The door swung open instantly. Divan stood there, eyes sharp despite the late hour, already dressed, as if he had expected something to happen.

  “What is it?”

  “Ishtak has been attacked, but he’s still alive. He is asking for you.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right there. Get Maria and have her come to the Prevalie also.”

  Divan was at the Prevalie, but Maria was not far behind him. Some of the villagers were still with Ishtak, and they had set him up against some bags of grain. He clutched an old iron rod tightly in his hands.

  “Ishtak, what happened?” Maria asked, as she crouched close to him, looking over his wounds and all the blood.

  “The beast attacked him,” one man said. “We heard it screaming like hell had been let loose. I saw the wall on fire and came right away. Thankfully, the beast was gone, but Ishtak’s been hurt.”

  Divan knelt beside Ishtak and looked at the claw marks down his arm. “These are deep, and you’re going to need to be cauterized. You are bleeding bad.”

  “I’ll get some rags, and we can clean him up and wrap his arm for now,” Maria said. “We’ll take care of him,” she told the villagers. “You all go home, lock your doors, and get some rest.”

  Some agreed, some murmured, but they all left. While Maria was fetching clean rags, Ishtak spoke to Divan. “The monster came for me.” Ishtak’s voice was tight, his breath still ragged. “I was in the shop, working, and I heard it outside. Then it broke through the door, destroyed everything, but I was ready.”

  Divan’s gaze darkened, but he said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

  Ishtak sat against the bales of grain, his breath short and difficult. “I burned it by covering it in flames, the bastard. But it came through the fire, and its skin rejuvenated. That’s when it clawed me. I fell against the shelf in the back and grabbed the first thing I could find. This rod here.” He lifted the rod to show Divan. As the creature came to finish me off, I struck it with everything I had and . . . wherever the rod touched the beast, its flesh blistered and split; the gashes were deep and smoldering, and didn’t rejuvenate. The thing screamed like there was no tomorrow. My ears are still ringing. So, I came at it, thrashing and hitting. The thing backed off and screamed more, as if it were frightened, then it ran to the back and ripped the back door off and ran away.”

  “You’ve done what no one else has, Ishtak. No one has lived through an attack before.”

  The old man let out a dry, humorless chuckle, rubbing his hands over his face. “A shame it didn’t drop dead in the process.”

  Divan leaned forward, serious now. “Tell me everything. What did it look like? How big was it?”

  Ishtak nodded, collecting his thoughts. “Massive. Taller than any man I’ve ever seen, but thick, built for brute force. The beast had the shape of a man but the limbs of a beast. The creature’s arms were unnaturally long. The claws like blackened steel, its face. . .” He swallowed. “The face wasn’t just a wolf, but it wasn’t just a man, it was something in between.”

  Divan’s jaw tightened. That was an Umbrawolf. This was proof, no one had survived to describe it before. But then a bloodcurdling scream split through the night air. Both men snapped their heads toward the sound, which came from the edge of the forest.

  Divan bolted out the door. He ran through the village, past darkened cottages, past glowing windows where villagers stirred, woken by the scream. By the time they reached the tree line, the scent of blood hung thick in the air. Footsteps pounded behind him as others came running, and within moments, they found the body.

  One of Gregor’s men lay ripped apart in the grass, his throat torn open, his limbs bent at unnatural angles. His eyes, frozen in terror, stared blankly at the night sky.

  Divan crouched beside the body, studying it. “Despite its pain, the bloodlust was stronger.” He exhaled slowly, his hand pressing against the hilt of his dagger as he looked around.

  The sound of footsteps on the forest floor sounded behind them. Divan and Ishtak turned just as Gregor appeared, the last of his men trailing behind him, both carrying torches.

  Gregor took one look at the mangled body and swore loudly. “Damn it all—“ He whirled on Divan. “Where was it? Where did it go?”

  Divan stood, dusting off his hands, his expression cold. “If your man wasn’t busy digging holes to trap a beast you know nothing about, he might still be alive.”

  Gregor’s face darkened. “You think this is my fault?”

