Always in Shadow: A Novella (Never Cry Werewolf)

by Heather Davis

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have saved some for everyone.”

  “No dearie, those were all for you,” Fuzz said, leaning back in his seat and lowering his glasses. “It’s perfectly normal for new pups to be insatiable. Don’t look so horrified.”

  But I was horrified. I wiped my hands on my jeans and tried to focus on the scenery flashing by the window.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Austin whispered.

  I nodded, but I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe him at all. Nothing was fine. I was wolfing down sausages and about to go furry and headed to a castle in a country I’d never even heard of. Not even fake, fruit-shaped substitute gummy worms could make the situation any better.

  After a drive up a long, narrow road that wound into the hills, the Castle Muldrazny loomed ahead like a theme park creation meant to terrify visitors. Turrets pierced the night sky and a massive wall of stones closed in around us as we approached. At last, in the glare of headlights, I could see an iron gate ahead. Boris clicked the buttons of a code into a remote control. Then, with a screech and several clanks, the barrier rose and we motored ahead.

  “You seem amazed, my dear,” Fuzz said, “Our ancestors were rightfully concerned about protection from the villagers below. You can’t fend off an angry mob with a picket fence. The door weighs nearly three tons. Imagine when it was cranked by hand.”

  Austin opened his eyes. “Have we arrived?”

  “Yes,” I said, kissing his forehead.

  A minute later, I stepped onto a snow-covered cobblestone driveway and helped Austin out of the SUV. Looking up at the fierce facade of the castle, I decided it was very, well, castle-y. There were ice-frosted, wolfish-looking gargoyles posted near the eaves and carved into the decorative trim of the walls. Wrought iron sconces that looked like they’d once held torches lit the entry. At the top of stone steps loomed a door that seemed built for giants, with wide planks of wood and a metal knocker in the shape of a wolf’s head.

  It was built by monsters, for monsters, all right. But I wouldn’t be one for long – not after the serum was pumping through my veins, beating back the wolf that was scratching to get out.

  Chapter Two

  I FELT dizzy from the sight of all the blood Dr. Lyndon took from me after she’d seen to Austin’s shoulder. When she was done, several vials worth sat in a rack on the table between us on a metal table. The downstairs lab was cold, probably from the stone walls, which gave the impression the doctor was building monsters, not developing life-saving serums.

  Young and blonde, the doctor was wearing jeans and a t-shirt beneath her white coat. If I closed my eyes, I could almost picture her working at the medical salon where my stepmother Honeybun got her injections. “I’ll perform tests on these samples today so we can get some more conclusive results,” she said, capping the last vial.

  “What do you mean more conclusive?”

  “Austin sent me a sample of your hair a week or so ago.”

  “Just a stray strand I found on my sweater,” he explained.

  I let out a sigh, determined not to be creeped out. “Okay. For testing. I get it.”

  “Yes.” The doctor pulled off her exam gloves. “The results were why we needed to get you here so quickly. The werewolf DNA strand in your cells was a bit different than what we’ve seen before. You’re unique.”

  I suddenly wished I had paid more attention in biology class. I didn’t know much about DNA and all that stuff. My favorite class had always been English. “Um, Austin said you couldn’t tell anything until after my first transformation,” I said, remembering one of our conversations back at the academy. “That we couldn’t even try the serum until then.”

  “Well, that’s true. The first dosage would be after your initial transformation. And yes, studying you in your wolf form would be of great benefit. The transformation may reveal more things about your unique physiology.”

  “So you can’t prevent my first change at all? I have to go through it.”

  “Yes, your change is coming. It will come with the full moon, of course. But it could also come early in times of severe distress. Don’t let yourself get too hungry.”

  I shuddered, remembering the summer before when I’d met Austin and had seen him chasing down opossums in desperation. I made a mental note to stock up on sausage rolls. “I guess I was hoping to hear that you’d found some way to keep it from coming.”

  The doctor shook her head. “No. I’m afraid not.”

