“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies…
The man who never reads lives only one.”
- George R.R. Martin
In a nondescript room in the ICU ward of the Glenwilde hospital, I’d just had a bomb shell dropped on me.
“How…” I swallowed and licked my lips and tried again. “How am I supposed to convince a judge that I’m the best person to care for Aunt Jo? That I’m…responsible enough to look after another person?”
My goodness, I’d just turned twenty-one, terrified of being an adult and responsible for myself, let alone make the health and welfare decisions for Aunt Jo. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to but how was I going to convince a judge when riddled with so many insecurities?
“Much of what you need is already in place.” Chris assured me. “You are a blood relative, although not immediate and you have been in contact with her.”
“I have hospital records showing that you have been here almost every day, only a couple of days after she was admitted.” Ishani added. “She also sent you the key, although Chris says that isn’t a valid piece of evidence.”
I looked at him, the one solid piece of evidence in my favour going up in smoke.
“Unfortunately the timing of its arrival cannot be verified.”
“And I did what? Break in?”
“You already said you lived there when you were a child. The argument will be made that you had the key in your possession all along,” he waved his hands, “not that I think for one moment that there will be an argument. You will just need to present your evidence before a judge and without any interference, he or she will rule in your favour.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because life is precious,” Ishani explained, “and a judge would rather err on the side of caution. You can’t bring someone back from the dead.”
I shivered. “It’s just…”
“I’ll make a couple of calls and get you in to see a judge well before the deadline,” Chris offered gently, “and I’m going to email you a list of the things you need to provide. It’s mostly just identifying that you are a relative.”
“Does practically living with her for almost ten years count for anything?”
“It’s a bit thin,” Chris admitted, “given that there’s been another decade since then and there’s no…official evidence that you were in her care…”
I closed my eyes.
“Bethany, listen to me,” Ishani leaned forward, “a judge can’t ignore your petition. Even if they don’t rule in your favour, you can appeal the decision. Getting a foot in the door, that’s the important bit right now. We’ll look at the financial juggling act if and when we get to that point but you should not have to suffer the loss of your aunt before you’re ready when there is opportunity for you to stall it.” I nodded. Ishani leaned down to catch my eye. “Are you okay?” I nodded again. “I’m sorry, Bethany…there’s never a good time to have this discussion. I’m glad you have a friend with you today.” She stood up and I mimicked her actions, numb through and through. “Keep an eye out for Chris’ email.”
“My mobile number will be on it. Call if you have any questions. I’m here to help.” He insisted.
I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. I would have been surprised at Bastian’s presence just outside, his back leaning against the wall, one foot hooked up and his arms folded…but I didn’t have any emotions with which to react. It was like they were all trapped in a glass, soundproof box, bashing madly to get out but unable to be heard except for a dull thudding now and then.
“Hey Bethany,” Bastian greeted, “come on, let’s get you home.”
I nodded and walked alongside him out of ICU, down the corridor, through the foyer, out the front doors and was about to leave the entrance when my knees gave way without warning. Bastian caught me, his arm scooping around my back, beneath my arms, holding me upright.
“Bethany…don’t give up on me now.”
“I…I have to…” The world was swimming. I was dangerously close to blacking out.
“I know. I heard.” Bastian looked around. “Taxi stand. Come on.” I sagged against him in the taxi which took us swiftly back to ‘House of Figs’. Had I the presence of mind to be embarrassed, I would have burned in shame as he swept me into his arms and carried me through the gate and into the café. “Rob! Faelan!”
“I think…I’m going to be sick…”
“Bathroom.” He took me upstairs as my body was flushing hot and cold. “Bethany…Bethany you have to breathe…”
I scrabbled at my throat, the most overwhelming panic I had ever known saturating me.
“I can’t…I can’t!”
“Yes you can,” he stroked my hair, “you can’t scare me off, Bethany…go on. Be sick. It’s okay.”
The heat in my body surged out of control, pushing up my throat and I promptly vomited until there was nothing left inside. Bastian cleaned my face and got me a glass of water to rinse my mouth out with. He picked me up and took me to my room, lying me in bed and easing my shoes off.
“Rest now, princess,” he brushed at my hair, “I’ll look after you.”
I dozed fitfully for a while and woke to discover a cup of tea on my bedside. I was weak and dry. I picked the cup up and drank it down in one gulp. My cardigan was draped over the end of the bed. I picked it up and pulled it on as if it could be any defence against the world. I opened the door and discovered a long pair of legs stretched from one side of the corridor to the other.
Bastian looked up from his book. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Like a fool.” I admitted, raw and embarrassed.
“Well…you have a right to feel like it,” I burned with shame as he stood up, “doesn’t mean you are one.”
“Oh really?” I swallowed. “Let’s recap. Aunt Jo has approximately four weeks before they pull the plug on her, I’ve got a controlling, domineering perfect cousin breathing down my neck and I have been tasked with saving the world.” I folded my arms. “Did I miss anything?”
“That seems pretty conclusive.”
“So, with all that in mind, what do I do? Have a crippling panic attack!” I sighed, my head throbbing.
“Come on,” Bastian grasped my arm and led me downstairs, “you need something to eat, something to drink and a bit of elven healing.”
“It’s a headache,” I muttered, “I’ll just grab painkillers.”
“Why when you have an elf ready to help?”
“Because,” I yanked myself away, “I’m twenty freaking one! I’m supposed to be an adult, have it all together, be able to be responsible…I should not have panic attacks and have to be carried home! I should be able to do this on my own.”
“Who said?” I opened my mouth to argue then clamped it shut. Bastian stared at me with his yellow eyes. “Who said you had to live life on your own? Even in a pack of wolves, when one falters, we all rally and support the wounded one.”
“Aren’t they a stupid burden?” I asked bitterly. “Wouldn’t you be better off getting rid of them, like chewing a limb off if it was caught in a trap?”
“What a callous world that would be.” Bastian said quietly with strong authority. “Imagine how arrogant we would all become if only the strong survived…how quickly would we believe our own delusions. Those who need care cause others to develop compassion and strength.” I hugged my arms around myself, feeling the dreaded sting of tears again. “Would you consider your aunt a lost cause?”
“No!” I exclaimed in instinct and saw his grin. “Alright, alright…I get it.” I huffed. “I just wish I could care for others more instead of always being looked after.”
“You already do.” Bastian said enigmatically, marching me down the stairs to where Faelan and Rob were waiting.
“Bastian heard everything and relayed it to us.” Rob said before I could speak. “Query, how are you, Bethany St James?”
“She has a headache.”
Faelan took my hand. “Allow me.”
“Faelan,” I whispered, “without the divine light of Iffah…”
“A headache is a small thing.” He assured me and in a moment, the throbbing had eased and I didn’t feel like I was squinting at them.
“Rob, can you give us a nice, succinct, logical breakdown?” Bastian asked, bringing me a salad with marinated lamb, grilled perfectly and drizzled with a tart yoghurt dressing.
“The facts, as I have been given, are this.” Rob paused. “Johanne West’s coma falls under the care of the public health service and due to the lack of change, the recommendation will be to ‘unplug’ her. This can be circumvented if Bethany St James presents before a judge that she is a valid and responsible carer.”
“Oh help…” I leaned forward.