  Divan took a step closer, his voice sharp as a blade. “I think you have no idea what you’re hunting.” Gregor opened his mouth to argue, but Divan cut him off. “And men who fight blindly are the first to die.”

  The hunter and Divan stared at one another, the torches from the workers illuminating their faces. Divan knew Gregor was used to being the one in control. But tonight, for the first time, maybe he could realize he wasn’t just chasing a myth.

  ***

  Other villagers began to gather, and Divan returned to the Prevalie to tend to Ishtak. Maria was there and had already cleaned the torn gashes with alcohol. He noticed she had given Ishtak some to drink as well.

  He heated a knife in the coals of the hearth where the embers were still glowing until it was red hot, then he quickly pressed the hot knife against the inside of the wound to close off the bleeding blood vessels. Maria held Ishtak’s shoulders down, as he yelled from the pain. This was agonizing for a man to go through, but necessary with a wound as bad as Ishtak had received. Once he was finished, Maria applied cool, wet cloths against his burning skin and a poultice she had just made out of some of the herbs Ishtak had in his store.

  “Let’s get you to your cottage and put you to bed. I have some tincture of opium we can give you for pain.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Maria said.

  After Divan made sure Ishtak settled, and Maria had everything she needed to care for him. He went to the cottage to check on Lila.

  She was in the kitchen making tea when he first saw her, and he could tell she was anxious. “Is everything all right? Where is my grandmother?”

  He took her in his arms and held her. Everything’s all right. Your grandmother is with Ishtak. The beast attacked him tonight, but he lived, and he will be fine. She’s staying with him.”

  “How did he survive?”

  “I don’t know. There was a rod there, just a plain iron rod. He used it against the creature and told me it burned gashes into the beast, who seemed afraid of it.”

  “A simple metal rod?” Lila’s eyes narrowed, and then she went to the back of the kitchen. “Was it something like this?” She handed him a rod that looked exactly like the one Ishtak had in his hand, and very unwilling to let go of it.

  “Yes, this is it exactly. What is this?”

  “I don’t know what its purpose is, but my grandmother told me my father made it for her, and so she always kept it.”

  Divan looked over the rod and saw runes carved into it. “Was your father a warlock?”

  “I think so, grandmother doesn’t speak of him because she’s still heartbroken over his death.”

  “I wonder . . . come with me. I need to speak to Maria.”

  He took the rod, and they walked toward Ishtak’s cottage. He made sure her hand was tightly in his as they hurried through the village.

  When they got into the cottage. They found Maria fussing over Ishtak, who was feeling fine after the opium tincture.

  “What has happened?” Maria asked.

  “I needed to ask you about this rod that was in your cottage. Lila said it is something her father made for you.”

  Maria took the rod. “Yes, it is. Lukas made this for me shortly before Cel left Bran and moved to Brasov. He didn’t say much, just to keep it close.”

  “Were Lukas and Cel friends?”

  “Yes, they were close friends. Why?”

  “These runes are protection and banishment runes. Strong ones against strong evil. Cel used these often in his work and taught them to me at one point. They are the same ones as are on Lila’s Medallion.”

  “It was just a useless metal rod, and I never noticed the runes.”

  Ishtak sat up in bed. “Maria, do you remember all those tools you brought to my store after Lukas and his wife died? The ones you found in his cottage?”

  “Yes, just odd tools he made. I thought you could sell them.”

  “The rod I used tonight. This rod . . . “ He picked up the rod. He still had it by his side on the bed. “This was one of the tools you brought me from his home, one of the things he had made. I wonder if the other tools were made for protection also?”

  “We can look at them another time,” Maria responded. “Right now, you need to get some rest.”

  “She’s right, Ishtak. We’ll look at them again sometime soon after you’ve recovered.”

  Ishtak nodded. “Okay, but I don’t know if I will ever recover from what I saw.”

  ***

  The next morning, there was a knock on Divan’s door. He hoped it was Lila he had left her late last night, but by the time he got to his cottage, which was just next door to hers, he already missed her.

