Lycanthropy: Charlotte's Story chpt 6

That day was the hottest day we’d had since I’d moved here. It was the kind of dry steady heat that makes you instantly exhausted. It certainly kept Harriet inside; even a fanatic like her wouldn’t spend a day like that gardening outside.
She didn’t have a lot, Harriet. She had her gardening and her Wednesday night meetings and that seemed to be it. She’d been wandering around the house aimlessly, dusting this and tidying that, but the house was spotless and there really was nothing to do. It was too hot anyway.
That day she came to see me in my room and sat on the edge of the bed again, gazing around slowly.
“I bought this house not long before you moved here, you know.” She said. She raised her hand and wiped her hair from her face, which was filmed with sweat.
I rolled over uncomfortably to lay on my back, where I hoped I would be cooler.
“Did you know it was his house, when you bought it?” I asked, interested how it had all happened. “Oh, yes,” She said simply. “It’s amazing to look at it and think of all the things that have happened here. Mostly terrible, but amazing nonetheless.” Her voice was soft and thoughtful as she examined the room.
“Harriet?”
She turned toward me, her eyes meeting mine slowly. “Yes, dear?”
“I’ve been thinking… does Mum know about any of this stuff?”
My Grand-mother sighed. “Parts but not everything. I came to her, a few years ago after I had been acquainted with Niko. I told her what our theory was, I told her to prepare herself.”
“What did she say?” I asked.
“Not a lot. She thought we were crazy. She didn’t appreciate my visit.”
“You said before that my thing with Lee was the key, but not the reason I was here. Did Mum change her mind?”
She frowned. “She never said she wouldn’t send you. I told her that day, to wait for something to happen to you. To watch until something big happened. She who fell from grace. I told her, it would be something terrible.”
It was my turn to frown. What I’d done hadn’t been that bad. Although with Lee turning out to be such a complete loser I was slightly less defensive that usual.
“Oh.”
“She called me, right after it happened, when she found out,” she said.
“Oh.” How embarrassing.
“She sent you not long after. To us, for training.”
“Training?”
She nodded to the diary on the bed side table.
“Oh.”
She smoothed my hair. “You were meant for great things, you know.”
I could feel my expression change slightly, but I was aware that for the first time my voice was soft and reasonable.
“Harriet, this thing you guys want me to do. It’s a lot to ask.”
“I know. We all know. But that was you destiny. Be proud that what you will produce will save so many lives.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
She gave a soft laugh. “We’re not wrong, Charlotte.”
“No, but what if you are?”
She was silent for a moment, biting her lip. She didn’t look too sure any more. After a few minutes, she patted my knee.
“It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”
“And what about Niko? You can’t just force stuff like that.”
“No ones asking you to dear.”
I beg to differ, I wanted to say. How could she say that?
“What do you mean?”
“No one’s asking you to pretend. You never know, you might end up liking him.”
I pressed my lips together in disagreement.
“Would you at least give him a chance?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to give him a chance. The thought of him and I together made me shudder.
“He wants to spend some time with you.”
“What would you do if it was you? If someone just said one day, you need to give birth to a baby, it’s your destiny, here’s the guy we want to be the Father.”
She gave me half a smile. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right now, but Charlotte, you have to understand. Some of us are just meant for higher things, higher purposes. It’s rarely something glamorous or fun, it’s a sacrifice. You’re not the first.”
I felt like I was the first, the only, the one individual who had been asked to do this. I could feel the tears prickling behind my eyes.
“What if you’re wrong?” I whispered. “What if I have the baby, and it’s normal?”
She was quiet for a long time and then she patted my arm gently. “Leave the responsibility up to us. We know what we’re doing.”
I could only hope she was right.

I didn’t sleep much the next night and I had bad dreams when I did. As usual, I was locked in my room, Harriet in bed. I don’t really know what time it was, not late because Harriet hadn’t been in bed too long. Maybe eleven. I was lying on my back looking at the ceiling, trying to stay awake so I wouldn’t dream.
There was movement passed the window.
I caught it out of the corner of my eye, and immediately turned to stare at the glass pane, my heart beating wildly. I was thinking I had imagined it when I saw it again. A shiver ran up my spine. It wasn’t a person, it was the shadow of one. I slid off the bed carefully and crept around to the window, feeling grateful that I had kept it closed since the night before. Who was it that was out there in the middle of the night?
