“I can’t tell you anything until you promise to keep it to yourself. After you learn everything, you’ll understand why.”
My recorder scorches my leg inside my pocket. I’ll probably regret this promise later, but what more can I do? I need to know, and now it seems more personal than ever. “Okay, fine. I promise I won’t tell.”
Jack studies my face for a moment before nodding. He brings his hand to the back of his neck and rubs at it as he rolls his head back and forth. “Well, first, let’s talk about what just happened in the woods.”
“Yes, let's.” I lean forward.
“Do you know what that animal was?”
“Some mutated wolf or something? Is that what killed all those people?”
“Not necessarily just a mutated wolf. It’s a werewolf, and yes, a few of them killed all those people.”
“Werewolf?” I sit back, studying Jack, unsure if he’s joking or deranged. “You mean like from fairytales?”
He rolls his eyes. “Sort of like the ones from fairytales, except these are real. They change from humans to monsters.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes from me. “Jack, werewolves aren’t real.”
He leans forward, his expression growing more intense. “Red, yes they are.”
My tone tightens. “Are you fucking with me? Are you still trying to get out of telling me the truth by telling me something ridiculous?”
“Red, you came here because the attacks were suspicious. You knew that there was something different about these animal attacks. What were you expecting to discover?”
I get up from my seat, treading to stop the energy bubbling inside me from bursting. “I don’t know, maybe some sick bastard using animals as weapons or a murderer staging these kills as animal attacks. I sure as hell didn’t come here to learn that fairies and vampires exist.”
He sighs. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows fairies don’t live in this part of the world.”
I stop and glare at him, my heart pounding in my head.
He just smiles.
“That’s it. If you’re going to fuck with me, I’m leaving.” I charge toward the locked door, but Jack jumps from his seat and blocks me.
“Wait, Red, stop. Listen, I’m not fucking with you. Werewolves are real. I know it sounds crazy, but you sawthat thing in the forest. You know that wasn’t just a big, bad wolf.”
He’s so close to me. I look up at him and try to read his expression.
He places his hand just above my breast, over my heart. “This is part of your blood. I know you can feel it’s true.”
His touch sends shivers down my skin, but his words ring through my consciousness. “What do you mean it’s part of my blood?”
“I’ll show you.” He walks toward a shelf and reaches for a book, blowing off a layer of dust before bringing it to me. “Look, this is my family history.” I grab the book from him and sit in the chair closest to me.
It’s a photo album filled with black and white photos and newspaper clippings. It seems organized by time, beginning with older-looking pictures and articles from the early nineteen hundreds.
“Ten Slain in Strange Animal Attack.”
“Keep Out of the Woods.”
“Another Mysterious Animal Attack.”
All the headlines hold a similar theme.
The pictures show groups of men, all wearing matching black capes with axes raised over their shoulders. As time passes, the groups contain a sprinkle of women as well.
“Who are these people?” I ask.
