Always in Shadow: A Novella (Never Cry Werewolf)

by Heather Davis

  After Fuzz left, I sat there, in the carved chair that looked like it belonged in a museum, and then, at last, when I’d stopped feeling sorry for myself, I took the snack and climbed the dark stone stairs.

  ***

  “Psst!” A voice called as I approached the upper floors. A second later, sparkles hit my vision. Eva stood in the hallway, beckoning me to follow her.

  “Come on!” She led me down a stone hallway with super-high ceilings.

  “Where are we—”

  “Shh!” Eva gave a little knock on a heavy wooden door, then, satisfied no one was behind it, pushed it open. Before us was the most ornate library I had ever seen.

  Tall shelves held cloth and leather bound books. Painted angels flew above us in a ceiling mural. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow all around. A spiral staircase rose in one corner of the room, leading to a catwalk and another floor of shelved books. Two long oak tables appointed with Tiffany reading lamps spanned the room. Gold-framed artwork decorated the frescoed walls. It was breathtaking.

  “What?” Eva said, smiling at my wonder. “You’ve never seen a library?”

  “Um, sure I have. Just not like this. Not even in Beverly Hills.” I set my snack bag on a table and took a seat on one of the couches facing the dramatic windows. In the distance, the peaks of Muldania rose white against the growing twilight.

  “The Bridges have always been scholars,” Eva said, sinking down in the plush cushions on the other couch. “Our family has produced all kinds of great writers and thinkers. Some would argue that Fuzz is a musical genius, I suppose.”

  It seemed funny to hear Eva talking about geniuses while wearing a rhinestone laden track suit, but I nodded.

  “I heard the results of the test,” Eva said. I couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of me or generally concerned.

  “Bad news travels fast.”

  “Our hearing makes it nearly impossible not to eavesdrop.”

  “But how did you get up the stairs first?”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “Secret passages. Really, is this your first castle? Austin told me you were an heiress.”

  “I am, but, you know – we live in a house. It’s in Beverly Hills, but there aren’t any secret passages or anything.”

  “So you’re from new money,” Eva said, raising an eyebrow and nodding.

  “A few years ago, my dad invented a drug called Re-gen that plastic surgeons use and married my stepmother. Before that, we lived in Wisconsin like normal people. There weren’t fancy houses, or boarding schools, or brat camps... or werewolves.”

  Eva relaxed, stretching her arms out wide across the back of the couch. “Yes, werewolves weren’t in your plans, I’m sure. And, you will be a wolf next week. This is not what you want.”

  “Duh.”

  Eva shook her head slowly, her gaze not leaving mine. “Hey, I want to help you.”

  “Why would you want to do that. So far, you’ve seemed annoyed that I’m even here.”

  Eva sighed. “I do want to help.”

  “How? Are you a chemist?”

  “Duh,” Eva said, parroting me. “Of course not. But there was a time, not so long ago, that I myself did not want to live this life. I constantly worried someone would discover my secret, expose me to the tabloids. I hoped that maybe there was a way to undo this condition. Some way to revert back to a human girl.”

  “Wait, you were a human girl?”

  “No.” She gave a soft laugh. “I was born like this, but I had a desire to be ordinary.” Her blue eyes took on a glassy appearance. “I wanted to be like any other pop princess.”

  “I don’t think their lives are much easier,” I said. “Do you ever read those tabloids you’re on the covers of?”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “I am trying to tell you a story. When I was in the frame of mind, that low place of not wanting my heritage, I began to search for an ancient cure.”

  I moved closer to Eva. “What do you mean?”

  “Before chemists and serum and modern science, there were cures from the middle ages... spells, incantations, potions to prevent the transformation. A few years ago, I left my mother’s home in Romania and came here to Muldania in search of these cures. This castle was being used as an inn, and this was its library. It held the oldest books in the region and so I stayed here in the inn for three weeks, reading my way through the castle’s collection.”

