Hunger Pangs

by Joy Demorra

  “But?” Nathan prompted him, already amused by wherever this was going.

  “But truthfully, I’m a bit of a nosy bugger, and I’m fascinated by how you’re progressing. Dr. Allan is too, though he’s otherwise occupied on full moons.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Nathan deadpanned. That earned another droll chuckle, which he felt inordinately pleased about.

  Night fell quickly over the island, and by the time they reached the outskirts of the town, they were fully engulfed in darkness. Nathan spent most of the short trek trying not to glance at the moon. Sensing his mood, or perhaps just being himself, Vlad kept up a stream of idle chatter, walking backward the whole way to remain within Nathan’s line of sight.

  “Sorry,” Vlad said, pausing for breath between tangents. “I know I talk too much.” He was smiling when he said it, that same viciously self-deprecating smile, but there was a sharp hunch to his shoulders, belying his easy manner.

  Nathan eyed him thoughtfully. This wasn’t the first time Vlad had put himself down. In fact, he did it regularly. Too regularly. While there was a tongue-in-cheek playfulness about it, there was also something genuinely sad too—like a puppy expecting a rolled-up newspaper at any moment. It made Nathan want to pick him up and give him a reassuring squeeze.

  Instead, he did the best he could, saying, “It’s fine. I like listening to you.”

  Which was true. Nathan suspected he could listen to Vlad recite all the countries listed in the atlas and still find it charming.

  But Vlad was not to be so easily dissuaded from his own lack of worth. “You really don’t have to humor me, you know. You can just tell me to shut up. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m not humoring you, Vlad,” Nathan told him, catching the vampire’s eye. “I really do like listening to you. You’re funny and interesting. Too clever for me to follow sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying listening. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

  “Oh.” Vlad looked surprised, and Nathan’s heart fluttered when the vampire ducked his head, beaming shyly.

  All too soon they reached their destination, and Nathan found himself slightly let down. It was true the forest seemed ominous, but all forests appeared terrifying at night to anyone with a lick of sense. He’d been expecting bare, dead branches scratching up at the stars and foreboding signposts warning unwary travelers to ‘abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’ But all he could find was a single signpost nailed to the stripped bark of a towering fir tree. It read ‘Collins Farm 2 miles.’

  “Well, shall we?” Vlad headed toward a worn-down path amidst the trees.

  Nathan was stuck by a sudden sense of déjà vu. “I thought you said no one ever came this way?” He followed Vlad, wishing that he still had his night vision.

  “I said ‘hardly anyone,’” the vampire corrected over his shoulder. “But don’t worry, there’s nothing here that will bother us.”

  The implied, not while I’m around, hung in the air, and Nathan found himself in the strange situation of realizing he was no longer the most fearsome thing in the woods.

  After a while, the path eventually led to a wide clearing where a great gnarled tree stood at the center. Blackened and nearly split in two, it looked as though lightning had struck it and provided the haunted aesthetic Nathan had envisioned. Above it, the moon shone into the clearing, creating an almost perfect circle of light.

  Nathan stepped hesitantly toward the dead tree. Goose pimples rose over his flesh despite the warmth of summer still lingering in the air. He felt the hair on the back of his arms and neck stand on end and desperately wanted to believe it meant something.

  He wanted so badly to hope.

  “What time is it?” Nathan asked.

  Vlad pulled his pocket watch out. “Just past eleven-thirty. I’m guessing midnight is the magic hour?”

  Nathan nodded.

  There were countless conflicting myths about the importance of the hour, though none of them agreed. Nathan had read once that it had something to do with the magnetic pull of the planetary alignment, which made as much sense to him as the idea of an eldritch fae-like being with insomnia striking a bargain that would allow wolves to walk upright like men. But then, he’d always been terrible at keeping the faith.

  “All right, might as well get this over with.” Taking a deep breath, he dropped the empty kitbag he’d brought with him onto the ground. His hands went to the top button of his shirt, then paused. He turned to regard Vlad, who stared back at him blankly. Nathan gestured to himself head-to-toe.

