Inner Demons, Part Three

PART THREE

     Evon sprang awake, blinking his eyes quickly to fend off the harsh morning sunlight.  His mind was reeling, his vision spinning, unable to focus on a single subject.  He sat up, breathing heavily.
     "So, you're awake," a voice spoke from the corner.
     Everything suddenly snapped into focus.  The white-haired man was sitting on a chair in the corner, watching Evon carefully.  "You!" Evon shouted, recoiling.  "You threw that dust in my face!"
     "You remember.  Good.  Not all do."
     Evon's mind worked furiously to recollect the events of the previous night, but his memory was hazy.  He definitely remembered being attacked by this man, though.  "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.
     "Frederick.  I'm a werewolf hunter.  I'm not here to kill you!" he added when Evon recoiled again.  "Miss Laura here told me all about your accident."
     Slowly, Evon pulled off the sheet and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He was once again dressed only in his pants, and his chest and shoulder were tightly bound in bandages.  "What…happened to me?"
     "You've contracted a disease called lycanthropy.  It breeds in werewolf saliva and was transferred to you when you were bitten.  It takes a few days, but it spreads throughout your body and then changes you into a half-man, half-wolf creature temporarily."
     "I'm a…a werewolf?  It's a disease?  It can be cured, then!"
     Frederick shook his head sadly.  "There’s no cure for lycanthropy, or if there is the Church is keeping it for its own uses."
     "But werewolves are evil!" Evon exclaimed, jumping to his feet.  "They kill people!"
     "That's your choice."
     "My…choice?"
     Frederick stood up and walked to the window.  "A good werewolf can control when he transforms and can control his actions while transformed, but it requires practice and training.  Otherwise, he will succumb to his bestial instincts and kill."
     "And you can train me," Evon finished for him.
     "You catch on quick.  Yes, I can train you, but you'll have to leave the village."
     "I can't leave!" Evon replied, his feelings stirring up again.  "This is my home!  I've never left it."
     Frederick looked him straight in the eyes.  "The Church has a strong presence here.  If you stay, the villagers will uncover your condition.  They will kill you."
     Evon started to reject the idea, but the truth of it quickly surfaced in his mind.  Rebecca’s grandmother was proof enough of that, and Father Seris would at any rate contact the Church and they would send men to kill him.  He sat back down on the bed, heavy-hearted.
     "But…what about Rebecca?" he asked, looking up.
     "Your sweetheart?"
     "We could take her with us."
     "No!" Frederick snapped.  "No.  You'd be putting her in terrible danger.  At the very least, you must learn to control your wolf side, then convince her that you're not merely a monster.  Besides, she'd be too afraid of u—of you."
     "It'll be hard to leave her," Evon said, then his brows furrowed.  "Us?"
     "What?"
     "You almost said 'us.'  Who are you?"
     Frederick smiled and looked away.  Just then, the front door opened and closed, and Paul walked into the spare room.  He stopped, looking from Frederick to Evon to Frederick.
     "I hope you're not bothering my son," he said gruffly.
     "He's just keeping me company, Father," Evon replied quickly.
     "My name is Frederick.  I was just passing through town, and Miss Laura allowed me to stay here last night."
     Paul looked back at Evon.  "Laura says that you're ready to go home."
     "I feel a lot better now," Evon replied, wondering why Laura would have said that after what she'd seen last night.  "I'll still need these bandages for a while, though." He hesitated for a moment before continuing.  "Father…you know that I'm almost a man now.  I need to learn a trade of my own."
     "What's wrong with carpentry?"
     "The village doesn't need more than one carpenter.  I want to go with Mr. Frederick and learn from him."
     "I'm a clockmaker," Frederick added.  "I travel all over the country making and repairing clocks."
     "I don't want you running around messing with that mechanical devilry!" Paul protested.  "I need you here."
     Evon sighed.  "Father, you remember when I was little, how I would always dream of traveling the countryside?  Well, I may not be slaying dragons or rescuing damsels, but I'll be able to see the country, to learn and experience more than I can here.  And I will return, I promise."
     Paul frowned.  "Well, you clearly have your mind made up, and you're old enough to make your own decisions.  You have my permission, but that doesn't mean I like it.  Have you told Rebecca?"
     "I will as soon as I can."
     Looking unsatisfied, Paul left.  "A clockmaker?" Evon asked incredulously, turning to Frederick.
     "That part was true," Frederick replied with a sly grin.  "The best disguises are the verifiable ones."  He smiled and gripped Evon's shoulder.  "I think you'll do fine.  You think fast."

