by Hunter, Troy
“What’s that over there?” I point to the mysterious building, which seems to elicit a shockingly anxious response from Young Norris. Huh, for the first time since meeting the Norris family, one of their faces proves to be capable of expressing emotion. It’s not a very positive emotion but it’s an emotion, nonetheless. What other tricks are these people able to do?
“P-Pay no mind to that rusty old place, Master. It’s off limits. Nobody is allowed inside.”
Ahh, now this certainly sparks my curiosity. “Why is that, Young Norris? Why isn’t anyone allowed inside?”
Once again, he frustratingly ignores my question. “That concludes the grand tour of the estate. Should you have any other questions, do not hesitate to ask.”
I chuckle lightly. “I, uh, just asked a question, actually. I’m still waiting for an answer,”
Young Norris turns away from me and heads back indoors. I am amazed, honestly. I can’t tell if these people are very dedicated to the wishes of their former master or if they’re just very rude. If it’s the latter, then I’m going to have to enforce a strict set of rules for these tight-lipped servants.
Your old master is dead.
I’m your new master.
You can and will tell me all there is to know about this estate or I will fire you.
Any questions?
As I fantasize about punishing my useless team of house helpers, I catch a familiar scent. It’s the same unintentionally putrid scent that I caught while in the main hall, that of my fourth new roommate. I look around the area, finally spotting him sitting patiently in the withered courtyard. The wolf is keeping his distance from me, a sign that he learned from his earlier mistake of entering my home uninvited.
“Stranger! What brings you to my abode?”
The brown wolf tilts his head, surprised he can understand me. This tells me he isn’t used to communicating with shifters, which doesn’t really surprise me. I’ve seen the only people he’s had around all this time. Truth be told, I seriously doubt any of them are even human, let alone children of the Great Wolf.
I crouch down to his level, this time with less hostile intentions. I made my stand during our first meeting and he willingly submitted to me. Even for normal dogs, an unspoken law exists which demands the omega wolf obey their promise of subordination. So long as he honors his plea, I’ll spare him from a second confrontation and allow him inside my home.
“Come now. I apologize for my poor first impression. How about we bury the hatchet and try again?”
He continues to watch me, trying to decide if he believes me or not. Humans normally can’t read the faces of four-legged watchers like the specimen before me. Those who bear a connection to the Great Wolf, however, notice differences in gazes and posture that make it quite easy to read what the creatures are thinking. Do the wrinkles under their eyes curve up or down? In what position is their tail hanging? What of their legs?
We’ve been in their shoes before. We’re fully aware of how we look and sound when we’re scared, curious, or ecstatic. It’s just like looking at a normal human and noticing that a tear threatens to stream down their cheek. It’s not that hard a concept, but I understand that most humans are slack-jawed imbeciles who cannot understand simplicity.
The lines under his eyes are shifting from an upward shock to a downward calm. The wolf feels very much conflicted. He wants to trust my word. It’s not every day he meets a human who’s able to communicate with him. But alas, he’s still scared that I’ll tear him to pieces. And so, the wolf gets up from his spot and bolts away.
I sigh heavily.
“Good show, Kenneth,” I scold myself. “You were enough of an asshole to scare him off.”
* * *
Over the last several days, I have given my canine roommate a decent amount of space. I’ve been telling myself that if I just leave him to his own devices, he’ll eventually seek me out again. Though, I don’t mind admitting it’s been rather difficult keeping this strategy up. The wolf’s very existence piques my curiosity. As much as I want to write him off as a stray dog, I simply cannot bring myself to do it.
I received a letter to come to a castle formerly owned by an Adelbrecht I never met.
I came to the estate with the intention of disappearing off the face of the Earth.
I was done with people.
But lo and behold, a wolf appears before me on my very first day in Stagwood Grove.
This was no coincidence.
I was experiencing a holy intervention from the Great Wolf himself.
