Ravenwood(97)
She awoke at the sound of a howl.
Hayter.
It was as off-tune as ever, screeching across her eardrums and raking its long, horrible talons down her nerves.
And yet, and yet…
Elinore sat up and turned her head toward the sound, trying to hear it better.
In the silence after the howl, Elinore looked down at Caleb. He stirred slightly in his sleep, a frown across his face. Should she wake him? Elinore sniffed the air and still smelled a lingering scent of blood and pain. He had not healed entirely, even with the sleep that Mrs. Davenport had induced. If she woke him, he would try to stop Elinore, try to face Hayter himself. He would be no match for an Alpha wolf while injured.
A second howl from Hayter broke through the night, ululating and louder than the last. Elinore felt the pull of it in her breastbone - a thick tug against her inner workings, as though there was a length of rope affixed to her chest and Hayter yanked on it ruthlessly. She lurched to her feet and stumbled out of the room. She could feel claws on her toes and looked down to see the rest of her right fingers similarly clawed. Would she shift the entire way? Would Hayter care if she did not?
Thinking became increasingly difficult. Not that her brain did not work, but it was hard to hold more complex thoughts in her mind. She moved down the stairs, wanting to drop to all fours, but not quite knowing how. Movement off to her side caught her eye and she wanted to snarl before she caught the person’s scent.
Pack, her mind supplied. It was one of the men from Ravenwood, who’s name… she could not remember now. But he was pack. Elinore kept moving past him, through the foyer, to the front door and outside.
The moon was full - so fat and heavy in the sky it could drop to the earth from the sheer weight of it. She squinted at its brightness - more silver than yellow as it rose. She wanted to throw her head back and howl at it herself, but no, no. She had work to do first. She had a home to protect, a den to keep safe, a pack to secure. The grass was cold under her feet, the earth soft and she could feel the claws of her toes, sink into the ground as she moved. Hayter howled again, louder now that she was outside, and the pull of his call was strong. She had to go to him, she had to answer it. She was her own person, but his call would not be denied.
Her ears twitched as she heard footsteps behind her, beside her, falling into place at a distance. The denizens of Ravenwood, following her, silent sentinels at her back - far enough away that she would appear alone - their sounds and scents hidden by Mrs. Davenport’s clever magic. Elinore moved quickly through the forest, dodging branches and roots, having no problems seeing in the night. A riot of emotions ran through her blood - fear, anger, hatred, nervousness. Yet although she had several claws and now more wolfen eyes, she did not feel anything akin to what she thought she would for a shift. A strong emotion, wasn’t that what Caleb had said? What could be stronger than the fright coursing through her body at this moment? More visceral than the wrath she felt toward Hayter? More inflamed than her anger for him biting her, for harming Caleb? She broke through the trees and crashed into a clearing with a cacophony of sounds including a snarl that broke through her still-human lips when she saw him standing in the cleaning.
Hayter.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Hayter was shirtless in the moonlight, the silver light shining down on his bared chest. There was a dark scar on his shoulder, sickly and foul looking. Her bullet wound, Elinore realized. From when she shot him in the forest. Another long black mark travelled across his torso, from the knife she’d dug into him. The wounds made her proud. She did that. She could hurt him. He wasn’t indestructible. His feet were bare like hers, claws on all his toes. His fingers too - sharp, wicked looking things. She thought of Caleb’s wounds - bright red and the hurt animal smell that had lingered on him. Hayter smiled, long canines coming down from his upper palette and he yawned his mouth open. There was nothing fatigued or slumberous about it. It was an opportunity for him to show off the sharp line of the rest of his teeth - his fangs glistening in the moonlight. Another low growling sound came forth from deep in her chest, but she didn’t rush forward. Her mind, her thoughts, seemed simplified, uncomplicated. He was a threat. An animal larger than her. Until he made a move, she’d be foolish to attack him. He moved toward her, small, light steps on the forest floor and she stepped sideways, unblinking.
“Do you feel the pull of the moon? Against your skin, against your humanity? I know you’ve a wolf in you, dear Nora. I’m looking forward to meeting her tonight.”
The shortened form of her name made her even angrier. She’d not given him leave to change her name, to call her by another. He moved again, trying to circle her and she countered his movement. She was hunched over, her skirts dragging on the ground, her hair around her face, hanging down, her hands twitching with claws extending out from some of her fingers. She’d never felt less civilized in her life. But also, she’d never felt so powerful. She could feel the white wolf within her, snarling to be released and as she stared at Hayter, at his lithe form in the moonlight, she thought the white wolf just might win against him.
“When I heard I had a niece, all alone in the world, I thought to make you a simple member of our pack. But then… oh, then I wondered. You were young. But youth has temerity about it. A brutal survival instinct. Would it be foolish of me to choose you for a mate before meeting you? I feared I’d made a horrible error when I saw you first. Wet. Bedraggled. Fearful in the night. But then, you raised the pistol and shot me.” He laughed. “Little girl alone in the woods, but not quite defenseless. Not quite powerless. Oh, how that bullet plagued me. I had to dig it out.” He motioned with his claws, swiping them at her, and she snarled at the movement. “But it was worth it. To see you now, with your sharp puppy teeth, gangly paws and unsteady legs, trying so hard to play with the big wolves. It’s been very amusing playing with you this last month. I’ll teach you all sorts of games.” His eyes glinted yellow in the moonlight, demon-bright. “Speaking of puppy games, how is my dear nephew doing? Did he manage to bleed out when he scurried back to his den? Using witchcraft like a weakling to hide from me? Or is he still alive, licking his wounds somewhere safe.”