  But it wasn’t. To his surprise, it was Maria. “Ishtak’s back to being bossy, says he wants you at the Prevalie.”

  “He’s feeling better, then?”

  “Well enough to send me tromping through the morning dew just to deliver his message. He wants you to look at the rest of the things I pulled from Lukas’s place. Ishtak thinks it’s time to lay them all out and see what we’ve got.”

  “All right. Maybe there’s something else that can help us. That rod did more than anyone expected.”

  Maria nodded. “We’ll know soon. He’s probably got everything set up already. You coming?”

  “Lead the way.”

  As they walked to the Prevalie, Lila caught up with them. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, good, I’m glad you’re here. Come with us.”

  The air inside the Prevalie was warmer than outside, though the thick stone walls held a perpetual dampness. A long wooden table stood near the hearth, a threadbare cloth draped across its surface. Spread out atop it were several curious objects: a garden spade, a shovel with an etched handle, an iron meat fork, and a hatchet.

  Ishtak stood behind the table, his arm still wrapped in a clean bandage but steadier than the day before, but his skin was pale, and his gaze unfocused. Divan watched him blink hard, swaying faintly as he motioned to the items with a slow, unsteady sweep of his hand. “There they are,” he said. “Everything that Maria pulled from Lukas’s workshop. I cleaned them off, but I didn’t touch the markings.”

  Maria folded her arms, eyeing the tools with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “They were items in his house, and I never even looked at them. It was difficult for me to clear out his house after they had died, so I needed to quickly be done with it.”

  Lila had arrived with them, and now she drifted to the table, her eyes narrowing as she examined the spade. She reached for it, running her fingers lightly along the shaft.

  “These aren’t just tools,” she said softly. “Look at the runes... that one there is a binding sigil. And this…” She pointed to the shovel. “…has protection symbols worked in. Grandmother isn’t this earth magic; it seems very old and layered. Whoever made these didn’t want them noticed.”

  Maria looked closer at the spade and the shovel. “Yes, these are protective, and banishment runes just like on the iron rods and your medallion.”

  “It’s clear, Lukas made these to protect his family and possibly others. But what I’m looking for is something that will kill the creature once and for all, not just hurt it and scare it away.” Divan picked up the meat fork. “We can still use these, but I still have to figure out how to kill it. Did Lukas leave any kind of journal?”

  “No, he didn’t.” Maria shook her head.

  Ishtak gave a faint chuckle as he handled the ladle. “Who would have ever thought, all this time these were here…” His voice cracked mid-breath. He winced and shifted his weight. The bandage at his shoulder had darkened, and a damp edge peeked from beneath the cloth.

  Divan narrowed his eyes. “Let me see your arm.”

  Ishtak waved him off. “It’s fine. Just stings a little.”

  “Now.”

  When Ishtak didn’t argue further, Divan stepped beside him and unwound the sling, careful but firm. The smell hit him first, damp cloth and iron, tinged with something even more foul. Infection.

  He peeled the last layer of bandage back. The skin around the burn was swollen and red, the edges of the wound seeping a thin yellow fluid. Angry lines of inflammation traced down the inside of the arm. Divan exhaled through his nose.

  “It’s not fine,” he said grimly. “The poultice helped, but it wasn’t enough. The fever’s coming. Sit down, I need to clean this properly.”

  Maria fetched clean water and fresh linens while Lila hovered nearby, her eyes tight with concern.

  Ishtak grunted as Divan worked, biting down on a folded rag to keep quiet while the wound was flushed and rewrapped. Divan applied a new salve, a stronger one this time, thick with crushed herbs that smelled sharply of mint and resin.

  When he was done, he fastened the bandage tightly and looked Ishtak straight in the eye.

  “You’re going back to bed. You won’t be any help to anyone if you lose that arm or your life.”

  Ishtak started to protest, but Divan raised a hand. “That’s not a suggestion. Come on, we’ll help you back to your cottage.”

  The elderly man studied him for a long moment, then gave a reluctant nod. “All right, doctor. But when the moon rises again, I’ll be on my feet whether you like it or not.”