The Great Wolf serves as our patron. He always finds a way to bring my kind together, for he knows we are pack animals. Like non-lycan wolves, most of us find solitary lives to be impossible to lead. The term lone-wolf has always been considered something of an oxymoron amongst my family and fellow lycans.
Wolves straying from the pack?
Right, and my name is Nancy.
Shifters are exclusive by nature. We prefer to go where we’re among our own kind. We detest the company of mere mortals, for we know they’re not capable of understanding our way of life. Man has always been, and always will be, a xenophobic, destructive species who only finds contentment in taking the unknown and distorting it to fit its own self-righteous image. With Stagwood Grove being as closed off from civilization as it is, I wouldn’t be surprised if this wolf is a villager from somewhere in Yorkshire who simply prefers his wolf form over his human form.
I’ve also considered the possibility that this wolf is actually Elias Adelbrecht, himself. The Adelbrecht family has always had ties to the Great Wolf and I’m sure my great-uncle was no exception. Humans, for the most part, are vastly unaware of our species, often likening us to mere fairy tales. So despite being declared legally dead by British law, Elias might be the furthest thing from that. What the law deems deceased may only be a partial truth.
Dead as a man, reborn as a wolf.
Alas, I could be wrong altogether. Perhaps the wolf is simply a wolf. If I were able to get close enough to him, I might be able to determine his nature. But as I’ve stated before, I want him to initiate further contact, not I.
Perhaps once he notices I’m in no hurry to hunt him down, he’ll calm down and approach me.
Until he comes around, I try to keep my focus on my research. Thankfully for me, Stagwood Grove seems to be an absolute gold mine for minerals for me to study. When I was still under Lord Bosie Melmoth’s supervision, I was very limited in what I was allowed to analyze. For instance, Bosie often only wanted me to study specific minerals, usually pious ones like rubies, diamonds, and emeralds. Once or twice a year, he’d spoil me and allow me to go overseas to conduct research. Granted, he only did this when he knew it would affect his reputation with the other snooty nobles.
“Oh heavens, look at Lord Bosie Melmoth over there. His rock scientist is currently studying volcanic debris in Polynesia. How generous Bosie is.”
Here in Stagwood Grove, I’m my own supervisor. I’m allowed to study whatever the hell I want. And luckily for me, my adventures in the courtyard have provided me with some specimens Ol’ Bosie would’ve never let me study. I’ve been finding some conglomerates, limestones, and even various crystals that seem to have grown relatively close to the abandoned barn. And once I find Elias’ secret lair for dark ritual magick—because I’m certain there’s one around here somewhere—I’ll have even more materials to study. This life can’t get any better.
Of course, this staunch focus on science lasts only a few days. On my third day in Stagwood Grove, the wolf makes his first appearance since our meeting in the courtyard. He finds me in the abandoned barn, analyzing some newly-formed crystals. He decides to play a joke on me by stealing my magnifying glass from my back pocket. A subtle act of passive-aggression, I’m sure. When I finally realize it’s missing, I leave the barn to see if I perhaps dropped it somewhere outside. I quickly find it in the farm field, buried in the ground, handle sticking up from the soil. Sitting besi
de it is the perpetrator, looking awfully pleased with himself.
“You…you little weasel.” I laugh heartily as I crouch down to free the magnifying glass. I unfortunately bend down a little too quickly and the wolf swiftly backs away. I immediately apologize to him, promising him I’ll move slower from now on. However, he doesn’t buy it and bolts away from me once again.
A faint growl curdles in my throat.
So close.
* * *
On the fourth day, I attempt to ask Mister Norris what he knows about the creature. I honestly didn’t want to resort to asking the servants, considering they never seem to tell me anything useful about the castle, their former master, or the history of Stagwood Grove. To my surprise, he at least acknowledges that I asked him a question. However, he still provides me with an incredibly unsatisfying answer. “He wanders around the estate every once in a while. A curious animal, he is.”
I know I’ve made it no secret, but I’m finding myself less fond of these people with each passing day.
* * *
Finally, on the fifth day, I make a breakthrough with the wolf.
The day starts out simple enough. Missus Norris wakes me up around sunrise to inquire about what I’d like to eat for breakfast. I tell her I want sausages, bacon, and eggs, and she leaves to cook. I eat breakfast and proceed to spend the rest of the day in the library. After all, I have been working on my research nonstop for days now. I’m entitled to a day off.
As the hours pass, I begin to hear the telltale sound of rain hitting the roof. At first, I think nothing of it. In fact, I find the temptation to bring a book downstairs so I can sit in front of the fire too strong to ignore. Once I’m in my chair downstairs, I waste no time at all getting comfortable as I stick my nose into some Jaspar Mayne.
But then I hear howling from outside the estate.
Loud howling.
Frightened howling, like a scream.
I immediately think of the brown wolf and jump out of my chair, tossing my book onto the floor. As I open the twin oak doors, I see the poor canine standing in the middle of the courtyard. His grey eyes shine brightly in the darkness, extreme terror leaping off his irises like fleas. If there was ever a time to prove myself to him, it is certainly now.
“What’s the trouble, boy?”
He howls frantically again, drawing out the finish. The rain hurts him. Everything about its presence upsets him.
“It’s okay, boy. Come inside, I’ve a warm fire to dry you off.”
He whines loudly. The situation conflicts him. He wants to come inside, but something holds him back. Someone, rather.
A sigh exhales through my lips.
No more lashing out at random wolves, Kenneth.
I decide there’s only one way to earn this wolf’s trust. I take a deep breath, readying myself for the transformation. Once I’m ready, I stand up and begin stripping out of my clothing. This understandably overwhelms the wolf, as he hasn’t the first clue as to what I’m planning. However, I keep my gaze focused on him and only him. I’m letting him know that I trust him to not attack me while I’m in such a vulnerable state.
Once the last article of clothing has left my body, I close my eyes and initiate my transformation by howling up at the night sky. The aches come immediately as my body convulses. I’ve been a shifter my whole life, but even a seasoned expert such as myself isn’t immune to the pains that come from the transformation. As black fur begins to coat my body, I feel myself shrinking down to the size of a wolf. My human-sounding howls become more primal, more bestial.
Before long, my wolf form is exposed to the timid canine. I look up at him with my glowing hazel eyes. “Come with me,” I tell him through a series of yips and growls, a necessary part of our exclusive wolf speech.
He whines one last time before finally speaking to me for the first time in five days. “How did you do that?”
His voice sounds young, possibly around my age. That rules out the possibility of him being my great-uncle. However, I’m not ready to dismiss the possibility of him being a villager using my estate as hunting grounds.
“The same way you do it, I imagine.”
The wolf tilts his head slightly, emitting a faint whimper. “I-I’m still not very good at it. To tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure how I even do it.”
I clamp my snout shut, trying to control a deep growl bubbling in my throat. How am I supposed to interpret a response like that? The chap sounds young but not that young. How can he not know how to shift? “Have you not found your place in a pack?”
“N-No. The only animals that live around here are squirrels, pigeons, and doves. Every once in a while, I’ll see cats prowling around outside your gates.” He looks down, dejected. “They don’t like me very much.”
My expression softens a tad and my body relaxes enough to sit down. How awful for this creature. He’s a victim of the secluded area, possibly abandoned as a cub. How long has he been living in Stagwood Grove? The Great Wolf is truly great for finally bringing his suffocating loneliness to an end. A fitting way to end my own self-imposed isolation.
“There aren’t any other lycans around here?”
He loosens up a little, now sitting up straight. Granted, I still notice him shaking quite heavily. “Just you. I was beginning to think I was the only one of my kind.”
“Preposterous!” I bark. “The mighty father hears the howls of all lycans. He brought me to you, didn’t he?”
