An Eye For An Eye

Vingt-Six

As he pressed the button on the kettle to make it boil, I winced and lifted my hands to cover my ears.
“That’s loud!” I exclaimed. Immediately, he turned the kettle off. I lowered my hands as he sighed.
“Enhanced hearing,” he muttered and then it was my turn to sigh. “Try to focus on something else.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. That was very helpful. I refrained from sighing again and pushed my hair out of my eyes.

I stared at him for a moment and tried to focus on something. But what did I focus on? Deucalion turned to the side and his hand was held out for me. I took it and closed my eyes.
“Okay, I think I’ll be okay,” I said quietly. As he pressed the button, he gently squeezed my hand and I prepared for my ears to hurt from the noise. I tried to focus on everything but the noise.

Deucalion’s hand was a little rough and he was wearing one of his sweaters again, despite it being quite warm. His sweaters were always soft and always in rather neutral and calming colours. I sort of hoped he would take it off later, maybe I could read to him while we sat on the sofa. Or maybe we could listen to one of my audiobooks later, I had mostly brought ones I hadn’t listened to with me but I had brought my favourites too: The Chronicles of Narnia audiobooks.

“Can you hear me, Liza?” I think he had said something before that but I had no idea what he had said.
“Huh?” I asked.
“I think you ignored a little more than just the kettle,” he said before chuckling. “You’ll get used to it, with enough time. And, with even more time, you’ll be able to pick out certain sounds.”

Humming, I let go of his hand and moved to take the cup of tea. It was darker since I didn’t have mine with milk. As I sipped it, it was far too hot but there was only a moment of pain, I had an idea and I set the cup down. If thinking of him could distract me from the pain-inducing loud noises, perhaps he could be my anchor. He had said that Tasha and Jack’s relationship was their anchor. Maybe it would work for me too.

“Maybe I have an anchor,” I said quietly. He smiled as he picked up his cup of tea.
“That’s good,” Deuc said before drinking.
“Don’t you want to know what it is?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“We have to see if it works first.” He was right, unsurprisingly. “Besides, it might be for the best that it doesn’t work, so you know what it’s like to shift.”

“But if I have an anchor, I’m more in control of that, right?” Being in control of it sounded a lot better than being in an uncontrollable rage with bloodlust.
“Yes,” he said. He took a gulp of the tea before speaking again. “But I have the feeling that if you are in control, you won’t want to shift, even if you have to.”
“Okay…?” I said slowly, I think I was misunderstanding. Or completely missing his point entirely.

“If you understand what you are capable of when you shift, you may be more likely to shift when needed to, because you understand how much stronger you’ll be,” he said. His index finger slid around the rim of the cup. “It’s… it’s certainly a feeling, very different from how you are now. It’s more primal, more animalistic. And there’s a certain raw strength that comes with that, and it can be very useful.”

The idea that I would need to use that strength scared me. But there would likely be hunters, hunters that did not have a truce or hunters that simply didn’t care. There were more people like my father - no, like Gerard Argent - than I wanted to admit. It was likely I would have to fight someone. It would happen at some point, it was inevitable.

It was still a strange thought that I was one of the supernatural.

“Do you think this was for the best?” I asked as I leant against the counter. “This is all so complicated. Anchors and enhanced hearing. There’s the whole smelling emotions thing that I’ll have to deal with too and…” His hand rested on my arm and I instantly stopped talking.
“Yes, I have no doubts about that,” he said firmly, but not harshly. “Yes, this is complex and there is a lot you need to learn and you’ll have to adapt to hearing so much and smelling so much but I have no doubts this was for the best.”

A smile spread across my face. I was glad to be alive and there was no question it was for the best. I supposed it would take some time getting used to things.
“I’m not a very quick learner,” I told him, feeling a little awkward. It had been why I hadn’t been a great hunter. There was so much to learn and so little time.
“We’re in no rush.”
“But the full moon-”
“Is in three or four days, yes,” he interrupted. Sheepishly, I looked down at the bottom of my cup. “Liza, I know you’re worried but it’s natural to not be in control for a few months at least. And sometimes even years, especially if the person had anger issues before becoming a werewolf.”

I sighed. I knew it wouldn’t be that bad, I didn’t have anger issues either which meant it wouldn’t be that bad. And he had already said that he wasn’t going to let me hurt anyone so that eliminated that threat. But what if one day he wasn’t there? If he wasn’t with me on a full moon and I still didn’t have my anchor.

“Liza, I can’t imagine you learnt well from Gerard but I am not Gerard. I understand that harshness and humiliation is not a teaching method that works, they rarely do. It inspires rebellion when I would prefer mutual respect,” he said softly. He had taken a step towards me and had put his cup down on the counter top. “And while Gerard has only taught you and your siblings, I have taught far more werewolves. And so far, they are all in control of their abilities. Besides, you managed to block out the kettle, even if you also blocked me out when I tried talking to you.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I whispered. The last thing I wanted to do was ignore him.
“I know,” he said.

I turned to face him properly, it just sort of felt rude not to look at him, even if he couldn’t see me.
“But that is a start,” he continued. “It’s better than not being able to ignore the kettle at all and having a meltdown. Whatever you focused on seemed to help.”
“Well, I was thinking about you,” I said honestly and I picked up my cup. “And that maybe we could listen to some of my audiobooks later or something.”
“I like the sound of that.” He was smiling and I knew I was smiling back.

His hand left my arm and he moved around the counter to sit down and drink his tea.
“And I still owe you a dance.”
I laughed as I picked up the cup. “From last night?”
“Yes, I said I would dance with you when you asked, didn’t I?” he said as his hand wrapped around his own cup.

“Well yes but…” I trailed off. He wasn’t seriously thinking I was expecting him to still dance with me because he agreed to before I was shot. Twice, with a crossbow.
“But?” he prompted. Did I really have to explain it to him?
“I got shot by…” It took everything not to call him father but the mere thought of it disgusted me. “Well, Gerard shot me, didn’t he? And then I became a werewolf.”

“That’s no excuse for not dancing with you, Liza,” he said as he gently shook his head. It was like he disapproved of himself for not dancing with me.
“Well, I guess if you’re insistent, we can dance right now.”
“Did you finish your drink?” Glancing down at the cup of tea that was probably getting rather cold rather quickly, I reconsidered my answer.
“We can dance in five minutes.”