As I reached the wall, I pressed my face hard up against it and peered out. What I saw made my heart jolt. With shock and fear I froze, staring through the glass.
Without questioning, without even needing to think about it, I knew who it was. I did not know why he was there, or what he wanted, but the fact was he was there.
Slowly, my heart pumping fiercely, I slid the window up inch by inch while keeping both eyes locked on the black figure below the sill.
It was not moving and not making a sound either.
When the window was as high as it could go, I paused. I did not know what I planned to do about this situation. It seemed my body did, even if my mind didn’t.
Before I had really considered it, my leg was up and over the sill, my bum and other leg following loyally. I was standing next to him within another few seconds, gazing down.
I lowered myself to my knees as he raised his head to look at me. His eyes were dull and colourless, his gaze completely non threatening. I spoke to him as I would speak to any wounded animal.
“What are you doing down here baby.” I whispered, checking him over with my eyes warily. I was ready for a snap or a growl, but it never came.
“You shouldn’t be here, on your own,” I crooned, “Not so late at night where things are out and about.”
He gazed up at me, and it startled me to see his tail give an extremely feeble wag. I took that as permission and regarded him carefully.
Gingerly, I reached out to him, my fingers flinching before they’d even reached him. He turned his head again to look at me and I snatched my hand back, though he didn’t move any more. He watched me half heartedly, following my movements but unable to care much about them.
Feeling bold, I began to assess the situation more rationally. He was obviously hurt; I couldn’t tend to him out here, he would never be comfortable enough or safe enough to recover. I would have to move him inside the house. I turned to look at the window ledge. It was higher than I could probably manage, but I would have to do it.
I knelt down beside him and slowly, oh so slowly reached out and placed a hand on his rib cage. The fur was soft, thick and springy. He made no sound. I bent close to his ear.
“I’m going to have to move you. I can’t look after you if you’re out here. You’re not safe here on your own.”
He made no attempt to stop me as I slid one arm underneath his front paws and I had to assume he’d understood. I carefully began to lift the front half of his body and he made a horrible growling groaning sound that made me freeze. I turned back to the house, listening for Harriet but I heard nothing. Thankfully, he was turned the right way, facing the house head on. I just had to drag him to the window, which proved to be difficult as he wasn’t small. As I grunted, he groaned. I lowered him back to the ground as I paused to lean against the house, thinking. I wasn’t strong enough to push him up and over the sill, but I couldn’t think of any easier way.
I knelt before the window, thinking again. He was leaning against me, looking sicker by the second. I turned and vaulted myself over the sill and inside the bedroom, looking for something that could help me. I spotted the beside table, and padded over to it softly. I was glad it didn’t have any draws as I levered it out the window, puffing and panting. I lowered it to the ground carefully and then jumped out after it. I stood for a minute to catch my breath and listen for Harriet. No sounds leaked from under my door.
I turned to face him and looked into those dull eyes. They stared back, partially closed. I walked slowly toward him.
“It’s ok now. I’m going to put you inside where you can have a proper rest, ok?”
I murmured to him softly while I dragged him up onto one of my knees. I slid onto the table and then slowly rose my body from knees to feet. I was now just above the window.
I leant against the house as I tried to shift his weight onto the sill. It was difficult enough with all four of his legs but he was a dead weight doing nothing to help me. I managed to slide him onto the sill and then leant into the house to lower him to the ground. My upper arm muscles were screaming with pain under his weight. They began to shake. I must admit I let him fall the last six inches or so. I just couldn’t do it. He didn’t make a sound.
I climbed in after him, being careful not to step on his limp form. I leant back through the window and scraped my fingertips along the top of the table outside until I managed to grip the wooden lip at its edges. With difficulty, I lifted it up and through the window, setting it down in its original place.
I sat down on the bed, my heart pumping fiercely and my arms feeling slightly weak. I looked toward the door, listening again but there was nothing to hear but the crickets outside and my own labored breathing. I got up and laid a shirt across the crack under the door.
He was not moving. I bent over him, concerned. I looked around; it would have to be the bed. Sighing, I dragged, pushed and slid him across the floor then hoisted him onto the bed. He took up most of it.
His eyes were open. As dull and lifeless as they were, they were watching me. I reached over him and flicked on the light and was appalled with what I saw.
Blood, thick and messy was smeared everywhere. It was on the window sill, on the floor, all over the bed, all over me. I was surprised I didn’t have any on my hands and that I hadn’t seen or felt it while I was moving him. It explained his lifelessness. He was bleeding. A lot. I could suddenly smell it, that hot metallic stench and I thought I might be sick. It amazed me that I hadn’t smelt it before now.
