Saving Grace

Can't Stand Still -- Grit Your Teeth

~*****~

Whatever the hell concoction that Mick came up with might kill him on stench alone. "Good news and bad news," I mention to Zack once I pry open the iron door. "We're gonna try something from overseas. The guy who found it says that it works on mice infected with the werewolf disease, but human trials are very slow. It kills every human it's been in given to. Bad news-- We need live blood. Which means your buddy's head is useless." I explain.

Zack's face scrunches up. "That smells rancid." He mentions as I set the uncomplete cure on the desk.

I snort. "Yeah, no kidding. Is this the guy who turned you?"

Zack frowns and leans his head back, as if he's thinking hard. "I dunno... When I woke up, he was the only one around..."

I snort. "Great. So until we find out who turned you, you're not leaving this room. And yeah-- you'll have to stay awake while the moons full." Zack groaned loudly, shifted, and hissed at the harsh sizzling of the silver chain against his arms. "Luckily for you, werewolves live in packs, and I'm sure somebody's pissed that you killed this guy. They'll track your scent here and try to kill you."

"How is that lucky of me?" Zack groaned.

"Because, my dude, it means I can pin 'em down with silver netting and have myself a little interrogation on who bit you. Which means, I can complete this disgusting shit, and either cure you, or kill you."

Zack just stares at me incredulously. "What are you, freaking insane?" He asks in a horrified breath. "Doesn't a pack mean more than like, two?"

I wave my hand around and perch on the desk. "The people who told you I might be able to help you? They chose me for a reason." I ruffle his hair as if he were a child. "Don't worry. If I can't heal you, you'll die knowing you aren't going down as one of those blood thirsty monsters."

Zack chuffed and slumped against the wall. "Thanks for that." He grunted irritably. I chuckled and shut the iron door behind me.

Bobby met me upstairs, his hands halting in their weaving with the large net we'd been making. "He still rational?" Bobby asks.

I nod. "Yeah, a little irritated from sleep deprivation, and the silver chains burning his hide, but nonetheless, he's accepted what his fate might come to."

"Good. As long as that boy can keep himself in his own mind, there might be a chance this thing works. You sure this Mick guy knows what he's talking about?" Bobby asks.

I nod again. "Yeah, Mick's a pretty good hunter. He's apparently apart of some huge group in the UK that dedicates their lives to hunting down the Supernatural. He doesn't go into great detail, but he's sent over some pretty good info in the past."

Bobby grunts and tosses the large section of netting down. "That's done. I don't know how the hell you're gonna pull this off without getting a hunk taken out of you."

"I'll figure it out." I gaze out the window briefly and hum. "Sun'll go down in an hour or so, we should get the sprinklers set up."

Bobby heaved up the jug of water we'd shaved silver into. "Well, we better get to it." I beamed before grabbing the other jug. "I don't know how in the hell you keep those boys alive with plans like this."

I bark out a laugh as the door snaps shut behind us. "I told you, I'm usually the voice of reason when it comes to those two."

~*****~

It's well into the night, and the full moon is high in the sky. I gaze upwards skeptically to the only lit window in the house-- Mary's room is completely werewolf proof for the meantime, but it wouldn't hold against three or four of them. Hopefully, this pack would only be that. Bobby sat at the top of the house, gazing around through the scope of his rifle.