His expression remains confused, like this obvious information is new to him. But what part is new, I wonder? Is it the idea of shifting freely? Is it the promise of finding others? Or is it about our great father in the sky? He doesn’t say, instead opting to change the subject. “I hate rain. Always have.”
“I know, and that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with having fears. It’s what reminds us we’re alive.” I jerk my head to the side, toward the interior of my home. “Why don’t you come inside? It certainly can’t be any worse than staying out here.”
The younger wolf nods shyly. “O-Okay.” He quickly runs up to the door, passing me as he enters the castle.
Once he’s inside, I close my eyes and initiate my transformation back into a human male. Arguably a lot more painful than the first transformation, I growl as I feel my bones grow. Normally, I would spend more time in my wolf form, so my bones don’t suffer any more pain than they need to.
But if feeling this extra pain means comforting a creature who has long been denied any comfort, then it’s all worth it.
Once my reverse-transformation is complete, I drop to my knees. My breaths are fast and heavy as I try to wait out the pain in my joints. Shivers from the rain penetrate the pores in my skin like microscopic daggers. Exhaustion hits me like an angry bull and my eyes are close to rolling to the back of my head. Can I get away with that, I wonder? Would the Norrises mind all that much seeing a naked man resting by the front entrance?
Before I know it, my canine friend is running toward me. In his jaws there appears to be a silk blanket, stolen from one of the castle’s bedrooms. Before I can scold him for taking my things, he tosses it over my naked body. To think that, just days ago, he wouldn’t even let me close to him. Now here he is, speaking to me and attempting to comfort me in the best way a canine companion can.
“Thank you, boy,” I whisper as I wrap the blanket tightly around my body. He barks once, placing his paw on my leg. I admittedly find myself surprised. First, he talks to me. Then he hands me a blanket. Now he’s willing to touch me? Would I be allowed to touch him, as well? Does he trust me enough?
I wonder…
Not wanting to startle him, I slowly ease my hand through the blanket. I keep it low so he doesn’t feel threatened or challenged. To help guide him through this, I speak to him quietly and sweetly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to be your friend.”
He looks at me with a hint of apprehension, which is understandable. Melancholy seems to be present in
his mood as well. It’s very likely that this wolf hasn’t had any affection for a long, long time. He probably thinks I’m just joking with him. That I’m about to play a trick on him.
But I’m not.
I’m just a fellow wolf in need of a friend in this friendless world.
When he doesn’t back away from me, I take the risk and raise my hand high enough so he’s aware of my intentions. His grey eyes follow my hand carefully, gaze shifting ever so slightly each time I move my fingers. Smart boy, he is. He’s analyzing me and trying to decide if he believes me. Chances are that he senses the protective part of my dominant nature trying to seep through my actions. If this wolf is truly the only one of his kind in these parts, then I imagine the mere existence of an alpha wolf seems foreign to him.
His musky scent fills my nostrils. While he still reeks of moistened yeast, it doesn’t bother me as much this time. Now I’ve spoken to him, I’ve been granted the rights to much needed context. He doesn’t want the scent of wet dog to be what he’s known for. Of course he doesn’t. His disdain for storms solidifies the fact.
I think I will start up a bath for him tonight.
If he trusts me enough to pet him, then he’ll certainly trust me enough to clean him.
He doesn’t have to worry about drowning so long as I’m here.
Emboldened, I place my hand on his head. Much to my delight, he lowers his head, inviting me to pet him. My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. “There we go, nice and easy. I look forward to this new friendship.”
He leans his head forward and licks my arm.
He agrees.
5
A Horrific Fate
Eustace
August 21, 1823
I lost consciousness shortly after coming face to face with the menacing old man inhabiting the estate. Whether it was due to my own cowardice or simply from the fatigue I felt after suffering God knows how many miles through the forest, I’m not entirely certain. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, as both reasons are very pitiful on my part. How many people do you know so weak they faint at the sight of an angry elder? Some man I am.