The Sleeping Girl

Chapter Twelve

I don't even bother looking back as I sprint after him. I know Mike and Carmela are right behind me. Legs pumping, hair flying, I push myself past shoppers until we reach the woods, ignoring their strange expressions. As I sprint, I know that I'm moving faster than the normal human should be able to go, but I don't care. I have to. Don't even bother concealing it. When inevitably after a short while my calves begin burning and I feel a stitch in my side, I ignore them. I won't stop. Can't.

I'm in the woods now. My feet are flying over the dirt and grass. I have to get him. I can just make out a dark outline between the trees and I'm whipping through the woods after it. 'Tis the unknown, but not for me. I know that I can pull myself through the forest with ease, and I will to murder this dog.

I got nothing out of the vampires. Mike almost died from the sprites. This werewolf is not getting away. 

The world around me almost seems to me moving in slow motion as I whip through the forest. My vision narrows until the beast in the only thing that I can see. And to my relief and satisfaction, I can see that the gap between us seems to be steadily narrowing. I will get him. I know it. Just a little closer...

Bang!

The sudden noise is enough to stop me in my tracks. The sound resonates and echoes through the woods, unnaturally loud in the midst of quiet. I whirl around in the direction that it came from to see Carmela holding a shiny silver object. A pistol. 

"I won't hesitate to kill you," she calls, her voice low and menacing. She stands tall, unwavering. "I've got a gun with silver bullets here. And the moon isn't full so you're not that strong."

Silver is deadly to werewolves. Especially silver bullets. They are the only object that is sure to kill a werewolf. That it's certain that they can't recover. Silver burns through their flesh, leaving a wound that won't close, and then slowly spreading poison through the body. 

Deadly. 

I turn back towards the woods to see the dirty man from the mall comes creeping out from behind a tree. There's a snide sneer on his face, one that I would like to wipe off. He shouldn't be so cocky when Carmela's holding in her hand an object that can lead to his imminent death. He shouldn't be so cocky ever. 

He's a werewolf. And all werewolves on Earth should die.

"Hello Sleeping Girl," growls the werewolf. His voice is low and primal. Inhuman. "Society children."

Hissing, I glare at him. I crouch down, simultaneously reaching into my bag to grab my silver dagger, my eyes narrowing to slits. The amount of hatred I feel for him now is immeasurable. 

I look at him, his scarred, ugly, dirty body. But in my mind's eye, I'm not seeing the forest around me, but the field from all those years ago. The pack of rabid wolves closing in on us. My small hands tightening around the woven basket that we took to the store, clinging to it like it's a life line.

"Run, Kiki," Ailie said, her voice that was always so calm laced with fear. "Run Kiki else our lives be forfeit. You are much too important to die." Her cool hand grabbing my arm as we ran down the path, fleeing for our lives.

"Keela." The voice isn't Ailie, this time, but Mike. It's his voice this time, that draws me out of my memory and back to the present. I realize that I'm in a feral position, poised for attack. Rather hastily, I stand back up. I put one of my hands to my collarbone, feeling the familiar shape of Ailie's necklace. It's familiar, and right now that calms me.

"Are we back from la la land now?" asks the werewolf, mocking me.

"You are a vile beast that deserves to die," I spit out, my temporary peace gone.