-----

     That night, Evon had slept in his own bed.  He had tossed and turned; that restlessness had resurfaced.  Frederick had warned him that it would; wolves were nocturnal, so his wolf side was particularly active at night.  He had felt it gnawing at him: a powerful desire to transform.  He could feel it even now, in the morning sunlight.  He flexed his fingers a few times, imagining the raw strength of the night before last flowing through them again…but shook it off.  He could not allow himself to fall prey to that desire, not here and not while he couldn't control his werewolf self.
     He wandered back across his bedroom to the pile of things on the floor that he had gathered last night.  Frederick had a wagon, but Evon didn't have much to bring.  Aside from his bow and cross, he had only his two hunting outfits.  Much to his mother's chagrin, he was leaving all of his good clothes behind.  He didn't dare tell his parents why: his body had not gone completely back to normal after his transformation.  He was taller now and more muscular, although he had nowhere near the girth of his werewolf form.  Luckily, no one had noticed that change yet.
     A more difficult change to hide was his hair.  Laura had cut it back down to its normal size, but a silver streak ran down the middle.  He stared at his reflection in his water basin, still uncertain what to make of it.  Sighing reluctantly, he picked up the ball of dirt he had collected the night before and rubbed it into his hair.  It wasn't quite as dark as the surrounding black, but the streak at least blended in better.  He hoped that no one noticed the dirt.
     His face set into a hard mask, Evon stuffed his clothes and his quiver of arrows into a bag, slung his bow over his back, and started to head out.  His hand paused over the door handle as a wave of sorrow and loneliness rushed over him.  He had spent seventeen years living in this village.  It was his home.  All of his memories were here.  And now he was leaving.  He turned back and gazed longingly at his room, at his bed, at his water basin.  He realized that he might never see them again, and it bit deep inside him.  With a sad light in his eyes, he opened the door and left.

-----

     After a long string of goodbyes, Evon came to Miss Jean's house.  She and Rebecca were waiting for him outside.
     "Remember the Tenets," Miss Jean warned, standing firmly on her cane.  "I don't know what kind of man this Frederick is, although you and Laura seem to trust him well enough, but be on your guard."
     "I will, Miss Jean," Evon replied.
     With an expression of neither approval or disapproval, Miss Jean turned and strode back into her house.  Left alone, Rebecca jumped into Evon's ready arms and buried her head into his chest.  "It's too soon," she whispered with a shaky voice.  "Too sudden."
     "I'll be back before my eighteenth birthday," Evon replied, holding her close.  "I'll be back for you.  I promise."
     But suddenly, she drew back, a strange, searching look in her eyes.  She knows! he thought, a momentary panic flooding his system.  Then she smiled.  "You'd better," Rebecca said.  "I'll be waiting for you.  Keep that cross on.  You're still vulnerable."
     Evon smiled back.  "I will."
     Loathe to turn away from her, he returned to the road.  Frederick was waiting for him there, accompanied by a tall, brown horse hooked up to a covered wagon.  With little else left to do, Evon climbed up into the wagon's seat and gazed back into Rebecca's eyes.  Her smile had faltered; a thoughtful expression covered her face.  Evon tried to send her a reassuring look, but he couldn't help the sense of foreboding clawing at him on the inside.  Rebecca knew.

TO BE CONTINUED...