by L G Rollins
Apparently his stating his plan to remain on land was not as clear a refusal as he had believed.
“Who is it from, dear?”
“Lord Chauncey.” He skimmed the letter. “Just writing to promise me wealth and fame and the devil . . .” he caught himself this time. “And who knows what else if I accept his and Doctor Sterling’s proposal.” It seemed Doctor Sterling was more eager to pursue hiring out his submarine than he’d assumed after their brief conversation that day.
“You just got back. I didn’t want to make you feel guilty, so I haven’t brought it up before. But Melissa desperately needs her father right now. She’s at such an impressionable age just now.”
“Come Mother.” He stood and offered her his hand. “I think it’s been a long day for both of us.” He was exhausted; she was exhausted. Moreover, there was no point in setting Mother into a frenzy thinking he would be abandoning her and Melissa once more. He was here to stay, and staying was the only thing he intended to do. Well, that and convince Melissa that becoming a werewolf huntress was not the best future.
“Please tell me you aren’t considering accepting Lord Chauncey’s proposition.”
They moved toward the parlor door, her arm looped through his. Was it just him, or was she shorter than before? She wasn’t developing a hunch, was she? Did she have a competent doctor? He chided himself for never thinking to check into such things before now.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and turned his mother until she faced him. Though she had never said so outright, for it would have been highly improper, he knew from hushed conversations that his mother had spent years sick and in bed before she finally was able to have one baby boy.
She had been nearly forty when Nathaniel was born, and by all accounts she should not have lived. Nonetheless, not even death itself could have prevented Mother from raising her son, and now her granddaughter. They were all the family she had and though he didn’t always agree with her adamant adherence to last century’s decorum, he never questioned her love for him or his daughter.
“I have absolutely no intention of sailing the Gearhound out to the Puerto Rico Trench. If you wish it, I shall write to Lord Chauncey this night and inform him of such.” A letter would be easily dispatched in response to the marquess’ request. He patted her hand softly. “I am staying home.”
“The Puerto Rico Trench?” Mother’s eyes widened. “Goodness, I am certain Lord Chauncey is half brilliant, half lunatic; and one is never certain which half one is going to see next.”
With a soft laugh, Nathaniel begun up the stairs with Mother. His bed was calling and it was one order he was eager to fulfill. “Then, put your mind at ease. I have no intention on indulging Lord Chauncey in his most recent bout of lunacy.”
“s it true?” Elise asked the moment the carriage door opened, and William stepped in, sweeping his top hat off. “Have you found a female werewolf?” Dressed her usual dark breeches and lab coat, Elise had been eager to meet her newest test subject ever since William’s letter had reached her only a few hours prior.
This was groundbreaking. This was career changing. And after a pointless morning at the circus, a disheartening meeting with the committee, and a drawn out conversation with Lord Chauncey on their next move, Elise had never needed a break more than she did now.
William sat down directly next to her, his arm moving around to rest atop the seat behind her. His dark hair curled slightly around his ears. “What? No ‘good evening’? No welcoming ‘hello’?” He brought with him the sharp smell of alcohol.
The pulsing excitement of moments ago wained. Gears above, how far into his cups was he? Yes, William frequently drank, but even he should have known that tonight was not the time.
Elise moved her arms closer to herself, giving at least the idea of space between them. William’s gaze roamed to the other side of the carriage, where Alison, Elise’s maid, sat pretending to be only interested in her hands resting demurely on her lap. Propriety no longer stated that an unattached man and woman must be accompanied at all times. Still, there were limits.
William always accompanied Elise when meeting with potential test subjects, and that required the two of them riding alone in a covered carriage in the middle of the night. However, while Alison’s participation in this part of Elise’s studies began as a precaution against soiling their reputations, tonight, Elise was especially glad bringing the young woman was part of their routine.
Removing his arm from around her, William’s voice stayed light, though she didn’t miss his mouth tightening at the corners as she pulled away from him. “As it turns out, yes.” He faced Elise fully once more, his hand going to his chest. “As promised. You should know by now that William Cunningham is a man of his word.”
Though she would never admit as much to William, she generally avoided him during a new moon. His temper was well-known among the upper echelons, so most never thought twice when he grew increasingly agitated now and then. He, of course, did not shift forms during a new moon as he did during a full moon. Nonetheless, Elise knew his secret and often found it to her advantage to steer clear of him at particular times during the lunar month.
He grabbed her hand suddenly. Lifting it, he kissed her finger tips then squeezed her hand in his heavily gloved one. His eyes glinted with interest.
“It has been quite some time since we last met like this,” he whispered, drawing in close enough she could feel his breath against her hair. The smell made her eyes water.
Elise frowned. “Uh . . .” was all she managed. Why was William acting so strange as of late? Letters bemoaning his situation she could understand—she was the only one he could openly vent to. But now, sitting so close to her, the strange, intent look in his eye . . .
The carriage hit a dip and they all bounced lightly as the seats squeaked.
