Ravenwood

by Margaux Gillis

  “I’m here, Uncle.”

  Caleb stepped out from behind Elinore, so quiet that she almost hadn’t known he was there. Hayter too seemed surprised.

  “Well, don’t you look well for someone who had their intestines handed to them a short while ago.”

  Elinore never took her eyes off Hayter, although she could see, out of the corner of her vision, Caleb’s face had started to shift, his own canine teeth coming out. She heard the tack-tack-tack as his claws moved against one another.

  “I assume you’re thinking that you can best me?” Hayter asked, incredulity coloring his voice. It made Elinore’s ears twitch. Hayter huffed in laughter. “Hardly, pups. I’m your sire,” he said to Elinore. “And I’m your Alpha,” he said to Caleb. “There may be two of you, but you’re not as strong as me. I’m Alpha of Ravenwood.”

  Elinore snarled again at Hayter. He wasn’t the Alpha of Ravenwood. The staff was afraid of him, he disgusted Elinore and he’d tried to kill his own nephew. He was no Alpha. She wouldn’t let him be an Alpha.

  “You’re wrong,” Caleb replied. “You may be an Alpha, but not of Ravenwood. Or you wouldn’t have forgotten our motto.”

  Hayter quirked his head, like a dog that hears a sound it doesn’t understand. The gesture helped something wild loosen in Elinore and she ran her tongue over her own sharp teeth. She could feel something happening to her body. Like a strong wave, coursing and rushing and beginning to drag her down. She didn’t fight it.

  “When you call the wolf,” she managed, her voice lilting slightly as her tongue moved over her unfamiliar teeth, “you call the pack.”

  Hayter tilted his head even further, still confused until sudden comprehension spread across his face at the same time that Elinore heard the inhabitants of Ravenwood make their way out of the woods. They were armed as she had asked, with pitchforks, guns, knifes and bats - ready to fight Hayter at Elinore’s request.

  “Little girl,” Hayter began, pacing slightly sideways as he spoke. “You can’t possibly expect to win. I can kill them all to teach you a lesson.”

  Fear pricked at her nerves. She didn’t know what he was capable of. Perhaps he was right. He could kill them all and she would be responsible for dragging them out here. Elinore could feel her own teeth, sharp against her tongue. She jerked and twisted, feeling the animal beneath her skin writhe and shimmy. It wanted out. She wanted to let it out. Hayter snapped his teeth at her, at her pack and something inside her broke.

  In sharp, broken movements, she clawed at her dress, felt the fabric tear under her fingers and fall away from her body, but she wasn’t shy or embarrassed. She was too focused on the pain. There was pain everywhere. It shot through her joints, spreading along her tendons and meeting up at the next juncture of bone and sinew and then the next and then next… She howled in agony even as she fell to the ground and panted, gasping for air, each breath like knives against her lungs. Hayter leapt at her and Caleb was a dark blur, colliding with the older Alpha, both of them partially shifted. Elinore could hear snarling and snapping and the horrid sound of flesh tearing, but didn’t know if it was them or if it was her own skin, breaking and splitting under the pressure and the excruciating pain.

  She clawed at the ground, but she didn’t feel her fingers. She felt claws and padded digits. She gnashed her teeth and tasted blood as she bit through her tongue and her cheek. The sounds around her grew - clashing weapons and people crying and bodies hitting the dirt. Hayter. Hayter was hurting them. He was hurting her pack. She growled and felt her feet, no, her paws settle beneath her. She shook, feeling the heavy pelt of fur along her body. With eerie precision, her neck snapped to the side and she focused in on Hayter, locked in a battle with Caleb, even as Mrs. Davenport shot at the older man, her herb packet nicking Caleb’s arm and settling deep into Hayter’s shoulder with a wet squelch.