“However,” Rob said and I peeked up, “it is my understanding that simply starting these proceedings will be enough to circumvent the public health service deadline.”
“Even if the judge does not rule in your favour,” Bastian nodded, “you can appeal immediately and that keeps the case open and your Aunt Jo still in care of the public health service.”
I breathed out, hearing them speak so easily, feeling it inject calm into my body.
“The only concern I have,” I tensed and looked at Rob, “is the point Bastian raised about a challenge to who would be appointed carer.”
“Who else is there?” I said then groaned. “Oh no…”
“Kendra…” Faelan shook his head. “Why would she want to be carer?”
“Because the carer would be given the responsibility of Jo…and responsibility of Jo would lead to…” Rob gestured around him.
“She would control ‘House of Figs’?” Faelan asked incredulously.
“That would be her end game.” Bastian nodded. “Being carer would be enough to usurp Bethany. Even if she didn’t kick her out, Kendra would maintain primary control.
It was a damning picture.
“Going before a judge would be bad enough,” I moaned, “let alone going up against Kendra. She’s perfect!”
“Query, is unkindness and condescension deemed qualities of perfection?” Rob asked.
“No but…” I sighed. “She’s polished and well spoken…and doesn’t have panic attacks and cry at the drop of a hat.”
“I saw no hat dropping at the hospital.” I whacked Bastian’s arm lightly.
“What are the chances that she will not find out about the proceedings?” Faelan asked.
“Slim to none.” Bastian said sharply. I looked at him and he grimaced.
“She was there, today, wasn’t she?” I paled as he nodded.
“Was she able to see Jo?” Faelan looked at Bastian.
“I heard her voice at the nurse’s station,” Bastian explained, “she was asking about visiting Jo. The nurse said she had to verify Kendra’s identity as strangers are not allowed to walk into ICU willy nilly. Kendra handed over the information and said she would be back tomorrow.”
“Visiting consistently would be a good way of demonstrating care and attention.” Rob admitted.
“Bethany has been visiting for two months.” Faelan argued.
“And was absent for ten years prior,” I moaned, “I already know that Kendra visited several times during my absence.” I looked at Rob. “She knows, doesn’t she? She knows about the three month deadline.”
“I think we would be foolish and remiss to imagine that she would not have researched care responsibility and any loopholes she could exploit.”
“I don’t suppose I could call the hospital and have her banned from visiting?” I said, knowing I sounded a little spiteful.
“It may serve to work against you, as though you are isolating Jo from anyone else and manipulating the situation to your own end. I would not put it past her to phrase it in that manner before a judge.”
“Good grief…that woman…” Bastian growled.
“As a silver lining, even if Kendra were to be named carer, she would not allow Johanne West to be unplugged.”
“Because it would mean she would lose control over ‘House of Figs’.” Faelan realised.
“I bet that’s just another loophole away. Once she figures out how to retain control over ‘House of Figs’ legally, she’d shed Jo like a limb caught in a trap.” Bastian muttered and I looked at him. “Besides, could any of us truly fathom working here if she was in control?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her to fire each and every one of you…and me.” I sighed. “I suppose I just…I need to get the paperwork in order.” I stood up but Faelan put his hand out to stop me.
“I would recommend quiet and rest tonight.” He urged.
“And I can compile any and all information we have in anticipation.” Rob tilted his head.
“You see,” Bastian waved his hand, “in a pack, we all support each other.”
“There’s not much that I get to do.” I murmured.
“Rubbish. You get the most important job of all.”
“What’s that?”
“Telling Rafael tomorrow.”
I grimaced. “I think I will have that quiet night in to prepare myself. Jet was coming round…but he was just going to show me what an otome game is. That’s pretty relaxing…I think.” I stood up. “I’ll have a shower. I feel all…blurgh.” I headed towards the stairs then paused and turned around to face the three of them. “You know…solving the riddle of the haikus might be more important than we realised. If there’s any chance of helping Aunt Jo, I’d bet it is in the meaning behind them.”
“Then I will redouble my efforts looking for the one in my world.” Bastian pushed back his chair and stood up. “If I ever find it, I will return immediately.”
“Thanks.”
By the time Jet arrived, I had washed off the stress and swear of the day. I still felt wrung out but, because Jet was Jet, he didn’t notice if I was a little quieter than usual.
We sat on the lounge and he showed me his game console and some games to choose from.
“I dunno. Which one do you think?”
“They’re all by the same developer,” he shrugged, “this one is about gangsters and an innocent girl from a religious family.” He pointed to the next one. “This is about literary characters, this one is about fantasy characters…”
“When you say characters…they’re all guys?”
“Yeah, that’s what an otome is.” Jet nodded. “One girl and a selection of guys to choose from.”
“When you say choose…”
“Whose path you follow is based on the choices you make as certain situations come up.”
This was making my already strained brain ache. I tucked my feet up on the lounge.
“Are these games…or stories?”
“They’re visual novels.”
“This doesn’t really sound like your kind of thing,” I admitted, “I mean…otome games with one girl and a whole bunch of guys in a story…don’t you prefer levelling up and battling heinous beasts?”
“Most of the time but these are stories with different paths to take.”
“Like choose your own adventure?”
“What’s that?”
I sighed. “Okay, well…”
“This is probably the best one,” he picked up a case, “the paths for the different guys tell smaller, yet complete portions, of the grand whole.”
I pried the little cartridge out and slotted it in. “So,” I asked as it was loading, “is there a range of guys to choose from?”
“There’s usually the overt flirt, the moody wounded soul, the innocent youth, the angry warrior and the enigmatic gentleman.”
“Five,” I nodded, “I see why you like it.”
Jet looked at me. “Huh?”
“Five.” I met his gaze and saw nothing but confusion. “You like the number five.”
“I do?”
“Come on Jet,” I laughed, “five guys in the game. You brought five games over,” I gestured to the cases in front of me, “you tend to put five things on your plate, you got out five glasses at your Pops’ place when you only needed two…your shirts are in piles of five…” I stopped rattling all the instances off when I saw Jet’s stricken face. He looked at the games and then his eyes unfocussed in thought and I could see he was imagining his wardrobe and the glasses on the counter. “Jet?” He swallowed, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t you know?”
He shook his head, stunned. “No. I didn’t realise I was doing it…” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Have I…always done that?”
“I don’t know.” I admitted, wishing I could take it back. “It’s not a bad thing…”
“Yeah…but I really do…don’t I?” He shook his head. “Why do I do it?”
“Well…” I cringed. “You’re kind of…”
“If you use the word ‘special’…” His mouth turned down.
“No,” I was grateful he’d stopped me before I did, “not ‘special’ like a sarcastic thing…but you do have…spectrum traits.”
Jet licked his lips. “I…I did hear the term ‘Asperger’s suggested to my mum once but she refused to listen. I looked it up myself…I know I do some of the things on it…”
“High functioning?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he grimaced, “as high functioning as a kid with behavioural issues in schools overwhelmed with troubled students can be. How do you know about it?”
I licked my lips, recalling my hated private school years.
