Chapter 5: | First Encounter
Jack frowned at the word. Lycanthrope. He was sure he knew that word from somewhere…
He opened the book up. A bookmark slithered out towards him like a leathery tongue.
The page was filled with old pictures, and woodcuts. One showed men dancing with arms outstretched around a large cauldron. Jack couldn't help but read the faded text.
… men would strip to the waist and then rub pungent ointments upon their bodies. Then each would wear a girdle, cut from the pelt of a wolf or the skin of a hanged murderer. Together they would spin and gyrate around the cauldron, inhaling vapors of hemlock, camphor, and extract of Belladonna, and call upon evil spirits.
They would pray to Satan and the old gods that the wolf inside each man would be released to feed.
Jack found himself swallowing hard. He turned the page and stared transfixed at chilling pictures, things he could never have imagined. The artist had used only scratchy black ink, but the drawings seemed so real that Jack could almost hear the screams, and smell the blood.
He turned the page again. A series of illustrations showed a screaming man being tortured and Jack focused on the description inscribed beneath the pictures.
Punishment of Peter Stubbe, the first man in Europe accused of being a werewolf, in 1632.
At the bottom of the page were some dull red-brown splodges. Jack's senses twitched. He knew in an instant that they were blood stains.
Before he could stop himself, he bent his head and touched them with his tongue. The dusty paper stuck to his mouth. And something stirred deep within him.
Convulsing suddenly with horror and disgust, Jack threw the book against the wall. His insides squirmed. What had made him do that?
Suddenly, someone was standing in the doorway. A girl. In a black dress.
It could only be Wes's sister, Ava.
She was tall – almost as tall as her father – with long, dark hair that fell to her slim waist. Her wide green eyes stared out from a pale striking face and were fixed on him.
Flustered, Jack opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue was burning. He stood there sweating, silent, and paralyzed.
'What are you doing?' she asked sharply. 'This is my room.'
'Ava?' Jack began. 'I'm sorry … '
'Get out of here,' she hissed. The candle flames danced again as she swept past Jack, into the room. 'Go on, leave.'
Jack felt the room spin around him. Wes was right. He should've stayed put, in bed. Safe in his little cell. 'I didn't know it was your room,' he said groggily, holding up his chapped and swollen hands in apology.
'I see your hands haven't healed,' she said, her voice a little softer, sadder.
Jack stared dumbly at his fingers. 'The river bank … Deadly Nightshade.'
'Deadly—' Ava's short, high laugh was humorless. 'Whatever else you are, you're no boy scout, are you?'
'Huh?' Jack frowned.
'Deadly Nightshade – Belladonna,' Ava elaborated. 'You won't have seen it anywhere near the riverbank. You won't see it growing anywhere in the state … '
What was she talking about? Ava's angular features kept blurring in and out of focus. 'So, the Belladonna on my hands … ' Jack murmured, ' … how?'
Was Ava shaking, or was that just his vision swimming again?
'Cultivated. Here,' she said quietly. 'Get out of this house, Jack. While you still can … '
Jack could hear approaching footsteps. And at the same moment, he realized Ava wasn't angry or frightened by him. She was frightened for him.
The footfalls drew closer, then two dark shapes loomed in the doorway.
'Jack?'
Groggy as Jack was, there were no mistaking Marcie Dane's matronly tones.
'You should be in bed, Jack.'
Jack heard Hal's deeper voice say quietly, 'I thought we were keeping his door locked?'
'Must've been Wesley,' Marcie muttered back. 'You know what the boy's like. No sense.'
Ava had fallen silent now.
Jack's eyes closed. He felt his legs buckle, and then a pair of strong arms caught him and carried him out of Kate's bedroom, along the landing back towards his own.
The next thing Jack knew he was back in bed, shivering with cold even while his body felt like it was burning up. 'Ava,' he said indistinctly. 'Her books … the pictures … '
He heard Marcie laugh, a thin, reedy sound. 'You're not scared of those old things, are you, Jack?'
