Death's Werewolf Nymph

MEREDITH

The clamor from downstairs roused me from my sleep. I strained my ears, trying to decipher the loud conversation. I was almost certain it was my father’s voice, but I couldn’t quite catch his words.

I hadn’t seen my family the previous night, having come home exceptionally late to ensure everyone was asleep.

The noise persisted, prompting me to hastily dress and head downstairs to investigate. It was still early, and they were never this loud. I glanced toward Magdalena’s room, the doors were ajar but she was nowhere in sight. Something felt off.

I checked the clock in her room. It was unusually early. Magdalena was an early riser, but she always took her sweet time getting ready.

I descended the stairs, following the voices. “They betrayed us!” My father’s voice echoed with fury. “They attacked us when we least expected it, but now everyone will know what kind of pack they are.” His fist slammed onto the table. From the doorway, I noticed the three stitches on his forehead.

I stepped into the living room. Magdalena and mom turned to look at me. “What happened?” I asked.

“Alpha woke every fighter at five in the morning through mind link and announced that Blue Moon’s pack attacked,” my mom explained, and then my dad chimed in.

“We were about to form an alliance with them, Alpha trusted them, we were trusting them with our resources,” Dad’s voice was laced with anger. I could understand why. The Blue Moon’s pack had seemed like a good choice for an alliance, given their strength and the positive things other packs had to say about them.

“What did they want?” I asked.

“They wanted to kill Alpha and take over our pack, but we didn’t let them. They retreated,” he explained. I was certain this information would soon be shared with other packs, severing all ties with them.

“I’m so relieved you got home in time. As soon as Bernard told me what was happening, I prayed to the Moon Goddess that you’d make it home safely.” Mom pulled me into a tight hug. “I don’t know what I would do if they had hurt you.”

“Is Dad okay?” I asked Mom, unsure if he was in the mood to talk. But Dad looked at me.

“I’m okay,” he replied, his voice quiet and steady.

I pulled away from Mom’s embrace and moved closer to him. “And the others? Are many injured?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, many were hurt, and some are still fighting for their lives,” Dad said, his gaze lowered.

“I’ll go to the hospital,” I declared.

Dad grabbed my hand, stopping me. “It’s a gruesome sight, Meredith,” he warned. “You’ve never seen injuries like these.”

I nodded, lifting his hand to my lips for a gentle kiss. “They need help.”

I glanced at Magdalena, who was sitting next to Mom, tears streaming down her face. She looked terrified. She wasn’t prepared to face death like this.

She stood up, and I could tell she wanted to come with me.

I stopped her, placing my hand on her shoulders. “Stay,” I instructed. She looked ready to protest. “It’s okay. If there’s something you can do, I’ll come get you. Okay?” I asked.

She nodded, letting out a weary sigh. She wanted to help, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I got ready as quickly as I could and half ran to the hospital. I wasn’t a doctor or a healer, but I knew anyone willing to help would be put to work. I wasn’t fond of blood, but I could handle it.

I was just at the entrance when a scream of agony pierced the air. I slowly pushed the doors open, the metallic scent of blood hitting my nostrils. I carefully surveyed my surroundings, taking cautious steps.

Women were huddled against the wall, crying. It was a heartbreaking sight. Bloodied warriors lay on beds, separated only by thin curtains. Some sat with their heads in their hands. I spotted one of the pack doctors and hurried over to him. “What can I do to help?” I asked.

He looked at me, recognition dawning on his face. “Bring some gloves, cotton pads, bandages, and wolfsbane cream from the storage,” he instructed. I didn’t waste any time and quickly made my way to the storage room in the basement. I found a basket and began searching for the items. I filled the basket with bandages, gloves, and cotton pads, but I couldn’t find the wolfsbane cream.

“Where is it?” I muttered to myself, frustrated. I had no idea what the container looked like. I’d never seen it before. The idea of using wolfsbane in a cream was daunting, considering it was lethal to werewolves. But if prepared correctly, it could be beneficial and healing.

I rummaged through the containers, reading the labels.

“Looking for something?” a deep male voice asked. I turned, but the person was hidden behind the shelves, and the lighting was poor.

“I need wolfsbane cream, but I can’t find it,” I replied, continuing my search. “I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”

“Found it,” a voice called from the other side of the room. I wasn’t even close. I turned, struggling to keep the overflowing basket in my hands. It nearly slipped from my grasp when I saw who was holding the cream.

It was the same man from Vincent’s house the day before. He looked even more intimidating in the dim light.

He waved the cream container in his hand. “Are you going to take it or…?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. I was frozen in place. Suddenly, he tossed the container into my basket, causing me to stumble back into the shelf. My heart pounded in my chest.

He moved closer, trapping me between him and the shelf. “It almost seems like you don’t want to see me,” he teased.

I was grateful for the basket I was holding. It was the only thing keeping a safe distance between us. He was much taller than me, looking down at me. He rested his hand on the shelf next to my head.

“What…what do you want?” I managed to ask, clearing my throat to hide my nervousness.

“I just want to be friends with you,” he said, smirking. His other hand slowly reached up to my face. I snapped back to reality just in time.

“Don’t!” I warned him.

His hand halted in mid-motion. I was taken aback that he actually heeded my words. He was staring directly into my eyes. I yearned to avert my gaze, I truly did, but I just couldn’t muster the strength to do so.

