Sin of Lycaos

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Two: Redemption

by D.M.P.

***

Out of the depths have I cried out to thee, O LORD. Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications. If thou, LORD, shouldest mark inquiries, O LORD, who shall stand? But, there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared.

-Psalms 130:1-4.

***

Chapter 6

She was holding the chain in her hand. A pale little waif in a blood-stained green jumper. She held the necklace away from her, letting it dangle in her chubby little fingers. "Child killer..." she said softly, her voice as faint as an echo.

Lupin kneeled in front of her, his hands clasped together. He had to reach her; she had to listen! He only wanted a sign from her, anything at all! Please! If only she would give him a glance, acknowledge his presence! Yet she wasn´t listening to his calls, his pleas, his apologies. She just stared ahead, her little body rigid like a porcelain doll, except those bitter words that flowed out mellifluously, like a ghostly chant.

"Please, I beg of you, listen!" he pleaded.

"Child killer..."

"I didn´t mean to! I never meant to..."

"Child killer..."

Lupin abruptly turned away and threw his hands down. He could not beg any longer. "Hear me!" he yelled angrily.

The girl´s head suddenly snapped down to look at him. Her blond hair blew back from her face by an undetectable wind. "Damned fool..." The words sounded alien on a child´s tongue, in that high, nimble voice. "Cursed beast from hell. Why should I listen?"

"That´s not true!" Lupin protested. His voice echoed off into the darkness surrounding them. "I´m human! I´M HUMAN!"

"You never were..." The girl stared at him coldly. There was nothingness where her eyes should have been. "You were cursed since the day you were born..."

Snap.

The sound of a twig cracking. Lupin turned around and saw that he was in the forests outside Hogsmeade. How did he get here? Where did the girl go?

The man stepped out of the darkened trees. He was dressed in black, with knee-high leather boots and a utility belt of potions and magic items around his waist. The crossbow with the silver arrows was in his hands. He looked exactly like Lupin last remembered him.

"Father!" Lupin tried to run to him, to plead with him, to convince him to tell he that he was human. But he couldn´t move; it was like his feet were made of stone. "Father," he panicked, "you have to help me!"

However, the man did not speak. Instead, he raised up his crossbow and pointed it level to Lupin. He looked up and his eyes were blank and white just like the girl´s.

"Father, listen to me!" Lupin wanted to say, but then he realized he couldn´t speak anymore. He attempted to move again, and found himself on all four paws. Paws? Wolf! No! Lupin felt his desperation build. This was insane! He was human! But his protests were twisted into a wailing howl.

I´m your son, Remus! he thought wildly, unable to get the words out.

"Stay back, monster," Father said in his gravest tone. He had his finger on the trigger mechanism. Three arrows were notched and ready to fire.

Father, no!

"Burn in hell," the Auror whispered and let his arrows fly.

***

Lupin stopped sleeping after that.

***

One, two, three days passed. Ever since that dream he had on the train to Cambridge, he refused to let his eyes close for a moment. Whenever he did relax and start to snooze, he would see that terrible ghost girl and snap awake instantly. Yet moving on without sleep was torture; he knew he wouldn´t last.

Lupin walked down the streets of Cambridge, wondering whether he should stop by the city´s homeless shelter again. That was the first place he went when he made it to Cambridge. He had stayed there all day, slipping in and out repeatedly at the food lines, hoping that the workers didn´t notice how he had appeared for more than one or two helpings. He had eaten more there than he had the entire week before.

The wind played with his hair and he zipped up his newly-acquired jacket, a gift from the shelter´s donation box. The old, bloodstained clothing was thrown out long ago, in separate trashcans at various train stations, to help lessen the chances of the police finding them. News of the dead girl was fresh on everyone´s mind, and he had the right to be wary. The fact that no one ceased talking about it on those train rides nearly drove him mad.

"Have you heard of that incident at Havenshire?" one passenger would say to her neighbor.

"Yes, such a shame, isn´t it?" A hushed tone, as if the subject warranted it.

"Aye, and such a poor girl too. Heard she was a preacher´s daughter. Happened right on the church grounds!"

"Where is the world coming to, with these wild animals about?"

"The creature should be shot, if the police ever find it!"

"Yes!" the other agreed enthusiastically. "These animals invading urban areas - they should all be exterminated!"

"But have you heard of the blood evidence? The specialists are puzzled about what kind of creature it is. A new species, they´re speculating."

"Ha! Figures, with industrialization these days. Having mutants spring up out of those toxic wastes that England can´t dump properly. New monsters coming out and killing us all!"

During those times, Lupin would just wish that those passengers would shut up.

He entered a small wooded park at the end of the street. Strolling down a random path, he stared at the grove of trees. No songbirds around now. The autumn foliage had begun to wither and droop, and the leaves were falling in droves. The crisp air was eerily still.

Lupin came to a clearing and leaned on a small boulder near the middle of it. He was full, clean-clothed, and wracked with insomnia. He didn´t know what he was feeling. Even that shadow of content was gone.

Almost automatically, he reached inside his case for his family book. The Bible felt heavier in his hands than usual, and the special scent that he always associated with it was gone. He placed it in his lap and opened the leather cover. As always, he flipped to the first pages, filled with those various scripts of the family tree. Large, looping flourishes alongside tiny scribbles. Straight words next to tilting ones. Neat and messy, clean cut and coarse, the various names were laid out before him. All ending with his. Remus Jacob Lupin.

He trailed his finger upwards along the line. Son to Ares and Rhea Silva. Grandson to Numitor and Vesta. And so on, and so forth...