'Perhaps he's scared of Ava.' Though Hal was almost hidden in the shadows at the foot of the bed, there was no hiding the smile in his voice.
'That's not true, now, is it?' Marcie seemed to be telling Jack more than asking him. She held a glass of water to his lips, and he obediently sipped. It tasted strangely sweet. 'Ava and you have a lot in common. You'll see. You're going to get along great.'
As they left the room, Jack was already slipping away, back into the dark place.
He just about heard the lightning-quick turn of the key in the lock. And then he was falling straight back into his nightmare …
He was running again, over that black and featureless plain – but this time, on all fours. The yellow-eyed shadow beast was there again beside him, setting the pace. Sweat prickled his aching body as he bounded along faster and faster, unable to stop.
He woke suddenly, heart pounding, bones aching like he'd been running for real. For a few confusing moments, to be chasing like that, to feel that power and strength, seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
*****
Two more days crawled by, slowly and sweatily. Now Jack was feeling a little better, time hung more heavily about him. Like the thick, smothering blankets he always kicked off in his fitful sleep.
He decided it was time to assert himself.
'I need to get back home,' he announced to Marcie when she came to bring him soup one evening. 'My family will be freaking by now.'
'Uh-uh,' she said with a sad shake of the head. 'Sorry, honey. The causeway is still flooded. No way out.'
'But the police could get through, couldn't they?' Jack screwed up his nose as Marcie placed the soup on the table. It smelt of cumin and ginger, almost overpoweringly so. 'Or an air ambulance. They could bring Mom and Dad here. You know, just to see I'm OK.'
'They could if we could get a message to them,' Marcie agreed. 'But we can't, remember?'
Jack couldn't believe it. 'But what if you ever had a real emergency here?'
Hal stepped into the room, grave-faced. 'We look out for ourselves pretty well, Jack. We keep strangers away. If people around here realized who I was, I'd never know a minute's peace.'
Jack slumped back into his heavy pillows. 'I … I appreciate that Mr. Dane, and I'm grateful for everything you guys have done, but—'
'Just drink your soup and relax, Jack,' Marcie soothed. 'I reckon that causeway should be safe to cross by tomorrow afternoon. And if it is, we'll drive you straight back to your folks. OK?'
Jack stared at her, almost afraid to believe it. 'You mean it?'
Marcie looked him straight in the eyes. 'Would I say it if I didn't mean it?'
'Now drink your soup,' said Hal. He smiled reassuringly before ducking back out of the room.
'Thanks,' Jack told Marcie, hugely relieved. He began to eat. The taste was incredible. Tom found he could pick out the exact flavor of every vegetable, every herb. His head was buzzing, his heart tripping out at the thought of seeing his family again.
As Marcie turned to leave, Jack quickly called out to her. 'So, I guess I don't need the door locked anymore, right?'
'Right,' she agreed. 'In fact, I thought you might like to come to join us downstairs later. Ava's anxious to say sorry about the other night.'
Jack put down his empty bowl, his mood suddenly more wary. 'Not a problem,' he muttered.
Marcie nodded. 'I'll call for you later,' she said with a smile, leaving the door wide open behind her.
Jack was left staring at a plain slab of the passage wall. Dark crimson. The color of congealed blood.
He thought of Ava and a shiver went through him. She just didn't fit in, back in Twin Falls, you know? Wesley had told him. Bad stuff happened. Real bad.
A part of him wanted to get out of bed and pull the door tightly shut again. 'You've been stuck here too long,' he muttered to himself. 'You're going crazy. Tomorrow you'll be out of here. Everything's gonna be fine.'
Bored and restless, looking away from the open door, Jack found himself listening to the clatter of pans in the kitchen downstairs. Sound sure did carry in this house. He could even hear the hungry sizzling of oil in a skillet around raw meat. Burgers. The smell was almost overpowering. His mouth began to water, so fast he could barely swallow the saliva down. He hadn't realized just what the heavy oak door had been shutting out all this time. Shit.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone