36. Catriona
36
CATRIONA
F elix and I walk to the village hall, carrying our ghastly prize. The relief I usually feel at the end of a job is tempered with sadness. There’s no helping it—you always grieve when werewolves are involved.
I didn’t know the real Belinda, but I mourn for the woman I thought she was. She was an acquaintance stolen, a lie, a betrayal.
And my heart aches.
Felix is quiet as well, wrestling with his own thoughts.
News passes quickly. It seems most of the village is present when we arrive at the village hall. Our neighbors sit in the meeting room, turning on the long benches when we enter.
Johann steps forward, his eyes falling to the bag hanging from Felix’s hands. “What’s that?”
“Proof so you can be at ease.” I step past him and walk to Otis, who stands at the front of the room. “I’m assuming that’s why you’ve gathered? You want evidence we’ve vanquished your monster?”
Otis looks like he’s going to cry. “And it was…Belinda?”
“It was never Belinda,” I answer, correcting my tone when I realize how harsh it is. Softer, I add, “It was a monster impersonating the girl you once knew.”
“Are you going to look, Otis?” Friedrich says from the second row. Jane clings to his hand, her skin white.
People murmur, their eyes on the stained bag.
My attention moves to Millie. She sits in the back, and this time, she’s alone. Both her father and sister are dead.
No, not her sister.
I breathe in and out through my nose, fighting for composure as distant memories wrap their icy fingers around my neck.
She blinks at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bruno frowns and approaches her, touching her shoulder and offering comfort.
Otis clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. Pale as a ghost, he nods toward Felix and the bag. “You best show me, since you went to the trouble of bringing it.”
Felix steps forward, looking a bit green around the edges himself, and opens the bag so Otis may peer inside. The reeve gags a little and quickly looks away, his hands shaking.
“Well?” Mr. Martin demands.
Otis nods, taking the handkerchief from his pocket and holding it over his mouth. “It was a werewolf. They’ve killed it.”
The room erupts in frantic questions, and I roll my shoulders, preparing for the inquisition.
As Otis attempts to soothe our friends, Cyril steps into the meeting room. Though he looks like he’s about to pass out, he lifts his hand in greeting.
I fix him with a hard stare, making him wince. Like a sorry puppy, he sinks on the bench a few spots from Millie.
“Millie, why didn’t you realize your sister was a monster?” Mr. Martin demands, catching my attention. “How is that possible?”
“He’s right,” Friedrich says. “You lived with her—surely there were signs.”
Horrified, Millie shakes her head. “I didn’t know.”
She frantically looks around the room for an ally when she realizes the villagers have turned on her.
“Impossible,” Mr. Martin says. “You were protecting her, weren’t you?”
“Why would I protect the monster who killed and posed as my sister?” she demands, her eyes swimming as her face scrunches with anger. “How dare you?”
“You lived with her.” Mr. Martin stands, trembling.
“Louis, sit down,” Otis says impatiently, recovering from his bout of nausea. “The monster worked in your bookshop, and you didn’t realize it either.”
But it’s too late—the damage has been done. Other villagers are rising, accusing Millie of hiding the werewolf.
“Stop.” Panicked and cornered, her eyes fly across the room until they land on mine. They narrow slightly. “This is your fault.”
Before I have a chance to make sense of that, her jaw elongates and fur sprouts over her skin.
No.
Impossible .
People scream as Millie’s form changes. Her clothes split as she grows, shredding and falling from her monstrous body.
Before I can stop her, she lunges for Cyril. She yanks him into her arms, her sharp talons at his neck.
“If you follow me, I’ll kill him,” she says, her voice raspy and almost indecipherable in her true form.
People scream, backing away like sheep and blocking my path.
She lets out a warning howl that sends a chill down my spine, and then she runs out of the meeting room, dragging Cyril with her.
“Move!” I yell, pushing through the frantic crowd.
“You can’t!” Johann grabs my arm, holding me back. “She said she’d kill the boy if you went after her.”
“She’s a werewolf .” I roughly twist out of his grip. “She’s going to kill him anyway.”
