by Mac Flynn
The twisted logic in there made my head hurt, and I glared at him. “Not likely.”
He shrugged and walked over to the door. “A little caution is wise, but don’t let your fear of me blind you to what I’ve told you. Goodnight.” He shut the door behind him, and left me with my doubts. Doubts are really indecisive companions.
I growled and tossed another pillow at the end posts of the bed, but that made me freeze. That growl I’d just made was really good, and really real. I glanced down at my hands and arms. They looked as hairless and as chubby as ever. I felt my ears and my hair. Still the same there, too. I frowned and scrunched down between the remaining pillows at the head of the bed. “I’m not turning into a werewolf, I’m not turning into a werewolf,” I chanted. The mental trick didn’t wipe away any of the doubt, but that and the remaining effects of the shot did lull me into a sleep.
6
I was awoken by the sound of dishes clinking against each other. I groaned and sat up to see Alistair at the table with a tray of food and drinks in front of him. He noticed my being awake and bowed his head to me. “Good morning,” he greeted me. Judging by his stern face the greeting didn’t go any deeper than his words.
I whipped my head over to the heavy planks on the windows. They didn’t let in so much as a sliver of sunlight. “I can’t tell,” I quipped.
“I can assure you the sun is still shining,” he replied.
I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him. “I’m really supposed to believe you on anything?”
“No, you’re supposed to eat some food.”
“What? So you can fatten me up so Luke, if that’s his real name, can eat me whenever he gets wolfish?”
Alistair glanced over my thick frame and the corners of his mouth twitched. “I don’t believe that needs tending to.” I admit I walked into that one. “As for the master being hungry when he’s, as you put it, wolfish, he prefers venison over humans.”
This guy was as batty as his master. “And let me guess, you’re a werewolf, too?”
“Yes, though of a lesser family. I was also instructed to change your bandages. If you would follow me into the bathroom, we can proceed.”
I glanced down at my hands. They were stiff, but no longer sore. Still, for any future escape I needed to be healthy. “Fine.” I followed him in there and sat on the end of the tub while he took out the gauze and disinfectant from the cabinet. He measured out the length of the bandages like a seasoned war veteran. “You done this a lot?” I asked him.
“Quite often,” he replied. He turned to me and unwrapped the bandages from both my hands. Some nasty, deep cuts were revealed to me, and I worried about infection.
“Shouldn’t I go to a hospital or something?” I suggested.
The corners of Alistair’s mouth twitched and he shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. The wounds are deep, but not infected.” He turned me so my hands were held over the tub, and then I swear he applied the disinfectant in gallon quantities with an added misery of tamping the wounds down with a dry towel.
With each pat down I cringed and flinched. “Mind being a little more lenient in the torture?” I asked him.
“The torture is necessary,” he calmly insisted. Alistair finished the cleaning and wrapped a new set of bandages over the wounds.
We returned to the main room. I ignored the food and plopped myself down on the bed. Alistair set out a plate and utensils, and pulled out the chair. “If you will be seated we can commence breakfast.” I stared suspiciously at the food. “I assure you it isn’t tainted with wolf’s bane,” Alistair told me.
“And if I refuse to eat it?” I challenged him.
Now Alistair really did smirk. “Then I’ve been instructed to tie you to the chair and force-feed you until the meal is finished, or you throw up.”
I scowled and grumbled, but he had such conviction and glee in his voice and face that I didn’t doubt he’d do it. There was one advantage I held, or rather packed around with me, so I folded my arms across my chest and remained seated. “Make me.”
“Make you?” he repeated.
“Yes, make me.” He had a thin frame that didn’t look like it could lift a child much less a full grown woman who weighted-well, who weighted a lot. Also, if I was going to remain a prisoner here then I was going to make myself the best pain in the ass in the history of prisoners.