Yet there was more to him than a name in a book. Remus Jacob Lupin. Victim to Lycaos. Murderer to Mary Grisham. Charlatan to Sergeant Bailey. Sinner to Reverend Grisham and wife. Damned to the world and to himself...

Damned. The word seemed to echo through his sleep-deprived mind. He was cursed. He was evil beyond evil. He killed a child, and she was now a part of him, literally and figuratively. She was dead, yet she still lived within him. Her death tainted his soul forever. Her flesh was his flesh, her blood, his blood.

A cool breeze blew and Lupin felt a touch on his shoulder.

Child killer...

He looked behind him to see nothing but blowing leaves and autumn sky. Nothing. Was he hallucinating now? Or was she out to get him? Was her ghost hovering above, there to haunt him for all eternity?

The mere thought of her brought back the sound. It was fuzzy and unclear, as remembrances go, but vivid and piercing in his mind. They filled his head during the day when he couldn´t sleep, worse than the pale face he saw when he dozed.

Screams.

She was screaming when jumped her. Wailing and struggling as he pinned her down, as he bent to rip her throat to stop her screams, just like how Lycaos tore out his father´s voice. And she was crying in a shrieking tone, "Papa! Papa!!!"

He shut his eyes and saw her cherub face contorted in fear and pain. "PAPA!!!"

Child killer...

Lupin shut the book with a start and threw it upon the ground. "Damn it all," he spat darkly. He half-wished he could just scream it out loud for everyone to hear, but he didn´t even have the strength to do that.

He kicked at the Bible and watched it flip over into a pile of leaves. It opened up halfway and the faint wind blew the pages about. "You´re not there," he whispered to it. "You´re a lie."

He stared up at the sky. It was light blue and cloudless. The sun was a bright, distant orb and its sunlight was filtered and spotted through the half-bare tree branches.

"Twenty-nine years," he whispered. He paused to let the words sink in. "Twenty-nine years and where have I gone? What have I done? Was I protected? Was I safe?" All the tight emotion that could have been in those words had been wrung out. He could not force any anger or grief or regret into them. Lupin was tired. That was all. He wanted to sleep.

"No." He bit on his lip and blinked hard. His vision blurred and he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. He felt the vague spark of surprise; he didn´t know that he still had the will to cry.

"Everyone in that book meant something, didn´t they? Do I mean anything???" he asked aloud. The first tear trailed down his face.

"Were you there for me twenty-nine years ago...?" he asked in a louder, harsher voice. "Were you there for me four nights ago? Were you ever there for my mother, or my father, or Murphy, or Mary?? Are you there at all?!"

No one answered him. He swore loudly to the one who wasn´t listening, to the dream girl who refused to listen to him, and to himself for not listening on a night all those years ago when he was told to stay home.

Lupin reached for something that would listen.

Click.

The gun felt like nothing in his grasp. He turned the little safety latch off. Control. He lost control of his life. This now was control of his death.

"She was right," Lupin said bitterly. "I was cursed the day I was born."

He put the muzzle into his mouth and pressed it to the roof of his mouth, placed directly so that the bullet would lodge into the brain when fired. His tongue tasted the oily zinc and steel of hard metal. It had the same metallic texture as blood. He put his finger to the trigger and closed his eyes.

Lupin was tired. Time to sleep.

"Don´t."

The voice was not his.

He kept his eyes closed and his hand on the weapon. End it all, end it all, just sleep after this, just sleep, damn him, damn her, damn Lycaos, damn everyone, no faith, just sleep, just death, just sleep... sleep... death... hell... darkness... nothing.... sleep...

But he hesitated.

"Please, sir." The voice was high, hesitant, and extremely shaky, as if its user was going to break down at any moment. The sound of sniffles came to his ears. Was someone else crying?

Lupin opened his eyes and took the revolver out of his mouth. He felt the weight of the gun slip from his hand and drop to the ground. It hit with an unacknowledged thump beside the Bible. "Who´s there?" he asked warily.

The shuffle of leaves stirred up by footsteps. The sound of someone running. A little figure turned from him at the edge of the clearing, and then vanishing among the skeleton trees.

"Wait!" Lupin said with sudden energy. He dashed to the front of the clearing at grabbed the person by the shoulder. The cloth was from a green jumper, and the figure was much smaller than him.

Lupin recoiled instantly. "You!"

Her blue eyes were filled with tears and she shuddered and backed away also. "You were gonna-" she started weakly before collapsing all out into tears and falling to her knees. She put her hands to her face. A silver chain was entangled in her fingers, with his father´s cross and the tags tapping against each other.

Lupin could only gape in shock at the little girl, resurrected. Mary Grisham had returned.

Chapter 7

Lupin was at a loss for words. He couldn´t move or even breathe. The world began to spin; he thought he would faint. Slowly backing away, he felt his legs ready to bolt, but something told him not to. With nothing else to rely on, he stiffly fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. Yet his torrent of thoughts couldn´t permit him a voice to speak with.

The little girl paid him no heed. When he finally got his bearings, Lupin broke his stance and attempted to approach her again, yet Mary scooted away and sobbed harder. "Papa!" she whispered plaintively. "Mama..!"

Mary sat on the park ground with her knees drawn up to her chest, crying furiously into her hands. Her little shoulders shook with her sobs, and little wet spots from the tears fell upon her jumper. It was stained with dirt and rips all over it. Dark patches of black spotted the dress, the long dried remains of blood. Her hair, which was blonde and quite fine, became a tangled, brown-gold heap upon her head, the pigtails undone and the ribbons lost.

And then did Lupin see who Mary really was. Not a guilty conscience or a holy figure or a vengeful judge. Mary was Mary, a little girl who was all alone and crying and in wild need of her parents.

