by Lana Melyan
“What do you mean?”
“Melinda thinks she’s been in that house. That she was teleported there.”
“What? They can’t do that, can they? And I tore myself to pieces trying to keep her safe.”
“I’m afraid Melinda is right. It explains why they didn’t touch you at the lake. They have other plans. This way it’s more secure, nobody will oppose or follow them.”
“If that’s so, why didn’t they keep her?”
“Melinda says it’s impossible. To teleport somebody from a distance, you have to be a very powerful witch or warlock, but even then, you can’t transfer a person too far and keep them there too long. She thinks this was just a test, to see how it would go. Melinda put some protections up in Amanda’s room. She’s not sure if it’s going to prevent the whole process, but it’ll make it much more difficult and short-lived. That’s why you two have to be watchful. If they see that it’s not working, they’ll try to kidnap her, or who knows what their plan B is.”
“You think that house—that’s the place where everything is going to happen?” Ruben asked.
“Yes. Whether they kidnap her or teleport, they’ll take her there. That’s why it’s very important to find it as soon as possible,” said Craig.
“What time is it?” asked Hanna.
“It’s nine,” said Craig, checking his watch.
Hanna took the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV.
“The body was found in the school basement by Monika Wilson, the school assistant janitor,” said the anchor of the evening news. “As Wilson says, she was polishing the floor when she saw bloodstains on the basement door. The cause of death of the janitor James Sullivan has not yet been determined . . .”
“They’re probably feeding right now,” said Hanna. “And we’re just sitting here doing nothing.”
“Hanna, there’s not much we can do, you know that,” said Ruben.
“I know, and that’s what pisses me off. If we had our powers, we would never have let this happen right under our nose.”
Craig leaned back and closed his eyes. Those words brought back painful flashes of memory, two vivid images. The first one was Eleanor’s dead body in his arms, and the other—the closing yellow pages of the Book of Power.
“Yes, we don’t have our powers, and they know that,” said Craig, opening his eyes. “We could still kill them. It wouldn’t be easy, but it can be done. Only, if we killed one, they’d bring five more, and we can’t be distracted right now. Amanda is our priority. We have to keep the situation calm for as long as possible.”
Craig woke early the next morning. He took a bottle of water from the fridge, grabbed the printed maps, and went to his car. The sun was up but the street was still quiet—the morning stir hadn’t started yet. He sat in the car and rolled down the window on his side, letting in the cool air.
Craig threw the bottle on the passenger seat and studied one of the maps. The first house he would check was fifteen miles away from the town and about hundred yards into the woods. The map didn’t show any road toward it, and all he could see was a roof and a small open space in front of it.
Starting the car, he pulled out of the driveway and headed for the main road. When he reached the place at the edge of the woods, he stopped but didn’t get out of the car. According to Hanna, Amanda hadn’t seen any roads or gates around the house, and right now Craig was looking at a gravel trail between the trees. Maybe the trail didn’t go all the way to the house? Shifting into gear, he drove up.
But the road didn’t end. He saw an old one-story house ahead. In the place where Amanda said there was fountain, a car sat instead. Craig turned around and drove back.
The next house was eight miles away. After a ten minute drive, he turned to a narrow, unpaved road going up a hill. The road ended abruptly, and Craig saw a track stretching into the forest on his left.
Grabbing the bottle, he got out of the car and moved forward, sticking to the trail.
The sunlight hardly penetrated through the dense foliage, and the air was moist and chilly. The trail ended at a large barn, which had a horseshoe nailed to its wall. The place was old and deserted. Craig released a disappointed sigh. He went closer. The wide gate wasn’t locked, and he threw it open. A loud rusty squeak pierced the morning silence.
Implements for horses were everywhere; a broken saddle lay on the ground, bridles and ropes hanging on the stall door. He stepped to the pile of hay, took a small bunch, and pressed it to his nose. A flash of nostalgia warmed his heart. That scent reminded him of his horse, his black Frisian steed that he hadn’t ridden in a long time. The horse was at the castle. Even though the castle was only thirty miles away from Green Hill, he didn’t visit it. He didn’t want to leave Hanna alone.
Craig walked to the small decrepit annex on the right of the barn. He peeked into the window but didn’t see much through the muddy glass. The only chair on the porch looked sturdy enough, and he sat on it and took a sip of water.
He thought about Amanda. He always wondered what would happen if she suddenly uncovered the truth about him and Hanna. What would happen if he just told her? Eleanor had known from the first moment they’d met, and it hadn’t frightened her. But times were different, circumstances were different, everything was different.
9
YEAR 1833
One autumn evening the Map showed a monster too near some private estates only twenty miles from the castle. Craig and Riley straddled their horses and hurried to the forest adjacent to that area.
The Map was a part of the Book, without which it wouldn’t be possible to know where the danger was. It wasn’t attached to the Book, but Samson, who always took the Book with him when they left the castle for a long time, kept the Map in the chest so they wouldn’t forget it if they took off urgently.