“A girl in my class at the private school I went to used it as an excuse for everything. Any kind of bad behaviour, she’d declare, ‘you can’t victimise me. I’m a high functioning Asperger kid’.” I shrugged. “I don’t doubt she had the diagnosis or she wouldn’t have lasted so long at the private school cause it was so strict about behaviour…but it became a catch cry for everything, even when her behaviour affected or intimidated others. She was really smart but kind of volatile, which meant she was an easy target for bullies. Her locker was obsessively arranged and detailed, a sort of sanctuary for her, especially when things were rough. One day, the lead bully who liked to torment her, was able to get a key to her locker and set up an ink bomb inside, triggered when the door was opened.”
“Yeah…I can see where this is going.”
I nodded. “Dark blue ink exploded and covered everything, splattering her as well. She stood there, stunned…horrified…her world upended. The bully was nearby, filming everything probably to put on social media…but she didn’t count on the violence of the reaction.”
“What happened?”
“I just know it could have been a lot worse,” I swallowed, “some of the students dragged her off the bully before a teacher intervened…I think the girl was trying to beat the bully’s brains out.”
“And this was at a private school?” Jet shook his head. “I thought public schools were bad. What happened to the girl with Asperger’s?”
I looked out of the window, seeing the faintly lighter form of the Observatory or Folly, as we now knew it as, against the forest and night sky backdrop.
“Expelled.” I said quietly.
“The bully?”
“Came back to school talking spite about ‘spastic kids’. Seemed really unfair seeing as she’s the one who started the trouble. I did wonder what happened to the other girl.” I shivered then looked at Jet. “Some of your behaviours made me think of her…kind of.”
He leaned forward and sighed, his shoulders bowing. “No wonder you were scared of me.”
“I wasn’t scared of you,” I paused, “I didn’t understand you…I still don’t sometimes.”
“I don’t even understand myself,” Jet admitted, “I mean…five? When did I start obsessing over the number five?” He looked at me sharply. “Are you sure?”
“Jet, I’m really sorry…” I looked at the game console and put it down. “Maybe we should do this some other time.” I could see he was distressed by my observation and I wondered if I’d done more harm than good. It had never occurred to me that he hadn’t known about his need to group things by five. “Hey, so…any new information about the Folly?”
“Uh…not really.” Jet blinked, trying to refocus his mind. He got out his phone. “I…five…”
“What?” He held up his phone, the apps arranged sparingly on each screen in groups of five. “It’s not a bad thing.” I insisted.
“It’s not normal!” He retorted then paused, closed his eyes and seemed to be counting. His brow furrowed and he flinched. “Damn it!” He roared, standing up.
“What?”
“Even my ‘count down and calm down’ starts with five!”
“Jet,” I stood up, “Jet, I’m sorry!” He pushed his hands through his hair, grimacing. “What were you going to say? What about the Folly? What were you going to show me?”
He sank onto the lounge, his fingers flexing in and out of fists. It took him a while before he picked up his phone and opened a page.
“I…I looked up the books.” Focussing on something other than the revelation of ‘five’ seemed to help calm him down. “So, ‘Synthetic Love’ was written first, back in the seventies then ‘The Bloody Tale of the Vampire Queen’ in the eighties, ‘Running with Werewolves’ in the nineties, ‘The History of the Highborn elves of Ilanard’ at the turn of the millennium and ‘The Omnibus of Dragons’ not that long ago.”
“Some of them are quite old.”
I mused. “Did you
hear back from Legendary? Have the
same people been involved in the project the entire time?”
“No,” Jet admitted, “no one at Legendary is old enough to umbrella out over all the publications.”
“So it has to be an author!” My heart began to beat faster. Maybe, just maybe, I could circumvent the need for the haikus by figuring out the secret of the books. It could even lead to a cure for my aunt and mean I wouldn’t have to stand before a judge!
“That may be but then I did a detailed search of the authors and found out that Elliot Gould, Peter Phillipson, who wrote the elves book and Todd Meatheringham, who wrote ‘Running with Werewolves’ are pen names.”
The silence that followed was so completely numbing I could hear the clock on the wall ticking away, letting me know that my ability to comprehend was being measured with every tick and tock it made.
“Wait…they’re not real?”
“They’re real but they’re not their real names.”
I closed my eyes. “So…we don’t even know who the authors really are?”
“The publishing company admits they’re pen names but won’t say who actually wrote them.”
A wave of despair crashed over me, so thick it was like drowning in tar.
“Then…everything we know…it’s useless.”
“Unless just one person wrote all five under pseudonyms?”
“But we still don’t know who!” I snapped, standing up. “Who did this to us? Who manipulated our lives like this? Who hurt Aunt Jo?”
Jet looked at me helplessly. “Maybe no one.”
“What?” I knew I was getting angry but I was tired and thin skinned. I spun around and glared at him. He shrugged.
“What if her coma is completely natural? What if it’s one of those unexplainable things?”
I gaped at him. “It was your idea!” I blurted. “You’re the one who said…”
“I said if!” Jet trembled. “If!”
“Screw if!” I snapped. “I need answers, not if!” I was spiralling out of control, the image of me standing before a judge, pathetic and immature while Kendra, polished and professional, weaselled her way in to take away that which I had come to think of as my home and those who surrounded me as family. I sat down and put my hands over my face, grinding my teeth in frustration.
A minute or two later I hear a light shuffling. I peeked out from between my fingers and saw Jet sitting quietly, withdrawn and stiff, packing up his games and console. His face was impassive…almost hard.
“What are you doing?”
He paused for a moment and then, without meeting my gaze, continued to pack his games up.
I watched him work, aching for someone to hug me…and for whatever reason, I really wanted him to be the one who did. But he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder and headed for the door.
“That’s it?” I demanded and he hesitated. “You’re leaving?”
He was stiff as a board in the doorway, face down, mouth set in a hard line.
I held my breath.
“I told you before,” he said flatly, “I’m not good with people…you’re too…messy.”
I pressed my hand against my chest, his words cutting me to the core.
“I’m…messy…”
Jet half glanced in my direction before shaking his head and leaving.
I sank onto the lounge, my hand over my mouth, hearing his footsteps recede and the front door, open and close.
“I’m…messy…”
In that moment, after everything I’d said and done, there couldn’t be a better way of describing me.
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“Query,” Rob appeared on the threshold, “are you alright, Bethany St James?”
“No,” I whispered, “I’m messy.”
The next day, when I visited the hospital, Dr Ishani asked whether I could verify that Kendra St James was a relative of Johanne West.
“She’s my cousin, not really related to Aunt Jo…but she has been in contact with her more often than I have been in the last ten years.”
And with that admission, Kendra was put on the visitors list.
I left the hospital, dejected and frightened.
On the way back to ‘House of Figs’ I paused in front of Gary’s house, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I heard someone shuffling across the front room and the door opened.
“Hi Gary.”
“Bethany St James, what a pleasant surprise. I was just having a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
“Sure,” I followed him into the house, “uh…is Jet here?”
Gary turned to me, surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“He came home last night having made up his mind about it all of a sudden…”
“What?” I urged quietly.
“He bought a train ticket to the city. He’s gone to visit his mum for a bit.” My shoulders sagged. “I thought it might have been your idea. He hasn’t been at all interested in trying to reconcile with her and then, out of the blue after a visit with a tender soul like yourself…”
“No…he didn’t say…and it wasn’t my idea.” I swallowed. “But I think it was my doing. We kind of…had a fight.”