  Divan put Ishtak’s good arm over his shoulder and began helping him to the cottage with Maria and Lila close behind. “You’re going to rest, and Maria will change your bandages twice a day and put more salve on them until I am satisfied. Besides, I doubt very much that the beast is waiting for the full moon anymore.”

  ***

  Afterwards, Divan spent every waking hour searching through books, scrolls, and village records, anything that could tell him how to kill this werewolf.

  Nothing.

  Costea gave him every account he had written about the victims, but there was nothing he could use. He knew what it was, he knew who it was, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

  The journal Cel had given him, Werewolf: A Study of the Beast Within, detailed its existence, its habits, and its hunger. But nowhere did it say how to end it. Silver wouldn’t work, fire would burn it, but not kill it, it didn’t even say decapitation would kill it. Surely it would, but you had to get close enough; Divan thought that was why they didn’t know.

  The curse itself seemed to resist being undone.

  He went to see Ishtak. Maria was still there, not wanting to leave him. He had gotten the impression there was something between the two of them, but it wasn’t any of his business.

  “About time you showed up,” Ishtak grumbled, his voice rough but strong. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten me.”

  Divan crossed his arms. “I gave strict orders to rest, not to host a social hour. How’s the arm?”

  Ishtak lifted it a few inches, winced, and let it fall back into his lap. “Still attached. Still miserable. But I’m not dead.”

  Divan moved to the side of the bed and peeled back the bandage. The wound was red, but no longer weeping. The angry lines of infection had faded, and the scabbed-over edges looked clean.

  “You’re healing,” Divan said. “Slowly, but better than I expected. Another day or two, and you’ll be able to move around more. But keep that arm rested. If it tears open again, we’re back where we started.”

  Ishtak muttered something under his breath, but there was gratitude in his eyes.

  “You saved it,” he said finally. “I thought I was going to lose the damn thing. Or worse.”

  Divan gave a small shrug, though the relief in his posture was visible. “You’re too stubborn to die. And I still need your voice when we face that thing again.”

  Ishtak gave a weary smile. “Then I’ll be ready.”

  “Do you all need anything?” Divan asked.

  “I only need two things. I need Maria to marry me, and I need some more of that opium tincture.”

  “He’s feeling better,” Divan said, watching Maria laugh and shake her head. “I can get you more opium tincture, Ishtak, but you and Maria will have to talk about the other need you seem to have.”

  When Divan left, he went directly to the Prevalie and found the iron rod. He didn’t look at it, just took it to where Lila was in the kitchen of the cottage, making tinctures for the market.

  “You look like you need something to eat,” Lila said. “Sit down and I’ll warm you some of grandmother’s stew.”

  Lila brought him a bowl of stew and he placed the rod on the chair next to him and began to eat. She brought him some bread also then picked the rod up off the chair.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to kill this thing for good. But it doesn’t look like it’s possible. Gregor, of course, has plenty of ideas. What about a silver cage? What if we drown it? Poison? If we cut out its heart . . . No one’s going to get close enough to it and live to even try those things.”

  “That’s true.”

  “After Gregor saw what was left of his man, and the Prevalie where it had attacked Ishtak, he wasn’t so quick to argue anymore.”

  “Is he going to stay in Bran?”

  “I tried to get him to leave, but he is a stubborn fellow. I told him if he and his man stay here, they will die,” Divan continued. “And for what? Pride? I told him to go home while he still can.”

  “What is he going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Divan picked up the iron rod and looked at the runes.

  Chapter 20

  I remember Divan woke that fateful morning as if it were any other day. He tumbled out of his bed, his hair wild with sleep, his small feet padding across the stone floors in search of breakfast, in search of Mother. I watched him call for her, his voice high and bright and innocent. And it was all I could do not to weep. The beast that had torn our family apart still lingered in the corners of that house. I had to get him away. Had to get him beyond the reach of teeth and claws. He slept against my shoulder as we rode away from Bran. He did not know the truth. Not then, it was better that way. -from The Journal of Caliban Drakovar