The Skin Walker

19 | An Angel

"I would pay the costs to be in your arms again."

From the Grave James Arthur

R U T H

A man laid on the hospital bed with his face turned to us at the sound of the door opening. His laboured breaths echoed through the room, the rasp resonating deep within his lungs. My heart squeezed at the sound. Rueben's father was on his deathbed.

"Ben?" His raspy voice called out for Rueben. "Is that you, son?"

"Yeah, babá, it's me," Rueben replied to his father in a foreign language. I assumed it was Greek.

"Who-" The man inhaled, trying to catch his breath. "You're not alone." His warm brown eyes lingered on my face before glancing back at Rueben.

I did the same and watched as he looked down to me, his face softening. It was like he was at ease and it made me comfortable. Maybe I had been overthinking for no reason at all because Rueben's father didn't look like he wanted to send me away any time soon.

"Who's this young lady, Ben?" Ezekiel asked in a weak voice.

"This is Ruth," Before Rueben could finish introducing me, his father held out his shaky hand, his palm asking for my hand.

The room held some kind of warm, comforting aura and when Mr. Andino locked his eyes with my own, I couldn't help but walk to him. Rueben stayed where he was as I placed my hand in his father's fragile one.

He looked young, but ill. I now knew that werewolves aged more slowly than humans did, so I kept that in mind as I took in this man's face. He appeared to be in his late thirties, but I knew he was much older in reality.

"Can I ask you a question, Ruth?" Mr Andino's smile grew wider, the sides of his eyes wrinkling as he squinted in happiness. They were almost the same shade as Rueben's, just much darker, borderlining the colour brown more than gold.

"Of course, Mr Andino," I said softly.

His grip on my hand tightened, not so much to hurt me, just to keep me beside him. The few creases on his forehead deepened as he took in my face, maintaining eye contact as he asked me his question. 

"Do you believe," He paused to take a breath. "That there could be a chance of my kind making it to Heaven?"

Forcing myself to breathe, I inhaled sharply and opened my mouth to say something. But his question was peculiar. Never in many years would I have thought of the answer to that. It hadn't occurred to me that werewolves had existed for many years before me until now, and I wasn't one to formulate an answer to that kind of question.

"Uh," I cleared my throat and spared a glance toward Rueben.

He wasn't in his spot at the door anymore. Rueben stood in front of a windowsill on the other side of his father's bed. His eyes were looking at the view ahead, but I knew his ears were anticipating the sounds from in here. The pause in my breath, the rapid beat of my heart, the nervous gulp I took as I returned my gaze to Mr Andino.

"I can't give you an answer to that," I replied honestly. "But I can tell you that my mother is religious, and she'd often tell me that her God is a forgiving God. I'd like to think that He'd let you in - that He'd let most of us into His home up there."

The ill man hummed, closing his eyes in response.

"Forgive me for asking such a complex question," Mr Andino's hoarse voice whispered to me after a moment of silence.