“Where is he? Please?”
“He isn’t there," whispered Tedman."He could... he will attack.”
I shook my head.
His eyes narrowed, “How could we explain the ripping new-you, to your parents, if he hurts you and blood contact affects your DNA?”
“I have to try.”
Despite Faolan’s support, Mac’s feet dragged as he stepped closer, “How can we allow it?”
“You have to let me see him. I can reach – ”
Tedman eyes glowed soft yellow, “He won’t let anyone near him. He won’t allow a light. He hasn’t moved, or even spoken since – .”
“Did he speak, after?”
“Again and again, but he only said one thing.” Alburn spoke from the lowest step. His chest was wrapped in bandages but bruises seeped higher across his pale chest and blackened his jaw. There were no tears or bites, but he was a mess.
“His feet,” Alburn answered the unasked question.
“He kept saying: ‘It’s my fault.’" said Tedman. "He couldn’t hear. He wouldn’t listen.”
“We told him it wasn’t,” added Alburn. “We said he wasn’t to blame for this, but …”
“He was wild. Now he is violent. Lost to us.”
Stumbling past and between them, I made for the stairs.
“Selene?” called Mac, “Where are you going?”
“To the dark.” Using my feet and hands, using as few steps as possible, I climbed to the top of the house.
Ducking under the unhinged door I saw the efforts they’d already made to tidy away the evidence of the attack. The room had been stripped of the damaged things; ghost-images of their possessions stood in the spaces everywhere. But Caleb wasn’t in the room, not on a bed at least. I looked towards the boys’ bathroom, sure now where he was.
The door was closed but a ray of sunlight glinted on the brass door handle and the key dangling from the lock. A rumbling growl made me freeze, but it wasn’t deep enough to be Caleb in wolf form. The lock gave a soft snick as I turned the key. Silence gave me the encouragement I needed to tug the handle and to push the door open. Foot hovering over the threshold, I paused when a deeper growl began in the dark of the room.
The others had followed. They were standing behind me talking in hushed whispers, making decisions they planned to enforce.
I gripped a small object tightly in my hand, didn’t waste time trying to argue or to explain. I darted inside and used the key to lock it closed again with two of us inside.
With the cold, tiled floor beneath me, I waited for my eyes adjusted to the half-light. Caleb was damaged and still trapped inside a cage, but this was one he had created in his mind. That didn’t matter. I had to find a way to get through to him, and then I’d be able to help him free himself from this prison too. With images of Alburn and Tedman fresh in my mind I knew the damage Caleb could do. But I had to believe, no matter what, that I could find Caleb, reach him, and survive.
The only sound on the other side of the room was breathing. Sounds that became deeper, more rapid. My heart raced, my breath caught, the smells in the confined space were building to toxic fumes. I ran my hands down the leather of Faolan's jacket, there was stiff blood on my tracksuit. It sickened me. I staggered to the shower cubical just inside the door and threw the taps on full. Under the slashing water, I stripped off the jacket and allowed the water to sluice away the surface grime. It wasn’t enough. I peeled off the tracksuit. With the torrent pelting at my back, I waited until the water ran cold.
When I closed the cubical door, there was no sign that Caleb had moved. I slipped down to the floor, shivered as the drops of water trailed down my skin. Talking wasn’t going to work unless Caleb was ready to listen. It was too early to try. Tile by chilled tile, I shuffled forward. I ran my fingers around the tiles and along the grooves between. When I recognised every abrasive, scratchy imperfection, I moved closer onto the next tile.
Discordant and off key, too cheerful for my suicidal efforts, I hummed the song Caleb and his brothers had played the first time I'd visited. My mind flooded with memories. I hoped I could help Caleb find them too.
I made torturously slow progress across the room. Caleb growled each time I tensed to make my move from one square into the next. His silhouette was easy to make-out, now my eyes were used to the dark. He lay by the side of the bath. With each snarl, violent tremors shuddered through him. His eyes were open but they were never still; they gleamed as they tracked the flicker of the strip of light that crept under the door, as I crawled ever closer.
Uncontrollable shivers made my voice break, I whispered, “I’m – cold; Ca-leb?”
I sat by his feet. He was so still. Blinking back tears cleared my blurred vision. Heart pounding, leaping with the rhythm of his breath, I counted forward and backwards from one hundred. I was still unhurt. Caleb hadn’t moved.
I crawled into the space behind him. Running the pads of my fingers as softly as I could along his back I slid my hand around to his chest. I curved my body around his.
He shivered.
Our bodies’ meagre warmth combined, seeped from core to core. I turned my cheek onto his back until I could see the wood panelled ceiling. Following the lines and counting the knots in the wood, I waited for an end, or for something better. Despite the danger, exhaustion won. With my arms around his chest and my forehead pressed to the centre of his back, I fell asleep.
Sorry it is on the long side, but it is my favourite piece of brave writing. I can't wait to read the other actions that take bravery and, maybe, risk life and limb :)
