by Sally Green
As soon as it’s dark I set off through the forest. I know there are some foxes in the area so I’m heading to their den. I work my way slowly and silently through the trees until I can see the tangle of branches that surrounds the entrance. I crouch down on my haunches and wait.
I have to wait most of the night but as soon as a small fox sticks her nose out of the den my animal adrenaline kicks in. I breathe slowly and steadily, waiting. I want to control it, see if I can at least hold it off until I’m ready. I don’t want to kill the fox. I want to transform and find a way to stop myself killing her, even if all I do is make the animal me go back to the meat that I’ve left behind. I have to learn how to control him. Stop him from killing.
I breathe slow and watch; the adrenaline is in me but it’s not overpowering. I tell myself, “We follow her. That’s all. We follow her and let her live.”
The fox hasn’t sensed me and is trotting away. I stop the controlled breathing and concentrate on the smell of the fox.
* * *
i’m in the animal body. the den is in front of me. there’s a strong smell of fox, much stronger now. the fox is moving away fast. he, the animal i’m in, goes after her. i tell him, “no, let her go,” but he keeps following the fox. i say, “no, stop,” and again “no!” i try to turn the animal round but he keeps on going after the fox. i have no control over him. he’s gaining on the fox. “no!” i shout, angry at him now. “no!” but he’s gaining quickly. his strides are huge compared to the fox’s. the fox stops, turns, and i shout, “no! don’t kill her. there’s better meat nearby. no!” and try to hold the animal body still, try to stiffen his muscles, but i have no muscles and it doesn’t work. he is racing to the fox and is on her and i’m shouting, “no! stop!” but tasting blood . . .
* * *
I wake up. I still taste blood. The body of the fox is by my head. A mess of fur and guts and bone. I want to pick it up and hurl it away. I hate the animal me. Hate him. He can’t be me. I didn’t want to kill the fox. I told him not to kill it. He didn’t need to kill it. I shout and swear with frustration at the fox’s stiffening body but I’m really shouting at the animal in me. I hope he can hear me. I hope he knows I hate him. I don’t want this Gift. I hate everything about it.
* * *
By dawn I’ve calmed down. I’m not sure what to do about my Gift. If I can’t control it I could kill anyone. I’m not sure if I should ask Van about it. She’s knowledgeable about many aspects of witchcraft, so perhaps she can help me, but I don’t want to rely on her. I want to work it out myself. And I haven’t even told Gabriel yet.
At dawn I wash quickly in the river and go to meet up with Gabriel and Nesbitt for our run. They’re standing together, talking, and Gabriel smiles as I approach.
He says, “You’re looking even more messed up than usual,” and he reaches over to my hair, saying, “What’s that?”
I back away from him, tearing at my hair, finding bits of stuff, dried blood and other bits . . . tiny bits. And all I can hear is Nesbitt sniggering as he says, “Last night’s leftovers?” I turn back to him and before I know it my knife is in my hand and I’m striding toward Nesbitt, who’s pulling his blade out too.
Gabriel moves between us. “Nathan. Calm down.”
I push my hand against Gabriel’s chest but I can’t speak. I know I shouldn’t do anything but if Nesbitt says one more word I really will stick the knife in his fat guts.
Gabriel stays there, barring my way, and Nesbitt stands behind him, grinning.
“Nesbitt, go back to the castle. I need to talk to Nathan.”
And Nesbitt, still grinning, salutes Gabriel behind his back, then turns and dances away.
Gabriel touches my arm. “Nathan. He’s just winding you up.”
“And that means I shouldn’t kill him?”
He doesn’t reply at first. Then he shakes his head. “Please don’t. He’s the best cook for miles. And I don’t want to end up doing the washing-up. Get your own back by complaining his soup is too salty. That’ll hurt him more than a knife in the guts.”
“He drives me mad with all his stupid comments.” I take a breath and say, “I overheard him talking to Van when we were in Geneva. He said that I didn’t know it but I was already his friend.” I shake my head. “I just don’t get him.”
“I think all this is Nesbitt’s way of showing he likes you. He’s half Black Witch, Nathan. Don’t treat him like a fain.”
“I don’t!”
“You don’t show him any respect.”
I look over to Nesbitt’s figure in the distance. He’s not dancing now but is walking slowly to the castle. “I’m not sure I feel much respect for him.”
“I think you do. He’s a good fighter. A good tracker. He’s just bad at jokes.”
I feel stupid holding my knife now and I put it away.
Gabriel reaches out and feels my hair, pulling at bits in it. “Tell me about this stuff.”
I try to speak but I don’t know what to say. The forest behind me is quiet. The wind is moving over the trees and they seem to be hushing each other. I want to find the right word to begin but can’t.
“Is it to do with your Gift?” he asks. “Can you tell me?”
I manage to mumble, “I have the same Gift as my father, the turning-into-animals thing. I’m trying to learn how to control it but . . . I can’t.”
“Is that why you want to be alone at night?”
“Yes. I’m dangerous. You shouldn’t be near me. No one should.”
I look into Gabriel’s eyes but don’t focus on them so that I can manage to say, “I caught a fox last night. I thought I might be able to stop him but I couldn’t.”
“Him?”
“The animal me. I tried to tell him not to kill the fox but he doesn’t listen to me. He wanted to kill it. To eat it. And he did. I experience it all, see it, hear it, smell it. Taste it. But I can’t control it.” I glance at the ground, then back at the trees behind me. I’m not sure I can say all this but I force myself to go on. “His first kill, my first kill, wasn’t a fox.”
“What was it?” Gabriel asks quietly.
“A Hunter.” I’ve remembered more of it since it happened and now I can’t un-remember it. “I woke up with her blood on my hands . . . in my mouth. Over my face. My hands were dripping with it. I didn’t remember it at first but now I do. I ripped the Hunter’s stomach open with my claws and her guts were half hanging out and I buried my head in her stomach. I remember that clearly—red everywhere and the taste of it and pushing my face inside her to bite into her and rip her apart.
“I mean, I killed that other Hunter in Geneva. I broke her neck. I thought that was bad enough. But this one—I had my head, my snout, inside her.”
“That was the animal. The other you.”
“The animal’s still me. Another part of me.” I take a breath before I say, “She was still screaming, Gabriel. I had my face buried in her and she was still screaming.”
I look away and then back to Gabriel. “I thought having my Gift would be great and in a way it is. I feel stronger physically but inside, right inside, in that place where you got lost or whatever, I’m . . . it’s like there’s someone, something else living in me. And he comes out and takes over. But I know he’s still me, another part of me, a completely wild, uncaring me.” I pause, take a breath, and I tell him, “I killed Kieran too.”
“Kieran? Annalise’s brother?”
I nod. “I’d seen him at Mercury’s cottage and I thought about killing him—I mean, fighting him and stabbing him—but I didn’t do it. I walked away. But then he and his partner trailed me. Nesbitt killed his partner and I, the animal me, killed Kieran.”
And I’m beginning to remember more of it now. “Kieran screamed too. Once. I ripped his throat out. I can remember the taste of him and how slick he felt in my mouth. I li
cked his blood.”
My eyes fill with tears and I feel stupid and like I’m a hypocrite for crying cos I wanted Kieran dead. I disgust myself by crying. I turn away from Gabriel and try to straighten up, wipe my wet cheeks with my sleeve. When I turn back Gabriel’s eyes are on me still.
“It was bad. Nesbitt was sick when he saw Kieran’s body. If Nesbitt was sick . . .”
“None of this means you’re bad, Nathan.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m good!”
“You killed him like an animal would. I know that might not be a comfort to you now but the animal acts on instinct. An animal isn’t evil, isn’t good or bad.”
Then he says, “Can I ask you something?” He hesitates and says, “Did you eat the Hunter’s heart? Or Kieran’s heart? Did you take their Gifts?”