  Realization dawned on the vampire’s face. “Ah, I’ll just, um, make myself scarce, shall I?” He indicated the clearing’s tree line. “Give a shout if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

  “Will do.” Watching him go, Nathan waited until he couldn’t see the vampire anymore, then waited a little longer. The telltale flare of orange illuminated a spot in the darkness, and the now-familiar scent of cigarette smoke curled through the air, tickling the back of Nathan’s throat. Satisfied that Vlad was preoccupied, he stripped out of his clothing, folding it into a rough pile on top of his kitbag.

  Time crawled. A trickle of sweat ran down Nathan’s back, the previously warm night air making him shiver as it cooled against his skin. He was on the verge of calling out to ask what time it was when he heard the musical chime of the vampire’s watch, startlingly loud in the oppressive silence of the night.

  Cold and shivering, Nathan closed his eyes, and sighed…

  *

  Leaning back against the trunk of an obligingly sparse tree, Vlad folded his arms over his chest and wondered how long he should wait. He was already on his third cigarette, his fingers itching anxiously with the need for a fourth. He could only imagine how agitated Nathan was. He wanted to say something to break the monotony, though it felt wrong to carry on chatting. And just what exactly were you supposed to say under these circumstances? Pardon me, are you a wolf yet?

  And what did you say if the answer was no?

  Vlad sighed, digging in his pocket for his watch. It was the cheap gilded-brass one Riya had given him when she was ten. Tarnished and worn down from constant thumbing, the watch was a pretty, silly thing with a music box that chimed sweetly on the hour. It was also constantly losing time, but Vlad loved it dearly. He thumbed it open, zoning out as he watched the seconds pass, the ticking of the mechanism intrusively loud in the silence of the forest.

  Forests were not, by nature, quiet places. Usually because they were filled with nature. But the Blackwoods were as still and silent as the grave. Stiller, even, given some of the graves Vlad had known. There were no birds in the trees and no small animals rummaging around the undergrowth. Even the faint buzz of insect life, nearly imperceptible to the human ear until it was gone, was missing. The only sound was the mournful rustling of the wind through the trees, the smell of the needles sharp and thick in the air. And the copper tang of ancient magic lurking under it.

  And at the very center of the magic stood the remains of what must have once been a magnificent fir tree. However it had been twisted, tainted, and turned into something terrible.

  This was a holy place once, a voice said that wasn’t his own.

  Vlad brushed the spectral thought aside. Ghosts tended to like him, though Vlad had no idea why. Elizabeth had declared it was because he was an old soul like them—maudlin and dead inside. Although calling the wisps drifting through the forest ghosts was generous. They’d long since lost all sense of their corporeal form and were now as insubstantial as gossamer threads floating on the wind. Nathan hadn’t even noticed them.

  Abruptly, the watch in his hand chimed, and Vlad jumped, the mechanism tinkling out several chords before Vlad snapped it shut.

  “Sorry,” he called out, trying to sound as apologetically cheerful as possible. “Forgot to turn that off. How are you doing back there? Nathan?”

  There was no reply.

  Vlad turned to face the clearing. “Nathan?
”

  A lone, piercing howl rose up into the night, shattering the silence.

  The hair on Vlad’s body stood on end, responding to the primordial terror hard-wired into all that remained of his humanity. Crouching down behind a fallen stump, he peered wide-eyed at the largest wolf he’d ever seen. “Oh, you are beautiful,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.

  The wolf was impossibly large with thick reddish-brown fur shocked white around the muzzle. With its head turned up to the moon, it made for an impressively noble profile; an effect which was quickly ruined as the wolf began to frolic, running in circles before dropping down to roll around on the ground, whining happily.

  It was unreasonably adorable, and it likely would have remained so, if Vlad hadn’t shifted his weight and snapped a twig. The wolf jumped to his feet, yellow eyes fixing on Vlad in the darkness. There was no recognition there, no human glimmer of intelligence, just the sharp gleam of a predator identifying prey.