As they all adjusted at the jarring of the carriage, Elise scooted surreptitiously away from him. She forced out the first words that came to mind; with any luck William would not grow increasingly annoyed at her insistence of space between them. “I still cannot fathom it all. A woman. Truly? No one has ever been able to verify that such a thing exists.”
After four years at the Univeristy in Edinburg and another two years traveling Europe collecting histories of werewolf attacks and experiments, though there weren’t many to be had, Elise had been flummoxed to find no record of a female werewolf anywhere.
After meeting with the committee and being forced to run an experiment she was more apprehensive about than confident, it was exciting to learn something new and have the opportunity to observe what no one else ever had.
This was the type of science that filled her and breathed life into her days.
William’s smile came easily—which was strange considering the moon and all. “Anything for you.” His voice came out low and sultry.
Elise cleared her throat. Perhaps if she kept the conversation on their purpose they could avoid any awkwardness. “There are several theories why women werewolves are never heard of. I have heard some say that women simply are immune to whatever causes some men to shift. Other scholars say that the women werewolves are more clever and are better at hiding themselves. What is your opinion?”
The corners of William’s mouth dropped. His gaze darted to Alison and immediately back to her. He sat back, covertly nodding toward her maid. His eyes brooded dark with irritation. Elise pursed her lips at his obvious frustration with her. It wasn’t as though asking his opinion of werewolves was the same as accusing him of being one.
“How would I know?” His voice held a hint of the harshness she had expected tonight. William’s anger was as large as it was sudden, and it seemed to suck all the air out of the carriage. Even Alison was fidgeting. “You’re the expert, not me. I know very little about werewolves in general.”
This was ridiculous. William was turning into a dramatic Italian divo. She refused to squirm under his scowl.
“The committee is unin
terested in my intention to reverse engineer the BLU Elixir. However, they have agreed to support and fund Lord Chauncey’s submarine idea.” Elise tried to hedge around the heaviness that filled the space. “He has introduced me to a Captain Hopkins, who has a submarine that may suit the needs of the experiment.” The words fell from her mouth, but did nothing to lighten the mood. So, she said no more.
When first informing both Lord Chauncey and William of the committee’s decision to let her conduct this one last experiment, their reactions had been quite opposite of one another’s. Lord Chauncey had been thrilled, then promptly told her to not worry about Captain Hopkins, he’d convince the man on his own. William had scowled and profaned and demanded that she do something to convince the committee to change their mind.
Why was it the only thing William ever seemed capable of doing was to yell at her?
Elise folded her arms tightly and stared straight ahead. Let him be upset. Let him blame her. She had done nothing except keep his secret safe for well over a decade. She would always do so.
They rode in silence, the carriage bouncing them around as they left the cobblestone roads of town and traveled along a dirt path to their secluded meeting location. Elise kept a watch on William brooding out of the corner of her eye.
Elise let out a long, slow breath. She ought to be more sensitive. His entire life had been ruined the night when, as a young child, he had first shifted.
It wasn’t an option for him to attend the University as she had or even join the military, as her second brother, Hugo, had done. To pursue either of those options most certainly would lead to him being discovered and killed without mercy.
Instead, William occupied most his days with managing his father’s estate and many business holdings, a duty he found tedious.
He had spoken to her many times of his desire to travel, to see other lands. He never went courting, and he certainly would never marry. Traveling, education, family . . . all dreams he would never be able to achieve.
Wood creaked and wheels rattled as they drove on. Even inside the carriage, the temperature slowly dropped as the night wore on and Elise drew her laboratory coat yet tighter around her.
Her chest ached thinking of William and the life he pretended to live, yet one he could never fully embrace as his own. And why? Because he was a werewolf. Despite popular belief, being bitten by a werewolf did not cause one to become one. Science had yet to figure out the reasons one became a werewolf when another did not.
No one else in William’s family suffered from the disease. He’d never so much as seen a werewolf as a child. For some illogical and unexplainable reason, an abnormality which was found almost exclusively among the poor had taken hold in William. It left him a life of wealth, without the freedom to enjoy it.
William stared out the carriage window, his brooding only seeming darker in the lantern light. This was why she worked day and night, why she poured over historical accounts and ancient text, why she persevered even when her colleagues considered her theories far fetched at best.
Life is an adventure worth valuing, had become her mantra. Whether one was healthy or diseased, all deserved to truly live.
The carriage lurched to a stop. William opened the door and stepped out, taking with him one of the two gas-burning lanterns they’d brought. He handed Elise out as Alison and the driver remained with the carriage, as was usual. The field was dark, and the openness was only broken by a single cluster of budding trees. The yellow grass had not yet regained its height since the winter snow of a few months ago. A late winter wind whisked by, howling low.
It was a creepy place to hold a meeting. But the solitarity was paramount. Elise pulled back an errant strand of hair and tucked it back into her coiffure. She’d never shirked when meeting a new test subject before, and though the ice-laced breeze and William’s erratic moods made tonight feel more eerie than usual, she would not show hesitancy now.