All his initial fear of her gone, Lupin crouched down next to Mary. "It´s-it´s all right, my dear," he whispered to her in his gentlest tone. "Nothing bad is going to happen now."

Mary raised her head and looked at Lupin with brimming eyes. Then she just shook her head rigidly and began weeping again. Lupin felt uncomfortable just watching Mary cry like that and tried once more to put a hand on her shoulder. She shrank back.

"No guns," she said quickly.

"What?"

"Guns are very bad." She was crying so hard that she hiccupped when she said this. Lupin looked over at where the Colt .45 revolver laid.

"I´ll put it away," he said, trying to ease her distress. He got up, and Mary´s gaze followed him to the spot where the weapon was. He picked it up and opened the chamber. Mary gasped at this, and Lupin quickly took out the silver bullet and dropped both items separate into the case. His foot touched the Bible and he stared at it for a few moments, then back at Mary. Wordlessly, he put away the family book. Then, ever so slowly, he made his way back to Mary, both hands slightly in the air to show that he didn´t carry any other weapons back with him. He was relieved to see Mary calm down a bit with this act. He sat back down a few feet away from her.

"That better?" he asked.

Mary nodded slightly.

Lupin was actually glad that he deterred her fear. This was the first true emotion he had felt in three days.

"You feel more up to talking now?"

Mary looked away, suddenly shy again, and her hiccups grew worse. She didn´t dare turn her face to him, and Lupin felt oddly ashamed because of this. Then, Mary explained herself very quietly, in a voice that was almost inaudible. Lupin had to lean in close to hear her, and she permitted him to do so.

"Papa says guns are a-a," she struggled with the words. "Safety hazard," she finally said then sniffed. "He said he saw (sniff) a l-l-lady die (hic) like that (sniff sniff). I r'member. He (hic) locked his-self (sniff) upstairs for a long time. When he came back out, he gets all worried and scared a lot. I´m scared about guns too." She stared quickly back down again, hugging her knees. "No guns, 'kay?" she pleaded timidly.

He immediately agreed. "No guns."

A lingering silence descended upon the two after that. A million and one questions flooded through Lupin´s mind. Was Mary really here? Was this her ghost? If she was alive, how did she survive the attack? How did she follow him here? Why does she have his chain with her?

Yet it didn´t seem right to plague the poor girl with so many questions all at once. So he simply smiled and asked, "You hungry?"

She gave another small nod.

"C´mon then," Lupin got up. "I know a place where we can get you something to eat and some new clothes."

Mary didn´t move, undecided. Well, he put away the gun, she thought. I don´t want him to hurt anyone. But he looked so sad when I saw him. He was gonna hurt himself really badly, just like that lady did. Mary was afraid he was going to take the gun out again later. To her, he was a confused and frightening stranger; she couldn´t trust him. Yet she didn´t want to see history repeated. Maybe she should make sure he doesn´t do that again.

"Okay," she said delicately, her voice barely above a whisper. She got to her feet and stood there silently.

Lupin tried to make the best of the situation and mustered up all the warmth he could when he spoke. "First, we´re going to have to get you some new clothes." he said softly. "You feel up to coming with me?"

The girl seemed to cease speaking and could only move her head in faint response to his words. A little nod and they made their way slowly down the path.

If a passerby were to watch them together, they would have been mistaken for father and daughter. Yet the scene was a mockery of family or anything even remotely related to companionship. Little wonder, how could either of them feel completely comfortable after what they had just been through? Mary walked slow and trailed behind him like a second shadow as they made their way to the shelter. Lupin tried to accommodate for this and walk next to her but without success. Every time he slowed his pace, so did she and Lupin didn´t dare address this minuscule concern. He had the most disquieting feeling about all of this, especially since Mary seemed intent upon staring directly at him as he walked. He turned his head more than once on that short walk to see if she was still behind him, and each time he did, she quickly averted her gaze.

They headed for an intersection outside the park. Lupin walked a few paces ahead and stopped at the crosswalk, checking for cars. Mary stayed back, watching him. A fleeting thought of holding hands while crossing the street (one of Reverend Grisham´s many safety precautions) darted through her mind. She hesitated a bit. His sadness scared her and so did his shouting. Mary wanted nothing more than to find Papa and jump into his arms. But she was lost and alone and with a man who scared her in his grief.

He´s like the lady, she thought. Both were sad... She thought of what her mama said, of how her father tried to stop the lady from killing herself. Mary knew she had nowhere to go. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could help this poor man, just like her father tried to help. Maybe he could take her back home, and her papa could talk to him. He´ll know what to do, she thought, taking a brave stance.

Lupin felt someone put a little hand in his and glanced down at Mary quickly in surprise. She was staring demurely at the ground. He pressed his fingers against the smallness of her palm. She wasn´t a ghost, that was for sure. They crossed the street soon enough, but Mary still held on. It was reassuring to know that Mary trusted him now, and Lupin was surprised that she accepted him so suddenly.

Mary didn´t say a word about the transition, and Lupin didn´t expect her to. Children need the comfort of another´s presence, he decided to himself. Just as adults need that comfort as well.

He smiled. He was not sure if this was safe to admit, but he was beginning to like this little girl. Or maybe it was the touch of her hand in his that made him feel a bit of his former melancholy leaving him. At the moment Mary needed him, and that was what Lupin wanted: to feel needed. The only other time he felt that was when he taught at Hogwarts. Once again, Lupin had a place in the world again, even if it was only a momentary one, and he was glad for this.

"What´s your name?" Mary asked unexpectedly, looking up.

