The Night Has Claws (Book Two) EXCERPTS ONLY

5. HEARTBROKEN, IN DISREPAIR

When I swing open the door to the flat I find Arden sitting on the kitchen floor chowing down on the raw rabbit. Holding the carcass with his good hand, he crunches down through flesh and bone. He glances up at me from where he’s sitting, a sinew dangling from his mouth. It takes all my effort not to hurl.

“Stop!”

I watch the pulse of his throat as a mouthful travels down toward his stomach, and just the idea of that slimy texture makes me heave a little. Pursing my lips, I avert my gaze in order to prevent a gag reflex.

“You can’t eat raw meat,” I tell him. “Not anymore.”

He seems tired when he asks, “Why not? I’ve done it my whole life.”

Do I really have to spell it out for him? I mean, it’s possible based on the evolutionary science Boadicea explained that raw food is actually safe for Arden’s consumption since his physiology is different from the average human. But a part of me says not to take any chances. “Because you’ll make yourself sick.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?” He stares at the carcass.

“I don’t know. Boil it or bake it, I guess.”

“Bah! I’ve lost my appetite.”

I would say the same if I wasn’t trying so hard to not throw up. Disheartened, he sets the rabbit down on the floor next to him. I notice that there’s an entire leg missing. The next two weeks suddenly seem more daunting than everything that’s gone down in the past two months. I never imagined I’d have to lecture anyone on Being Human 101. In the meantime, I toss him the package of painkillers and the pills that Roul prescribed. After swallowing them he struggles to get to his feet. When I make a move to help he lets out a snarl and digs deep to manage on his own. Without another word he heads to his room and leaves the animal carcass on the floor where he set it down. With a pair of tongs I pick it up, give it a rinse and stick it in the fridge in a casserole dish. That’s when my stomach finally lets out a growl of protest. Since I’m basically in quarantine, I might have to come to terms with the fact that I just looked my supper in the eyes. Other than that, the best I can hope for is the possibility of a cereal bar in my backpack. I grab my schoolbag from the floor of Arden’s bedroom, leaving him lying fully clothed on the queen-size bed.

In my own room, I sit on my bed and scavenge through my backpack. I find a package of flattened Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that my mom sent in a care package after I mentioned not being able to find any in Paris. As I devour them, my eyes fall on the manila envelope that I tossed next to me and my pulse quickens at the thought of what’s inside. There’s no sense in prolonging the inevitable so I tear open the slim package and pull out the contents. The subpoena is addressed to me and printed on a single sheet of letterhead that states that it’s from the High Court of Magdeburg. A coat of arms is embossed at the top: a crest with a black wolf standing on its hind legs and the motto “Non sibi sed omnibus” below it. Besides naming the prosecutor and defendant (Heaven’s Hand vs. H. Boguet), it also lists the scheduled date and time of my appearance in court. “You are hereby commanded to report in person before the High Court of Magdeburg in Harz, Germany.” Exactly one month from now. That’s all the time I’ve got to figure out how to keep my inner wolf at bay.

As I read the instructions, which includes the general detail that transportation will be provided, a hollow sensation overcomes me like there’s nothing left inside from which to squeeze out the fear. It sort of takes the edge off the harsh reality of the words. I don’t understand what they hope to get out of me. Whatever happened in Boguet’s lab when I was kidnapped from the party at La Pleine Lune occurred while I was completely out of it, recovering from Amara’s bite. How much can I offer as testimony in court? Before I can seriously consider skipping out on the whole affair I read on and confirm my hunch about a penalty for doing exactly that. “Failure to comply with this subpoena without lawful excuse is a contempt of court and may result in your arrest.” Arden once said that we’re all just pawns to the Hounds, and Roul called them oppressors. If biting incurs a death sentence, I’m not sure what the punishment for contempt would entail. All the same it’s probably better if I don’t find out first-hand. With all their archaic rules, I imagine werewolf prison is somewhere in the ballpark of Madame Tussauds Chamber of Horrors.