  I thought of Ivan, the former castle owner’s son. He must have been there then, working at the castle. “Didn’t the inn owners think it was weird for you to stay so long?”

  “My manager told them, and the press, that I’d had a breakdown, that I needed time away for the public eye. They believed it.” Eva continued her story. “One afternoon, I found a peculiar book with gilded pages, a beautiful red and silver fabric cover embossed with a wolf. It spoke of a waterfall where the ancestors used to gather. If you drank from the moonlit stream on the night of your first change you would rid your blood of the Lycan curse forever.”

  “The first change though – you were long past that. Were there other cures?”

  Eva shrugged. “Only foods to try to keep the curse at bay – some of them sounded horrible. There were no permanent ways, not after that first transformation.”

  “Wait. Is this some kind of joke you’re playing on me? Torture the new pup or something? Because this could be a bummer if you’re making this crapola up.”

  Eva’s perfectly groomed eyebrows drew into a frown. “Why would I lie about this?”

  “Um... I guess I don’t know. For entertainment?”

  “You think I’m so bored I would torture you with hope?”

  “I don’t actually know you,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t have much to go on, but from what I’ve seen so far, you enjoy making me wear ridiculous outfits.”

  “Sharing my clothes with you was a gift!” Eva stood up. “Fine. Throw away the only chance you have because you do not trust me. But if you could find the stream in the hills, you could cure yourself forever.”

  Despite the skepticism bubbling inside me, I felt my heart lift a little. “Really? You think it exists?” I got up from my seat and started pacing on the thick antique rug. “If I could fix this, then Austin would forgive himself, everything would go back to normal.”

  Eva gave me a pained smile. “Exactly. There was a map in the book.”

  “Great – which one?” I gestured toward the massive shelves lining the room.

  “Since that day, I have never seen the book again.”

  The hope I’d felt just seconds ago melted away. “Oh, geez. And probably without the map, we couldn’t find the fountain.”

  “At the time of sale, everything was to remain at the castle – furniture, decoration, all the contents.”

  “But maybe the old owners took the book with them,” I murmured, remembering that guy Ivan talking about the museum in his inn.

  “Yes, they must have stolen it. We have to get it back.”

  “But how do we do that? I’m not allowed to leave the castle.”

  Eva shot me a heavily lip-glossed smile. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this castle, I promise.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling just a smidge weirded out by the intensity in Eva’s eyes.

  “You will find that members of our pack never break a promise,” Eva added, before turning on her heels and strutting out of the library.

  Chapter Five

  MY HEAD was swimming with possibilities after my talk with Eva. She seemed genuine about trying to help me, but I still wasn’t sure about her. She’d seen a book with a magic cure? It sounded a little too good to be true.

  After I chomped the last of the steak bits, I crashed in the big comfy bed after that, relaxing for an overdue nap. I floated through a dreamless, deep sleep that I needed, and when I woke up, the clock on my bedside table said nine o’clock.

  It was dark outside, with only a sliver of light from the waxing moon peeking in through the windows
along the giant staircase. Entering the great hall, I could hear music thrumming through the floor, maybe coming from the recording studio downstairs where the band was rehearsing. I didn’t see Austin anywhere, and I would have gone to look for him, but the most intoxicating aroma wafted in the air. Of course, I’d missed dinner – it’d been hours ago. Still, I followed the smell of roasted chicken to the dining room and found the table set with only one place, with a brass bell beside the water glass. It was my first castle, but I got the idea. I sat down, floated my napkin on my lap, and rang the bell.

  A couple seconds later, Cook pushed open the kitchen door, carrying a tray with a covered silver dome on it. She clicked across the dining room floor, her stiletto heels tapping out a tense rhythm. Instead of wearing the annoyed expression I expected, Cook smiled at me as she set the tray down and placed the domed plate in front of me. “I hope you had a pleasant sleep,” she said, her voice heavy with a French accent.