Gary raised his eyebrow at me as he poured the boiling water into two cups. “Jet isn’t the kind of kid to fight. He just gives his own blunt, unfiltered opinion then distances himself from the chaos. I don’t have real milk. Long life okay?”
I nodded even though I only drank it if I had no other choice. Gary stirred it in and set the cup in front of me.
“It was more that I fought with him…I lost my temper.”
“What on earth could a young thing like you have to lose your temper about?”
“Oh…lots of things.”
Gary drummed his fingernails on the table. They were in need of trimming. He seemed more decrepit than ever.
“He’ll be back and you can apologise then, if that’s what you came to do?”
“I did message him,” I swallowed, “he didn’t reply.”
“Ah,” Gary sighed, “well…I doubt very much that his mother’s new boyfriend will tolerate him in the house for long. Jethro will come back. He always has.”
I sipped my tea, stomaching it with fortitude. “Gary…did you know that Jet was a little…”
“An oddball? Special? Different?” Gary shook his head. “He was called all manner of things growing up. I think, had he had a more…diligent mother, better school and/or teachers and his needs were less ‘high functioning’, he would have been identified much earlier on.”
“You sound like you know a bit about it.”
“I’m invested in that kid.” Gary admitted. “Had a soft spot for him ever since I met Debbie. Little kid, big eyes…lots of potential being strangled by being misunderstood because of his odd behaviours which escalated during his school years but he eventually plateaued. Just needed somewhere safe to be.”
I closed my eyes, put my elbows on the table and pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“He was safe…and I chewed him out over something that wasn’t his fault…Gosh I’m an idiot!”
I felt deep wrinkles on my arm and peeked out at Gary.
“Don’t you worry about Jethro. You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Tell him I’m really, really, really, really…really sorry.”
“That’s a lot of reallys.”
I smiled sadly. “Five of them.”
After swallowing the tea as best I could, I headed back to ‘House of Figs’. To my unending relief, Kendra had not chosen to visit that day. I put my apron on and served the customers quietly and did my job as best I could. I was glad when I could hang the ‘closed’ sign on the door, pressing my forehead against it and sighing so deep I thought the earth would swallow me up.
“Bethany?”
“Jet’s gone.” I said quietly, knowing that they would hear it even if I whispered. “He went back to his mum’s place.”
I hated the silence that filled the space, feeling the guilt of having driven him away.
“Did he reply to your text?” I shook my head.
“The pride of men can be a fickle thing,” Bastian declared with an air of authority, “I am sure, when he has a chance to calm down, he will respond.”
“I can’t help but think, how would Aunt Jo have handled it?” I sighed. “Then I start to doubt that I even knew her all that well…”
“When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself and grow up?” I turned and stared darkly at Rafael who didn’t look at all intimidated by my glare. “So the last ten years have been a bit of a nightmare…so what?” He stacked the bags of coffee beans on the counter, making sure that they made a nice presentation, unaffected by my ire. “You had ten wonderful years with Jo acting like a second mother to you. You have been entrusted with the gift of a key to a place that she loved and treasured. You have people around you, actively working to help and support you. Who cares that your cousin is a piece of work or that your parents had a less than stellar marriage? A lot of people have to get by with a great deal less.” Rafael shook his head. “The world does not revolve around you…but this world, this little café and the people in it, need you.” He wiped his hands on a tea towel and tossed it on the sink. “Maybe the world you’re meant to save, the world your aunt wanted you to save, is this one…just by you showing up and standing strong,” his eyes were not scathing but they were firm until the final words of his speech when they flickered and his brow betrayed grief, “even if she never wakes up.”
At the start of his rebuke, I had been all fired up to respond but by the end, I was dressed down and introspective. Rafael rolled his eyes and walked past Faelan and Bastian, heading for the back door.
“I’m done for the day.”
I headed upstairs and had a shower, checking my phone frequently for any messages. There were none. I watched a movie which helped distract me from my thoughts for the two hours it played and then I found myself back to worrying and feeling guilty.
Rob was working in the office and Faelan was resting in the fig tree. I wandered downstairs to riffle the dessert cupboard. To my surprise, Bastian was in the kitchen.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked without accusation.
“I thought I’d get some of my prep work done ahead of tomorrow.”
“You mean you decided to stay behind to keep an eye on me?” I paused and winced. “Or is that just thinking the world revolves around me?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned…” Bastian leaned on the counter. “What are you after?”
“Something sweet,” I saw his eyes sparkle, “and no, I don’t mean a kiss.”
He pretended to clutch at his chest then leaned down to look in the glass cabinet.
“There’s a single piece of raspberry cheesecake slice?”
“Sounds good.” I grabbed a stool and dragged it to the counter as Rafael put it on a plate.
“Sorry it lacks the elf flair.”
“It still tastes good.” I argued, putting a chunk of it in my mouth and chewing slowly.
Bastian put the meat away, filled the sink and washed the dishes, giving them a quick wipe before putting them back where they’d come from. Then he cleaned off the counter.
“I feel like the bartender in a pub where the lonely customer bares their soul.” He remarked, leaning towards me. “So, what’s troubling you?”
I swallowed my mouthful.
“Even if what Rafael said is right, that the haikus aren’t meant to save Aunt Jo…she still deliberately put them in each of the worlds connected to the Observatory. They’re important and somehow connected to saving the world, whether that means all of it, or just ‘House of Figs’.” I pondered out loud. “I have to find them…if just to follow through with her wishes.”
“That’s sounds like a perfectly…no…oh no…” Bastian shook his tawny head at me.
“I have to!” I begged. “Bastian, I have to find the haiku!”
“I’ll find the haiku. You’re in no fit state.”
“I know I’m a mess,” I blurted, following him as he began to walk to the back door, “and I can’t promise I won’t mess up…but you’ve looked for the haiku and haven’t found it. Doesn’t that mean it could be something only I can find?”
“Bethany, you collapsed yesterday, in my arms which was quite the heroic look for me I’ll admit,” Bastian preened then turned serious, “but your health is of great concern to me.”
“My aunt’s life is in danger! Screw my health!” I grabbed his arm and held tight. “Bastian,” he breathed out hard and deliberately, “please…take me to Alte Fehde. Just to the places Aunt Jo used to go when she visited. You took her before. Take me.”
He sighed and looked at me. “How can I resist the plea of a beautiful woman?”
“Is that a yes?”
He nodded. “Yes, I will take you.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No,” he snorted, “I have responsibilities here as well as there. The day before ‘House of Figs’ has a day off, we’ll leave at closing time. That’ll give us three days in my world.” He chucked my chin. “Will that ease your mind, princess?”
“Yes, very much so.” I let go of his arm.
“Then that is what we’ll do.”
Rob and Faelan were less than enthusiastic about my decision to travel to Bastian’s world but they admitted that Bastian was one of the most qualified to protect me. Well, Rob admitted that. Faelan looked grim and questioned the werewolf several times on the matter.
“You will take particular care not the allow Bethany to develop an illness? If you do, you must summon me at once.”
“I’ll be fine.” I insisted, packing a few things into a bag as it rested on my bed. Bastian had urged me to do so as travelling to the different locations and the time it would take to search, would mean I’d be in his world for at least two nights.