“What do you want?” I questioned, no longer attempting to mask my terror. I didn’t care if I sounded weak.

“Indulge me, darling. If given the choice, where would you prefer I take your soul?” he queried. “Or if you find this question distasteful, I’d genuinely enjoy sitting down with you to gain a deeper understanding of your perspective on death.” I clung to the hope that he wouldn’t dare to kill me here, where people would know he had been with me.

My knees began to tremble. Somehow, he managed to inch even closer. “I’ll scream if you take another step!” I cautioned him.

His demeanor shifted to a more serious tone. “I have no intention of causing you harm. I simply find those who despise me to be quite entertaining,” he stated, his face a mask of solemnity. “As if their love or hatred could alter who I am.”

“Why do you assume I despise you?” I questioned, my voice quivering. I didn’t even know him, let alone why he was tormenting me. He attempted to rest his other hand on the opposite side of the shelf. I raised my voice. “I’ll scream!”

“By all means!” He dared me. “They’ll merely think you’ve lost your mind, as no one else can see me,” he stated, shifting to the side and allowing me a path to escape. I seized the opportunity to flee, half running upstairs, but he continued to trail behind me. “You can run, but in the end, no one escapes,” he declared as I quickened my pace.

As I ascended the hallway, I could hear the man still tailing me.

I spotted Jasper approaching, likely drawn by my frightened expression. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he remarked. I thought perhaps I had.

“He’s following me!” I exclaimed, pointing to the man who now stood there, his expression blank, hands in his pockets. He didn’t even glance at Jasper. His gaze was fixed solely on me.

Jasper followed my pointing finger. “Who’s following you?” he asked, concern etched on his face. A tear slipped from my eye as I looked from Jasper to the man.

“You can’t see him?” I asked, my voice faltering.

“There’s no one there,” he assured me, taking the basket from my grasp. He nearly ripped it from my clenched hand. “I’ll take this to the doctor. You should go home and rest. Between Vincent and now this…” He gestured vaguely. “It’s messing with your head. Do you need me to walk you home?” he offered.

I wiped away my tears and managed a smile. “I’m okay,” I assured him. He didn’t seem convinced. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what I’m saying. I haven’t slept and there’s just so much…,” I lied.

“Perhaps you should speak with the doctor. He might be able to recommend some sort of sleep aid,” he suggested. “Natural remedies can work wonders.”

I nodded in agreement. “I will.”

He smiled at me. “Take care,” he said before departing, leaving me alone with him.

Tears streamed down my face now that Jasper was gone, but I made no move to wipe them away. I couldn’t care less about my appearance at that moment. I slowly turned to face him. He was still there, his expression now more serious, his gaze locked on mine. I took slow, deliberate steps toward him. For the first time, I was the one initiating contact. He remained still, chin raised, eyes narrowed.

“I must be insane. You’re not real,” I declared, trying to convince myself.

The man shook his head. “I’m real. You’re just not meant to see me,” he responded. Could it be that I detected a hint of sympathy in his voice?

It took me a moment to respond; my throat felt as if it were closing up. “Why… Why can I see you then? If I’m…I’m not supposed to see you…why can I?” I felt fragile, on the verge of shattering. Or perhaps just bewildered. Like a child who couldn’t comprehend the world around them.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Then…then what…what are you?” I asked, hoping for a straightforward answer this time.

His gaze wandered before he finally responded. “Death,” he stated, but I didn’t understand.

“What?” I questioned. Had I misheard him?

“I am Death,” he repeated.

“Death isn’t a person,” I pointed out, refusing to believe he could actually be Death.

He retrieved something from his pocket, breaking eye contact for the first time. He now held a golden pocket watch in his hand and looked back at me. “Someone’s time is up,” he said, but I couldn’t decipher his meaning. He was holding an antique pocket watch.

“Follow me,” he instructed, leading the way toward the wounded fighters. I didn’t protest, I simply followed.

He led me to the main hall where the injured were still receiving treatment. He passed numerous people, but no one paid him any mind. No one could see him. He approached a bed where Cameron, one of the fighters, lay. He gave me one last glance before retrieving a clear jar-like container from his pocket. He held up the watch and I noticed it had stopped. It had been working just moments ago.

Death leaned over Cameron and opened the jar, holding it over his chest as if waiting for something. After a moment, he straightened up and sealed the jar. At first, it appeared empty, but then the color began to change, turning a faint gray. Death stepped aside as someone approached Cameron’s body.

“He doesn’t have a pulse,” a man announced, and the doctor rushed over to confirm, nodding sadly. He pulled a sheet over Cameron’s face.

“Time of death, 8:31 a.m.,” the doctor declared.

I noticed Death watching me, the watch still in his hand, displaying 8:31 a.m.

I couldn’t hear my own thoughts, but my breathing seemed deafening. My heart pounded in my chest. I looked around, colored lights dancing before my eyes. I looked at Death through my blurred vision, barely recognizing him.

I could no longer stand. I reached out to steady myself on a nearby stroller, but the brakes weren’t engaged and it couldn’t support my weight. I began to fall, bracing myself for the impact with the floor, but it never came.

Instead, I saw Death standing over me, his hand cradling my head, protecting it from the hard tile floor. His eyes didn’t convey concern or compassion. They were devoid of emotion as he stared into mine.

Then someone approached me. I couldn’t make out who it was. My vision faded…