Samson checked the Map two or three times a day to see if there were any changes. The witches were the messengers. Centuries ago Samson and Fray, traveling from country to country, gave the most powerful and most trusted of them a spell to call the hunters, and the witches passed that knowledge on from generation to generation.
The spell included a witch dripping a few drops of blood onto the earth. A red stain would appear on the Map in the area where the blood had fallen. The amount of drops depended on the number of monsters and victims. The more monsters or victims, the more drops, and the bigger the stain grew.
Sometimes, witches tried to fight the monsters themselves. The local ones, whom Samson knew personally, were advised to call hunters immediately, without taking any chances and risking their lives.
This time, the Map showed a speckle, which probably meant that it was only one monster and that somebody might be injured. The big full moon hanging above the hill left no doubts that the creature was a werewolf.
“The scent is all over the place,” said Riley when they reached the spot. “Look at the manor. People are still outside at this late hour.”
Craig saw a couple of men talking on the porch. A few carriages stood on the front yard. Horses were snorting and shaking their heads, seeming disturbed.
“It looks like the house is full of guests,” said Craig, “We need to go down there to make sure that the werewolf is not around them.”
“Let’s split up. You go down to the left and check the backyard, and I’ll check the other side,” said Riley, and he rushed away.
Craig headed to the large garden behind the house. When he got closer, he saw two ladies sitting on the bench under the bright moonlight. He jumped down from the horse and moved forward. Peering into the darkness between the trees, he listened for suspicious noises, but all he heard were the muted sounds of a piano and the conversation of the two young ladies, sitting on a bench.
“That’s good news,” said one.
“Yes,” said the other with sigh.
“Then why are you sad, Eleanor?”
“I am not.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Kate… It’s not what… It’s not how I imagined my life.”
“You did the right thing. It will get better.”
But the lady named Eleanor didn’t say anything.
“Let’s go before they start looking for us,” said Kate.
“You go. I would like to stay for a while.”
That’s not a good idea, thought Craig. She needs to go inside. He stepped noisily toward the bench, hoping to scare her away. He even broke a few twigs on purpose.
But Eleanor didn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on the full moon. He hesitated for a moment, then approached her from the side.
“I am very sorry, miss…” he started, looking at her dark curly hair.
She turned her head, her expression a little startled.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he continued.
She stood up.
“Who are you?” she asked, stepping closer.
“I am. . . from around here. I was…” Their eyes met, and Craig forgot what he was going to say.
“How come I’ve never seen you before?” She smiled.
A heavy, husky breath sounded behind Craig. Frowning, he turned his gaze to the bushes at the far corner of the house. In between the foliage of jasmine, he saw two glittering yellow eyes. Eleanor’s eyes followed his gaze.
The werewolf extended its forepaw, which had big hooked fingers with long claws. It took a step forward and snarled, baring its teeth.
“What is that?” Eleanor whispered, turning a wide-eyed look at Craig. “Is that a . . . ?”
The wolf jumped. Craig, who anticipated the move, in a flash shoved Eleanor aside and jumped toward the beast. He knew she would notice his unusual moves, but he didn’t have time for discretion. He clutched the beast in the air, and they fell to the ground and rolled. The wolf lurched at Craig’s throat. Craig struggled to clamp its jaw shut with one hand, pushed it back with another, and kicked him away. Ripping Craig’s clothes with one paw and scratching his face with another, the wolf flew back, hit a tree, and fell down. But it instantly sprang to its feet, stretched out its body, and again leapt toward Craig.
Craig stepped forward and hit the oncoming wolf in the chest with his fist. That blow sent the beast a few yards back. Craig plucked his silver knife out of its sheath and, when the wolf was ready to attack again, Craig launched forward and struck it through its heart.
Eleanor cried out. The beast roared first, then howled a dog’s howl and fell to the ground.
Craig hurried to Eleanor’s side. She was now clinging to a tree, petrified, pressing both hands to her stomach.
“I’m sorry I pushed you. I had to. And I am sorry you saw the fight,” he said.
“That was intense,” she breathed out.
“I tried to warn you.” said Craig offering his hand. “You should go inside.”
“I’m fine, but you . . . you’re bleeding.” Eleanor looked at Craig’s face. She touched his cheek, and blood seeped into her delicate glove.
Craig’s inner voice told him to leave. He felt his wound pulling shut, but he just stood there, not able to look away from her. He looked at her brown eyes, blinking with long, velvet lashes, at her parted mouth, at her silky curls.
A weak, crackling noise behind him distracted them. Eleanor looked over Craig’s shoulder and gasped.
“It’s human! Oh, God, it’s human!”
As the werewolf died, he had transformed back to his original form. Craig, knowing that it would happen, shouldn’t have let Eleanor see it.
She moved closer, but Craig stopped her, standing in her way.
“He is not just human, he is a…”
“Werewolf,” Eleanor whispered. “People were talking. They were saying that somebody saw something in the woods that looked like a werewolf. And this one—he didn’t look like an ordinary wolf. He was twice as big and he had fingers, and I don’t think a wolf can stand on its hind legs like this one did when he attacked you.”