  She wasn’t human anymore. She didn’t think so much as intuit, feeling her haunches crouch, coiling strength and then launching herself into the fray. She wasn’t Elinore, she was the she-wolf - sleek, white and unafraid. She vaguely recalled that Mrs. Davenport hoped her packet would keep Hayter from shifting, keep him human. The potion would be painful and Elinore felt a savage surge of satisfaction at the sound he made as it spread through his body. She collided into Hayter with a bone-jarring thud, knocking him away from Caleb and sending them into a mad tumble across the forest floor. She snapped and snarled, her teeth trying to find purchase. Hayter clawed at her and she yipped in pain as his sharp talons dug into the tender, meaty flesh of her flank. He bit at her, sending his teeth deep into her shoulder, although his human jaw wasn’t strong enough to rip his teeth back out - though he tried. She scrabbled at him with her paws until one of her sharp digits found purchase and ripped through a portion of his not-quite-human ear. Alice was beside them suddenly, screaming Elinore’s name and brandishing some kind of a paddle or bat. The young girl was supposed to stay at Ravenwood to watch over her father, but clearly disobeyed her mother’s decision. Alice swung her paddle wildly, connecting with Hayter’s jaw. Hayter howled - not a howl of victory or of triumph, but of pain. He punched out hard, catching Elinore across the muzzle and she was stunned as she flew through the air and landed hard on the ground, feeling something in her chest snap with perfect, awful precision. Having pushed Elinore off him, Hayter turned to Alice, snapping at her as he prowled forward on all fours, bleeding from his shoulder, from his flank and from his torso. Caleb leapt in front of the young girl and Hayter swiped with massive claws, tearing open Caleb’s chest anew, spilling hot, red blood in an arc across the floor. The scent of Caleb’s wound filled Elinore’s nostrils and she whined even as Mrs. Thistlewaite, seeing her daughter in danger, cried out and shot at Hayter with a rifle. The round caught Hayter in the chest, sending him staggering back. Elinore could see him shifting further - slowly, but steadily becoming more wolf-like. His hair went coarse and short, his body hunched over, his snout elongated. Elinore could already recognize him as the wolf that bit her that first night in the woods, with its horrid yellow demon eyes glaring at her - a hellhound stranded on earth.

  She didn’t think as she moved. If he shifted, she wasn’t sure who would win. She lurched forward, feeling the ghastly grind of broken bone in her chest, her left leg wobbly and weak behind her as it buckled from punctures Hayter had left. She remembered the bulk of his body as a wolf - the sharp press of his teeth in her arm, the heavy weight of him against her human form. She pounced, aiming for his throat, her teeth closing in on Hayter’s neck. They fell to the ground, Hayter beneath her, her teeth embedded in his skin. Blood poured hot and thick from the wound and Hayter punched at her - hitting her in the ribs, digging his claws again into her flank. It hurt - it hurt deep in her bones, the pain surrounding her. She ground her jaw harder, feeling her teeth sink further into his flesh, his tendons, his muscles and veins.

  “You’ve not the heart of a killer,” Hayter rasped, his voice like sand in Elinore’s ears. She believed him and she faltered. He took her hesitation as an opportunity to swing madly at her, pummeling his fists into her side, trying to make her release her jaw. She was paralyzed by indecision. She could not let go, but neither could she kill him. Movement off to the side drew her eye and she saw Caleb struggling to his feet, Alice being tended to by her mother, Jonah ready to come to Elinore’s aid with only a shovel, and Mrs. Davenport standing afraid, but unmoving, holding an overlarge axe her that Elinore doubted the older woman could even swing. No, Elinore didn’t have the heart of a killer. But she believed she had the heart of a protector. She had to protect her pack.

  She bit down harder and Hayter howled, punching solidly against her again and bucking his feet. Now that the decision had been made, that she would kill him to protect her pack, she distressingly found she lacked the leverage to do it. Between his struggling and her awkward position, she had tired. She was hurt, exhausted - not strong enough to yank his throat out with her teeth. Yet she was still unwilling to releas
e him. She may never get this chance again. If she failed, Hayter would kill Caleb, kill her pack.

  Another shape came out of the woods. The omega wolf. He slunk forward, his eyes watching Elinore carefully in case she suddenly turned her jaws on him. When she made no move to release Hayter, he was emboldened and moved closer. Elinore heard Caleb call out her name in warning - to him the omega was unknown - he had no way of knowing that Elinore did not believe he posed a threat.