“I am more concerned about Bastian’s amorous sensibilities…” Rob admitted right at the moment I was packing a pair of pjs.
“I swear,” the handsome werewolf put his hand over his heart, “to be a gentleman the entire time…unless I need to become a werewolf.”
I sighed and gave him a shove. “You’re not helping.” I muttered then looked at the other two. “I will be careful and cautious and fine. I’m more worried about leaving ‘House of Figs’ short staffed.”
“I have already altered the social media sites to reflect that hot meals might not be available due to an absence of staff.” Rob reassured me. “The café has suffered staff shortages before. It bounces back.”
“I am more concerned about what Rafael will say when he finds out about our deception.” Faelan looked at me.
The decision to not tell Rafael had been mine as well. I wasn’t sure what he would say or if it would trigger more aggression in him. He had worked silently and sullenly since his scathing rebuke and I felt like I’d been walking on egg shells around him. There hadn’t been much of an opportunity to let him know.
“Just tell him I’m trying to stand strong.” I said at last. “He can’t exactly argue with what were his words.” I looked at Bastian. “Do I need a coat?”
“I would assume so. I have a natural pelt yet feel the chill sometimes.”
“Right,” I took my fake fur lined coat from the hook on the back of my door, “I think I have everything.”
“Then we leave as soon as possible today.”
Kendra was in the café for an hour, working on her phone with her manicure tapping away. I was so wound up about the visit to Alte Fehde that I couldn’t spare her any of my anxiety.
When the doors closed and locked, I turned and eyed Bastian. He was wiping his hands, gazing at me.
“Ready?”
“I’ll just grab my bag.”
Rob and Faelan walked us to the Observatory and Bastian opened the door. I had never really looked through his doorway before. It was quite dark on the other side.
“Is it night?”
“No, just indoors.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
I glanced back at Rob. “I will be careful.” I promised him again.
He nodded, handing me a torch. “I will monitor your phone for any messages from Jet.”
I swallowed. “I…didn’t ask you to do that…”
“Forgive me, my intuitive programming must have presumed you would want me to communicate with him should he message you.”
I sighed. “Actually, yeah…in case he calls or texts, just say again how sorry I am. I’ll be back in a day…or three…the time difference confuses me.”
“Take care.” Faelan urged then shot Bastian a sharp look. “You too.”
Bastian didn’t answer. He just gave a devilish grin which I knew was meant to rile Faelan up before he took my arm, slipped it through his and led me across the threshold. The light from my world gave me a glimpse into what I’d entered which looked like little more than a cave.
“Bastian, where are we?”
“Just outside a supply room which we can no longer get to because it takes us to the Observatory but there wasn’t much in it anyhow. Come,” he picked up my bag, “the exit is this way.”
I sighed and turned to wave at Rob and Faelan before closing the door. Immediately the world turned pitch black. I calmed my breathing and turned the torch on. I nearly shrieked at the sight of two pinpricks of light glowering at me from a corner. They disappeared.
“What was that!”
“My eyes.” Bastian admitted. “That torchlight hurts. Could you perhaps point it in another direction?”
“Oh…sorry.” I aimed it at the ground and the light dispersed.
“It is alright, my princess.” He began to draw me along the tunnel. “This way.”
We were in a network of caves and tunnels, steadily climbing upwards.
“Is this where you live?”
“It was where we once lived, or rather, where we pretended to live.”
“Huh?”
“It will become clear in a moment. Watch your step.”
“It’s a little…tight…” I cringed at the walls.
“Really?”
“You’re a lot taller than me. How are you not…”
“Must be the wolf in me.” He shrugged. “Through here, this is the main den.”
It was a much larger cave with a mouth that was half covered with bramble. I didn’t need my torch in this cave. There was light coming through…and quite a cool breeze.
“Come, I want to show you Alte Fehde…”
He left my bag inside the mouth of the cave and ducked his head out. I followed, taking his hand and was drawn onto rocky ground which gave way to wispy grass and stubborn wild flowers. We climbed the rise to our right to where the whole of Alte Fehde opened up before me.
I had never been to Scotland but as I gazed at the craggy mountains, the thick gorse with clumps of flowers spread over uneven ground, two lakes shimmering like mirrors in an afternoon sun and the scent of an untamed wildness in the air, I felt like I’d just stepped onto the set of ‘Braveheart’. The sky was streaked by clouds as though someone had taken a large brush and dragged it across the sky. Golden sunlight, proper honey flavoured sunshine, soaked the clouds in the distance and drenched the ground beneath, making it look like the land was covered in gold. Above our heads, the clouds weren’t so streaked, softening a little as the edges feathered in darkening hues of grey.
“Wow…” I breathed. “It’s incredible!”
“I know.”
I suspected he was looking at me when he spoke and chose to ignore it. I pointed to a plume of smoke in the distance, within stone walls if my eyes were seeing it correctly.
“Is that where your clan lives?”
“That? That’s a human settlement.”
“Oh.”
“We would never live in the open like that. We do not even live on this side of the Wand.”
I turned to ask him why he’d brought me here when I lost the capacity to speak.
Bastian had always kept his ‘wolfness’ under control at ‘House of Figs’. I’d only seen his tail once and his ears, a handful of times. Now, however, he’d shed his jeans and boots and his white shirt…which would mean he was naked…except from his abdomen down, he was covered in tawny fur that matched his hair. His legs were muscular and his feet were now paws and claws. His long tail whipped through the air as though happy to be free of its confines, emerging from just above his shaggy backside. His chest was bare but he was putting his arms through a sleeveless vest, quilted soft blue fabric with thick ribbing around the hems and even wider over his shoulders. Toggles kept it closed at the front and the back was split to allow his tail to drape comfortably. His ears had reappeared and his hair was even more luscious and wild than before.
“Lost for words?” He preened. “I have that affect…”
“You are such an arse…” I muttered. “Were you stripping right behind me?”
“I did not want to ruin my jeans. I’m partial to this pair.” He said petulantly.
“Unbelievable.” I sighed then studied him. “You are much more…wolfy here.”
“The air calls to me, begs me to shed all trappings and run endlessly.” He smiled, his pointed canines adding to his werewolf look. “However, we have places to go.”
“Yes, so…why did you bring me here?” I looked back at the cave. “That’s not your stronghold?”
“No. Look up.”
I did and nearly toppled over. The ridge we were on was about the last point you could get to without proper climbing equipment…or wings. There was a mountain range behind us that was as jagged and inhospitable as Rafael’s attitude.
“That’s…high.”
“It is the Wand.”
“Wand?”
“From what I understand, it means wall.” Bastian looked up at the range without cowering before it like I wanted to. “It seems many words in our language originate from German, at least, that is what Jo surmised.”
“I thought your culture was more Viking-like, like people who might speak Norse or Icelandic languages.”
“I can’t tell you what was going through the writer’s mind when they chose the names. Perhaps they liked the sound of it. From what Jo tells me, there was a significant wall in the German homeland.”
“They tore it down before I was born.” I admitted.
“No man could tear the Wand down,” Bastian chuckled, “and should it ever fall, so too, would the Wolfgang clan as I know it.” He held out his arm. “Now that you have seen Alte Fehde, shall we go to Befest?”