Craig couldn’t believe his own ears. Her tone of voice—there was no fear. She was excited.
“I see you found it.” Riley’s voice came from between the trees.
“Yes,” said Craig. He walked toward the werewolf, now in its original form of a middle-aged man. He pulled the knife from his chest and put it back in the sheath.
“I’ll take care of this,” said Riley, coming closer.
He looked at Eleanor then turned to Craig with a questioning expression on his face.
“It’s fine,” said Craig.
Riley lifted the man’s body, slung it over his shoulder and walked away.
“I need to go as well,” said Craig to Eleanor. He stayed in the shadows, keeping his distance so she wouldn’t see his healing face. “But I have to ask you not to tell anybody what you just saw.”
“What’s the point? They won’t believe me anyway.” She stepped closer and looked at Craig with fascination. “Your wounds are healing.” She touched his cheek again. “If I tell this to anybody, they’ll think I’m crazy.” She looked at the dry blood on her glove and asked, “What are you?”
“You don’t have to be…” Craig was going to say “afraid,” but it was obvious she wasn’t. Instead he just said, “I am human.”
“Of course you are,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “You are more human than anybody I’ve ever met. But you are also more than that. What are you?”
It was pointless to lie, and he didn’t want to, but their existence was secret, and it was important to keep it that way.
“I can’t tell you,” he said.
“You can trust me.”
Craig looked at Eleanor’s glowing eyes and shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
He moved to leave, but she touched his arm, stopping him.
“If you change your mind, there’s a lodge in the woods, not so far away from here. Tomorrow afternoon…”
At that moment, the sound of piano grew louder. Somebody came out of the house. Eleanor glanced to the open door. When she turned back, Craig was gone.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she said quietly.
Craig heard her. Standing beside his horse, he watched as a man twice Eleanor’s age approached her.
“My darling, what are you doing here? We missed you. Let’s go inside.” He offered her his hand.
When Craig and Riley returned to the castle, only Hanna was awake. She showed up at the library door in her night robe.
“How did it go?” she asked, hugging a book.
“Fine,” said Craig.
“Except we had a witness,” said Riley, looking sideways at Craig.
“When I found her, the werewolf was already there. There was nothing I could do,” said Craig in a detached way. Then he added, “She’s not dangerous. She’s different.”
At those words, Riley and Hanna exchanged a curious glance.
“Different?” Riley raised one brow, “Different how?”
“Just different,” said Craig, annoyed. “Can we talk about it later? I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” As he climbed up the stairs, he felt their piercing looks on his back.
The large fireplace in Craig’s bedroom was kindled. Its fire lit the room and made the shadows of the furniture dance on the walls. Craig pulled aside the heavy curtains, letting the bright moonlight in, and looked far into the ocean. He thought about Eleanor, he wondered if she would go to that lodge tomorrow. If she did, if he knew she was there, waiting for him—would he go?
A desire to see her again washed over him. He already knew where the lodge was, having found it on his way back. She wanted to know who he was. Was the reason she wanted to meet him again just curiosity? He remembered that surprised and delighted look on her face when she saw him, and that was before the fight, before she realized he was not like others, not an ordinary human being. He knew that if he met her, she would ask questions. Was he ready to answer them?
Craig was a hundred and eighty-eight years old. He had had many diffe
rent women in his life before, but only once did he reveal to a woman who he really was. It was a hundred and fifteen years ago. Her name was Bethany, a nineteen-year-old girl who had fallen completely in love with him. He loved her, too, but he held his emotions back, knowing one day he would need to leave.
Bethany came from a respectable family. Craig, who was wealthy and had very good manners, was always welcome in to her home. They had a beautiful relationship until, one day, she asked for more. That was the moment when he had to make a decision: to leave her or to tell her the truth and hope she would go with him. He chose the truth.
Her eyes grew distant while he talked. When he finished, she looked at him with blurry eyes and said she needed to go, that she needed time to think about what he had told her.
Two days later, Craig received a letter from Bethany. She wrote she loved him but couldn’t be with him. She confessed it hadn’t been an easy decision to make and she couldn’t stop crying, but the kind of life Craig offered wasn’t acceptable for her. She, just like any other girl her age, dreamed about getting married and having children. She wanted to have her own house, where she would live with her family and grow old. Sorry that she had to say goodbye to him, she promised that his secret would die with her.
Craig had squeezed the letter. He hated himself for being so stupid, thinking that Beth or any other girl would accept his conditions, that somebody would love him as much as Gabriella loved Samson, willing to give up everything for him. From then on, he’d closed his heart and shielded it from such painful and destructive experiences. Perhaps he wouldn’t be like Fray, who had too much fun in that area, and not like Ruben, who was very amative, but more like Riley, who had women but never sustained relationships.
But something happened that night and his shield, which had protected him for more than a century, melted under the warmth of Eleanor’s eyes. Was he in danger of falling in love again? Even so, the circumstances were different. Eleanor had learned that he was unusual, and it did not scare her at all.