He dropped the back of the chair and rolled up his sleeves to show off his scrawny, pale arms. “If you insist.” He marched over to the bed and I made myself as limp as the consistency of jello so he’d have to drag me to the table. There was no way he could pick me up and heft me over to the chair. However, I might have been a tad of with my guestimate of his strength, especially when he lifted me off the bed as though I was nothing more than a twenty pound bag of flour. I yelped and tried to push off his chest and out of his arms, but he held me in a vice-like grip. Alistair swung me down into the chair and produced a rough hemp rope out of thin air. He had every intention of tying me to the chair and force-feeding me. I had every intention of avoiding that terrible fate.
“Wait!” I cried out. He paused with several loops of the rope wrapped around me and the back of the chair. “I’ll behave.”
“You swear it?” he asked me.
“On all the donuts I’ve eaten in my life, I swear it.” Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Believe me, that’s a lot of swearing.”
“I don’t doubt that, but haven’t you something more important than food on which to swear?”
“I was trying to keep consistent with the theme here, but I’ll swear on my life if you want that.”
“That will do.” He unwrapped me and pushed my chair up to the table. Then he just stood there watching me.
I scowled at him. “Don’t you have someone else to torture?”
“I’m afraid you’re my only available victim,” he replied. I didn’t know which was more annoying, what he said or the calm, smooth voice in which he said it.
“So you’re just going to stand there and watch me eat it all?” I asked him.
“Precisely.”
“I can’t eat if somebody’s watching me.”
“You must try.”
“Or else you make me eat?”
“Or else you break your word,” he reminded me. I groaned, picked up my fork and shoveled some food onto it. I lifted the food to my mouth and my eyes inadvertently wandered up to Alistair. He stood perfectly still at my side with his eyes staring unblinkingly down at me.
I dropped the fork on my plate and nodded at the other chair. “Sit down.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“At least sit down so you don’t make me a complete nervous wreck.” He obliged by sitting down and staring at me from across the table. Not a great change, but definitely an improvement. I decided the room needed some noise. “So how long you been working for this Luke guy, if that’s his real name?” I wondered as I picked up my fork and raised it to my mouth.
“It is, and I have been with the family for some seventy years.”
The fork stopped mid-mouth as I stared at the senile old man. “Seventy years?” I repeated.
“Yes, miss, give or take five years.”
“Funny, you don’t look a day over a hundred. Must have started your employment with them pretty early.” I took a bite of the fork.
“Not very early, and I am well over a century old.”
I choked out my bite of fork and dropped the utensil back on the plate. “Can’t either of you two stay sane for more than five minutes?”
“I’m perfectly right in the head, if that’s what you’re implying,” Alistair calmly answered.
“That’s exactly what I’m implying, and anybody who says they’re over a hundred years old when they look like you either has a great plastic surgeon or is lying their ass off.”
“I am neither lying, nor have I had plastic surgery.”
“Then how do you explain it? Your werewolf powers?”
>
“Precisely.”
I slapped my forehead and growled. I froze when he growled back, and I whipped my head up in time to see his face change from a sneer to his stoic expression. “Did you. . .did you just growl at me?”
“Merely instinct. A male will naturally try to subdue the female.” I leaned back in my chair and stared at the man with a touch of fear in my eyes. “You needn’t worry, miss. Now that I am aware of how far along you have progressed I will make sure to keep myself contained.”
“Progressed?” I repeated.
“Toward the change, Miss Rebecca.”
“Becky.”
“Beg your pardon?” he wondered.
I rolled my eyes. “You guys keep calling me Rebecca, but I prefer Becky.”
“Ah.”
“And this change is about me becoming a. . .a-”
“-werewolf,” he finished for me.
“Yeah, that.”
“Yes. The more interaction you have with other werewolves the stronger your Beast grows inside of you.”
The conversation took a turn too weird for me. I glanced down at the plate, then back up at him. “If I finish this plate will you leave?”