“Befest?”
“It is the name of the Wolfgang stronghold. It is on the other side of the Wand.”
I shuddered. “You don’t expect me to climb it, do you?”
“I will take you on the same path that my great grandfather took when he discovered our sanctuary.” I followed him back into the den where he picked up my bag. “The going gets quite narrow at times. Best to walk behind me but let me know if you need me to slow down.”
“Okay.” We began to descend the way we’d come then took a turn and before long, I was completely lost. Thankfully my torch remained bright and Bastian’s voice carried to me along the tunnel, distracting me from the claustrophobic pinch of the walls and low ceilings.
“Back when my great grandfather ruled the Wolfgang clan, they lived on the same side of the Wand as the humans. There is an abandoned bastion that has been used as a waystation should we need somewhere to stay or for training.” Bastian’s voice had a wonderful texture to it and drove away by fears. “It has a lot of memories in it. I like to visit it, to remember our past.”
“Did Jo ever visit it?”
“She did.”
I halted. “Wait…then maybe we should go there first. The haiku could be there.”
Bastian turned around and flinched away from the light which I was quick to point behind me and out of his eyes.
“It is too far to travel to now without needing to cross open land and it will soon be night. In a pack, I would not hesitate but if a human hunting party were to attack just the two of us, I would not be able to adequately protect you or run away as fast as I could with you on my back.”
“That’s more than fair.” I nodded, realising I needed to acquiesce to my werewolf guide’s extensive experience.
“Also, I have duties in my world. I must return to my clan now and then.”
I blushed, feeling selfish. It was easy to forget that Bastian had the weight of responsibility on his shoulders of leading an entire clan. Most of the time he was just the light hearted, flirtatious grillardin of ‘House of Figs’.
“You were saying…about your grandfather?”
He helped me down a slippery set of steps and we continued. “My great grandfather, having attacked some humans and being wounded, climbed up the Wand and found the den we came in through. The humans didn’t follow. They probably thought he was as good as dead. But my great grandfather found that, before the Wolfgang clan had ever come to this region of Alte Fehde, a river had run through this mountain and, over time, it had created a honeycomb network of tunnels and caves. Once he was healed, he returned, mapping the tunnels until he found that they emptied out into a valley on the other side.”
I had to be careful as I followed Bastian, not to step on his tail.
“I’m guessing he liked what he found?”
“Very much. Untouched land, a river, plenty of food sources…and inaccessible except through these tunnels. And that was probably the biggest drawcard of them all.”
“How so?” Bastian had to duck his head for a particularly low portion of tunnel.
“Werewolves and humans have had an extremely bloody history. Occupying the same land as humans meant each could easily attack the other. And werewolves were once humans, so there is an inherent need to have a home…but a home means a place to be attacked. It can become a target but the alternative means we constantly roam. It wears you down, the fear that you are never entirely safe.”
“That would be exhausting.”
“So, over the course of the remainder of his life and the start of my grandfather’s, the Wolfgang clan moved resources and clan members around the humans, up the mountains, through the tunnels and out the other side where they could build a proper stronghold.”
“And steer clear of the humans entirely?”
Bastian paused and sighed. “Actually…the stronghold also afforded my clan the opportunity to raid human settlements and then flee into the mountains. Unless the humans were fast enough to track the werewolves, they would never discover the den. The narrow passages makes it impossible for a full scale assault and there are three exits, two of which are known only to clan leaders, so even if the humans block one, we can get through another.”
“So it was a strategic move?”
“A large portion of it. Fortunately the Wolfgang clan was taken up with relocating for several years and building their new home…but when my father took over…” He paused and I thought, for a moment, that his shoulders bowed. “It seemed he felt the need to make up for ‘lost time’…and became known as the most bloodthirsty werewolf ever.”
This clearly bothered Bastian deeply. We were walking side by side now, the tunnel having widened considerably.
“After his death, I decided to run the clan very differently. I wanted to develop a werewolf culture, not one based upon another’s suffering or the amount of kills counted. Befest was the perfectly place for my dream to be realised…though it is not without its opposition.”
“I’m guessing you mean from other werewolves?”
“Most are not driven by a need for violence but some are downright sneaky and insubordinate and think nothing of eavesdropping on conversations between a werewolf and his lady guest…”
I froze when I heard a soft huff that came from somewhere ahead in the tunnel. A pair of shining dots looked around from around a slab of stone that had hidden him from the light of my torch. Just like Bastian, he was werewolf from the hips down with a tooled leather vest hanging open, exposing his chest. His fur was also tawny but a little lighter than Bastian’s. He was also slighter in build and two inches shorter.
“Had I been hoping for some spicy details, I was deeply disappointed.” He pushed off the wall with his tail and approached us, giving me a very light glance. “Is there any point to asking where you’ve been?”
“None.”
“And you’ve brought another human to Befest?”
“Bethany,” Bastian gestured to the unknown werewolf, “this is Armin, Captain of the Wolfgang Militia.”
“Hi.” I said quietly, getting the feeling that Armin was not pleased to see me.
“Why are you skulking in the darkness?” Bastian demanded without heat.
“Waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“The conclave meets in four nights.”
“Yes, I am aware of the passage of time and the shape of the moon.”
Bastian took my arm, giving me a reassuring smile and we began walking again, Armin falling into step beside his leader.
“You’re going to go, right?”
“All they are going to do is cast a vote on attacking a human settlement,” Bastian shook his head, “they will vote yes, I will vote no, there will be much arguing and accusations and nothing will change.”
“Maybe there wouldn’t be arguing if you just said yes once in a while.”
“Armin…” Bastian had stopped and his second in charge turned to look back at him. “You are my friend and my brother in arms…if you want to leave the clan, then you may with my blessing…but do not ask me to be less than I am.”
Armin grimaced and rubbed his neck before grabbing Bastian’s arm and pulling him away to have a somewhat hushed conversation. Unfortunately for them, the tunnel echoed the words with almost perfect clarity.
“You are trying to do too much, attempting to change the nature of werewolves.”
“It is not nature. It is habit, an addiction to violence. I will not continue in that way. I refuse.”
“You of all people ought to know the need for vengeance.”
“Then you ought to respect me, of all people, when I call for peace and not war.”
Armin shook his head. “I trust you, my brother…but the others…it’s bad enough when you refuse the conclave but when you bring humans here…”
“Bethany and Jo have nothing to do with the humans in Alte Fehde. They are my trusted friends.”
“Friends?” Armin snorted. “Well, I suppose the other one was a little older than you but this bitch is young enough to be able to provide several litters…is that where you’ve been disappearing to? Finding a mate amongst the humans? Are you out of your mind? How could she possibly survive here? Or did you have your way with her and she begged to be brought back here?”
Bastian let out a deep throated growl and Armin dropped his hand which had been pointing at me.
“My reasons for bringing Bethany here are my own. I owe her more than I can say. And as for the ‘others’ that I notice you did not name, tell them to come to me next time instead of sowing dissent like cowards.” Bastian looked back at me and held out his arm. Despite taking it bringing me that much closer to Armin, I hurried to do so, safer by Bastian’s side than standing out on my own. “Are you coming?”