They strode forward, well away from the carriage, the soft ground giving beneath their feet. At least the past couple days of heat had helped dry the mud. They reached the three oak trees that always served as their meeting location.
William took hold of her elbow and leaned in close. “If this Captain Hopkins does capitulate, I’m coming with you.”
“Coming?” He’d hated the idea when she first told him. Why change his stance now? Though, when it came to William, he rarely needed a logical reason to do anything. “You aren’t changing your mind about being fully involved? About admitting—”
His eyes narrowed, and she stopped mid-sentence. She’d faced enough of his ever-simmering anger tonight. Nothing would be gained by triggering another explosion.
“Don’t be daft,” his voice was lower, more tense. “I’m not one of them. They are the poorest of the poor. We have nothing in common.”
Nothing except being a werewolf. Elise shook her head. How could William so wholly disregard anyone who suffered as he did, wealthy or not? “It would be rather difficult to keep your secret during the experiment. I’ll not have you wandering around the submarine during the full moon.”
Though William frequently claimed not to be like other werewolves, he still had many of the same needs as they: the knowledge of abandoned barns to hide in during full moons, special salves which smoothed over the rough skin which developed across one’s hands and feet from the monthly shifting, and more of the like.
For that reason, several years ago he’d made contact with a man who sold such uncommon information and products out of ear shot of the authorities.
It was through this man, whose name Elise was never permitted to know, that William found and set up these meetings with other werewolves.
The man earned a few pounds each time and he promised none of the new werewolves were ever to learn that William also shifted during full moons.
“Lock me in my room then. As for keeping my secret, I believe society would deem it un-noteworthy for me to journey with an old friend,” he spat. “Regardless of what you say, I am coming. I need to know for myself if it works.”
“I seriously doubt there are one-sided locks on the submarine.” Her voice dropped lower and lower as she spoke. “I may be able to lock you in your room, but you would most likely be able to unlock it even in wolf form.” The whole night seemed to press against her, listening. Where were the contacts William had said would meet them here?
“I can get a lock.” William’s voice was equally low. Perhaps he, too, felt as though the night wind was ready to pull away their words and spread them far and wide.
“And do what? Weld it on without anyone finding out?”
“Of course not, dunderhead. There are other ways werewolves have kept themselves locked in before now. My man can help.” That was how William always described the unnamed individual, “my man”.
Elise’s jaw tensed at his insult, though with William such comments were always part of the conversation. What would it be like to bring him along, without telling the rest of the crew exactly what he was? Elise’s stomach twisted with the idea.
Unwilling to waste even a moment, Elise had already spoken with several of her test subjects. Every werewolf who had yet agreed to be part of her experiments understood fully that their secret had to be known to all aboard the submarine. It was safest that way, both for the others as well as themselves.
To bring along one more werewolf wasn’t a problem—to keep his secret would be.
“I need this,” he whispered. “I need to know for myself.”
Elise’s brows creased. After he’d been denied so much in life, could she truly deny him this as well? William had, more than once, put his neck on the line in an effort to further her research. Meeting with potential werewolves and asking them to openly acknowledge what they were was never safe. Yet, he’d done so time and time again. He did it for her, for her research.
“You agree to allow me to lock you securely in your room?” she asked, scanning the open field around them. Stars
stared down at them from the black sky, but with no moon the only light was the one William had brought.
He nodded. “I’ve been better, as of late. Less . . . destructive.”
That was good to know. Perhaps William had finally taken her advice and began practicing the calming techniques other werewolves had found beneficial. “And you realize we don’t know exactly what will happen. You may shift as normal, you may not. There’s a very real chance you could go through a partial shift. This . . . this may be very painful.” It was an admission she’d repeated multiples times already that day.
Elise’s stomach clenched and twisted. Was she truly considering bringing him without telling Lord Chauncey or anyone else that William was a werewolf? Logically she couldn’t see a real problem. She could lock him in his room and everyone would be safe, and none the wiser. The facts didn’t ease the tension inside her.
“I’m not like them, you know.” William’s voice was softer. “They’re needed, and so their families help hide them. I would never have found a single test subject for you, if it weren’t for the loved ones who knew what they were and cared about their safety regardless.”
Elise’s eyes went wide. He had never spoken like this before. The hurt, the longing were both so evident.
William continued. “I may shift as they do, but if anyone other than you and my father ever found out . . .” he let it trail off, then shrugged. “Let’s just say they wouldn’t be signing me up for any experiments.”
She’d never thought of it like that. He was right, though. Society would not give him a pass on being a werewolf for any title or any amount of money. Elise reached for him, squeezing his arm. “You’re right, you should come.”
Even if this experiment turned to be a failure, she wouldn’t stop until she found solutions. So many people lived like William, outsiders to life, and it was time that changed.
William’s gaze roamed the field but seemed to see nothing but the vast, barren emptiness. “Hiding is the only viable option,” he said, voice flat, devoid of all emotion.
