Then I’m going to kill him first.”

  Nathaniel dropped to the floor. Bullets whizzed through the space where his head had been moments ago. Wood scraped against the floor, fabric rustled and Elise grunted. She was fighting to get away.

  Rolling, Nathaniel snatched his gun and came up shooting. He hit Cunningham in the leg. The man cried out and released Elise as he stumbled backward. Nathaniel slid his gun toward Elise as she fell onto all fours and crawled toward the table.

  Unarmed, Nathaniel barreled into Cunningham, grabbing the man’s gun hand and forcing it up. He’d done his part—shot Cunningham with a silver bullet—it was his job to cover Elise as she did the rest.

  Cunningham’s gun went off. A deafening bang rattled the glass windows above and wooden beams groaned. Nathaniel kneed Cunningham in the stomach. He doubled over, and Nathaniel struggled to keep the man’s gun upward.

  Blood dripped from Cunningham’s thigh onto Nathaniel’s, the sticky heat seeping through his breeches. Elise appeared behind Cunningham. She drove the small needle into Cunningham. He cried out, clutching his shoulder. In the distraction, Nathaniel brought Cunningham’s gun hand forcibly down onto his own knee.

  The gun clattered as it hit the floor.

  Nathaniel kicked Cunningham in the stomach and sent him somersaulting away. Scrambling, Nathaniel p
icked up the gun at his feet and swung it around, aimed on Cunningham. He took hold of Elise’s hand and they back away slowly.

  *****

  Elise’s chest heaved and her stomach churned violently as William stood once more, his face smeared with blood and sweat and a vile grin.

  Would her plan work? Or would they die at the hands of a werewolf? At the hands of a dear, insane friend?

  William’s eyes were wild as they slid from brown to amber to gold. “Either you have flipped your bloody lid,” he mocked them, “or you must secretly wish to have your throat ripped out. Because that is what’s going to—.” William’s body began to contort. Pain flicked across William’s face, but it only made his sardonic smile grow. He crumbled to his knees, his back arching unnaturally. And he laughed.

  Horrendous, blood freezing laughter. All the worse because Elise knew what William didn’t.

  The bullet was silver.

  William’s laugh broke suddenly.

  Nathaniel stepped in front of Elise and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her close to his chest, blocking all the room from sight.

  William wailed. Loud and anguished. She could hear him thrashing about, as his screams filled every inch of air around her. It intermingled with the scent of blood until the air convulsed with pain and anguish.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t pull the sounds and odors of agony inside of her.

  Nathaniel’s hand covered her one ear not pressed up close to him. “Don’t watch.” His voice rumbled against her. “Don’t listen. It will be over soon.”

  It was.

  Horrid silence enveloped them. Nathaniel’s frantic heartbeat the only sound. It matched her own. For a while he just held her. Her fist full of his shirt where she’d grabbed onto him. He slowly began to rub her back.

  Up. Down. Up. Down.

  Tingly life trickled back down her legs. The smell of blood seemed to fade and her breathing returned to normal. She pushed away and glanced over at the two shot men.

  “We have to get them to a doctor.”

  Nathaniel nodded and moved to help Lord Chauncey.

  Elise dared a glance. Across the room lay William. His face still recognizable. His fingers still fingers, his boots still on. His back and legs more fur than skin. Still and lifeless. Half man. Half wolf.

  She took two steps forward before collapsing onto her knees. Large tears blurred the sight before her. They rolled down, hot against her cheeks. He had been her friend. They’d grown up together. They’d played and talked science and made plans together.

  Until he’d wanted to kill her.

  Was this all due to her rejecting his proposal? She had to believe there was more to it than that. Years of denial. Years of William watching his friends experience life while he was stuck inside the cage of his hidden disease.

  Oh, William. Grief burned against her throat. If only he hadn’t let his anger rule.

  Elise wrapped a hand around her eyes, a hiccuped sob shaking her form. It was her idea to inject him and let the silver in the bullet shred him internally. Guilt mixed with her anguish. Her science was never meant to hurt anyone. She wanted to save, not destroy. But, William had forced her hand, left her no choice. She wasn’t going to roll over and die at his bidding.

  Another sob.

  She’d always envisioned them, herself and William, working on her research, together, for years to come.

  But, now . . .

  Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her once more. He didn’t say anything, but his nearness brought a calming flood. Safe. She was finally safe.

  More tears.

  Nathaniel held her and let her cry.

  eople swarmed around Elise. Their voices blended with the pounding of their rushed steps until it was nothing more than a cacophony of senseless noise. The heavy, choking smell of sweating bodies clogged her throat.

  Everyone was so loud. Couldn’t she have some quiet and space to grieve?

  Resting her elbows against her knees, Elise dropped her face into her hands. The hard steps of Bridgeside Hall were warm beneath her from being in the sun all morning. Doctors, news reporters, and on-lookers had all tried to talk to her at first. But after she’d proved unresponsive they left her be.