Armin sighed and nodded. We walked down the tunnel as it began to curve and then, there was no need for my torch anymore. The tunnel wall was so thin that in places, it had broken through and down the slope that we were descending upon, they acted like windows, the tunnel heading for an open end.
“Look, Bethany,” Bastian gestured to one of the windows, “Befest.”
I had to go on tiptoe to look through the gap. Befest had been built around a cleft in the mountain. The gap was so big that there was a large, round flat space at the bottom and where the mountain ended, the werewolves had built buildings out of a base of stone and then the upper floors, from logs. Towers and bulwarks that stretched around, filling the open side of the cleft, turning it into a fortified cave.
“It’s like a giant den.” I gasped, looking at Bastian.
“I believe that was my great grandfather’s impression as well,” Bastian nodded, “this path leads down to the innenhof…er…inner court. That’s where the militia train when not plotting an insurrection…”
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Armin muttered.
“That larger building is the keep which is where my chambers are. The towers and walls are almost unnecessary as the valley keeps us safe so much of their interior has been rebuilt as kitchens and residences.”
“The whole clan lives inside this space?” I marvelled.
“Some live on the outer wall, preferring the open space of the valley. The gate is never shut and the members of the Wolfgang clan my come and go as they please,” Bastian eyed Armin, “well, maybe not all.”
“You’re hardly a member. You’re the leader.”
I hopped down and we continued to walk down the path, the wall ending so that our descent was able to be seen by all. There were numerous werewolves, children I gathered from their slighter and shorter build to Bastian and Armin, playing a game of ball. They looked very human, almost no wolf traits except for a pair of ears here and a tail there. Once of them saw us, the effect with like a Mexican wave and suddenly they were all staring.
“Not the friendliest welcome I’ve ever had.” Bastian chuckled.
“It’s me, isn’t it?” I cringed. “Bastian, I’m sorry…if I didn’t need to find a way to help Aunt Jo…”
“Hush,” Bastian soothed while Armin’s brow furrowed, “most of these children have never seen a full blood human before.”
“They’ve seen Aunt Jo, though…right?”
“She was only here briefly and not many saw her. On top of that, time runs much faster here so they were a lot younger.”
A group of older werewolves, women I supposed as they were wearing tooled leather tops that only just covered their breasts, beads and small adornments decorating their hair, glowered at me. They were older so their bottom halves were all wolf but the children were mostly human and wore short trousers and shirts over their skin. The clothing looked like it was falling apart in places.
Their eyes, yellow and sharp, were on us as we descended into the inner court. One particular wolf, a striking woman with darker fur than Bastian so that it was almost black, glared claws and teeth at me. Her eyes were different to the others, bright blue and piercing.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” I whispered.
“Come now, you are my guest,” Bastian said loudly, “and as such, you will be afforded all the hospitality that the Wolfgang clan can provide…yes?” The women in their cluster turned away, quietly muttering. The dark furred woman gave me one final glare before striding off.
“Christel is going to have something to say about this later.” Armin remarked.
“You think?” Bastian chuckled. “I can deal with Christel…unless you want to take her as your mate?”
“She has no interest in me.” Armin chuckled, his canines showing. He was quite handsome. “Besides, a union between the eldest daughter of a clan leader and the captain of your guard is just asking for a challenge of Wolfgang leadership.”
“You could lead, and Christel would make a formidable alpha mate.”
“Sounds like you’re plotting your own insurrection.” Armin tilted his head. “Oh, I should probably warn you that Dietrich wants to see you the moment you return.”
Bastian groaned. “Let me guess…”
“He seeks to challenge you for leadership.”
Rather than be concerned, Bastian was annoyed. “Not again…”
“It has been a month since he last challenged you. It was bound to happen.”
“When will the pup learn? Can’t you fight him for me?”
“I’m already doing plenty in your absence.” Armin cleared his throat and nodded. “I hope you sharpened your claws.”
I looked where he’d nodded and spied a young werewolf male, probably in his late teens or early twenties, striding across the inner court. His face seemed to be hardened into an expression of anger and his hands were already tightened into fists.
“Bastian Wolfgang, I challenge…”
“Dietrich…must we go through this?” Bastian interrupted before the challenge could be announced.
“Do you yield?”
Bastian sighed and turned to me, putting my bag into my hands. “One moment.”
“Bastian…” I whispered urgently. He winked at me then turned to Dietrich who was lunging at him without hesitation. Bastian easily sidestepped, tripping the younger werewolf up, sending him crashing into a stack of barrels. He got up, growling furiously. I backed away into a crowd of werewolf children and teenagers. I felt one of them touch my arm and looked at a young woman, possibly seventeen years of age.
“Are you really a human?” She whispered.
“Uh…yeah…” I said, trying to watch the fight.
“Do you really wear wolf fur to keep warm?”
“What?” I was horrified then saw their eyes on the fur of my coat. “No, no, no,” I unzipped it and held it out to her for closer inspection, “it’s fake. It’s not real. I promise.”
“Oh.” She sniffed it then tilted her head. “Why wear it?”
“Because…wolf fur is warm,” I grasped at some vague facts I knew about wolves, “it makes sense to make a coat for humans with fur in it to keep them warm. We don’t have fur like you do.” I hoped fervently I have not just insulted her. I came from a culture where to remark upon the appearance of someone, however accurate it might be, was to invite offence and anger.
The girl wasn’t bothered by my observation. She was a remarkably beautiful werewolf with soft white fur for hair with a few dark streaks. She must have been reaching the end of her maturity into being a werewolf as her lower half was covered in white fur, she had a tail and a pair of ears and the most beautiful eyes I’d seen. Bastian’s eyes were amber and bold while hers were pale blue with big black irises.
“If humans can make fake fur…why do they hunt animals for their hides?”
I had no answer to that without trying to explain my world and then remembered that wolf hunting still existed in it though I could see of no valid reason except taking out a predatory wolf.
“I wish I knew.” I said softly then looked back at the fight. Bastian was barely exerting himself. “I hope he doesn’t get hurt.”
The girl snorted. “Dietrich is a fool. He challenges Bastian every time Her Majesty has passed over us with her thinnest smile.”
“Elke!” The girl and I turned to see the dark furred werewolf woman behind us. “Come away from there.”
“Yes sister.” Elke bowed her head and hurried to Christel’s side as fast as her limp would allow her to go. The older werewolf glared me.
“Keep away from my sister, human.” She snarled, baring her teeth at me.
There was a gasp behind us so before I could even register the shock of being threatened, I turned to see Bastian holding Dietrich by the scruff, his legs kicking above the ground. Bastian adjusted his jaw.
“Not bad,” he said and I realised Dietrich had landed a blow, “one day you may be able to best me…but not today.”
He cast him down. Dietrich stumbled but did not fall. I notice that Bastian did not hurl him to the ground in order to humiliate him.
“You mock me…” Dietrich seethed.
“I do not,” Bastian said calmly, “but I would recommend that you take up my previous offer and join the militia. Under Armin’s instruction, you would become a formidable warrior.” Dietrich spat at Bastian’s feet and stalked away. Bastian sighed. “Or not…”
“My lord,” a werewolf appeared that struck me as quite unusual but apart from the fact that his fur was grey, I couldn’t place why, “welcome back.”
