Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"What are we doing here?" Constance asked, shivering in shadows cast by giant rocks.

Constance, Hugh and Carlson stood inside a circle reminiscent of Stonehenge, weak Scottish sun throwing ominous shadows across the grass.

"Roses are beautiful, their aroma unrivaled, but they still have thorns to protect themselves," Carlson said. "We are going to give you thorns."

"Carlson and I have been discussing your continued nightmares, and he thinks if you strengthen your gift and learn some self defense, you may sleep better."

"You have been discussing my sleep habits?"

"Miss Allen, through no fault of your own, you are affecting all of our slumber," Carlson said dryly.

"It's true," Hugh said sheepishly. "Today I heard a maid telling the head housekeeper that she dreamt she was watching a wolf die on an old altar."

Constance's stomach turned. "But they're not supernatural."

Carlson shrugged. "There's much we don't understand about you. What we do know is everyone needs a good night's sleep, including yourself."

"It bothers me that I pass out after I use my power. It seems very impractical." She looked at Hugh. "Power? That sounds strange. It has never once made me feel powerful."

"I know," he said. "Will you let Carlson train you?"

"He can certainly try." She clasped her hands in front of herself to keep from fidgeting.

"Very good," Carlson said. "This will be good for my master as well. He's been very lax in his wolf training."

Hugh muttered under his breath.

"To start, Hugh is going to shift."

"Carlson can keep you safe if anything goes wrong," Hugh said, his gaze unsettled.

She nodded.

Hugh strode toward one of the stone pillars, removing his shirt while he went. Scars crossed his bare chest.

"What scars a werewolf?" she asked, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers over the shiny skin, her heart doing a one two beat.

"Another werewolf," Carlson answered, as they watched Hugh disappear behind the pillar. "His father insisted he train. Though I was always suspect of his methods."

Constance's heart twisted.

"This is good for my master, Miss. To use his wolf for something constructive, to see that the animal inside might be his ally."

A great black and white, brindled canine trotted out from behind the pillar and looked at her expectantly.

"He's waiting for you to make him feel something."

"Like what?" She asked, nerves rippling through her stomach.

"Let's start with an easy one. How about joy?"

"Easy, right." She closed her eyes and tried to think of joy. All she saw was Simon being dropped into the arena. Hugh whined.

"Tell me about Christmas?" Carlson said. "The last one in which your father was in attendance."

"Mother tried to make pudding," Constance said with a smile. "It caught fire somehow, and Da had to throw it in the snow. We laughed so hard. She's an awful cook. Luckily Gran had made a backup gingerbread, and we sang old songs until after Simon fell asleep curled up next to him."

"Very good," Carlson said.

Hugh was wagging his tail. He gave her a short, joyful bark.

"Let's stay away from anger to start. I'm not sure that's the best thing to feed a werewolf."