Hurriedly, I ran my hands across his belly, over his rib cage. I found the first hole there, at the base of his ribs. The second hole was in his thigh. The third and final hole was in his shoulder, and it was this one that was bleeding the most profusely. Even as I watched, blood pooled in a thick puddle and then spilled over onto the sheets.
I felt sick with indecision. I couldn’t wake Harriet, she’d have let him bleed out. I had to do it on my own.
I pulled the light across the table to shine it directly above him.
I dug around under the bed for my bag and pulled it up on to the covers. I tipped its contents onto the sheets until I found what I was looking for. It wasn’t much; it was such a basic tool considering what surgeons and vetinarians use these days. Still, my tweezers were all either of us had.
Next, I scavenged through my clothes to find the softest, cleanest materials I could, as well as some thick socks and threw them onto the bed. I put the bag and its contents back onto the floor and turned to him, swallowing.
He was very still, his breathing irregular. This was going to hurt him, I knew.
Taking a deep breath, I placed a firm hand on his shoulder and then plunged the tweezers, the prongs tightly pressed together, into the hole.
He jerked awake, his eyes wide. An urgent snarl escaped his lips as he fought to rise. His back feet scrabbled against the bed trying to force his body up but he was too weak; I was no match for him. He fell back, exhausted from his efforts, writhing in pain. My tweezers dug deeper until I felt them hit something. He fainted.
At least that’s what I assume he did. I didn’t stop to check.
The bullet was hard to grasp with the tweezers. For a start, bullets are round, and this one was slick with blood. I kept getting it and then slipping. I managed to get a good grip, and instead of removing it slowly, ripped it out as fast as I could.
It was tiny. A little ball of shiny metal, slightly squashed at the front where the point had been.
I wiped the hole as clean as I could and then placed a thick sock over the wound and bound it with a pair of stockings. I did the same for the bullet hole in his leg, binding the sock to it with a scarf.
I couldn’t get the bullet in his chest out. I tried and tried until the neat bullet hole had become a jagged, gaping mess. It was just in too deep. The tweezers were pushed all the way into his chest and I still couldn’t feel the bullet. I abandoned trying after an hour and a half, when my fingers were aching and I’d nearly lost the tweezers inside the hole. I decided just to bandage him up the best I could and have another try in the morning.
I covered him with the blanket and carefully lowered myself onto the other side of the bed. There was barely enough room. I lay on top of the covers, watching his still form. I remember feeling my eye lids dropping and then I was jerked awake.
The bed was rocking, shuddering. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep, no idea. I could hear birds outside- it was early morning. I turned to my right and gazed directly into his face, but it was a human face I saw. His eyes were still colourless, but they now had a directness about them that they hadn’t had before. A growl rose in his throat and I was suddenly aware of the fact that he was feeling better. His face was full of animosity as he stared at me.
I felt a tingling of fear run up my spine. His face was white as chalk from lack of sun (and blood) and he was so thin, his clothes hung from his bones. His hair was shoulder length and dirty, bits of twig and leaves matted into it.
Because his eyes had no colour, they had no expression- they were flat and cold, deadly. Slowly, I inched my way off the bed and backtracked my way to the far wall, keeping my eyes locked on his. He growled the whole time I was moving, a low grating sound in his chest. I slowly made my way towards the window, my only real means of escape. As I began to slide the pane of glass upwards, the growls stopped. He turned in interest toward the window, now fully open. This was his only means of an exit, also. Against my better judgment, I tried to reason with him.
“You shouldn’t leave yet. There’s still one there, in your chest,” I said softly. I added in a whisper, “It’s dangerous for you, out there. Don’t go. Not yet.”
I didn’t really expect him to answer, he looked so weak and defeated. When he did, it made me jump.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” He snarled, his voice low and harsh.
I was stunned. I remembered his violence from the diaries and wondered if I’d ever leave this room again. My eyes darted to the window.
He smiled nastily, following my gaze to the window. “You wouldn’t make it in time,” he whispered. He smiled again, a bitter twist of his mouth. “I can hear your heart beating from here. Like a frightened rabbit.”
His words scared me, but his voice could not mask his emotion, it was thick with pain as he taunted me.
I nodded at his chest and back to the window. “I don’t think you would make it either.”
His smile vanished and he coughed, as if admitting to the pain he felt. I took a step toward him, worried, but he held up his hand.
“Come any closer, and I’ll to kill you.” He gasped, the determination clear in his voice.
I realized that though his words were threatening, he himself was not. As far as I was concerned, he could not move.
“Why haven’t you already?” I asked quietly. He had indeed pulled me from the clearing up toward the road where I had made it back to the house in safety. “What were you doing last night?”
He sneered at me. “It was a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I would have left you there if I’d known what you were.”
I thought of the promised baby that was told to be his ending and shuddered. Was it possible he knew who I was? “I’ll bet you would have.” I murmured.
He nodded sincerely. “Believe it.”
I ignored his groan of pain. “Why did you carry me off then?”
He growled but I ignored him, my curiosity was too strong. I had to take advantage of his momentary weakness.
“I thought you were one of us. Like me.” He said through gritted teeth, his dead eyes locked on mine.
“What? Why did you think that?”
The rage in his voice was awful to listen to. “I saw them watching you, and I couldn’t understand why. They had their guns loaded and ready, pointed in your direction,” he gasped, wincing with pain. “I couldn’t see you well enough, couldn’t smell you either. I thought it was because I was upwind, but…”
So he’d thought I was one of them. How wrong he’d been. He looked like he was regretting it, too. Who had been watching me? I thought I knew who.
“I’m surprised you didn’t attack me, alone in the clearing at night like that.”
He gave a snort of contempt. “Don’t insult me.”
“Insult you?”
“Easy prey isn’t very appetizing.” He sneered at me.
“The way you talk, I’d think all humans were easy prey.”
His eyes flashed white in the light, anger darkening his face. He looked around until he saw it, his own diary, on the table beside the bed.
He gave a snarl and I took a step back, wary. He swallowed, clamping his lips together and breathing hard through his nose.
“That’s personal property.” He spat, gazing at its cover.
I softened slightly. It was his, after all. “I’m sorry.”
He glanced up at me, then looked away quickly again. “I have not been in this room for a long time.”
I stayed quiet, suddenly feeling awkward that I had taken over his room, his house.
“What better place to learn how to slay the beast.” He taunted, trying to smile again and only managing an ugly twist of his lips.
“I was not brought here by choice.” I responded, finding it hard to look at him.
He blinked. “Of course. That bloody prophecy.”
He reached to pick up his diary, then gripped a hand to his chest, heaving and gasping with pain. He settled himself then stared down at his chest, his face alight with curiosity. He tore off my makeshift bandage and stared into the gaping hole I’d made. I felt guilty, he must know I’d made it worse.
Before I could say anything, he jammed his thumb and fore-finger into the wound and began to dig around, a look of pure determination mixed with agony on his face.
I started forward, my maternal instincts flooding my common sense. “Don’t.”
He continued to dig, while writhing in pain, but he could not find the bullet. Meanwhile, the hole was now flowing freely with thick blood, his face paling by the second until it became slightly green tinged.
I stepped closer, took a breath then reached out and placed my hand on his wrist, giving it a gentle tug. “No, don’t. You’re making it worse.”
He heaved a great sigh, relaxed his hand and collapsed against the pillows, exhausted. I pulled his hand away, trying to get a better look at the wound. It was a wet, red, fleshy mess. It didn’t smell that great, either.
Thinking of his other wounds I began to remove the dressing from his shoulder. He did not try to stop me, though he growled under his breath in an unpleasant way.
There was no wound, and very little blood on the sock. The skin had healed to form a small, slightly puckered, shiny pink scar. I gasped in wonder and went to run my finger over the site but the low growling erupted into snarls and coughs and I yanked my hand away.
“I assume the same will have happened to the one on your leg.” I remarked.
“Part of the package.” He gasped.
I nodded. “I need to get out the last one. I’m assuming it’s not going to heal with the bullet still in there. You’re losing a lot of blood, you’ve gone grey.”
“I don’t need you. I’ll do it myself.” He spat, pulling away from me as much as he could without causing too much pain. “Get away from me.”
I sighed with frustration and moved away as he’d requested.
He locked me with those dead eyes, his expression calculating. “You shouldn’t help me.”
“Shouldn’t?” I replied, eyebrows raised. “I already have.”
“What?”
“Helped you.”
He pressed his lips together. He bit back another groan, gasping. “I never asked you to help me.”