I shake my head. “The animal kills them, rips them apart. But he’s not interested in Gifts. He just wants to kill.”
“I think he wants to survive. He’s not evil, Nathan.”
Gabriel is close to me and he reaches forward and brushes away more of my tears with his fingertips. His touch is gentle.
It’s good to feel him.
And Gabriel leans closer and closer and, very slowly and gently, he kisses me, on the lips, with infinite tenderness, so that our skin is barely touching. I pull away a little but he stays close to me. “Don’t hate yourself. Don’t hate any bit of yourself.”
Gabriel pulls me to him and holds me and I feel his warm breath through my hair.
I’m not sure what to do about Gabriel holding me and kissing me. I don’t know what I feel about it. He does it to show me how he feels. But he must know I don’t feel the same way. I can’t change that. But I do love him. He’s my friend, my best friend, and I love him loads and loads. And I keep on crying and he keeps on holding me.
We stay like that a long time. The trees stay the same too and I still look at them and only them. When I’ve finally stopped crying Gabriel releases me. We sit down on the grass and I lie back and cover my face with my arm.
“You OK?” he asks.
“I’m the son of Marcus, the most feared of Black Witches. I’m a Hunter-eating animal. And I’m a complete crybaby. Course I’m OK.”
“Accept your Gift, Nathan. Don’t fight it.”
“I’m not fighting it. I can’t fight it. It takes over.”
“Then welcome it and learn from it. Don’t judge it. It must be very confusing for the poor animal. You want it because it’s like your father’s Gift, but you don’t want it for the same reason. You like the power. You hate the power. I feel sorry for the poor beast inside.”
“Say that when you’re faced with the beast outside.”
“All you do is tell me the bad stuff, the things you hate. Tell me the good bits.”
“There are no good bits.”
“Liar! I’m a witch, Nathan. I know what it’s like to have a Gift.”
I close my eyes and remember. I know I have to be honest with Gabriel, so I say, “It feels good. It feels good when the stuff, the animal adrenaline, whatever it is, surges through me. I’m afraid of it but still it feels amazing and powerful. And . . . all my senses are super alert, super aware. And I’m sort of watching him, the other me, and he’s . . . absorbed. That’s what it is to be him: to be totally absorbed in what he does, not thinking but being purely physical.”
I look over to Gabriel. “Do you think that’s what it is to be an animal?”
“I don’t know. That’s why you have this Gift, though, Nathan. Not because you’re an animal, not because you’ve no morals, but because you need to feel it. That’s how you are, how you exist best—by feeling things.”
“Oh.”
“You’re a true witch, Nathan. Don’t fight the animal. Experience him. That’s what he’s for.” He pauses and then says, “Can I ask—what animal do you become?”
I don’t even know that. I remember the fox’s eyes staring into mine last night and I tell him, “A hungry one.”
Using My Soul
It’s the day of the new moon. Van says that when we’re ready Gabriel and I must drink the potion she provides before cutting the palms of our hands, which she will then bind together. We will stay like that until we find our way out of the labyrinth of Gabriel’s mind. There’s a catch, of course. “You both have to prepare your bodies. Gabriel, you must exercise gently and eat well. Nathan, you must spend the night before the ritual inside.”
“What?” I say. “Why?”
“It will heighten your senses and make the trance you enter all the more real. That’s why we waited until the new moon, so you could stay inside for the full night.”
“I don’t see why a shorter time with the fuller moon wouldn’t work then?” I say.
“The full moon will drive you mad, and Gabriel needs you conscious and reasonably sane. The new moon will be unpleasant, extremely unpleasant, but you’ll survive and be stronger at the end of it.” She opens her cigarette case and picks one out. “Of course I could be completely wrong; there’s always a first time. However, I believe that this is right for you. It’s an instinct. It’s my Gift, Nathan, and I trust it.”
I’m not sure about the whole idea but I have no other option. The last time I was inside overnight I was sixteen. I hadn’t received my Gift and it was bad. I don’t often think about it, and whenever I have, I’ve not been able to work it out. As much as part of my brain was saying, “This is stupid, you’re just inside, you’re fine,” my whole body was in agony and soon all I could think about were the noises and the fear and my screaming to get out.