Lupin didn´t realised that they hadn´t even properly introduced themselves; probably because since he already knew her name, he did not think to do that.

"Oh, well, I forgot that we don´t even know each other, haven´t I?" he replied, overcoming this blunder. Mary brought her eyes to the ground, quickly-becoming the typical response.

"I´m Remus Lupin," he introduced. He was going to add something like, "But you can call me Mr. Lupin," reminding her of the common courtesy children paid their elders, yet he thought it was foolish to say such a thing to her. The only time anyone ever called him "Mister" were those wizards who addressed him with scorn in their voices and sneers on their faces, as if trying to deface his humanity by acknowledging him with bathos.

"Re-mis?" Mary attempted.

"Oh," he said with a bit of embarrassment, "You can call me Prof-"

Mary tried again. "Remmy," she said confidently. "Remmy Lupin."

Lupin was taken back with the mention of his childhood name. "Um, well..." he started awkwardly, then paused. "All right then," he agreed. "Remmy it is."

Mary beamed at him and both felt that a great gap was suddenly breached between them. "My name is Mary Grisham," she said in return, unknown to the fact that Lupin already knew who she was all too well.

Lupin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and let go of Mary´s hand for a moment to offer a handshake. "To make this a proper introduction," he explained. "Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Miss Grisham." He took her hand and shook it solemnly.

She giggled at this display. "You can call me Mary," she said.

Chapter 8

Mary was watching him again. He slept not far from her, but not too close to make her feel uncomfortable. He snored slightly too, though not too loudly. Just loud enough to let her know that she wasn´t alone.

The darkness from the night before was vanishing from the sky, and the air was cool and tinged with greys and pinks of the pre-dawn morning. Dark, tall silhouettes of the surrounding trees cast shadows in the half-light. A chill seeped into the early morning air - that was what had woken Mary up.

They didn´t have much luck in the search for beds at the shelter the night before, so Lupin opted for them to head for the park again. However, the ground was hard and there were no benches, so Mary was obstinate about sleeping outside. To compensate, Lupin offered her the blanket and some robes to use as a makeshift mattress. Now that Mary was awake and refreshed, she noticed how he had slept on the bare ground for the sake of her comfort. She felt her face flush with guilt for not sharing.

Lupin was dozing in the manner of a wolf, curled over to one side with his head tucked under one arm. In the half-light one could almost mistake this person for a sleeping animal. Mary quickly crawled over with the blanket in hand and clumsily draped it over his sleeping form in an attempt to make up for her selfish behavior. Scurrying quickly back to her spot, she saw him sigh and unconsciously wrap the cloth tighter around him.

Mary didn´t know what to think of his person whom she called Remmy. He was nice, she thought, although still very sad. The feeling emanated off him like light from a candle. She wished that she could make him feel better. Maybe the blanket helped. She hoped so.

Mary saw the black case by his side and wondered about the gun. It gave her chills just thinking about it being there, and she tried to pretend it wasn´t. But nothing could draw her away from that fact that one was so near.

It reminded her of the gunshot. The same sound that Reverend Grisham heard in his mind every full moon, because that day the incident happened was the day of the full moon.

Sitting near the back pews, Mary held the rag doll in her hands. Moving it along the bench, she greeted, "Hallo, Elizabeth."

"Well, hallo to you to, Lydia." Suzy kneeled on the floor, holding her doll up on the bench as well. "Like my hat? I just got it from London the other day."

"That is so pretty!" Mary complimented in her most adult voice. "May I ask which store you got it from?"

"It was a boo-tick. A French place," Suzy moved her doll back and forth along the polished wood as if strutting along a catwalk. "It cost a lot too."

"Maybe we could go there today so I can get one?"

"Certainly, Lydia. I think there´s one that matches your dress. A very pretty green."

"Suzy!"

Both girls looked up as Suzy´s mother approached. "We have to go now dear," she said, "We have to go visit your grandmother today."

"Oh. Okay..." Suzy got up to her feet.

"Honey...!" Suzy´s mother sighed. "You got dust all over your dress!" Her mother quickly brushed a hand over her daughter´s skirts and took her hand. "You have to be more careful," she chided sternly.

"Sorry," the girl said sheepishly. She brushed Elizabeth´s flaxen locks and stared down at her feet.

"Well, come along then," the mother replied briskly, "You can change when we get home."

Suzy gave a backwards wave as her mother dragged her out of the chapel. "Bye Lydia. Bye Mary."

"Bye Suzy!" Mary called.

Suzy´s mother bid farewell to Reverend Grisham who stood at the doorway of the church. "Have a good day, Father," she said.

Reverend Grisham took her hand and clasped his other on top. Giving a hearty shake he replied, "And a wonderful afternoon to you as well." After the two left, he walked down the aisle and picked up the collection basket near the front of the room. Passing by Mary, he ruffled her hair. "Planning to take Lydia out to the city, are we?"

"She has to get a new hat," Mary announced with utmost importance. "And Suzy got a new playhouse today too. Can I come over and see it when she comes back from her gran´ma´s?"

"Of course, lamb. You want to go home for lunch now? I have the collection to do."

Lamb was Papa´s nickname for her, for the song "Mary had a little lamb" had been a bedtime favorite since the girl´s infancy.

"Can I stay here?"

The Reverend leaned down and kissed Mary on the top of her head. "Why not. Come into the office?" There was a large machine in the back room that sorted out the change from collection. Sometimes, Mary liked to watch her father pour the flood of coins into the counter´s wide basin and see them change and whirl about as they were sorted neatly into paper-covered rolls.