The tiny candle of anger inside me roared with flame. “You showed up outside my window in the middle of the night, whimpering and whining for my help. I had no choice.” He snickered humourlessly. “If you knew what was good for you, you would have gone back to sleep.”
“I couldn’t ignore your pain like that. You would have died out there.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?” he asked sarcastically.
I was quiet. He was right, after all.
“You couldn’t choose what you became.” I told him, searching his cold flat eyes with mine. I had never held it against him, what he had become. He had had no choice in the matter. “You’re just another part of nature.”
He looked at me disbelievingly. I thought I saw a flash of colour enter his eyes, but it vanished before I could be sure.
“I do not think they are teaching you very well.” He remarked dryly, his eyes flickering to the door.
My dear grandmother and her friends on a mission.
“I never asked to save the world.”
“As I never asked to devour it.” His voice was slurred with the effort, but I got his point.
We gazed at each other momentarily before he looked away. His face was paling fast and I wondered how long we had. His eyelids were drooping.
“Look. Either I can try and get this thing out so you can heal and live another day or you die right there on the bed. Which do you find more attractive?”
I had thought he might laugh, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. He coughed and shuddered while he levered and his body down into a horizontal position, his head on the pillow. He placed his hands by his side and then lay still, staring at the ceiling. I took this to be his permission to finding the last bullet and went to his side, careful to watch for any sudden movements.

I held out the tiny piece of metal to him and he took it from me, staring at it in fascination. The colour was coming back into his face fast as his body healed the hole that had been draining his life force onto the sheets.
I saw now that his skin had an olive tint burnt dark by the sun. His eyes were still lifeless, but the rest of his facial features were sharp and fierce. It was he who looked like a warrior. His skin had many marks and scars, tales of battles past.
The minute his energy returned, he got up from the bed and strode to the window. He was short, but powerfully built with wide strong shoulders and a heavily muscled torso. His chest was streaked with blood and dirt, his long hair was matted to his head with sweat. His face was gaunt, like a homeless man’s, housing those dead eyes, but his thinness had disappeared. I studied him from the bed as he stood gazing at me, troubled.
“You’d be best to forget this day.” He remarked quietly, looking out the window.
I felt this was important. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Why?” I begged.
He sighed. “It will make it all that harder when it’s time.”
I knew my voice betrayed my words, for I knew exactly what he meant. “Time for what?”
He tried to smile again, but it was almost like he couldn’t. His mouth wouldn’t allow it. It twisted into an ugly cynical shape until he stopped trying, giving it up with a sigh.
“You know. Make sure you forget.”
Looking at him now, I felt relief that it was not I that had to end his life, it was not my responsibility. Automatically, I looked down at my belly where the promised child would grow, and I already felt pity for it. Would it feel such hatred toward this creature that it would slay him without another thought? I did not want any child of mine to feel this way for another of nature’s creations, evil or not.
He was not looking at me, but out the window with longing. In the blink of an eye, he was over the sill and out the window, escaping into the trees. As I rushed to the wall and leant out after him I caught a glimpse of him disappearing into the bush. I watched after him a long time but he did not reappear.
Turning back to the room, I groaned. There was blood everywhere. It was dry, cracked and flaking along almost every surface. How would I explain this?
I grabbed my hairbrush which was a cheap thing full of black plastic bristles, like a toothbrush. I rubbed it back and forth along the windowsill, across the floor and along the wooden edges of the bed. The blood flaked off cleanly, though it left a stain in its place.
I stripped the sheets off the bed slowly, tiredly, and threw them into a corner. I glanced around the room searching for any more signs of the dark liquid.
There was a knock on the door. People, already. I was lucky they hadn’t knocked earlier. I had wondered about the noise we were making, but Harriet was a heavy sleeper.
“Just a second!” I yelled frantically.
Hurriedly, I twisted a black scarf around my forearm tightly, tucking it in at the end. I stared down at it; it looked real enough.
I marched over to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.
‘Morning, dear.” Harriet said, a tired smile warming her face. Her gaze drifted past me and the shocked look on her face told me she’d seen the bloody sheets in a pile on the floor.
“God, what’s happened!”
The forming lie did not faze me. I lifted my arm up to show her. “I cut myself.”
She grabbed my wrist, horrified. “Are you alright? It might need stitches!”
“I’m fine.”
She looked at me, frowning. “I’ll take you to the doctor’s.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Really.”