I spend the day in the forest on my own, resting. The animal inside me seems to be resting too. I’ve not felt him stir since I spoke with Gabriel. I lie on the ground and watch the sky turn from pale blue in the morning to deep blue at midday and then briefly in the evening to violet before going gray. I’m hungry and thirsty; my stomach grumbles, which feels ridiculous given what I’ve got to go through. I’m sure I can do it. I want to, for Gabriel, to show him that I know he’s making a sacrifice for me and I’ll do what I can for him. It’s only one night inside.
It’s getting dark as I walk up to the main door of the castle. Van opens it immediately. She must have seen me coming across the lawn. I wonder if she’ll say anything but she doesn’t; she just leads the way through the entrance hall, down the corridor, wooden floors dark and echoing, to a door at the end. I follow her through the door and that’s when I stop.
There are stone steps down.
“The cellar,” Van says.
I wonder about the animal in me but he doesn’t stir. Van leads the way down into an empty room with a stone floor and brick walls and one faint light in the ceiling. It’s more cell than cellar.
“Nesbitt will be at the top of the stairs. The door will be locked but if it’s too hard for you he’ll let you out. He’ll check on you every hour.”
I don’t say anything. Already the room feels oppressive. I sit on the cold floor and watch Van climb the steps. Then the door shuts and I hear a key turn in the lock.
I know the animal isn’t going to appear. It’s too harsh here. He’s hiding. I’ve only been inside for a minute, two at most, and I feel sick and dizzy but that’s not so bad and this is for Gabriel. And for Annalise. I get up and walk to the far wall and back, and I do it again, but already that isn’t good. The room feels like it’s tipping up so I sit back down, and the walls are falling in on me. But I know they’re not. They are not! They’re walls and they’re upright. I’m OK. I’m feeling sick. And I have a stinking headache. It isn’t pleasant but I’m OK. I sit still and concentrate on my breathing and not being sick.
I hear the door open above me. An hour has gone by already.
“You OK?” Nesbitt shouts.
“Yeah. Fine,” I shout back, making my voice sound stronger than I feel.
&nb
sp; The door shuts.
I sit there another minute or two and tell myself I’m fine, I’m fine, and then I retch and I’m sick on the floor and my stomach is in a knot and all the muscles in my body cramp up. I feel the walls coming down on me but I know, absolutely know, they can’t be. Walls don’t do that. They don’t. I’m hot and sweat blossoms out of me and I retch again and again and my stomach is agony and nothing more comes out when I retch but my stomach keeps doing it and I’m curled up in a tight ball.
Then Nesbitt is standing over me. Another hour must have gone by. And I look for him again but he’s gone.
I’m shivering now, my body cold. And I’m retching again. There’s not much to come up but my stomach seems to be determined to turn itself inside out. I’m still lying curled up at the bottom of the steps. And that’s where I stay. I can’t move. Can’t stand. I can’t even crawl. But I can cope with it. I can do it.
That’s when the scraping noise starts. It’s quiet at first but builds up until it fills my head and then suddenly stops. Silence. And I wait, listening for it; I know it’ll start again. While it’s quiet I tell myself it’s not real: I’m in a cellar; there’s nothing here to make a noise. It’s not real. But then my head is filled with a scraping sound like nails down a blackboard and I wedge my head against the steps and shout. Shouting helps. And cursing. If I shout loud enough I can drown out the scraping noise. Then it goes silent again. And I can breathe and I wait for the scraping and it starts again . . .
Nesbitt is here. He’s patting my shoulder and I look up at him and then he’s not there and I’m not sure if he ever was. The scraping has stopped. It’s quiet and all I can see is the floor, which is changing from gray stone to red. Dark red. And everywhere I look I see red. Red all around me so that I feel it’s choking me. And I’m screaming at the red and choking and clawing at my throat to breathe.