Mary shook her head. She secretly wanted to go up into the bell tower, a place that was off-limits. A couple days before, she discovered a crow that had taken shelter there. The poor bird had a broken wing, and she wanted to check up on it. Maybe she could help make it better.

"I just wanna play out here with Lydia," she told him.

"All right then. I´ll ring up your mother." Her father dainty touched the tip of her nose with a forefinger - he always did that - and slipped into his office, leaving the door ajar. Mary sat still in her position at the pew. Can he see her? If she snuck off then, would he notice? Mary leaned over from her seat at the edge and looked toward the doorway. If she can see him from there, then certainly he could spot her.

"Excuse me."

Mary jumped, startled. A woman in a cream-colored dress stood next to her, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. How did she get there?

The lady looked a bit older than Mama, with her wispy black hair tied up in a tight bun on her head. She had very sad eyes, as if she were going to break into tears. A little handbag was in her hands.

"Do you know where the Reverend is?" she asked in a soft voice.

Mary could only nod mutely and pointed toward the door. She had never seen her around church before. She could be from London, Mary decided to herself. Having lived in Havenshire all her young live, Mary associated anything outside the village as "London."

"Thank you, child." As the lady went past her, Mary noticed how quiet she walked, not making a sound even in high heels on a wooden floor. Her step was that of a ghost walking. The woman slipped into the room and shut the door behind her.

Now was her chance. Her father would be too busy with her to even think about Mary. The girl slipped from her seat at the pew and slowly tiptoed across the front of the chapel to where the stairs were. Her eyes focused on the closed door, just in case her father should come back out.

Yet a shout from the room stopped her. A muffled cry.

"Miss, please!"

Papa?

Another voice - the woman´s - shouted something, but the cry was too distraught to make out. Mary stood frozen at the altar, right before the podium. The woman continued her outburst. Her voice rose and fell, but Mary couldn´t make out what she was saying. Papa´s voice she barely heard, muffled through the door.

"Calm down.... Don´t... leave it..."

The woman only shouted louder at whatever he was saying. Mary felt her heart race faster. All thoughts about the belltower were wiped away. What was going on there....? Holding Lydia tightly, she walked up to the door. The shouting was growing louder and louder, and Mary could make out more words....

"Fuck this place....! Can´t you... that.... damn.... heaven.... shit...!"

Mary covered her ears. The woman was saying bad words! And in front of Papa! No one ever talked like that with him. She backed up a few steps towards the double doors. No one should ever talk like that! Maybe she should get out. Maybe she should get Mama. Maybe she-

Bang!

The gunshot resonated throughout the church. Mary fell back as if she was pushed. On the floor, she scurried backwards toward the base of the first pew and buried her head in her arms. What was that? What was that? She started shaking uncontrollably. What was that sound? What was that? Papa...? Mama...?

Minutes passed and no movement came from the closed door. Why was it so quiet? Should she open it? Should she get Mama?

Before she could make a move, the door opened with a haunting creak. Mary lifted her head. "Papa...?"

A hand gripped the side of the doorway and Reverend Grisham stumbled out. He fell on his hands and knees, gripped the side of the door, and raised his head. His eyes were wide and frightened and his mouth kept opening and closing, as if he was learning how to speak. "Oh... oh.. oh.. God..." He got to his feet only to fall on his knees again. Putting both hands to his head, he moaned aloud.

Mary watched, frightened. She never saw her father act this way before....

He met her bewildered stare and seemed to see her for the first time.

"Oh Mary!" Her father rushed up to her with unsteady legs and scooped the girl up into his arms. "Mary, Mary, little lamb..." He said her name like a mantra, holding her as tightly as she held Lydia. "My little lamb, my girl, oh God, my God..."

"What´s happened? Papa, where´s the lady?" Mary kept asking. "Papa, Papa, where did the lady go...?"

"Mary, oh God... Mary..." Her father held her tighter. He took a couple of shaky steps, gripping the pew for support. "Mary, Mary help me... have to... have to.... Ambulance...!"

The declaration suddenly jumpstarted a burst of wild energy, and Papa ran out of the front doors of the church with Mary in his arms. "Ambulance... ambulance... ambulance..." he kept repeating to himself in an almost frenzied tone.

Running down the steps outside, Reverend Grisham yelled, "Somebody..! S-somebody call an ambulance!!!"

Mary could only ask in a confused voice, "Papa, where did she go? Papa, where did the lady go...?"

He never answered her.

Afterwards, when Reverend Grisham locked himself up in his room and refused to speak for days, Mama explained what happened. That lady was very upset about many things in her life, she said, and she was so upset she wanted to die. The lady went to ask her father forgiveness before she died, and he tried to stop her, but it was too late. The lady had a gun in her purse and shot herself.

"Did she want to go to heaven?" Mary had asked. "That´s why she wanted to die? 'Cause she wanted to go now?" The girl was barely five years old then, and life seemed to last forever.

Her mother pursed her lips. "It´s not like that..." Mama replied. "You can´t go to heaven just because you want to. You have to be good person."

"But wasn´t she a good person?"

Mama sighed and wrinkled her forehead. She looked too old when she did that.

"Well, wasn´t she?" Mary persisted. "Maybe she was only so sad and she wanted to be happy. Everyone can be happy when they´re in heaven."

"Hurting yourself isn´t the way, Mary..." Mama brushed her dark blond bangs back away from her eyes and blinked rapidly. She was holding back tears. Mary could tell that she felt uncomfortable talking about this, but she wanted to know the truth.

"Then she´s not there...?" Mary bit her lip. It wasn´t fair! If the lady was so sad and she believed, didn´t she deserve to go to heaven?