She looked doubtful, hesitating. “Well, if you’re sure.”
I smiled. “I am.”
The front door creaked open and we both turned towards it.
I faced my grandmother. “You know, it’s really creepy how your friends have keys to this house.”
She made a clucking noise and disappeared down the hallway. I followed at a slow pace, knowing who it would be.
It was indeed Niko, looking tired and troubled as he sat down at the kitchen table. His face was unshaven, golden stubble lighting his chin and cheeks. He looked up as I entered the room. His eyes fell to my arm. He looked concerned.
“What happened to your arm?” he asked, frowning.
I shrugged. “I cut it.”
Harriet nodded, remembering. “We should get rid of those sheets, they’re ruined now.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. They’re as old as the hills.”
I nodded, feeling relieved. “Cool.”
“How did you hurt your arm?” Niko asked slowly, gazing at me intently.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. Must have cut it on something. I woke up and realized I’d hurt it.”
He didn’t respond. Harriet looked back and forth between us and then bustled out of the kitchen mumbling something about “so much to do” and “gardening before it gets warm”. I glared after her.
Niko tapped his fingers on the table.
“Would you stop doing that please?” I snapped, impatient.
He nodded then looked up at me.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” he asked quietly.
I swallowed. I hate confrontations, especially when the other person puts you on the spot like Niko was. How could he put me in this situation? It wasn’t something I was mentally prepared for. I groaned inwardly.
I decided not to respond. I got up and left through the kitchen door, walking into the garden. It reflected all Harriet’s work that was for sure. The roses were in full bloom, pink and yellow and white. There were lavender bushes, dahlias, and over in the shade clumps of agapanthus shot flowers out toward the light. It was a sea of well organized colour and I admired her work. The grass was slightly yellowed from the heat, but it just looked like a summer garden. There was no order to it of course, Harriet wasn’t like that. It looked natural and unplanned, like all the plants had just sprouted and flourished where they stood.
I walked passed the roses and turned left away from the house. I crossed over to walk through the bush, the dry sticks and leaves crackling beneath me.
“Charlotte!” Niko was running after me.
I sighed and slowed my pace so he could catch up, even though I wished he’d stayed inside.
“Charlotte, wait.”
He was behind me, catching my shoulder to spin me round. I yanked away but turned to face him. His face was sad.
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged.
He bit his lip, trying to form the words he wanted to say.
I didn’t have a lot of patience for him. I sat down and leant against the nearest tree.
He sat down beside me, thinking.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
He sighed. “I know that- that you must hate the idea of what we’ve thrown on you.”
Understatement of the century, I thought.
“You must hate the thought of..” he sighed. “We could be friends, you know.”
I didn’t respond to that, either. I could feel heat in my cheeks as I thought of where the conversation might go. It wasn’t long before he took it there.
“It will be hard to- you know, if we aren’t.”
I narrowed my eyes, knowing exactly what he meant, but asking, anyway. “It will be hard to what?”
He sighed again, louder this time. He didn’t answer my daring question, but steered me away. He turned to face me, his expression solemn.
“We were meant to be together, whether you know it now or not.”
I stared at him. “How can you possibly believe that?”
“Do you really feel nothing for me at all?”
“Do you really feel something for me?” I asked, incredulous.
He was quiet, then, “Well, not yet.”
“Exactly.”
He made an exasperated noise. “Charlotte, this is something that will come naturally. It’s meant to be, which means there’s no denying it!”
“You can’t force stuff like this, Niko. If it doesn’t feel right, it means it’s not right. And this doesn’t feel right. That means it’s not natural.”
“Not yet.”
“It won’t be, ever. Not for me, anyway.” I paused. “Does this feel right to you?”
The reply came quietly. “I have to try.”
I searched his face as he looked across at me.
“The things I’ve seen Charlotte. The dreams I’ve had- they’re real, I know it. He does awful things, so terrible. He’ll wipe out everything within reach just to satiate his own emptiness.”
“Malachai?”
He flinched slightly. He bit his lip again.
“I have to try. I have to believe there’s something out there that can stop him.”
I didn’t respond. I looked out into the trees, listening to the birds. I remembered all the blood from this morning. They don’t know how close they were, I thought.
“Are you really that resolved, that you won’t even consider it?” he asked.
My mouth tightened. “Yes.”
“And you won’t consider me?”