“Yes.” I proceeded to shovel the food down my throat as fast as I could, and in record time he was packing up breakfast and leaving the room. He paused at the door and turned back to where I sat in my chair, gorged and grateful to see him leaving. “Master Luke asked me to tell you that we will be leaving for the train station at six o’clock.”
“Ah don’t haf a clock,” I garbled through my stuffed mouth.
“He thought not, and wanted you to have this.” He stepped back over to the table and pulled out a solid gold watch locket which he presented to me. “It is an heirloom of the Laughton family. He thought it would perhaps gain some of your trust if he entrusted you with it.”
I looked from the locket up to Alistair’s face and swallowed the food in my mouth. “Really?” I asked him.
“Yes, miss.”
I hesitantly reached out and took the locket. After a brief struggle I opened the clasp and found a white clock face with hands that slowly ticked the time. There was a jewel at each of the hours cut into the shape of the numbers, and they glistened in the light. My voice reflected my awe. “It’s beautiful.”
Alistair bowed at the waist. “I shall inform Master Luke of your pleasure with his gift when he awakens.”
I looked down at the time, saw it was nearly ten and raised an eyebrow. “That bum isn’t awake yet?” I quipped.
Alistair coughed into his free hand to hide his choking laugh. “I’m afraid not, Miss Becky. He generally keeps late hours and sleeps until noon.”
“Well, tell him I like it and, well, thanks,” I grumbled.
“Very well. Oh, and if you don’t mind my asking, what size of clothes do you wear?” I whipped my head up and glared at him.
“Why?” I slowly drawled.
“Merely to acquire some clothes for yourself for the trip.”
I turned away and hunched over. “Maybe that info’s a little private.”
Alistair stepped into my line of sight and looked me up and down. “Then I will be forced to guess, and I guarantee the outcome will not be to your liking.” I gritted my teeth and told him the sizes he wanted to know. “Good morning to you, then, Miss Becky,” he replied, and left me alone with my present and my thoughts.
7
I took another look at the inside of the watch and the face opposite the clock. Something caught my eye, and I could barely make out a faded name etched ever so slightly into the metal. “Ezekiel Laughton,” I read aloud. I furrowed my brow. “Laughton.” I snapped my fingers as I recalled that was the name Alistair had given to Luke’s family. “Wonder who this Ezekiel guy was. . .”
I stood up and turned to face the boarded up windows. That reminded me that I was still a prisoner in that room, and that I needed to find a way out before they dragged me to that mentioned train station. I stuffed the watch in my pocket and checked the windows. Definitely wasn’t going to get through those without a crowbar. I whirled around and glanced at the door. That had potential because it didn’t have boards on it. I went up and knocked on the wood. It sounded very solid, so breaking through wasn’t an option. The hinges and the knob were my best options, the latter of which was well-oiled and made of thick bands of metal.
I turned to the knob, my last, best hope for victory. That turned out to be relatively unbarred, and unlocked. My mouth fell open when the knob turned in my hands and the door opened, wiping away all my careful efforts at escape in a single swing of mockery. I didn’t have time to yell at myself for not trying the door sooner, though, because I didn’t know where Alistair was. I snuck out into the hall, closed the door behind myself and crept down the passage.
I was halfway to the stairs when I heard the soft clank of shoes on the metal steps. Somebody was coming, so I whipped my head left and right to find a hiding place. I noticed a door on my right was slightly ajar, and jumped into the dark room. The shadow of Alistair walked up the hall and paused at the room I’d entered. I slipped behind the door and held my breath as he stepped inside and flicked on the light. Fortunately, the door hid me from sight, and I peeked around to see what he was doing.
There was a bed on the opposite wall between two windows with heavy curtains. On the bed lay the ruffled, sleeping form of Luke with his hair messed up and his limbs strewn about the tangled covers. Alistair set a breakfast tray on a nightstand beside the bed, stepped over to one of the windows and drew the curtains, casting the room in bright, natural sunlight. It really was a nice day outside, and I hoped I could get out of the house to enjoy it.