“Thank you Jurgen.” Bastian looked over at me and held out his hand. I quickly joined his side. “Bethany, this is Jurgen, my steward. What Armin is to the militia, Jurgen is to the running of Befest.”
“My lord flatters me.” Jurgen said with a bow. He seemed a kindly soul with a quiet authority. “Bethany, welcome to Befest.”
“Thank you.” I said sincerely, relieved someone was pleased to see me.
“Any news I should be aware of?” Bastian asked.
“A scout reported the possibility of a bear taking up residence at the far end of the valley. It is believed to be female and must have taken great risks to cross the mountains.”
“Well…unless it comes as a pair, it won’t last long here.” Bastian mused. “The valley is so generous that we need not worry about encroaching on each other’s territory. Have a scout lay eyes on it weekly. If another appears or this one is with child, we’ll have to deal with it.”
“Very good, my lord.” Jurgen bowed. “I shall ring the bell for the evening meal.”
As he walked away Bastian turned to me.
“Are you okay?” I blurted.
“Me?” Bastian asked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh…you were just in a fight!”
“There was no danger. I could have ended it at the first blow.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I didn’t want to break his pride. One of these days, I hope he’ll see that I’m trying to help him become the best he can be.”
I stared at Bastian. “He hit you!”
Bastian laughed softly and touched his chin. “I felt it, that’s for sure. But I was momentarily distracted by Christel’s threat to you and Dietrich took advantage.” He leaned close to me, his amber eyes gleaming with mischievous light. “I can’t tell if you’re good for my reputation or bad.”
“Bad, definitely bad.” I insisted.
Bastian laughed and walked me into the keep just as the bell rang for dinner.
Two hours later I was in a room of the keep which was warm, dry and quiet. If I stood in the doorway, I could have made out the voices of the feast still going on in the large hall but the hefty wood door was closed and the only sounds in my world were the crackle of the fire and the rustle of a muesli bar wrapper. There was a single, large window which took in the view of the valley and a trunk pushed up against it, serving as a kind of window seat. The window was covered with a tapestry that could be pulled aside so that the view could be enjoyed but as it was pitch black outside, there seemed little point.
The bed was a large, thick square against the far wall. I wasn’t sure what the mattress was stuffed with, but it wasn’t as soft as I was used to. However, there were ample blankets and furs draped over it to make it pleasant enough to sleep in. The bedhead was moulded from mud, possibly over countless applications to create a moon scape over a howling wolf. There was no other furniture in the room but there were a number of unlit candles in a pile near the fireplace. It was unusual in that it didn’t have a hearth in the traditional sense. The floor had been made to dip down in a semi-circle around the fireplace so that the cinders could be contained but there was no metal grating around it. There was a chimney which was made from wood yet it had been lined, and probably most of the floor and walls, with the same clay as the bedhead had been moulded from. Hanging from the walls were tapestries or skins of animals so that any gaps that did make it through the wood and then clay, were kept from letting cold air into the room. Even though I was technically in a log cabin in the mountains, there was no cold breeze to be felt. The room was perfectly warm.
I sat on the bed cross legged and ate my muesli bar as I watched the fire dance.
There was a muffled knock on the door and I looked up as Bastian’s face appeared around it.
“I thought you would not yet be asleep.” He remarked, entering the room. “Was the feasting a little rowdy for you?”
“Not so much rowdy as I felt like every other werewolf was glaring daggers.” Christel and Dietrich at the end of the table with hard expressions on their faces had been difficult to ignore.
“I apologise…”
“It’s understandable,” I added before he could go further, “I mean, we don’t exactly have a stellar history between wolves and humans, not even in my world let alone werewolves and humans.”
“It is a constant thorn in my side.” Bastian admitted. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “I thought you might have left because the food was not to your liking.”
“You already thought it might be a little…raw.” I lightly accused as I held up the muesli bar. “I know why you told me to bring some of these along.”
“Ah yes,” he gave a slightly embarrassed shrug, “our feasts do tend to be a little…carnivore palette heavy.”
“Apart from the mead.” The potent smelling brew had been passed around and I’d hastily declined.
“Mead and meat. A werewolf’s diet.”
“You mean, mead, meat, meat and more meat?”
“What can I say? We’re wolves.” Bastian shrugged.
“Yeah but…some of it was practically raw.” I froze. “I didn’t offend anyone, did I?”
“Only because they cannot see past their own prejudices.” Bastian insisted. “I did ask Jurgen to make sure some of it was thoroughly cooked.”
“I think he might have overcompensated by sending it to hell and back.” I cringed. “I’m sorry…”
“You have nothing to apologise for, princess.” He walked to the fire and gave a log in it a nudge. “Honestly, I wish werewolves would eat more like humans.”
“You do. You eat all kinds of things at ‘House of Figs.” I hung my legs over the end of the bed. “You aren’t just a grillardin. You prepare salads and sometimes do grilled or roasted vegetables. You make dressings, chips with that fantastic dip that’s got a kick to it…”
“Don’t forget bread.” Bastian chuckled. “I love bread. I remember the first time I tore into a sourdough loaf…my world exploded.”
“Really?” I couldn’t see the appeal but maybe, if I’d never had bread before, the taste of it could be incredible.
“After seeing what we eat, is it any wonder?”
I thought about it. “I guess so…but that’s the wolf side of you. There’s the human part too. Wouldn’t that mean there’d be more on your feasting table than just meat.”
“We tend to have a wolf’s metabolism.” Bastian gestured to his body, his vest open and his muscular chest showing. “The wolf craves meat and the human side…just got tired of begging for tomatoes or bread…or milk.”
“Really?” I leaned on my legs, studying him. “You like milk?”
“Oh,” his eyes rolled in his head and he flopped to his knees and leaned on the bed, “milk…is my favourite part of ‘House of Figs’.”
“Milk?” I got a fit of the giggles.
“I am bearing my soul, here!” Bastian chortled and peeked up at me. “Why do you think I drink coffee?”
“I’m guessing because it has milk in it?”
“Exactly.”
“Why not just have a glass of milk?”
“It’s what babies suckle from their mothers!” I laughed some more. Bastian straightened up. “I have a reputation to protect!”
The walls absorbed my laughter with a kind of finality, like the words spoken within would not travel outside of it.
“Why not…just get a cow and milk it yourself?” I asked when the laughter had died down.
“Uh…wolf.” Bastian sat back on his haunches, his tail flicking out behind him. “Even if we look completely human, I smell like a wolf.”
“And?”
“What cow is going to let me get within a hundred yards of it?” He raised an eyebrow. “Even if it was trapped, I guarantee you, I could never milk it.”
“Okay, I admit that’s a problem.” I sighed.
“Not as big of a problem as trying to make our own bread or cultivate our own land for vegetables and a harvest.”
“Huh?”
“Too much like human behaviour.” Bastian shook his head, his tawny locks rippling. “We reject it because it’s too much like what the humans do…”
“Sowing wheat for bread, cultivating land…they’ve cut a lot out of their lives that would benefit them.” I paused. “Do werewolves…resent the human side of themselves? I mean, you were human once.”
Bastian snorted. “I was never human. I have always been and always will be, a werewolf. I was born a werewolf and I will die a werewolf. Not a human. Not a wolf. A werewolf.”