I took a deep breath and managed the courage to look at him. His eyes were pleading. His golden hair reflected the sun, giving him an angelic appearance. He leant toward me and I knew what he was going to do. I stayed perfectly still, almost daring him to come closer. He was unsure of how I would react; I could tell just by the way he moved, inch by inch while keeping a very close watch on my eyes. He was just inches away when he stopped.
“Please, let’s just try.” He whispered.
And then he kissed me.
It was soft, tentative and foreign. I stayed completely still, not kissing him back but not pulling away either. As he withdrew to glance at me, I wondered why I hadn’t stopped him from kissing me in the first place. Was I that hurt by Lee that I would kiss anyone?
I finally pulled away. “I’m sorry, there’s just nothing there.”
Niko nodded, accepting my answer.
But the thought of Lee made me ache. The memory of rejection and sadness welled up inside me and I fought back the tears. The sudden need to feel someone beside me, to feel fingers in my hair was overwhelming. And he was right there.
I turned and pulled Niko close, pressing my lips to his. Even as I did it I felt regret, but I didn’t care. It felt good to be held again.
I tightened my hold on him and felt for his hand. I grabbed it and threw it over my shoulder, hoping he would know what to do. I think he was shocked because it took him a while to respond. Even so, he didn’t respond in the way I wanted him to. There was no passion, no urgency to his movements. It was all sweet and careful and proper.
I placed my hand at the base of Niko’s throat, slowly applying pressure until he pulled away.
“Stop, stop.” I said, shaking my head.
He wiped his mouth, gasping. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “Still nothing?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“What exactly is it that’s missing?” he asked, irritated and confused.
I was a bit embarrassed that he should ask, but I answered honestly. “Passion, I guess.”
“Well, we don’t know each other very well.”
I gave him a withering look. “I don’t think you need to know someone well to feel passionate.”
“Do you really need passion?”
“Don’t you?” I asked, incredulous again.
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him. “Have you never felt it before?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t want to get involved with women. I always knew I was waiting for you.”
I felt awful.
“You really believe we were meant to be together?”
He nodded firmly. “Yes.”
“I just don’t get it. Surely if we were destined to be together, we would feel something for each other.”
“It will happen eventually.”
I frowned. “But don’t you think if it was destiny, that it should just happen without us having to know about it first? Wouldn’t it be one of those situations where we would meet and instantly fall in love? Without being told first?”
“We have to give it time.”
I shook my head. “But when you kissed me, I felt nothing.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Charlotte, this is more serious than kissing.”
Back to that again.
“Niko, I tried. I tried kissing you. It doesn’t feel right. What more do you want me to do?”
“Try harder.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I know this can work, Charlotte. I know we’re meant to be together, and if we try hard enough, we can be happy.”
“Listen to yourself! It shouldn’t be this hard.”
I swore.
“Charlotte please. Give me a chance.”
I looked into those light blue eyes, feeling pity for this man who thought that I was meant for him.
“Niko, there’s so much out there. How can you cling to this one idea?”
“It’s not an idea, Charlotte! It’s something that would have happened, whether we planned it or not- somehow I was supposed to meet you, and you were supposed to get pregnant.”
“And then what?”
“The baby would save the world.”
“Far out, it’s like a bloody comic book.”
“Charlotte. Please listen to me.”
“No, Niko. You listen to me. This isn’t going to happen. We don’t feel anything for each other! There’s no attraction, nothing to bring us together. If we passed on the street, we’d just keep walking.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You’re insane!”
He was quiet again, thinking. I sighed loudly and closed my eyes, listening to the birds again.
“Let me try again.”
“Try what?” I asked impatiently.
“Let me kiss you again.”
I opened my eyes. “No.”
He leaned over anyway and touched his lips to mine softly. His heart wasn’t in it and I could tell he too felt nothing. He pulled away, sighing.
“Maybe in a few weeks, we’ll…”
“We won’t.” I said flatly.
He shook his head sadly. “I’ve spent years thinking about this moment.”
“What?”
“Thinking about you and about how great this would feel.”
“How’s it measuring up?”
“Not well.”
“And you know why that is.” I said, feeling tired again.
He rubbed his face with his hands.
“Is it because you’re in love with someone else?” he asked, his voice confused.
I closed my eyes, thinking of Lee again. “No.” I whispered.
I could feel his eyes on me.
“Who was that guy you were with the other night?” he asked quietly.
“None of your business.” I snapped.
“Are you with him?”
I gritted my teeth. “No.”
“We saw you. Together.”
