“You want to hear my story? I doubt you’ll find it that interesting, and I can already tell you that it doesn’t finish with a happy ending. At least, not from where I’m sitting.”
Sara settled back in her seat and watched the man before her. His voice took on a story teller’s cadence as he recounted the tale of his life.
“I first saw him while I was in detention. A sort of detention, anyway. They didn’t use terms like that. Not good for their image, I suppose.
“My nose was broken and my fists were scraped bloody, but the other kid was taken away on a stretcher and we didn’t see hide nor hair of him for a couple of weeks.
“But, that sort of behavior, even if it happens from time to time among twelve year old boys, didn’t win me any points. I was the new kid. And, the rumor had spread like a red tide through the orphanage that my father had given me up...just like that.
“I suppose they wondered what I could have done to mess up something they themselves only dreamed of. Having a father, a real father, even if I had no memory of my mother.
“What none of them could have guessed is that I hadn’t done anything and that was exactly the problem. My father had waited years for something to manifest itself in me...but it never did.
“Only a week earlier, he had come into my bedroom in the middle of the night to drag me out of the mansion and into the car. I remember that I was scared and that part of it was because my father drove the car himself. As long as I could remember, I had never seen anyone drive but one of the chauffeurs attached to the house staff. Those guys were always on call, no matter what the hour, but there we were, my father deadly serious with the steering wheel in his hands as we drove off.
“We ended up going down a number of roads that ran deeper and deeper into the woods. What I know now is a forest.
“At the time, though, it felt like a sea of trees had surrounded us. More than I had ever seen before in my entire twelve years and their leafless branches scared me, too. Like thousands of thin fingers rising against the full moon, capable of ripping tiny bits of flesh away from anyone stupid enough to walk among them.
“After a while, the car ran out of road and we began walking. It was dark and I had no idea how my father could see. I kept stumbling and he kept hoisting me back up by the wrist with a hand that held on to me like a steel trap.
“We came to a clearing and we waited for a while. I didn’t dare speak as my father stood there, still as stone. Finally, a couple of old men came walking out of the trees.
“They were wearing grey robes and had enormous beards. And even before anything happened, I thought to myself that those old birds knew magic...that there was going to be magic.
“It should have been wonderful, or exciting. Instead, I was only more frightened as their severe faces looked down on me.
“My father spoke to me then, saying only, ‘Be still, boy.’
“And suddenly, those two old men seemed to melt before my eyes, their bodies shifting like water into a pair of enormous grizzled wolves.
“Their yellow eyes burned into me, then the two lifted their muzzles and howled to the moon.
“I think I screamed. Yeah...I probably did. But my father never eased his grip on me and no matter how much I kicked and screamed, he didn’t budge.
“The wind rose upon the voices of those wolves. The air crackled with power as they called up their magic. Then they turned back to me, their silver and yellow eyes skewering me into silence.
“I stopped struggling. Everything seemed to come to a stop. It felt like they were waiting for something. As if they wanted me to say or do something.
“But, what did I know? I was just a twelve year old kid stuck in the forest with his father acting like the cheese had completely slipped off his cracker.
“Oh and the two old men who turned into wolves. Yeah, there was that, too.
“The wind died down, and those old grey wolves shifted back into old grey men. They turned to my father and together they shook their heads.
“I’ll never forget what one of them said next.
“‘The blood will tell and in this one, it does not run true. The wolf of the father is not in this child’s veins.’
“It was if they had slapped my father across the face. In a night of unbelievable things, that might have been the height of it.
“My father was an enormous man, with enormous riches and power to make or break people merely by lifting an eyebrow. But those words looked like they twisted his guts through a wringer.
“We went home after that and the next day, my father didn’t speak of what happened and neither did I.
“For almost a week, nothing happened. I busied myself poking around in my father’s library and reading as much as I could about werewolves...the legends and myths, when I knew full well that the books were wrong. I’d seen them.