“But—”
I don’t wait around to listen to his argument.
Felix and I burst through the door just in time to see the dark figure disappear around the side of the tavern.
“Greg!” I yell. “There’s another werewolf, and she has Cyril. She’s heading for your stretch of the woods!”
Felix runs beside me, fumbling with something.
“What is that?” I demand just before I realize it’s his werewolf kit. “Why did you bring it?”
“I had a bad feeling,” he pants as we enter the orchard.
Millie isn’t stopping, though, and she’s fast in her werewolf form.
“Why are you bothering with the tranquilizers?” I demand.
“If I miss, I’d rather put Cyril to sleep instead of killing him.”
“Don’t accidentally stab yourself,” I warn, relieved when I see a dark shadow in the sky coming from the north.
“ I’m here ,” Greg says.
“I see you.”
“ Where’s the—never mind. I’ve spotted them. ”
Ahead, the werewolf hesitates, still dragging Cyril. She bares her teeth at him as he fights her, and my heart leaps into my throat. He has a head injury, and he’s never had any training.
He’s going to die tonight.
But before she attacks, Greg swoops low and grasps hold of her with his talons.
“Cyril!” I yell as the wolf drags him into the air.
I leap, just able to catch his ankles. Suddenly, the monster goes limp. She releases Cyril, and we fall to the ground.
With an “oof,” Felix catches us the best he can, breaking our fall as the three of us end up sprawled out on the dirt. Cyril groans, thankfully still alive.
I push myself up to my feet and look up just in time to see Greg’s wide jaws open…
“Greg, no!” I yell. “It will make you sick!”
“ You’ve starved me for over a week. I’m hungry .”
And just like that, the werewolf disappears into his massive mouth.
“Greg!” I yell. “You spit it out! Right now. ”
He gags like Felix trying to cut off a monster’s head and then opens his mouth, releasing the werewolf. “ Not that hungry. ”
The monster free falls, wet with dragon saliva, and lands at our feet. Blood pools around its miserable body, and the red glow of its eyes goes black.
It’s dead.
Felix groans and steps back, wiping the front of his jacket like he got splattered. “That’s unpleasant.”
“Two of them,” I breathe, staring at the dead werewolf. “There were two.”
“You said they hunt alone,” Felix says.
“They do .”
“Maybe they were actual sisters—sister monsters.”
I shudder. “Whatever they were, they’re dead now.”
“ Thanks to me. ” Greg lands, giving the werewolf a disdainful snort. “ I have to do everything for you all.”
“You did well,” I tell him. “And I’m glad you didn’t eat her.”
“ She tasted bad anyway. ”
“Your stomach thanks you,” I say wryly.
“The villagers will be here any minute,” Felix says to the dragon. “You should make yourself scarce.”
“ I do all the work, and you get all the glory. ” He extends his wings and takes to the air. “ Tell Benjamin I deserve a raise. ”
I laugh as he disappears into the dark night, and then I turn toward the glow of torches that’s making its way to us. The village has formed a mob, and they’re wielding pitchforks.
Johann leads the group, his expression hard in the firelight. He pauses when he spots us, and then his eyes move to the werewolf. “Oh.”
“It’s dead,” I say needlessly.
His forehead etches as he takes in the monster’s wet-rat appearance. “What did you do to it?”
“We killed it,” Felix says. “You’re welcome.”
“All this time, there were two,” Otis says quietly.
“Do you think there are more?” Friedrich demands, holding a fire poker like a weapon.
“No,” I say.
My eyes catch on the scar on the monster’s arm—where I caught her with my blade—and everything makes sense. They orchestrated the last attack, purposely keeping my suspicion off Millie. They worked together.
It’s a sobering thought—and news I’m not eager to bring back to the guild. Werewolves were difficult enough before.
Felix sighs heavily, his eyes darting to the body.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“We don’t have to bring the Alliance this one’s head too, do we? Surely one is enough?”
“No, we need both.” I hide my morbid smile. “Get to it.”