“Whoopee for you.” Then I stopped. “Hang on, what do you mean “we saw you”- who saw us?”
He didn’t respond. I knew I was going to be told who was watching us, who Malachai had seen.
“Niko!”
“Penny and I.. we followed you when you left your room.”
I felt shocked even though I knew it had been coming. Then I felt embarrassed. They’d seen - and probably heard – the whole thing. I closed my eyes in horror. Then I thought of something else. Had they seen Malachai at my window last night? My eyes snapped open.
“Do you watch my bedroom every night?”
He shook his head. “No. It was lucky that we were passing.”
“Lucky…” I repeated, confused.
He nodded, speaking hesitantly. “We thought he might be in the area. We’ve been camping out each night in different locations, waiting for him to show.”
“Who?”
“Who else?”
I was quiet. I knew exactly who he was talking about.
He was peering at me. “I’ve been waiting to ask you about that, actually.”
“About what?”
“About him. Did you see him, that night?”
“No, no I didn’t.” I replied quietly.
“Nothing?” he asked hopefully.
I shook my head and he sighed.
“Nor did I, really,” he said. “We heard him though, making a racket behind us. We got off a few shots but they didn’t do any good. We never found him.”
“That was you?” The thought of Niko firing a gun was believable, but Penny! The thought of Penny even knowing how to fire a gun was ridiculous.
“Sure. We had no idea where he was though, he moves so bloody fast! We were just firing at what we thought would be his height, guessing where he would be. Hoping more to scare him off than anything. We didn’t have a chance to hit him while we couldn’t see him.”
I was stunned. They had hit him. Several times. They’d almost killed him.
“You could have hit me.” I said, stating the obvious. Considering how close the wolf had been to me, it was more than a possibility that I could have been shot.
He shook his head. “Nah.”
I didn’t feel a great bout of confidence in him. “What happens with local police? Aren’t you worried someone will report you? Someone must have heard those shots.”
He shook his head again. “Not around here. Even if they did, people use guns to scare animals away all the time. No one would think twice about it.”
A shiver ran up my spine. How awful, to think you could fire a gun and no one who heard it would think it strange.
“Charlotte,” he began, his voice sincere. “You have to promise me that you won’t do that again. It was really close the other night, you being out in the open and him on the loose. We didn’t know where you were. You can’t leave the house like that again.”
I was stunned into silence.
“Harriet’s been locking you in you room at night, I know. How did you get out?” he asked sternly. I felt like a small child.
I wasn’t too happy about giving up my secret, but I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice. “The window.”
He sighed. “Ah.”
Desperate not to promise anything, I changed the subject. “Niko,” I began, thinking out loud. “I know you’ve had visions and stuff, but tell me again why you think it’s me.”
He sighed.
“It’s the only possibility.” He responded.
“What if it was someone else?”
“It couldn’t be. I only dreamt about your family.”
“What if your dreams are completely unrelated?” I asked.
“I don’t think they are.”
“Yes, but what if they are?”
“Why would I have them then?” he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Have you ever dreamt about anything else?”
“Never. Only you.”
It made me feel odd, thinking that someone had dreamt about me before meeting me.
“Have I lived up to what you thought I would be?” I asked, smiling slightly.
He chuckled. “I thought you’d be younger when I met you.”
“Younger!” I said, astonished. I was only seventeen for goodness’ sake.
“I thought I’d be younger too, you know. It’s all taken a lot longer than I had expected.”
“I’m sorry there’s nothing between us, now we’re here.” I said quietly.
“I imagined carrying you off into the sunset. The baby would just be a product, not the cause.”
My expression saddened. I felt sorry for him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I think I always knew it might be like this.”
“So you’re The Powerful one huh.” I said, smiling again.
“Unfortunately. Ah, to be normal.”
I laughed quietly. “What will we do now?”
He shrugged. “Let’s get out of the heat.”
I wondered whether he had missed the true meaning of my question on purpose. I was referring of course to our situation, not to what we should do for the rest of the day. However, it was getting hot. We got up and walked slowly back to the house, neither of us saying a word.

“Unfortunately. Ah, to be normal.”
I laughed quietly. “What will we do now?”
He shrugged. “Let’s get out of the heat.”
I wondered whether he had missed the true meaning of my question on purpose. I was referring of course to our situation, not to what we should do for the rest of the day. However, it was getting hot. We got up and walked slowly back to the house, neither of us saying a word.