  “Yes, ma’am. Dinner smells delicious,” I said.

  “Thank you.” Cook smoothed the skirt of her black silk dress beneath her chef’s coat. She made no move to lift the cover off the food and I didn’t want to be rude, but the smell of the chicken beneath was making my nostrils twitch.

  I nodded at her, hoping she’d get the hint, but she only stood there, smiling, her blood-red lipstick bright against her pale, vampiric skin.

  “Would you like some water?” Cook asked, reaching for the pitcher on the sideboard.

  That’s when I began to drool. The chicken smell was so overpowering, so amazing, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t answer Cook verbally, so I just nodded, holding my napkin to the corner of my mouth to stem the drool.

  She smiled again, pouring the water glass full.

  I looked at her, still wanting not to seem rude, but unsure if she was going to lift the cover or if I should throw it off myself and attack the poultry beneath.

  “For goodness sake, let her eat!” Austin said, entering the dining room.

  Cook rolled her eyes and put a hand on the cover’s lid. “I’m only having a bit of fun.” She laughed. “Here you go, silly pup.” She removed the cover, revealing the glistening chicken, and aside from the first time I ever kissed Austin, it was the best moment of my life.

  I stuck my knife and fork into the breast of the chicken and hacked off a huge bite. Then, remembering Austin was sitting next to me now, I forced myself to chew, to calm down. “Sorry,” I said around a mouthful of the delicious poultry.

  “It’s okay,” he said, pushing a strand of my bangs behind my ear. “Go ahead and eat. You must be starving again. You’re like I was at thirteen, before my first change.”

  While I ate, he pulled out a sketchbook and drew. Between bites, I could see it he was designing something for his father’s band. Fuzz had been serious about making sure everyone at the castle had a job.

  “I like it,” I said, pointing with a drumstick.

  “Thanks. It’s just a sketch. I’ll work on the digital version for the final cover. It’s going to be a live album, recorded the night of the concert. The night of your change.”

  “Listen,” I said, wiping the grease from my mouth. “About that – there might be a cure. Like, an ancient cure. Eva told me.”

  Austin set down his pencil. “You can’t believe everything Eva says.”

  “No, she gave me her word. It’s real, I swear. A legend from the old days, based in truth.”

  Austin’s eyes darkened. “Don’t you think if there was something permanent that I could do to cure myself, I would have done it by now,” he said.

  “But she says there’s a book she read once – I mean, at least that’s something to go on. If we could find it, maybe we can figure a way to prevent the change.”

  Austin shook his head. “I’m well aware you don’t want to be like me.”

  “Dude, you don’t want to be like you,” I said, touching his cheek. “Seriously, what if there really is an ancient cure?”

  “I’ve heard the legend, too, but it’s rubbish.”

  “Oh.” I chewed the inside of my lip, trying not to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” Austin said, taking my hand. “I know it’s going to be hard on you, but we’ve got to wait for the new serum. That’s your true hope.”

  I nodded, the fantasy of the mythical cure fading away in my mind.

  Austin gave me a sideways smile. “I’ve been thinking, love... perhaps we should prepare you for the first change.”

  “How does someone prepare for that? It’s going to hurt and the hair’s going to itch, right?” I said, forcing a small laugh.

  “As a matter of fact, I know of a training class.” He leaned his head toward me, giving me a smile that ended with him nudging me, nose to nose. “And it begins in the morning so you’d better get some rest.”

  “Wait – are you sending me to my room?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “I thought we could watch a movie or something?” I tried not to sound pouty, but it didn’t help.

  “Sorry, wolf pup. I’m wanted in the lab,” he said, kissing the bridge of my nose before heading off down the stairs.

