The Howling

Chapter Four

        Villette regarded her brother worriedly. He struggled to keep his face composed and blank. But Villette could see his mind practically spinning behind his eyes, his thoughts whirling and racing. 

        "So Al is..." his voice faded and, after a moment, he looked down at Villette, still unable to grasp the right words. 

        "Alive?" she suggested. "I don't know. I asked him once but he was pretty unclear on it. He didn't seem interested in talking about it, so I've never asked him again. I don't know who he is or what he is really. All I do know is that he's family, Emil." 

        "Easy for you to say." He meant it to sound light but a bitter tinge edged his voice. "Sorry, it's just...I don't know. Why didn't he tell me any of this himself, Villette? I was old enough before they...before all of this." He waved his hand about vaguely.  

        "I know." 

        "So now you're telling me that the suit of armor that's been in our house the entire time-the thing I've walked past thousands of times with hardly a second glance-is alive? That it's somehow alive." 

        She nodded slightly. 

        He regarded her for a moment and then shrugged. "I guess that explains why you seem to love the darn thing so much. Uncle John and I always thought it strange that you-" The words died in his throat and he started in alarm. "You don't think that punk is going after John, do you?" 

        "I doubt it. He's not an Amsel." 

        "But what is an Amsel?" Emil asked, settling down somewhat. 

        "It was Dad's last name before he was married. He thought it would be safer to take on a more generic last name than waltzing around with a name connected heavily with magic." 

        "I've never heard it being connected with magic." 

        "Well no, not to humans. Dad told me once that the Amsels were powerful magicians. They still are. Apparently, our grandfather is pretty important in the magical community." 

        Emil looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've never heard Dad mention his parents before. They're magicians?" 

        She nodded. 

        "Then do you think it would be a good idea to visit them?" 

        Villette hesitated. She had been thinking along those same lines as she and Al lost themselves in the city. It would be simple enough: Al knew their address. It wasn't far. They could be sitting in the grandparent's sitting room in a matter of hours. 

        But her father's words gave her pause. He had told her that magicians were cold and calculating creatures. They seldom did things simply out of the kindness of their heart. They were secretive, wily, and never acted unless it proved beneficial to them in some form or fashion. Regardless of the fact that she and Emil were bound to these shadowy figures by blood-which she felt wouldn't amount to much in their eyes-they had nothing to offer up to their grandparents.  

        She tried to see it from their point of view. If two humans dropped by, shivering on the porch, with nothing more than problems following in their wake, would she let them in? Obviously, she tried to think in the mindset of a magician, which she found difficult to do without much knowledge to work with, but her gut twisted when she realized the answer would be no.  

        But, what harm was there in trying? The worst they could say was no. And they might be more inclined to help them, if Villette spun the story that made everything center around the family name. That was, after all, the definitive reason the young magician had appeared in the first place. He said he needed the blood of the Amsel. Their family's blood.