Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Luther stared at the hated basement walls and wondered how the hell he was going to clean this up. He hadn’t... Well, he had to admit to himself that he hadn’t come down here since the full moon. He’d thought he had controlled the beast well enough the last two nights.

Sure, the monster had gotten out the first night. That was all right. The beast hadn’t ever been out of its cage during the full moon, and that only worked in his favor that the demonic creature didn’t know how to get to town, or anywhere else for that matter.

Then the last two nights he’d been here. Chained up. Stuck to the wall like he was supposed to be and as his father had taught him all those years ago.

Except something in his head said to go down to the basement. Even though he never went to the basement unless it was the full moon, and even then only did so reluctantly. Still, that inner voice had screamed at him to come down here. And so he had.

He wished he hadn’t listened to that voice.

The chains had been pulled out of the walls. He hadn’t even known that was possible considering they were steel mounted into granite and there were at least ten of them that he shackled onto himself. Five that went around his arms, ankles, and throat. Four more around his biceps and thighs. The last around his waist in a steel circle that was perfect for holding him in place.

That largest manacle, the one that he’d always worn around his stomach, was bent in half.

“What on earth?” he muttered, walking into the room and spinning a slow circle. The entire room was completely and utterly destroyed. Even the table in the center, the one his father had built for his young werewolf offspring, had been snapped in half. He’d never seen a beast do this before.

And if anyone’s beast could have, his father’s wolf would have torn this entire building apart. Brick by hated brick.

“How?” he asked, as though the wolf could respond to him. “How did you do this?”

The beast lazily woke inside his head. It coiled around itself, pleased to know the chains which had tormented it for too many years were now useless.

Luther’s heart raced in his chest. How was he supposed to control it now? He knew there were very limited times when he needed the basement like this, but he also was very aware that the monster would do whatever it took to keep the basement destroyed like this. How long had it known this plan? How long had it decided that their lives could so easily be ruined because it had a taste of the freedom Luther had always denied it?

“Why?” he asked again, the word falling flat in the room that had once been his only salvation. “Why would you do this?”

That tug which had brought him to the basement yanked at his belly again. He staggered forward, across the wreckage of the table and through the carnage of chains and ruined flooring.

Luther never looked around this room. He’d never once thought to touch anything that his father had hidden in the shadows. But now, he pulled off a sheet which had hidden some strange shape for years now.

The sheet slipped off the form it had covered, revealing a mirror beyond. He’d never seen it before, although the edges were dipped in silver, so he knew it was meant to be something they could see the beast through. Runes etched into the frame reminded him of a book his father had given him years ago.

“Here, my son,” he’d said while holding out the leather bound novel. “The secrets of our kind are contained within these pages. You will read this, and you will know why we must torture ourselves every single night. We must not become what the others have become. Do you understand?”

After reading the book, he understood his father’s hesitation. He knew why the people of the town feared a wolf entering their homes and devouring their children in the night.

That’s what creatures like him did. He had spent countless hours reading every single time a wolf had tormented Dead Man’s Crossing. How the beasts first attacked cattle and livestock. One had even made the entire town lose all their money because the wolf had eaten every single cow that had given them milk. But the beasts grew tired of bleating sheep and foolish cows that were easy to hunt.

Oh no, a werewolf always wanted a hunt. It liked to know that once it caught its prey, that the feast had been well earned.

He’d been seven when he read about the horrible ways werewolves killed people. He had nightmares for months after that, only allowing himself to sleep with a dozen candles burning, though it was a horrible risk.

Luther still had nightmares about waking up with a dead body at his feet because he couldn’t control the monster inside him. As his father had always feared.

He had to control it.

And yet, even with years of practice, he had failed.

No man stood in that mirror, grinning at him with sharpened teeth and a flicking tail. It was a monster who looked back, a horrible combination of man and beast. A werewolf wasn’t a wolf, after all, only a man who had become one.

The creature’s teeth were long and curved. Twin fangs arched up from its bottom jaw and framed a head that was clearly a wolf. Its ears flicked forward, as if it were waiting for him to say something. He wouldn’t. Instead, his eyes traveled down the muscular chest of a man that was dusted with faint dark hair. Down strong legs with knees that bent too much and feet that were too long, giving the legs the appearance of an extra bend. It even had hands with long claws that had clearly snapped the table in half.

This was the monster he’d battled his entire life. The monster that wanted to take over his life and destroy everything he held so dear.

“You,” he muttered. “What did you do this time?”