To distract myself, I pick up my things and spread out on my bed with my laptop in order to Google rabbit recipes. I’m hungry enough to convince myself that eating a bunny is a case of mind over matter. It doesn’t take very long for the Internet to prove me wrong. One diagram showing cut points to butcher the carcass and I’m done. Disgusted, I shut down my computer and lie back with my eyes closed for just a second. I must be more exhausted from the day’s events than I realized because sleep comes instantly.

It’s dark when I open my eyes again except for a light that illuminates the hallway in a pale glow. The sound of retching wakes me. Quietly, I pad down the corridor toward the bathroom. Sure enough, I find Arden curled up around the toilet throwing up into the bowl. So much for the theory behind evolutionary science. In a way I’m glad about not having eaten much of anything today because I’m certain it would it come up now. Taking care to breathe through my mouth, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait for a pause.

I say, “In case you’re wondering, this is called food poisoning.”

He’s too weak to tell me off but casts me a withering look. For the first time since we parted ways, I wish Amara were here. There’s not much I can do to comfort Arden. The memory of going through a similar thing myself last year is still vivid. Sleep was my only relief. My distaste for raw anything, vegetables included, comes mostly from an experience with a bad batch of sushi. I overdid it at an all-you-can-eat buffet in K-Town and a few hours later the symptoms came on strong: stomach cramps, chills, nausea and eventually vomiting. For the longest while any time I even looked at a maki roll I’d remember tasting the undigested food on its way back up. The retching noises finally ease up.

“How did you live like this?” Arden asks hoarsely.

He’s never been sick a day in his long life. Roul started an entire industry creating pharmaceuticals based on their biochemistry. I have to wonder if there’s a quick-fix pill for food poisoning.

“You get used to it,” is all I can say.

After a long pause it seems as though there’s nothing more for him to regurgitate. Arden flushes the toilet and leans back against the tiled wall with his eyes closed, defeated by his body. All the color is drawn from his skin, which is covered in beads of dampness. The Green Day T-shirt I loaned him days ago clings to his body with perspiration. For a long while we just gaze at each other in silence. The cold reality of what he is ― what I am ― sets in like cement and our former selves have been buried and smothered to death beneath the thick concrete of our separate fates.

“Roul’s right,” he says finally, his voice raw and ragged. “You can’t live without the pack.”

I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, at this hour, surrounded by the acrid smells of bile and sweat. So much of my life is out of my control. It can’t be too much to ask that I have a choice in this matter. In a way I’ve been a lone wolf all my life. All the same, I have to acknowledge that navigating through the pitfalls of this newer existence can’t compare with my previous life’s complaints. Nothing prepares you for being the stuff of nightmares — not unless you were born into this skin. Like Arden was.

Ogling him, I ask, “What does he know that you can’t tell me?”

His amber eyes come alive and I’m haunted by the former wolf in him, casting a ghostly shadow within. Maybe it’s cruel of me to ask him to share his knowledge. Am I just prolonging his inevitable severance from this world? Right at this moment all I know ― all I care about ― is the fact that we need each other to survive. I extend my arm to help him up off the bathroom floor and there’s a pause between us like when we were first introduced and he refused to shake my hand. This time, he grabs on and I hoist him up to his feet.

“Follow me,” he says and leads me into the kitchen.

Curiosity gets the better of me as he opens the fridge. “What’s up?”

“The first thing you need to learn as a wolf,” he starts, “is how to eat.”

He tosses the rabbit carcass at me. As it flies through the air I dodge its trajectory, watching as it lands with a wet and disgusting thud on the kitchen floor.

*** THAT'S ALL FOLKS! Again, big thanks for the #Wattys2014 HQ Love Award for The Night Has Teeth. My publisher only gave me permission to post excerpts of The Night Has Claws as a token of appreciation to you lovely readers. As always I'd love to hear what you think about the series through votes, comments, or reviews on other sites. ***