Draw the Veil

IV. Lessons in Lycanthropy

I spent a few days lying in my clean bed in the bungalow. My mother sat by me, watching me like a hawk night and day.

When I was awake, she fed me soup and cleaned my cuts with something that made my body sting and burn_I had injuries to my neck and sides and legs and even a few places I had been unaware of at the time.

When I was asleep, I was running through the darkness again, a monster bearing down on me. I would see the bungalow ahead, but it would only get further and further away the faster I ran. And in my dream, the fangs would pierce my neck once more, and I would die.

On the third day, I awakened from this horrible nightmare, panting and sweating, and immediately tried to sit up, but my mother's firm hand pushed me back down. 'Remus, honey, please don't get up. You're still weak.' She sounded like she had been crying.

'I feel fine,' I protested, trying to sit up again.

'You were very badly hurt,' she said.

'I know. But I'm OK now.' I glanced up as my father came in and stood next to her, looking down on me as if I were on my death bed.

'No, you're not OK,' my mother said, and burst into fresh tears.

'There, there,' my father said, patting her on the shoulder. He turned to me. 'Son, we need to talk about what happened to you.'

I sighed and threw myself back down on the pillow. 'OK, fine. But I'm telling you, I'm OK now. Never better.' I decided not to mention the nightmares.

'Son...that creature that attacked you. Do you know what it was?'

That creature. I shuddered and shook my head. I didn't want to talk about that night. 'I think I saw something like it in a book once,' I said softly.

'It was a werewolf,' he said. My eyes widened in terror. A werewolf. Out here in the country? 'And it bit you,' my father added unnecessarily.

'Yes, I know.' I reached up and felt the bandage on my neck.

'In a way, you're very lucky. I was out looking for you, and I saw you running. At first, I just thought you were hurrying back because you were late. But then I saw that...that thing. And I ran as fast as I could to reach you. And...I was too late.'

I was silent, thinking of my father dashing across the field to rescue me, glad that I had not truly been alone out there in the darkness. 'But Dad, you weren't too late. It bit me, yes, but I'm OK now. It's healing, right?'

My father seemed to age 20 years in a matter of seconds. 'I failed you,' he said. 'If I had only run a little faster, yelled at it, something...' He looked me in the eyes. 'Son, do you know what happens when a werewolf bites a human?'

I shrugged.

'The bite is how the werewolf became a werewolf in the first place,' he said. My mother, still crying, fell against his chest. He held her tightly in his arms.

'What are you saying?' I asked, confused.

'He's saying you're a werewolf!' my mother shouted, jumping up from the bed. She pushed my father away. 'A fucking werewolf. My son!' She ran from the room, crying.

I lay on the bed, stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling above me. A werewolf? Me? I'm...that thing? 'No, I can't be. Look at me. I'm fine!'

My father half rose from the bed, intent on going to my mother, and stopped short. He looked at me but could not meet my eyes. 'You're going to transform. Once a month, with the full moon.'

'Transform,' I repeated. 'I don't understand.'

My father sighed, impatient. 'Once a month, when there's a full moon, you're going to become a werewolf. Your body is going to change. You're going to become a monster. Because I couldn't save you.'

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and questions. I was going to become a monster? I was going to roam the countryside, attacking little boys the way that creature had attacked me? I was going to be...a murderer? And my father...I stopped short. He had moved his face closer to mine, and for the first time in my 8 years, I smelled firewhiskey on his breath.

'Do you get it, son? Do you understand?' he said. 'Do you see why your mum and I are so upset? You're not OK. You're a freak now. Your life is going to be hell.' Tears welled up in his eyes. 'Shit, maybe you'd have been better off if I'd just let it kill you.' I shrank back against the pillow, terrified. 'At least then you'd never go through that. You'd never have to be a killer. You'd always be the sweet little boy your mum and I raised.'

He got to his feet. 'I have to go find your mother,' he said, and walked out of the room.