  Vlad’s heart leapt into his throat. “Uh-oh.” Vampires were quick, and Vlad’s reflexes should have saved him, but somehow the wolf was quicker, and Vlad found himself pinned to the ground by a pair of heavy paws on his chest. A wet tongue dragged over his face.

  “Oh, ew!” he spluttered, his protests turning to laughter as a giant snout shoved its way against the side of his neck, snuffling loudly. Vlad gave the wolf a half-hearted shove and managed to sit up on his elbows. “You, sir, are a menace,” he informed the wolf, tipping his head back to avoid being licked squarely on the mouth. He laughed shakily, aware that his body was flooded with adrenaline, his fight-or-flight instincts giving way to a more pressing desire to scratch the predator-shaped friend behind the ears. They were soft like velvet, and Vlad grinned when the wolf let out a low, rumbling growl and settled his giant head into Vlad’s lap.

  “Well, aren’t you just a giant softy,” he murmured, smiling when the wolf chuffed at him. He wasn’t sure if it understood him, but that short little huff sounded very Nathan-like. Nathan’s fur appeared incredibly fluffy, especially around the ruff, and Vlad couldn’t help but put his hands in it. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, and he spent some time indulging in the texture.

  “All right, this is all very charming,” Vlad informed him, and the wolf swiveled soulful yellow eyes up to him. “But you’re heavy and my legs are going to sleep. Come on, off.”

  He ushered the wolf out of his lap, then used a handy nearby stick to push himself up off the ground, brushing the forest debris from his hair and the seat of his trousers. When he turned around, the wolf dropped down in a playful crouch, tail wagging furiously.

  Vlad stared at him incredulously, then looked at the stick in his hand. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” But the wolf merely whined, tongue lolling. Vlad eyed him skeptically, then wound his arm back and threw it as hard as he could.

  The wolf tore after the stick, fearsome claws gouging out the earth as he leapt and turned, catching it in mid-air.

  “Show-off,” Vlad muttered, his face turning down into a frown as the wolf trotted back toward him, favoring his left front leg.

  Vlad crouched down, prying the stick away. “Still sore, huh?” he asked, lifting the wolf’s leg gently with both hands and testing the movement of the joint. It moved stiffly.

  The wolf whined softly, pulling away to nose emphatically at the stick on the ground again.

  Vlad sighed, fondly. “All right, fine, but we’re getting Dr. Allan to look at that shoulder in the morning.”

  Vlad stood up, his knees cracking almost as much as the dry brush underfoot. Winding his arm back, Vlad aimed lower and let the stick loose again, shaking his head when the wolf scrabbled after it. It was going to be a long night, he reflected as he began to stroll through the woods, the sound of the wolf crashing joyfully through the undergrowth filling the forest with life. But at least he was in good company.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nathan awoke with a groan and reached up to cover his eyes as the sun hit him in the face. Two things registered immediately. One: he was back in his room at the castle with no idea how he’d gotten there. And two: he was lying naked in front of the dwindling hearth, a blanket draped over him. A flash of memory broke through the haze of lunar hangover. Nathan sat bolt upright. Tearing the blanket off, he noted his arms and legs were covered in a fine coating of dirt, and there were remnants of twigs stuck in his hair.

  “I changed!” He laughed, the sound breaking apart into a frantic sob of disbelieving joy. “I changed! I changed! I—oh, Gods.”

  He cringed, burying his head in his hands. Had there been a stick? He was fairly certain there had been a stick. And… oh Gods. He’d licked Vlad. Not once, at least twice, possibly more times than he could remember. Like a lovesick little puppy. He had no idea how he was going to live it down.

  Shoving his embarrassment away, he reached for the wolf within. It rose to greet him instantly. His body tingled as he held the change in place, hovering between wolf and man. He repeated the process several times until he was sure it was fully under his control. And then because he was only human, metaphorically speaking, Nathan wrapped his arms around himself and began to cry.