  ***

  It started to snow again later that evening. The big flakes drifting down outside the window reminded me of the old fashioned Christmases we’d had back when my mom was alive. She’d been the type of mom who baked cookies for the neighborhood cookie exchange and knitted special stockings for the mantel. She loved it all. Even when she was going through chemo, she still had us stringing cranberries and popcorn garlands for the tree and sipping hot cocoa with peppermint candy canes for stir sticks. We’d lived in Wisconsin then, and the snow there was thick and had staying power. I couldn’t remember a non-white Christmas when we’d lived in that brick house in Milwaukee. After she died, the holidays were never the same.

  Dad and Honeybun were probably getting ready for Christmas without me at our fancy house back in Beverly Hills, and here I was, spending Christmas week with a pack of werewolves and their vampire friends. What did one give a werewolf for Christmas, anyway?

  On the TV in my room, satellite channels from the U.K. were showing sappy Christmas specials. They weren’t helping me not miss my mom’s old-fashioned holiday celebrations. They made me miss her, and actually, my dad, too.

  I wandered over to the desk and hopped onto the laptop to write him a quick note. When I opened my e-mail account, it was jammed with spam. I ignored all the messages about gadgets and coupons and last minute specials and opened a new e-mail. An official communication from the school had informed Dad of a last minute ski trip for the boarding students, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him know I missed him.

  Hi Dad,

  Skiing’s fun, but nothing like being at home for Christmas with you. There’s a ton of snow here. I miss you. Say hi to Honeybun.

  I figured it was better to be brief so as not to slip up or get caught in a lie. The most important thing was letting him know I missed him. I hit send and closed the computer.

  I flipped through more TV channels, all the while hoping I’d hear Austin pad down the hall, then turn the doorknob to my room. But, even with my wolf hearing, I didn’t sense his approach at all.

  Didn’t Austin know you were supposed to sneak around when your girlfriend stayed at your parents’ house? That was part of the fun, right? Back in the day, I’d been skilled at sneaking out and sneaking back in – I’d had to escape Honeybun a million times in our big house in California.

  Frustrated now that Austin wasn’t coming for me, I got up from the bed. After a quick check in the mirror, I went out into the hallway. My bare feet touched the cold stone floor, sending a chill through my bones. I gently closed the door and wandered in the direction of where Austin had told me his room was.

  As I passed Eva’s room, I could see her sitting at her vanity dresser, brushing her hair with long strokes. She was watching some kind of Muldanian entertainment news show. I paused as a concert notice fla
shed up on the screen with a picture of Fuzz and the band in front of the castle gates. Eva frowned until a second picture, this time of her in a sparkly pink outfit flashed on the screen. She went back to brushing her hair, this time with a huge smile on her face.

  A few steps down the hall, I caught a whiff of something delicious. There was a silver tray outside of that door, mounded with empty plastic bags of pork rinds and along side it, an empty dog bowl that was painted with the name Maxine. I kept on moving down the long hall.

  I gave the air another sniff, trying to catch the scent of Austin. And there it was – the slightly spicy, soapy clean smell of his skin. I gave a quick knock on his door, but he didn’t answer. He must have been down in the lab still.

  I turned the knob and went in anyway.

  The walls were covered with Austin’s paintings and drawings, all framed in black. His leather jacket hung on the back of a chair. On a side table next to the unmade bed, Austin’s sketchbook was open, displaying a half-finished picture of me and him, drawn from a camp photograph. In the smallest possible writing near the bottom of the picture, he’d printed our names. That made me smile.

  Then I turned the page and found a drawing of a woman I didn’t recognize. She looked a bit like Austin, with the same kind smile, the smoldering amber eyes. The name at the bottom read Violetta. That was his mother’s name. Feeling I’d snooped a little too much, I turned the page back to the sketch of us and backed away from the desk.

  I closed his door gently and then headed down to the kitchen. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I found Boris, sitting in a chair, sipping red liquid from a martini glass.

  “You are going somewhere?” he asked, smiling widely with all his teeth and fangs.

  “Looking for Austin,” I said.