45. Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Cedric
A fter insisting, profusely , that I don’t get a head start but wait for her, Faye meets me at the edge of the woods. While I waited for her arrival, in a bout of poor judgment, I also called Marcus; for some reason, he didn’t sound nearly as shocked as I thought. The chances of me being both related and in a relationship with two different species were exceptionally rare, but here we are.
“Before you lose your shit, I know about your stepbrother,” Faye declares as she hands me one of the torches she produces from a carryall bag.
That is not what I expected her to say, though I find I’m too worried about Delilah to add this to the list of things that are not going the way they’re supposed to.
“How…?”
“He’s not exactly subtle about it,” she says, and something in her tone I’m unfamiliar with makes it clear she won’t be answering any more questions. Marcus gets there a scarce minute after Faye, though his pace is not nearly hurried enough, given the gravity of the situation.
“Enjoying your stroll?” I ask impatiently as he reaches us, him and Faye exchanging nothing but a quick look.
“I was,” he says. “Shall we find your hairy girlfriend?”
“ Marcus ,” I say at the same time as Faye’s “ Shut up .”
He raises his palms placatingly. “Too soon?”
Faye grabs another flashlight, and while I wonder if she’s done all this before, I am infinitely grateful Delilah has been able to count on her all along.
“Let’s go,” Faye orders, starting in the direction of the woods.
“Which part of lay low do you truly not grasp?” I hiss at Marcus as we follow her suit.
“Believe it or not, I did not utter a word,” he says with a somewhat satisfied smirk I want to wipe clean off his face. “Faye knows her vampires.”
“You two want some tea?” she calls behind her shoulder, which shuts us up as we quicken our pace.
If someone had told me, not too long ago, that I would be spending an otherwise peaceful July evening looking for my runaway werewolf girlfriend, I might have laughed hysterically–which is not something I’m in the habit of doing.
It’s more likely that I would have rolled my eyes at the absurdity so hard that they would have gotten stuck in my cranium; it’s hard to tell, really.
But here I am, with a half dead torch in my hands, in the bloody woods, following paw prints and the hunch of Delilah’s best friend.
“How do you know this is the right direction?” I ask, the forest unnaturally quiet around us.
“I wouldn’t be positive if she hadn’t come this way, but there is only one place she remembers going to in wolf form–before we figured out restraints strong enough to hold her, that is.” Her expression hardens further when she adds, “I should have seen this coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“The peak was supposed to be tomorrow, but we–I was distracted. I should have realized,” she says darkly.
“You can’t blame yourself,” I tell Faye, though she says nothing back.
Marcus makes a noncommittal sound in his throat, and because he might be half vampire, but his eyesight is somehow entirely shitty, he doesn’t catch me glaring at him.
“How long has it been?”
“Since she’s been a werewolf?”
I nod, carefully avoiding a bulbous root.
“Three years, give or take,” Faye says calmly, though her gaze is assessing our surroundings. “The wolf that did it to her is dead, before you get any ideas.”
Three years of a burden most people cannot begin to understand. There are a thousand more questions breaching my mind, all of which will have to wait–and even then, Delilah won’t have to answer, if that’s not what she wants. I don’t know if the modicum of comfort I can offer her will make any difference, but I’m not leaving until she’s heard me. Joe can fuck off for all I care.
“Almost there,” Faye says, and even with the moon and our flashlights as our only beacons, I recognize this path now. We took it on the day Delilah and I first kissed.
“You two be quiet now,” Faye whispers as she jogs in front of us. Marcus and I exchange a look and follow her, keeping our steps as light as possible. Even so, I’m skeptical Delilah won’t feel our scents, no matter how little noise we make.
When we pop out of the thicket of trees, moving spindly branches that look entirely more ominous than they did in the warm sunlight, we reach the clearing that overlooks Fern Port’s harbor.
To my immense relief, Delilah is there.
Her fur is cast in the white light of the moon, her powerful body perched on the grassy ledge.
“Lila,” Faye says, letting the bag slip from her shoulder. “It’s just me.”
