Because We Feel

Flowers

"No, don't go back!" James pressed. "It's dangerous! They'll hunt you. I don't want to lose my best friend. You - you can -" he searched for the worst possibility " - can die!" he exclaimed. "You want me to let my family burn to death?" replied Hans. "That is a risk I shouldn't take. I have to go. I know that I might die, but I have to destroy their footage of me changing. They won't rest until they've killed me and my family," Hans' voice was cool and calm, which unnerved James. But he was tired, and in no mood to retaliate. James continued to pace, while Hans sat on the grey couch, head in his hands. Hans' argument was valid. He wouldn't be able to stop his determined friend from doing what he liked. However, he was not going to let him take the risk on his own. "Alright," said James, " but you'll have to take me along too."

Hans looked up at his best friend. James was standing in front of him, feet apart. With the white bulb light streaming into his face, Hans could see him very well. His sharp features were creased into a determined frown that matched his own. "Okay," he said. He sighed, resigned to his fate. If he went to the Albroden's mansion, he would almost certainly be killed by his enemies. That would be bad. If he did not go, then he and his family would burn to death. That would be worse. He sighed again. "Okay," he repeated. "Let's go grab our gear."

Fifteen minutes later, both friends had zipped up their jerkins and had slipped on their shoes. Hans also had a bottle of acid and two pairs of rubber gloves with him. "Let's go," he whispered to James. They jogged up the gray hill that was lit slightly with the sparse moonlight that streaked through the canopy of birch trees. The dry grass crunched under their feet as they descended to the mansion, which was shrouded in darkness. They passed a sign with and arrow pointing toward the house, which read – "Albroden's: The Werewolf Hunters". Some kid had spayed a word in red just underneath it which made Hans shiver. 

It read 'DANGER' .

The mansion was always lit at night. Today the front porch and all the windows were dark and the house was empty. Lisa and Heinrich Albroden, the famous werewolf hunters, had gone to bust a rogue pack in the Alps. They were nowhere near their home, and that comforted Hans. He was still worried, however, that one of his pack members might have tipped off the couple, and their team might be waiting in the dark house in ambush.

They sneaked up through the yard to the back door of the house. Hans fished the gloves out of his jacket and tossed a pair to James before putting on his own. Heart thumping, he burned the keyhole with a couple of drops of the acid in the bottle in his pocket. Then he put a finger to his lips, motioning to James, and entered the house. He was half expecting to see guns trained at him, but the house was quiet. They tiptoed up the creaky staircase, their rubber shoes squeaking in time to their heartbeats. James saw the footage viewing room first. It was padlocked, but Hans confidently typed in the code and the door swung inward. James was surprised, but decided to voice his question after their task was complete. He shook his head and entered the room a step behind Hans.

Pale blue light filtered in through the ceiling-to-floor windows at the end wall of the room. A set of computers were fit into a cove in the left wall of the room. A single large screen took up most of the right wall. A small table with a diary and a vase of flowers was pushed into the right corner of the room. The flowers caught Hans' eye. The five dark red petals of each flower were edged with a brilliant orange that looked as though someone had spattered it on the edges of the petals. Hans advanced towards the flowers, entranced. James pulled his friend back, trying to get his attention back to their objective, but Hans batted his hand away. His love for flowers pulled him towards the vase and he removed his gloves to feel the true texture of their petals. His hand skimmed velvet, and brushed the orange on the petals. Without warning, a sizzling rose from his fingers. The petals crumbled to dust and Hans gave a pained moan. He held his right wrist and staggered backwards. James, who was too startled to do anything about anything, watched his friend writhe in pain. He simply stood and stared as Hans collapsed on the floor body, shrouded in purple flames like no others, and convulsed on the floor like a dying animal.

Dying.

Animal.

His best friend screamed again and again, filled with unfathomable agony. Hans' being flashed from human to wolf, wolf to human. Back and forth, back and forth, until he suddenly stopped moving completely - half man, half wolf.

Completely dead.

All because of the flowers in the vase.