  A gurney rolled out of the Hall and down the steps; clunk, clunk, clunking all the way down. A white sheet hid the face but not the form of the individual beneath.

  William.

  Wordless grief swirled through her; a sharp, throbbing longing for the friendship she’d lost.

  Elise shut her eyes tight. She didn’t want to see more.

  Someone crouched down beside her. A hand rubbed her back, comforting and calming. She knew just from his touch that it was Nathaniel. How had he ended up crouching atop the window of Bridgeside Hall? Perhaps someday she would ask him.

  He whispered gently. “It’s over now. I’m here with you.”

  Elise let out a shuttering breath and leaned against his chest. All the world seemed ready to collapse in on itself. Nonetheless, Nathaniel, solid and dependable, sat beside her. She breathed him in, needing his steadiness. He wrapped his arms fully around her and held her. His serenity eased into her, dissipating the panic and pain.

  A shout came from down the steps and Elise looked up. Sackville was yelling at a couple of white-dressed nurses. They argued back, pointing to the hospital carriage, the same one Elise saw Lord Chauncey carried into moments before.

  Lord Chauncey had seemed alright enough. He was smiling, and had even given her a small wave before disappearing inside. What a relief that one of her old friends had survived the ordeal.

  Sackville’s voice carried to them, loudly protesting that it was his shoulder that was shot, not his legs. The nurses objected—Elise sympathized, she’d often struggled with the bullish and determined man—but Sackville turned his back on them and marched toward her.

  His gait was a little wobbly, and he paused at one point, took a deep breath, and then continued. Standing several steps down from where she sat, they were nearly eye level.

  What did Sackville think of her? After all, it was her friend who attacked him and nearly killed them all. He’d probably blame her. Wasn’t this what he wanted, a chance to irrevocably prove her research was far too dangerous to pursue? She hadn’t previously held the hope that the committee would change their minds, but now any inkling of such a reversal was ludicrous.

  “You were rather brave in there, young lady.”

  Elise straightened and nodded her thanks, but eyed him closely. She didn’t trust that he had hobbled up the steps to wish her well.

  He eyed her pointedly. “Were you serious in there? Did you mean what you said about why you research werewolves?”

  Elise’s mind scrambled to think back to what she’d said to William, without remembering her last memory of him on the floor. “Um, yes. Yes, I believe I can help people with my research.”

  Sackville looked past her, back at Bridgeside. “You never said as much before.” He sounded as though he was questioning her sincerity. Of course, he of all men, would. She was so tired of all this; trying to prove herself, being ignored, being told she didn’t cut it.

  Hang it all, William was dead, and she didn’t care anymore. “Perhaps never in so many words. But I didn’t begin my research because I thought it would make me popular. I did it because there are hundreds of people who are good and caring, with families and loved ones.”

  He didn’t seem to believe her, but he didn’t seem to disbelieve her either. Well, she was done trying to please him. Sackville and the rest of the commitee needed a good hard shake and a large dosing of truth.

  Her funding, her future, had been cut. Her words were the last thing she could use. “They suffer from a disease, and nothing but science will ever help them. You can turn away and pretend they don’t exist, but only for so long.” She nodded behind herself, toward the Hall. “Are you planning on brushing that away? Call it an inconvenient incident, and swee
p it under the rug?”

  He stared at Bridgeside Hall. “No.”

  Elise breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling with the fury of her passion. If what Sackville just experienced wouldn’t change his view, nothing would. “Today could have, should have, been prevented. But, until now, no one thought research aimed at helping werewolves held any value.”

  His lips pressed to a flat line. Was he finally listening to her?

  “I’m a practical man, Doctor Sterling,” he said, his mustache sagging from the weight of sweat shining across his face. “I believe the moment science stops helping those individuals we live next door to, that’s the day science has used up it’s value.” His gaze dropped to her. “If you firmly believe you can make a difference in people’s lives, then”—he shrugged—“leave the committee to me. You just keep your research going.”

  What?

  He’d just agreed.

  He’d agreed to get the committee to back her once more.

  Her fiery diatribe extinguished. She should feel elated. She just got handed precisely all she’d hoped for. Instead, William’s face came to mind, and it left her whole being empty.

  Sackville glanced over his shoulder at the nurses waiting with hands on hips. “If you will excuse me. I best return before one of those pretty little things calls a police officer over.” Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and hobbled away.

  Elise couldn’t think of anything to say. He was gone before her mouth would even open.

  *****

  Elise stepped through the front door of her townhome. Her foot steps echoed within the emptiness. Mother had left for the country already, escaping the horrid London summer heat.

  It was just as well. She’d always prized her times of solitude. Elise would simply appreciate the quiet yet again. She was a grown woman, and could handle a little seclusion. Though in the two weeks since returning to London, “solitude” was starting to feel a lot more like “loneliness”.