Her mother was silent for a long time. From upstairs, the constant creak-creak-creak was heard. The house was so old that the floorboards in some of the rooms groaned when walked upon, sending the house into shudders. Papa must be pacing the room again.

Mama told her that he was talking with God now, asking if he did the right thing. He had been up there for the last week. Papa wouldn´t even come down for meals; Mama had to carry them up.

At the sound of the floorboards, Mama looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. "God willing, she is in a better place now," Mama finally replied. "But hurting yourself is a horrible, horrible thing, Mary. It not only hurts yourself, but everyone you know. Promise me you´ll never do such things, or tell your papa and me if anyone thinks of hurting themselves?" She blinked again and a tear dropped down and fell onto Mary´s skirt. Mama turned away and brushed her hand along her eyes.

Mary stared at the ground, pretending not to see her mother crying. Nothing seemed fair. She shouldn´t have to cry like this. Papa shouldn´t have to lock himself away like this. Why was it all happening? Because one woman was too sad to live. Mary couldn´t understand it. It was almost like that lady´s pain was trapped inside of her, and when she died it exploded everywhere, hurting everyone. It wasn´t fair for people to kill themselves. Mary didn´t like to feel such pain. None of them deserved it. Not that lady, not Mama or Papa or anyone.

"I will, Mama," she promised. "I will."

Mary hugged her knees to her chest with the set of old robes. They smelled of pine and summer forests, a scent she liked. Mary decided that Lupin could keep the blanket to sleep with and she could settle for the robes. The decision made her feel a bit better. Mary already had a new coat a size too big for her anyway, and a nice blue denim dress too.

Those clothes had come from the shelter´s donation box. They had gone there after the incident in the park yesterday to clean Mary up and get her something to eat. The place didn´t have showers or any available beds, but Lupin had shown her how to get by well enough. The donation box at the time was put in one of the locked storage rooms with the food, for its contents were usually sent to a charity fund rather than given out on the spot. Lupin had told Mary to wait at one of the tables in the eatery and slipped off. Ten minutes later, he was back with some things about her size. Mary never knew that Lupin was technically stealing those. Then again, Lupin always reasoned that these clothes were donated for people like him and no intermediary was needed. He wasn´t stealing, only getting by.

After Mary had changed, he showed her how to look as presentable as possible using the public restrooms. Using the sink, he explained how Mary could wash her hair in five minutes and clean herself in less than fifteen. Someone older would have wondered how long Lupin had been living on the streets with such adaptations like these. Mary didn´t; instead, she thought he was one of the cleverest people she had ever known.

Following the wash, Lupin taught her how to sneak through the food lines so that you can get away with more than the single helping they give. They didn´t really need to do so, however, since once the workers saw the little girl, they offered a lot more than usual.

At the table, Lupin had watched her eat and asked her several questions. How did she get here? Did she know where that necklace she held came from? Did she remember anything before meeting him?

Mary tried answering as well as she could. The night outside the church.... she couldn´t remember much, only that of a large dog jumping her. She had reached out to fend it off, and grabbed the chain instead. During the struggle it must have broken off, and she still kept it with her. Lupin had looked especially uncomfortable during this talk, and Mary wanted to get it over with. When Lupin asked for the chain, she gave it to him willingly and said he could keep it if he wanted to. Lupin had nodded and tucked the chain into his pocket.

She then admitted to following him, although she didn´t know why or how exactly she did it. All she could recall was a special scent, and whenever she detected that scent, she followed it. It was overpowering urge to follow that smell, and Mary had only to oblige. In search for the source of the scent, she had traveled with utmost caution and secrecy that she never knew she had possessed before. All of her actions were guided by an instinct that she was never aware of until then.

The birds from surrounding trees burst out in song as the sun brew brighter. Lupin shifted in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Mary instantly ducked under the robes, pretending to be asleep. She didn´t want Lupin to know that she watched over him so much.

***

Lupin rolled over to his stomach and sighed. Morning´s early presence had woken him up and he opened his eyes. For a split second, he was startled to see someone sleeping close to him, but as his head cleared he remembered who she was. Mary Grisham, the girl he thought he killed.

Yet she was neither dead nor a ghost. She was right there, curled up in sleep, peaceful as an angel. Lupin felt something warm touch his heart at the innocent sight, followed by grief. There was one question that plagued his mind that he dared not ask yesterday: did she receive any wounds from the attack? Deep inside he knew the answer.

Mary Grisham was a werewolf and he was her maker.

This would explain all the gaps that were in her story. For instance, the only way she could have survived the attack was the same reason he had survived his with Lycaos: both were spared because they tasted of purity. True innocence could be the only natural defense during a werewolf attack; a werewolf can easily kill a child, but if the child was innocent enough, that purity can repel a werewolf from taking the final blow. It was similar to the concept of a wild unicorn being tamed by a pure-hearted virgin.

As for the werewolf bite, it must have healed overnight, like most inflicted wounds from were-creatures. Mary would naturally have no memory of the bite itself; whether the memory was erased through magic or trauma Lupin couldn´t be sure.

Her animal instincts, however, were instantly triggered with the bite. Her sense of smell, for example, intensified so that she was able to track down individual scents. Lupin had that ability too and invoked it years ago when he was looking for Lycaos. However, Mary had a much better chance at finding him than he did his maker because his scent was fresh.

The only thing Lupin couldn´t sort out was why Mary pursued him so immediately after the attack. The only thing he could think of was the wolf´s instinct to find other pack members, which was particularly strong in pups.

A little voice in the back of his mind, however, said differently. The fact that Mary was living was nothing short of a miracle. It was almost like she came back from the dead. Resurrection, the voice said, the minister´s daughter was resurrected. A second chance she was, a second chance for him...