The sunlight hit Luke full-force, and he groaned and tucked his head beneath a large pillow. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been trying to escape from his company. He looked like a little boy who didn’t want to get up. “Sir, it’s time to get up,” Alistair spoke up.
“No,” came the muffled reply. I changed my mind. He was a little boy who didn’t want to get up.
“Perhaps next time you will allow me to protect the estate grounds,” Alistair scolded.
Luke sighed and peeked his head out from beneath the pillow. “I hardly had a choice in the matter, Alistair. With that girl here I can barely keep my hands off of her, much less fight the urge to protect her every waking moment.”
“And awakening you is precisely why I’ve come. It’s past ten, sir, and you asked me to wake you at nine.”
Luke groaned. “Call me at eleven.”
“I have your breakfast already prepared.”
Luke sighed. “All right, you win, Alistair.” Luke tossed off the pillow, and it flew over to hit the door and nearly me. “Have you heard anything from Stacy?”
“Nothing yet, sir, but she generally sleeps as late as you,” Alistair replied as he set the breakfast tray on Luke’s lap.
Luke glared at his manservant. “I’m currently infatuated by a young female. What’s her excuse?”
“She finds herself infatuated with you,” Alistair countered.
Luke sighed and shook his head as he glanced down at the tray. “I’m afraid I’m not the one for her, nor she for me. Rebecca’s presence will tell her as much.”
“Becky,” Alistair spoke up.
Luke frowned. “What?”
“She wishes to be called Becky, sir,” Alistair explained to him.
The young master smiled. “She told you that? It sounds like you two made some progress.”
“She knows her mind, sir.”
“Good. She won’t be swayed by anyone else while we’re at Sanctuary. Are the bags packed?”
“Nearly, sir. I’ll finish that right now.” Alistair returned to the door and I froze when his hand fell on the knob. He paused and turned back to Luke. “If I might say, sir, I’m not sure of your choice for a mate.”
The young master looked up from his tray and smiled. “I don’t have any more say in the matter th
an you do, Alistair, but your complaint is duly noted.” Alistair bowed his head, and pulled the door shut behind him. I heard Alistair lock the knob, and Luke turned his eyes on me. I cringed against the wall and prepared for an outburst, but Luke’s smile only widened to a grin. “Good morning,” he greeted me.
“Um, good morning?” I squeaked out.
Luke whipped out his napkin and dug into his meal. “You don’t have to be afraid. I could smell you the moment you entered the room.” I frowned and sniffed my arm. He chuckled. “The scent is very faint, too faint for your senses to pick up just yet.”
“Because you’re a werewolf?” I guessed with a little bit of sarcasm in my voice.
“Exactly.” He gestured to a chair beside a table much like in my own room. “Would you like to take a seat?” I shook my head, and he nodded at the end of the bed. “Perhaps something more comfortable.”
“I don’t think that’s more comfortable,” I countered.
He shrugged and continued his eating. “Then you can keep standing there looking like a sheep in a wolf’s den without a hop of escape.”
“Maybe I’m not done escaping,” I shot back.
Luke’s eyes glanced up from his food. “Oh? I’m afraid leaving by the hall is impossible. Alistair knew you were there as well as I did, and locked the door to keep you from running out that way.”
I looked from the chair he offered to the opened window, both of which were on the right side of the bed. “Then I guess I’ll just take a seat.” I dashed over to the chair, picked it up and heaved it at the window. The glass shattered and the chair sailed out onto the side lawn. Luke’s face twisted into fury and he flung aside his tray to fly out of bed. The dishes cracked and scattered along the floor in a terrible roar of shattered china. I chased after the chair and propelled myself through the broken window, which wasn’t that bright of an idea when I recalled we were on the second floor. My feet met with air and my hands flailed about for something to grab.