  *

  “Remarkable.” Dr. Allan peered at the fully mended flesh on Nathan’s shoulder. “You’re a fast healer, Captain Northland. Would that all of my patients had your abilities. I’d be out of a job, but well, can’t have everything I suppose.”

  “Thank you,” Nathan said. He shrugged his shirt back on and buttoned it up. “It still feels sore, like the joint is out.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid that’s to be expected,” the doctor said, tinkering with something on his workbench. “There’s a lot of scar tissue, and the muscles around it are damaged from trying to compensate. We can work on that. But in the meantime, I can knock up a brace, see if we can’t take some of the strain off. Now, this is what I wanted to show you today.” He turned to face Nathan, carrying a small tray in both hands. On it, a pair of tiny quartz crystals glowed faintly. They had been attached to decorative loops of gold wire roughly the length of Nathan’s pinkie.

  “What is that?”

  “This, my friend, is a working prototype for what I believe to be the world’s first non-conical listening aid.” He held one up for Nathan’s inspection. “I took some liberties while you were unconscious on my slab and measured your ears. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Not sure he was understanding, Nathan blinked at it. “A listening aid? What does it do?”

  “Hopefully what the name implies. It should help with your hearing loss.”

  Nathan stared at them in disbelief. They looked almost like inverse earrings. “How does it work?”

  Dr. Allan grinned at him. “Short answer? Magic. Longer answer? Crystalline quartz creates a certain low wave frequency that, when charged and tuned correctly, can be used to amplify or block out sound. I’ve been experimenting with it for some years with bats. It drives them bonkers, in case you’re wondering. I’ll be honest, I was at a bit of a loss what to do with this information.” He smiled sheepishly. “Happens a lot to me, I’m afraid. Master Vlad had the idea that if we were to try tuning two halves of a crystal together, we might be able to amplify the sound received into your left ear by redirecting the waves from your right. I tried it on him first, although I’m afraid much like the bats, it didn’t go down very well. Apparently, it was like having a metal spike driven through his ears. But I’m almost certain I’ve got it figured out now.”

  “You mean… I might be able to hear again?” Nathan asked, a hot sensation swelling up in his chest. He’d already cried once today; he refused to do it again.

  “In theory. Or at the very least, we could try to drown out that nasty ringing you mentioned. Would you like to try?”

  Nathan nodded, holding still while Dr. Allan fitted the listening devices in place. The gold loops wrapped around the backs of his ears, hooking around the fronts to let the sliver of crystal rest delicately
on the insides. Nothing happened at first, and then Nathan felt a sharp jolt of electricity. There was a crackling, popping hiss between his ears. Then, gradually, sound began to filter in through his left ear. It was hollow and tinny, like he was hearing things from the bottom of a well, but it was sound all the same.

  “How’s that?” Dr. Allan asked.

  Nathan reached up reflexively to cover his left ear, the voice startlingly loud after so long of hearing almost nothing on that side. “I can hear. It’s…” He paused, looking around for the incessant ticking sound and, for the first time, noticed the large grandfather clock in the corner. “Has that always been there?”

  Dr. Allan smiled. “I’m afraid I haven’t figured out how to let you keep wearing them between forms, but if you’re willing to let me experiment—oh dear…” he trailed off, offering Nathan a clean linen handkerchief as the werewolf in front of him dissolved into tears. “Was it something I said?”

  Part Two:

  Arranging the Pieces

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Summer, 1888

  The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon when Ursula opened the window of her rented room and clambered out onto the roof. The sea air tugging at her hair, she watched in silence as the sky turned from pink to purple, dimming the orange blaze of the sea to inky black. She’d always enjoyed being by the sea. It reminded her of happier times. Calmer times. But she found little solace in its proximity now.

  She stared at nothing for a while, ignoring when the evening heat gave way to gentle rain, the smell of wet earth filling the night with even more memories. Memories from another time. Another place. Another life. It was only when she heard the gentle tread of familiar footsteps approaching that Ursula stirred, wiping the wetness from her face with the back of her sleeve.