  The omega pounced on Hayter’s legs, settling the bulk of his weight, holding his lower body down. Elinore was able to shift her weight, placing her in a better position. Then, Caleb came forward, his eyes on the omega wolf, then Elinore, then finally, Hayter. His uncle, his Alpha. Grimly, he placed his foot on Hayter’s shoulder, pressing down hard, pushing the Alpha’s body to the ground.

  Now, Elinore could get the leverage she needed. The bones in her chest ground against one another as she bit down harder and tore with her teeth, ripping her jaw sideways and pulling skin, sinew and muscle from Hayter’s neck. Hayter screamed, a horrid, ghastly sound that made Elinore’s hackles rise. Blood spurted from the wound, hot and red, spraying against her fur as Hayter’s body started sagging to the ground, going limp. A deep gurgling sound welled up from him and a gasp escaped his lips. Elinore shimmied backward, wanting to be away, away, away, from the grisly sight, but unable to turn her eyes from his dying form, while he twitched and jerked. Her world narrowed - she no longer saw Caleb, nor the omega - only Hayter, bleeding out, his eyes fixed on her. He twitched again and she waited for the next awful convulsion of his body. And waited. And waited. There was no more movement from his body. No further sound from his mouth.

  “Elinore.”

  Caleb’s voice startled her and she padded backwards into the brush of leaves, feeling shy, scared and shaky. She killed someone. He’d been trying to hurt her, hurt her pack and she killed him. He’d been alive minutes ago, breathing and moving and now wasn’t, because of her.

  “Elinore, it’s all right.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off Hayter’s body, looking foreign and unreal in the silver light. She could hear Caleb moving toward her, slowly, leaves crunching under his feet, the soft fall of his feet upon the earth. His voice sounded different to her now that she was a wolf. It was more. His soft tone seemed softer, the caramel smoothness of it sounded more peaceful and calming to her pointed ears. She shivered.

  “It’s all right,” he repeated, finally standing in front of her, blocking her view of Hayter. Caleb was so tall to her wolf form. She tipped her head back to look at him, staring, not sure what to do. She crouched lower, awful agony shooting through her flank as she did. He reached his hand out, palm up and open, holding it carefully in front of her. She stole a glance to the forest, feeling an urge deep in her belly to run and hide.

  “Let’s go home, Elinore.”

  Home. Ravenwood. A high-pitched whining sound escaped her throat and she took a halting step forward, her back legs buckling. Sharp pain lanced through her chest and she whined again. Caleb moved toward her, slowly, carefully, reading her body language, seeing the way her eyes kept darting to the depths of the forest. She could hide there. It would be dark and safe.

  “Come now, let us go home.”

  Caleb took another step closer and on her next breath the familiar scent of him filled her lungs. She lurched forward and nosed at his hand, and then sniffed up his arm when he crouched down to her level. She stepped the rest of the way forward and nuzzled into his neck, turning her face away from where Hayter lay. Caleb’s arms came around her and held her close.

  Elinore trembled, able to smell the blood of Hayter’s body, the quickly changing scent of his decay and death. She’d done that. She whined again, pushing her snout into the small space between Caleb’s arm and his torso. She tried to push the scent of Hayter out of her nose by breathing in Caleb, calming her nerves. She felt his arms come beneath her and with a pained grunt (she recalled only at the last moment that he was still hurt as well), he hefted her up. She yipped as the movement jostled her injuries and he made a quiet shushing sound. He stood, shifting her weight so that she could rest her head on his shoulder as he made his way through the forest, back to Ravenwood, back to her home.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Elinore’s dreams as a wolf were strange - the colors were muted, but the sounds were sharper. Instead of her human form walking through the woods and coming upon the wolf, it was the other way around. She was four-legged and she wandered through the forest, coming upon her human self in a clearing. Her human body laid peacefully on the ground, curled up, eyes closed, asleep. Elinore padded over, watching her white paws against the muddy, mossy earth. As she came upon her human body, she could see its chest rising and falling slowly, eyelashes twitching. She nosed at herself, pushing her snout into the soft folds of the dress her body wore. She could feel the body stir and Elinore became confused. As the human body opened her eyes, she could see through them as well as through the eyes of her wolf form. She could see herself as both human and wolf, at the same time. She was the she-wolf, and she was the human woman waking from a deep sleep. She lifted her human hand, and reached out to touch her own soft fur, feeling both the smooth strands under her skin, and the press of human flesh against her neck. It was dizzying. She pressed forward as the wolf and at the same time, reached out as the human. Suddenly, there was only her human form left in the forest - the wolf now beneath her skin, curling into a contented ball and going to sleep.