Delilah turns slowly on two legs, her hind paws leaving grooves in the ground. She growls, though for some reason, it doesn’t sound as menacing as it did when she first shifted on the cottage’s porch.
“It’s Faye,” her friend says again, showing her empty palms, though her voice trembles slightly. I don’t know whether it’s in fear, or worry that Delilah will run off again.
Delilah doesn’t seem poised to attack, though I am admittedly not knowledgeable on werewolves enough to be sure. I have the feeling the rules don’t apply to her anyway.
Faye steps forward, but her foot gets stuck on an indent in the ground, and she falls knees first on the grass. The sudden movement seems to rattle Delilah as she comes down on all fours, her jaws snapping, a terrible sound not unlike thunder.
“Shit,” Faye hisses.
Marcus moves on instinct to help Faye rise, but I place a firm hand on his chest.
“Wait,” I whisper.
“Not to be that person, but I reckon we have wildly underestimated the–”
“Be quiet, would you?”
He doesn’t seem happy about it, but acquiesces all the same.
“Faye, can you stand?” I ask as Delilah’s paws move restlessly, her tail swiping the earth.
“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea though.”
In an utter leap of faith, I inch away from Marcus, stepping closer to Faye.
“That is a terrible idea!”
“She’s not going to hurt you,” I say. “And she’s not going to hurt me, either.”
“What about m–”
“ Marcus .”
“Sorry.”
“Normally I would agree,” Faye says as I wrap my hands around her arm to help her rise, ever so slowly. “But it’s not scientifically proven, you know?”
When Faye is fully standing and Delilah still hasn’t attacked or run off, her eyes assessing us instead, I take that as a promising sign. Trusting my gut has never been my strong suit, but perhaps it’s time I do just that.
“Step back,” I tell Faye quietly.
“Now’s not the time to play hero, Campbell. ”
I shoot Faye an eloquent look, and though she’s clearly irked, she closes her eyes and does as I asked, her retreating steps barely making a sound as she joins Marcus.
“Delilah,” I say, though when I take a single step toward her, she growls dangerously. “Alright, I’ll stay here.” I spread my hands at my sides to show how pointedly I will not be making any sudden movements.
“I don’t know if you can recognize me,” I continue, “but I’d like to say something to you all the same, if that’s okay.”
Her head tilts ever so slightly, it might as well be a trick of the dark, but I want to believe it means she is listening.
“I’m Cedric. You crashed into me, quite literally, and you told me I was beautiful.
I thought I’d unlearned laughter, and you gave that joy back to me. After you kissed me–in the water, remember? That’s when I knew I would never be the same.
“I don’t have any presumption that all this will be enough to change you back, or anything of the sort. But I need you to know that this,” I spread my palm toward her, “changes nothing. That bloke behind me is the person that matters most to me in the world, and I’ve watched him drink blood out of a plastic bag.”
Marcus clears his throat, though that’s all I mercifully get from him. Delilah’s yellow eyes watch me carefully, her breathing seemingly slowed down.
“Perhaps it’s unfair of me to lay my heart open before you when I’m not sure you can understand, and when against every fiber of myself, I’ll still have to leave. But there is at least one more thing I need to tell you before I go. And I’d like to do it when you’re fully you. So, please, if you need to go–go. But you’ll find me waiting for you when you come back. ”
I don’t doubt she could snap my neck in a second if she chose to do so, and it might be wishful thinking, but I could swear there’s something bright and understanding about the way she looks at me now. She whimpers, then, a feeble sound coming from such a majestic body. With one last look at me, Faye and Marcus, she runs past us and disappears into the night, a howl echoing in her wake.
Delilah
My thoughts are jumbled fragments of memories and voices, and I cling desperately to each of them.
Delilah , he said, voice soft as clouds. That’s my name. See? You remember. You’re still you.
Beautiful.
A honey-brown and white creature’s rosy tongue poking out of its mouth. Delicate arms around you, stronger arms, too. Smiles so big that hurt your cheeks. Lips pressing into your skin, and something else–something to say, something to hear.
It’s all yours.
You’re no monster.
You’re still you.