Second chance? She was just as cursed as him; how could he help her? Lupin had no idea.

One thing was for sure, though. Mary could never go back to her home. The Muggle world thought her three days dead already, and too many questions would arise if she were suddenly to appear at Havenshire again. Also, the werewolf curse was still upon her, something that there was no solid cure for.

"Mary?" Lupin called softly. The girl instantly lifted her head, too quickly to say that she was asleep before. Lupin felt suddenly self-conscious; he hoped that she hadn´t noticed that he was watching her.

"Hi Remmy," she said cheerfully, sitting up. All the awkwardness from the day before seemed to have melted away.

"Hello there." Lupin got up and noticed he was holding the blanket. "Oh, did I-" he started, but Mary shook her head.

"Keep it," she said. "You looked cold so I gave it to you." She sounded proud at this little accomplishment.

"Oh." Lupin gave her a kind eye as he gathered up the makeshift bedclothes and folded them up into his case.

Lupin took out a half a dozen rolls wrapped in napkins and shared them with Mary. As they broke their fast, Lupin said to her, "Today, we´re going to hitch a ride to London."

"Really?" Mary´s eyes grew big. "I never, ever been there before. It´s the capital, right?"

"Correct." Lupin took a bite of a roll. "Hitching rides isn´t an easy task," he said after he swallowed. "Have you ever taken a train before?"

Mary shook her head.

"Well, then I´ll explain to you how when we get to the station."

Chapter 9

Mary had an uncomfortable feeling that what they were about to do wasn´t right. But Lupin had told her to do so and she trusted him. She knew that he wasn´t going to hurt himself now, and she felt happy. Her papa would have been proud of her if he knew. Mary wondered when she´d ever see him and her mama again. She could ask Remmy later about it, she decided. A little longing was in her heart; she missed her parents.

The station was packed with bustling people heading in various directions. Hustled families, hurried businessmen, foolhardy teenagers, and many more were all on the move, as if getting to their destination was as vital as life itself. Mary stood by the side entrance of the station, looking at the various platforms. She kept her eye on the train terminal ahead of her, making sure she wouldn´t make a mistake and run to the wrong train when the time came.

She checked on one of the large clocks at were placed on the ticket purchase desk. Mary didn´t know how to tell time exactly, but Lupin had told her when the long handle was on the ten, she should start. Squinting her eyes, she could see the hand of the clock move slowly. It was almost there.

One of the trains bellowed as it started up. The guards at each of its doors were closing up as the last passengers scurried inside. Mary looked distractedly at it for a moment, then back at the clock again. It was time.

As fast as her little legs could go, Mary ran through the crowd, slipping and weaving through the people with the skill only a child possessed. She came to the entrance of the first passenger car and immediately bumped into the guard, who was just coming out. The two fell to the ground, the pieces of paper flying everywhere. The guard cursed and got up to see Mary dazed on the ground.

"Oh, are you okay?" the guard asked, concerned. Mary didn´t answer and put a hand to her head. She must have crashed into him harder than she meant to.

"Miss?"

Mary looked up abruptly and suddenly forgot the lines she was supposed to say. She stuttered unsurely as she tried to remember.

"I´m...I´m... l-looking for someone!" she suddenly said, the practiced dialogue coming back to her. "I mean, I lost my ticket! And, uh, my daddy! I lost him too." Her tone sounded a bit forced, but the guard seemed to sympathize with her nonetheless.

"Well, this train´ll be leaving in a few minutes," he said. "Is your daddy in there?"

Mary nodded vigorously and said, "We´re heading to London. I think he went in here..." She looked down in confusion, mixing up the lies she was telling with her real situation. Was this the right train? What if it was actually the other one that was leaving already? Then she´ll be stranded there for real!

The guard mistook her confusion for fear of losing her parent. "C´mon now," he said in a friendly manner, taking Mary´s hand. "This one goes to London. Let´s go look for him."

"Um..." Mary said unsurely as the guard escorted her on board. She hoped she was doing this right.

The guard talked into his hand-held radio to the conductor of the train. "Hey, I got a girl who looking for her dad. He might be on board, so could you hold for a moment?"

"Sure," was the fuzzy response.

Inside the first car, the guard said, "Now, just tell me when you spot your father, all right?" Mary nodded and scanned the aisle nervously, hoping Lupin would show up.

***

Maybe he should have Apparated them instead. Certainly it would have made things easier. However, Apparation for such a long distance is extremely risky. And there was the girl. He couldn´t do it, not with her watching.

Lupin planned to go to London, but taking a second person made this usually easy task very impromptu. Usually he snuck into the restroom facilities, before sneaking off to the passenger train claim a compartment. Hitching rides was quite simple this way, for he personally refused to use any magic in front of Mary. Lupin wanted to talk to her about magic first, to clear up any misconceptions and the like. Knowledge of the wizarding world was something quite serious to reveal to a Muggle, and being only a child, he could imagine her telling the whole train about it less than halfway before they reached their destination.

Watching from a few metres away, he saw Mary and the train attendant collide together. Taking out his wand, he quickly retrieved two of the fallen tickets for his personal use. The sounds of the crowded station blocked most of his hearing, and he could only make out empty words and gestures, then the guard taking Mary inside.

He slipped onto the train after them and opened the door to the first compartment. Empty. What luck. Lupin didn´t feel like sharing with Muggle strangers.

He let out a sigh of relief that the hard part of the job was over. He worried that Mary hadn´t done her part correctly and she could have been sent to the station manager´s office. He could never leave her alone in that situation. Already in the little time they´d known each other, Lupin felt a strong duty to protect this child. After all, he was her maker.

