Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Thirty-Six

Hugh normally slept fitfully, the monster inside him restless. But tonight he was sleeping harder than he had in years, which was why it was such a shock to be ripped from sleep as violently as he was. He lay on his bed panting, fear pressing in on him as if someone had buried him alive.

It's the wolf, he thought, adrenaline shooting through his veins. The beast's trapped, my human self. He was sure it was true. He lifted his arm slowly, fully expecting to see a hairy paw, but his human hand greeted his eyes. Fear continued to crawl over his body.

Am I having a heart attack? He stumbled from the bed, his legs shaking, confused. Something was very wrong.

Fresh fear rolled over him again, and that's when he understood. This wasn't his; tinged with self loathing and regret. His heart sped. If this was Constance, something was very wrong. He made it to the door as quickly as possible, unsteady on his feet.

In the hall, dread pulsed and rolled like a blanket of fog he could feel but not see. His human instincts screamed at him to run, but the wolf inside him kept going. He would protect his pack.

The wolf pushed him down the hall, his heart pounding, sweat slick on his back and palms.

Simon was standing outside his and Constance's room, his eyes wide, his chest moving erratically. Hugh's dogs stood next to him, tails tucked between their legs, their ears back. When he saw Hugh, he pointed at the door. "She's asleep. She won't wake up." He hunched over, covering his ears with his arms.

Hugh filed this away. The boy was not supernatural. What did it mean that he could feel this, too? He put his hand on the door. All of Hugh's worst fears pulsed in the room he was about to enter; Hannah bleeding on the floor, Constance dismembered, his people, his village razed to the ground. He couldn't swallow. The wolf took hold and pushed the door open.

When he saw her, his own fears melted into the background. He could still feel a palpable terror, but it wasn't his and no unholy visions met his eye. He rushed to her.

She was thrashing in her bed, her arms stiff at her sides as if they alone couldn't move. He thought at first she was in the throes of a fit, but Simon was right. She was asleep, trapped inside a nightmare.

"Constance," he said, shaking her shoulders, afraid that she might not wake.

"Don't make me hurt him," she mumbled between clenched teeth.

And then he felt it; All the love you've ever felt is a lie. He was so shocked he stepped away from her. As soon as his hands broke contact, he couldn't hear the slithering hiss of the words, but he could still feel them like knives in her chest.

"Wake up. This is just a dream." He touched the side of her face tentatively.

All the kindness ever offered to you was nothing more than a reflection. Ripples in a pond. And he saw a flash of himself standing beside her at Bunsall, his lips on hers. Sorrow slithered through the room, snaking around her wrists and ankles. Her jaw clenched, her eyes moving behind her eyelids.

He was unnerved. "Constance, wake up, please!"

She screamed through clenched teeth. And he knew without words, without a vision of it in his head, that she was watching someone die in front of her. She blamed herself because she was powerless to stop it, and she hated herself because it was her fault. It was too much for anyone to feel.

He sat beside her on the bed and cupped her face in his hands. "Constance," he breathed in her ear. "It is not real. Wake up." He pressed his forehead against hers, letting all her emotions wash over him. "It's alright, you're safe here. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

The fear was building, but Hugh refused to let himself get lost in it. He took her fisted hand and began rubbing it. "He can't hurt you here. Wake up."

Slowly her hand un-balled, her muscles eased, and then she blinked her eyes open. She looked at him and then cried out in relief, grabbing at his shirt, trying to pull him closer.

"Are you real?" She asked desperately.

He wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight against his chest, her breathing rattling in and out as she shook against him.

"It was just a dream," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"They were making me kill you," she whispered, still half asleep. "They were using me to hurt you."

She shuddered against him, and she felt so frail. He allowed the wolf a moment to imagine Baines's neck in his jaws, the man's blood flowing over his muzzle. "I'm here with you," he said once the wolf had settled. "They can't hurt me and you can't hurt me."

"What if I can?" Something haunted her voice.

He sighed. She was afraid of who she was, and that was something he understood all too well.

"I'm not afraid of you, Constance." He ran his fingers through her hair. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Stay with me?" Her voice shook.

He knew it was terribly improper, but he found he couldn't say no.

Simon crept back to the doorway.

"It's alright," Hugh said. "You can come back in."

He hesitated.

"I'm going to stay if that's alright."

The boy looked so relieved Hugh almost laughed. Simon came in and curled back up in his bed, Hugh's dogs on either side of him, and then Hugh stretched out next to Constance. She settled in under his arm.

It was too easy to be here beside her. The way she fit next to him, as if she were meant to be there, was so tantalizing. His mother's voice tried to tell him how dangerous it was to imagine a life filled with love, but he continued to run his fingers through her hair, anyway. And even after she fell back asleep, he didn't leave.