  Austin looked down at his hands, avoiding my stare. “You’re bloody cursed and it’s my fault,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Doctor Lyndon said. “I’ll test this pure sample and see what’s happening with the DNA replication. Then I should know more.” She turned toward the wall calendar above her steel desk. “Though, from what I saw in your hair sample, you’re nearing the change more quickly than any other subject I’ve studied. Normally, the full transformation from ordinary human to werewolf takes about nine months. You’re only at six months, however, your DNA reads like someone who’s already undergone the change. As if the replication were done.”

  “I’m done. Stick a fork in me,” I said, making a joke.

  The doctor didn’t laugh. “The escalated changes indicate a greater potential for additional mutations. Until we study this further, there are many unknowns about your situation.”

  Austin glanced over at me. “Don’t worry, love. The serum will help free you from this disease.”

  “You know it’s not exactly a disease,” the doctor said gently. “This is your father’s heritage. He’s a good man. He wouldn’t have employed my dad, or me, had he not cared about finding you a way to manage a lifestyle that wasn’t your cup of tea.”

  “Forgive me, Dr. Lyndon. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  “You’re not that,” she said, patting Austin’s arm.

  “Um, my dad’s a scientist, too,” I said. “I mean, like yours is. He’s the bio-chemist that developed the drug Re-gen that a lot of dermatologists use. What is your dad doing now?”

  Dr. Lyndon’s smile faded. “Nothing,” she said, moving to neaten up the lab supplies on the table. “My father isn’t among us any longer.”

  “Oh, geez,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “So, then...” The doctor straightened. “A few things to go over. First, you’re going to be extremely hungry. Please keep eating whatever you crave. Your metabolism is changing, so don’t worry about overeating. It can’t happen. You may also feel restless at night, unable to sleep. That’s normal as well, until the full lunar change.”

  “How long do I have?” I asked, rising from the bench.

  “The full moon is on New Year’s Eve.”

  “That’s just over a week away.” Austin reached for my hand. “Christmas is the beginning of next week and then—”

  “Aaaaooooooo,” I said, mumbling a howl.

  Austin squeezed my fingers. “Don’t worry.”

  “I need to get to work on these fresh samples,” the doctor said, ushering us to the door. “You eat and get some rest. Austin, please stop hanging your head. For me, it’s a very interesting research opportunity, no offense to either of you.”

  “Glad to be your lab rat,” I said, trying another joke.

  This time the doctor smiled, and then she pushed us out the sliding door, closing it behind us with a click on a keypad.

  Now that we were alone I said, “She’s right. Stop blaming yourself.”

  Austin brought my hand to his lips, kissing my palm. “I wanted to be with you forever,” he said. “I just didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

  “Forever?” I repeated, feeling like that sounded really permanent, but I was kind of okay with that.

  Austin’s cheeks flushed. “I felt like we were meant for each other, as different as we are.”

  “Were,” I murmured. “We were different.�
�

  He released my hand and his smile faded. “True.”

  I followed him up the steps to the main floor, feeling unsettled. I hoped the tests would go quickly and that maybe, instead of just giving me me the serum, the doctor would find some kind of cure. Seriously, if my being a wolf meant that Austin was going to hate himself, than I wanted it even less than before.

  ***

  Stepping into the dining room of Muldrazny Castle was like going back in time. Not only because of the rich tapestries and oil paintings showcased on the wall, but also because of the oversized oak table loaded with a spread fit for a king. Roast beef, stuffed pheasant, platters of fish, mounds of potatoes and vegetables, and breads of all kinds covered the surface. It was such a contrast to the awful cuisine at the academy, I almost cried.

  As I surveyed the feast, conversation from the guests seated around the table bubbled up between the sounds of serious chowing down. It was an odd collection of diners: a few men in rumpled t-shirts and jeans, a middle-aged lady dressed all in black and wearing sunglasses, a girl in a sequined dress who looked suspiciously like a certain tabloid pop princess, one guy in a dress shirt and tie. As I stood gawking, Boris walked in and sat down, a martini glass full of a red drink in his hand.

  “At last you’ve joined us,” Fuzz said, picking up a small dog and taking a seat. I almost laughed – I really didn’t expect a werewolf to have a Yorkie. “Everyone, welcome our dear Austin and his lovely American flower, Shelby. I hope you’ll all make her feel at home. This little yapper is called Maxine,” he said, patting the pup on his lap.

  “What’s this then? The runaway girl?” A wiry man with a mustache that looked like a twisted piece of black licorice stood up at the head of the table. “I thought we discussed the risks of bringing her here. This is not in the plan.”

  “Monty, it wasn’t in the plan for Austin to be shot in the shoulder in bloody Switzerland either, but it happened – and now we are here.”

  Murmurs of concern sounded from the guests at the table.

  “I’ll be fine,” Austin said, rolling his eyes. “One of the great things about our kind is that we do heal rather quickly. I will, however, retire to my room to rest while you lot entertain Shelby.” Austin kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “See you later.”

  There were nods around the table and a couple of knowing glances exchanged.

  “Ah, so this is Shelby,” the girl in the sequins looked up at me and smiled a big, toothy wolf smile that I couldn’t classify as friendly. “Hello, I’m called Eva.”

  She stood up from the table and walked toward me. Petite with long, perfectly straight hair, Eva gained most of her height from her four-inch heeled boots. Her leather skirt and shiny top, along with large diamond earrings, made her look like a pop star, all right. Her skin, though, unlike the deep brown nut color of some in the entertainment world, was pale and creamy and her makeup wasn’t overdone. In other words, she was the kind of pretty I couldn’t deny.

  I tugged at my hoodie’s hem, pulling it down a little over my worn jeans and shifted in my snow boots. I’d dressed for an outing to the village near the girls’ school I’d escaped from, not dinner with rock stars.

  Eva kissed me on both cheeks. “I’ve heard what you’ve been going through. I’m sure it’s been most unpleasant.” An Eastern European accent rippled through her words.

  “Come, come,” Fuzz interjected, beckoning me to an empty place at the table. “Let’s get you fed while we continue the introductions.”

  I sat down in front of a platter of roasted pheasants, and my nostrils literally flared as I inhaled the intoxicating aroma.

  “She needs to feed, all right,” said a guy with long hair and a goatee sitting across from me.

  I gulped back the moisture in my mouth before I started to drool. Boris, who’d taken a place next to me, shoved a fork into one of the birds and hustled it onto my plate.

  “Go ahead,” said long-hair guy.

  “Yes,” Boris said, picking up his cocktail glass again. “Do as Chuckie says.”

  “Chuckie?”

  The long hair guy smiled. “Yep. I play bass.”

  Fuzz, who was at the end of the table and in mid chew, lowered his soup spoon. He reached down and put a scrap of something on the floor for the dog, who was whining at his feet. “Go on, the rest of you, introduce yourselves.”

  “I’m J.J.” A man with short dreadlocks and a Jamaican accent saluted me from across the table. “I play violin.”

  Next to me, Boris grumbled. “Sure, violin, but no piano,” he said, taking another drink.

  “I’m Stan. Rhythm guitar,” mumbled a short, bald guy with really hairy arms poking out from his t-shirt. He reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes, barely looking up at me.

  “I’m Monty. Tour manager,” said the wiry man who’d seemed so agitated earlier. “It’s my job to keep the band out of trouble.”

  “Monty’s the only ‘ordinary’ around here,” Eva said, wiping her lips with a linen napkin. “He doesn’t like corralling the furry and blood-starved but it pays well.”

  “After the last tour manager idiotically sent Austin away to brat camp last summer while I was on safari,” Fuzz said, “we decided anyone who worked for us needed to understand everything. Monty, though a bit shocked at first, has accepted our truth and is a most ardent protector.”

  Monty gave Fuzz a tense look, then addressed me. “While you’re here, please follow directions and stay out of sight. The last thing we need is an international girl-hunt ending up at the castle and leading undesirables to our sanctuary.”

  Everyone at the table quieted.

  “Sorry to be a downer, but it’s only a matter of time,” Chuckie said, stabbing at the steak on his plate. “They stalked us in London, on our tour dates. Now, they’ve attacked Austin at Shelby’s boarding school. The Horsemen are everywhere.”

  “Nonsense.” Fuzz waved a hand. “We’re perfectly fine. Safety in numbers, everyone. Besides, we’re not going anywhere. We fought too hard to return to Muldania and establish this stronghold. It’s our birthright.”

  Next to me, Boris whispered, “Feed, Shelby.”

  I took a pheasant leg from the platter. Juices ran down my chin as I ripped the salty flesh from the bone. The pleasure of the food was so great, I was torn between chowing down and listening as the other band members and roadies were introduced. There was a drummer named Pino, and then a thin back-up singer named Michaela, who, like Boris, had only a martini glass of something red in front of her while the rest of us gorged on the feast. I wondered if it was blood.

  Boris noticed my stare. “Vampires,” he said, raising his glass, “feed differently than you wolves.”

  You wolves. It sunk in even more as I looked at the pile of bones on my plate where an entire roasted bird had been a moment before.

  “Good girl.” Chuckie held out a plate of sausages.

  “You may as well go ahead,” Eva said, winking across the table. “Wolves burn more calories than humans who work out all day long. You need the energy now, especially before your transformation.”

  Monty let out a sigh at the other end of the table and shook his head.

  Fuzz shushed him. “It’s charming, really,” the old rocker said. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a wolf pup.”

  A little shiver traveled across my skin. A shiver of anticipation and fear. I glanced around the table at the carnivores tearing through this sumptuous meal and couldn’t quite picture my future. All I knew is that it had a lot of meat in it.

  ***

  A little while later, Boris ushered me up a sweeping staircase to the second floor of the castle. The hallway was lit by electric sconces retrofitted from ancient torch holders. Framed gold and platinum records studded the wall, interspersed with oil paintings that looked as old as some of the paintings at the Steinfelder Academy that had given me the willies. This art featured bloody scenes of battle and moonlight – though here, the knight in blu
e slaying an animal wasn’t the star. In these pictures, wolves howled from craggy peaks, attacked mounted soldiers, and peeked out from thick forests, their eyes lit with purpose.

  “By furry masters,” Boris said, shrugging. “Vampire race has much better painters.”

  “Of course.”

  Boris frowned and continued down the carpeted hallway.

  This castle was airy and frigid as opposed to musty. The coldness of the Muldanian winter seemed to emanate from the very walls. When Boris opened a wooden door and showed me into a bedroom chamber, I breathed in the heat of the fire blazing in the hearth. Warmth.

  Boris gave me a knowing smile. “Wolves like heat.”

  “Vampires prefer the cold?”

  “We are cold.”

  “Oh. So there aren’t fires in your rooms?”

  Boris shook his head. “We sleep in basement crypt.”

  “Right,” I said, feeling a little dumb for not thinking of that.

  Boris showed me the closet, which held the meager contents of my unpacked backpack, and the bathroom, which though small, had a window that overlooked a beautiful wooded hillside behind the castle. The view was breathtaking, with the hint of moonlight shining down on the snow-covered trees and cliffs.

  “Come.” Boris led me back out into the bedroom. “Clothes in dresser for you,” he grunted. Then, he pointed to a desk with a computer and an old record player with a stack of vinyl next to it. “You entertain yourself, yes? Okay to surf, but no e-mails, no social network. TV in wall.”

  “Thanks,” I said, flopping down onto the bed. My stomach, which felt so full, gurgled loudly and I clapped a hand over it.

  Smirking, Boris strode out of the room and then I heard the click of a lock.

  “Wait a sec!” I hopped up from the bed and tried the door knob. The vampire had locked me in. “Hey, not cool!”

  I banged on the door, but no one came. Maybe everyone in the castle knew I was going to be locked up. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. If I was going to go furry, why would I leave? The band was my only protection.