When she entered the cabin, he expressed a double meaning of relief when he saw her. "You´re safe!" He gathered her up in his arms and turned to the other guard. "Thank you for finding her," he said gratefully.

"No problem, sir," the guard said nonchalantly. "You have your tickets?"

"Almost forgot." Taking out the stolen tickets, he handed them to the guard. "Here you go."

"All right then." The guard tipped his cap at them as he took his leave. "Have a nice time in London," he said as he got off the train.

The two slipped into a nearby seat as the doors were closed. Heavy noise grinded below them as the train started up and they both lurched forward a bit as the train began to move. They had successfully snuck on board the train.

"You did a wonderful job, Mary," Lupin whispered to her with a little confidential gleam in his eyes.

Mary smiled. "I didn´t know hitching rides was so much fun!" she said. "But, Remmy, why didn´t we just go in like all the other people I saw?"

"Well..." Lupin thought about lying to her too, but he couldn´t bring himself to do that. He fidgeted with his hands a bit and said truthfully, "Um, Mary, we had to trick the guards into letting us in because we have no money to pay for the tickets." He waited for her response, but added quickly, "It´s how I hitch train rides all the time."

Mary bit her lower lip. "Didn´t that mean we were stealing a ride? By not paying for it?"

"I wouldn´t call it stealing exactly," Lupin explained uneasily. "We´re only taking what we need and nothing more. We´re not selfish."

"How 'bout all those other people who need stuff but don´t steal anything?" Mary questioned. She remembered the charity funds the church held so often, raising money for the poor. "It doesn´t seem fair if you take something while others don´t."

Lupin looked pointedly at her and sighed. He gave his response in a tired voice. "Rules," he said seriously, "like the one against stealing, only aim to create fairness for everyone. Yet the world isn´t like that. I learned, actually, that life isn´t quite fair at all." He put his hand on his case, where his family book was. "People like to hear about fairness and justice, but it´s all a lie," he said. "I was one of them. It took me twenty-nine years to learn the truth, Mary. I tried to be a fair as I could, but something happened that-" He looked out the window and paused for a moment. "Well, sometimes there are little things you have to do in life to get by."

Mary shook her head in the stubbornness of youth and naiveté. She didn´t understand how her Remmy could think like that; she was raised to believe the opposite. "I don´t get it. You can´t. It´s just wrong-" she started, but didn´t know how to go on. Being on this train counts against her then, didn´t it? She sighed and sat facing the aisle, refusing to talk anymore.

Lupin leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. Prove to me what is right or wrong, he thought. I don´t know anything anymore.

"Let´s just forget all about this," he said softly.

Yet neither of them ever did.

***

Reverend Grisham watched as the London train left the station from his window seat. For a split second, he thought that he saw something that startled him, but the train whizzed by too quickly, and he could not recall what it was afterward.

His wife sat by his side as they waited for their train to start up again. The train from Havenshire was taking a short stop at Cambridge to take on additional passengers before making its way to Brighton.

Time moved all too swiftly. They had also moved too swiftly in their actions, hadn´t they? Barely four days passed and here they were. Putting the house up for sale, resigning from the position at the church, practically abandoning their former lives. But they needed to do this. It was too much to stay. The Lord´s Grace had helped him be strong before, when that bloody suicide happened. Reverend Grisham could believe that the Lord had saved that poor woman´s soul. However, to live in the place already touched by death twice, to preach in a church fifty yards from where his daughter died... that he couldn´t bear.

Dear God, if only the Reverend knew he was doing the right thing!

Three days.... The news of her death wasn´t even out of the papers and they decided to head out of town. No memorial, no funeral. Maybe when he and Janet arrive at Brighton and meet up with the rest of his family, a service would be held. But not now.

Janet held his hand supportively. They had been silent for the past twenty minutes while sitting on that train, waiting for it to move, and she asked him, "Kevin, what are you thinking?"

"You know what I´m thinking," he replied in a grave whisper.

Bowing her head, she took a deep breath and said, "We´re doing the right thing, you know."

"I know, Janet."

"We couldn´t stay at Havenshire."

"Yes, I know."

"I couldn´t stand it there... and I know you couldn´t either..." She swallowed hard. "Too many bad memories." She thought of that woman who committed suicide in their church a year ago. That was a foreshadowing, she was sure, of more bloodshed to come. And now their daughter.... She sniffed and stared at the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears.

"And so we´re leaving," Reverend Kevin Grisham said gruffly. He looked over at her. Brushing his hand against her cheek, he lovingly wiped her tears away.

"We´ll make a new start," Janet said optimistically. She matched his grieving look with her own. She couldn´t blame him for her death. She didn´t want to. Even though he was so close... Mary´s death, it seemed too sudden. A ruthless act of nature. Janet blamed nature, not her husband. "It´s only for a couple of months on sabbatical. Then you got that new position waiting for you with the new congregation, and we could live with your sister until we get a house of our own. It´ll be a brand new life."

"Yet.... it would have been nice to stay at Havenshire..." the minister said wistfully, beginning to feel uncertain of their decision. "Mary would have seemed so much closer to us..."

Janet didn´t respond to that immediately. Finally, she said in a gentle voice, "Sometimes I feel that she is still here."

"In spirit?"

"No, not exactly..." Janet paused, trying to find the right words. "I feel," she said, "as if Mary is still in the world, just out of reach..."

Reverend Grisham pulled his wife close and the silence descended upon them again. And so, they headed off to Brighton, when just a few minutes before, the Reverend had witnessed his daughter leaving in another direction.