Claws and Fangs

Aftercare and Chains

The next morning -- afternoon? -- I wake up with a pounding headache. I'm amazed that I haven't puked on myself. I turn my head. On a small table next to my bed is a covered plate, and a note telling me it's from Bethy. According to her, I really shouldn't have had that last beer. What can I say? Always trust the barkeep, especially if you're a lightweight.

I roll out of bed and lift the cover. The smell of greasy sausage and toast wafts up at me, and while I can't imagine putting anything in my churning stomach, I shovel it down. It does wonders for my bellyache, less for the headache, but either way it gets me on my feet. Natasha is gone, probably tending to her daily work in the rotation. Some merciful soul put her in charge of the kids that are too old to live with their parents so she could see her boys. I'm supposed to be on laundry duty myself, but I figure I can put it off for a bit. The full moon is tonight, and I'm itching with the feel of it. Literally, in fact. I scratch my arm idly as I wander the halls.

All of a sudden Bethy whirls around the corner, torch in hand. I should have seen the light, but I have to admit to being a bit distracted. The craggy halls have a mysticism that lets the mind wander.

"How's your 'ead?" she laughs, amused by my upstart. I narrow my eyes. While I seem to be on better terms with most of the pack, I'm not sure what might set her off. I don't like it, but I have to keep my guard up, and it was a mistake to forget that last night. To forget anything, for that matter. 

"Better, thanks to your morning remedy."

She nods. "My da's recipe, always did the trick, least 'til his liver gave out." She lifts a heavy, rusted chain with her other hand. "You wanna help get ready for tonight?"

I raise a brow. "Why do you need chains? It's only a full moon."

Bethy looks at me incredulously. "You're not worried? There's so much as could go wrong, so much you cannae control."

"Why should I be worried? We're far enough away from any humans with a massive forest full of wild game to keep us occupied. Besides, I'm seventeen; I've seen my share of moons."

Bethy shrugs. "Your, 'ead, I s'pose." I follow her through the halls and down more flights of stairs than I had thought possible. I'm breathing more heavily than normal by the time we stop in front of a thick door of reinforced steel. It's very heavy duty for a catacombs, and I'm starting to get nervous.

"What's all this for?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing too major, just a place to keep the young wolves so's they don't cause trouble. We lost one of our own a while back when one of the boys let the wolf take control. He picked a fight bigger than him and lost, badly. Wouldnae have been such an issue, it happens every now and again, 'cept that one was Isaac's second youngest, Bardou." She hauls open the door and I follow her through.

"That's awful," I say, and I mean it. Not that I'd had much opportunity to ask, but Mark never mentioned how his family died, and all anyone else knew was that his mother's passing seemed to be the fatal break in Isaac's sanity.

"Aye, it's a sad thing, but there's nothing to be done about it now. Here, help me hitch these up."

We lock the chains into place from some hooks in the ceiling.

"So now what?" I ask, looking around the dank room. It reeks of blood and stagnant water; something doesn't seem right here. I rub the goosebumps from my arms, but it does nothing to ease my concern.

All of a sudden Bethy grabs the chain, whirls around, and clamps the shackles around my wrists. I'm too shocked to resist as she yanks a length of rope through a pulley and drags me off my feet. I am forced to dangle with my arms over my head and my toes just barely brushing the floor.