  Elinore blinked awake, unsure of her surroundings and unsure of herself as well. She was on her side, in a bed, a heavy, warm weight behind her. She inhaled, cataloguing the scents and found it easy to place herself now. She was in Caleb’s room, in his bed, with him behind her.

  And she was human.

  She freed one of her hands from under the covers, holding it up. The early morning light was streaming in through a crack in the curtains. With it, she examined her long and human fingers, her short and blunt fingernails, her pale and fragile human skin.

  The events of the night prior were not like her usual memories. They were fragmented and jumbled. She wondered if it was because of what she’d done, or if it was because of her transformation to the wolf.

  That thought made Elinore pause. She was now a werewolf. She’d shifted fully into a wolf and had shifted back to human. According to Caleb and Mrs. Davenport, she’d be a shape-shifter for the remainder of her life. A strange giddiness rushed up her body and a smile broke across her face. How extraordinary.

  Her smile faded as she thought of what she’d done. She’d killed Hayter. She could remember the hot spray of blood as she tore his throat out and while she still felt a certain animal satisfaction at stopping a threat to her home, her pack, she was troubled by what she’d done. She’d do it again if she had to, but she dearly hoped she’d never have to.

  Elinore recalled Caleb’s hands the night before, back at Ravenwood, steady and gentle as he wet some rags and cleaned her muzzle and her fur. He’d moved slowly and calmly, laying her down in front of a fire. She’d trembled as he worked, a high-pitched whine escaping her every few minutes, unbidden. Finally, she’d been clean and when he’d gone to dispose of the water and rags, she’d managed to pad her way over to the bed and hop up, still feeling pain in her flanks and chest, but finding her body already healing. Caleb had long slashes across his chest and they scared her too. Her last memory before she fell asleep was that of Caleb, still human, getting into bed and curling around her, his own wounds covered in bandages finally. She’d been exhausted. But safe.

  She must have shifted to her human form sometime during the night and she wondered if her dream had anything to do with it, or if it had only been symbolic. Elinore supposed she could ask Caleb when he awoke. Curious to find out if her body was still the same after her transformation, she carefully shifted and moved her limbs, taking stock. She realized with a sudden start that she was naked and although she supposed it
made sense when she thought about it, it made her blush. Another realization came upon the heels of that one - Caleb was equally naked in bed with her. She could feel the press of his skin against hers and, not so shockingly as it should be, the length of his manhood hot and hard against her backside.

  Elinore felt her cheeks go red. How decadent, to be naked in bed with a man, with Caleb. She shifted again, reveling in the feel of her skin moving against his, feeling the coarse hair of his legs, stomach and chest against her. It was sensuous and luxurious. She thought, rather amusedly, that if she were a cat, she’d be purring. But she wasn’t a cat, she was a wolf.

  Caleb’s arm lay heavy around her waist, but as Elinore shimmied and wriggled, his arm tightened, whether to pull her closer or to still her, she wasn’t sure. It brought her closer to him and she threaded her own fingers through his, pressing his hand to splay against the soft round of her stomach. He made a low, contended sound - a hum or a happy growl. The sound ran through her veins and collected deep in her belly, filling her with heat and a shivering sort of feeling. Elinore moved again - a sort of clumsy rocking of her hips, feeling her body trapped between Caleb’s long form behind her, and his palm on her stomach. She wasn’t sure which way she wanted to move more - forward or back.