It grinned at him, all too happy to reply. And when the creature spoke, it did so through lips that shouldn’t be able to move the way they did. “Luther. You have kept us locked in this cell for too long, my friend.”

“For good reason.”

“Why? Because a long time ago an old man told you it was dangerous to let me out?”

Luther started pacing side to side, watching as the image of his wolf did the same. The monstrous creature leaned forward aggressively with every step, its shoulders hunched and claws nearly dragging on the ground.

“That old man was our father,” he spat. “You know as well as I that he deserves some respect.”

“For what? Teaching you to fear me? I will not respect a man that cannot come to terms with his own desires and needs.” The wolf thudded its chest with a heavy fist, and Luther felt the connection on his own breastbone with a solid strike. “You and I are more capable than he could ever dream of being. You could let me be free without having to chase me down or fear what we might do in the wilds.”

“I do fear what you would do. I fear what you have already done!” Luther nearly dropped to his knees with that fear.

The wolf hadn’t been out for one night, he realized. It had tricked him.

The chains were destroyed. The beast couldn’t be contained any longer, but that also meant that it had the time to do whatever it wanted throughout the night.

Three nights. Three long evenings where it had plenty of time to attack the villagers of Dead Man’s Crossing. What if he had made a mistake that cost someone else their life?

He froze, then looked back into the mirror. His mind had already suggested what his heart didn’t want to know. Because now that he’d thought about it, he was quite sure that the beast would do exactly what he didn’t want it to do, just because it could. And if that gut feeling was correct, then the monster had already taken someone’s life. Someone important or perhaps a passing traveler, but there was blood on his hands either way.

The beast grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the light. “You already know, don’t you, Luther?”

“What did you do?”

“You don’t remember? We both enjoyed the rush of the wind in our fur. We loved the feeling of the ground beneath our paws. Actual dirt, Luther. The earth beneath us that only wanted us to run free within the forests and feel the moss and the grass and the stone.” The wolf’s eyes rolled back in its head. “It was an exquisite night. An evening that neither of us will ever forget, and how could I give all that up? Willingly?”

He shook his head in denial. “No. Father claimed our beasts were nothing more than that.”

“What? Slathering idiots who couldn’t even talk to their owners? You should have known that your father lied. I am you, Luther. Just as you are me.”

How dare this cretin call him a monster? “I am nothing like you,” Luther hissed.

The wolf lunged forward, slapping its paws on the glass at the same time as Luther’s hands made contact with that hated silver. “You are me, Luther. You loved the hunt just as much as I, and you crowed when we bit down on that man’s neck. The blood poured over our tongue, and you loved it.”

He felt all the blood drain from his face in one cold rush. He couldn’t have done that. They couldn’t have killed someone without Luther knowing... could they?

“No,” he muttered, his fingers curling into fists. “No, we didn’t harm anyone last night or I would know.”

“Not last night. The very first night. I didn’t want to lose my chance in case you bested me.”

His chance? Oh god. They’d killed someone, and Luther had no idea who had fallen into the creature’s claws. What if it had been Farmer Barren? Or heaven forbid the man’s granddaughter. Luther had been thinking of her lately. Not in that way, but acknowledging that she existed, and the wolves were always so fond of biting young women. What if he had torn into her flesh and he didn’t even know what had happened?

“The feast was good,” his wolf said quietly. “You are unhappy now, but that is normal. Soon, you will learn that it is all right to indulge me. I am your desires, Luther. Together, we will live happily.”

“No.” He had no other words for this moment, this situation. “No, I will never succumb to what you want to do. It is wrong, and I... I...”

The wolf grinned even as it continued to back away from the mirror. “What will you do, Luther? You’re afraid of your own reflection.”

Damn it, the beast was right. The beast knew what to say to get underneath his skin and it...

He turned away from the mirror. Looking at his own reflection right now was too painful. If he kept looking, then he didn’t know what he’d do.

Probably take the coward’s way out, the same way his father had. Luther walked away from the place where he’d chained his beast, and the place where he’d found his father hanging from the ceiling. This room was cursed, and everything inside it ended up just as cursed as his memory.

He would learn how to control the beast. Luther didn’t need chains, and a hidden basement to keep his wolf contained. He was certain of it. And if he failed by the time of the next full moon, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Just as his father had done.

After all, everything he did was for the good of Dead Man’s Crossing. If that meant they were better off without him darkening their doorstep, then so be it. The Earl always put his people first.