Wolf Asylum (17 page)

The young pup cut in, now squirming her way to the front of the crowd.

“Did the werewolf jump out and bite you? My mommy stuck me with a needle and made me a werewolf.”

“A needle! That certainly is an original way!” Slade assured. “I hadn't ventured very far into the trees when I came upon this French soldier, whom to my mind wasn't even attempting to hide. He was standing in a small clearing, bearing no arms and appearing to be in fine health-though his coat was torn and bloodied at the shoulder. I knew there was something wrong with him; today we might have said he was suffering from PTSD. Naively I approached him with my sword. He babbled in French which at the time I really paid no attention to. My French was considerably less than fluent. As he continued to prattle, I contemplated lunging my sword into his heart or slitting his throat, both had their merits.”

“Did the wolf jump out and kill the frog?” The devilish child asked innocently.

Slade belted out a deep bellied laugh which dislodged the cigarette from the crevice of his mouth. The glowing tobacco tube fumbled to his lap which he graciously flicked to the ground with his index finger, stepped on it and without skipping a beat, sparked up his next smoke. “Do you know why they're called frogs?”

The child shrugged with a smile not really knowing the answer.

Slade leaned forward and placed his oversized hand on the small framed child, “Neither do I little one.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I dismounted my horse and walked towards this strange little Frenchman. He was talking quickly, like he was begging for his life. I paid no attention. By this point in my life I had probably killed hundreds in battle and I had heard every form of begging there was.

“I approached him with the sword grasped in my hand. I looked him in the eye and he seemed frightened, but not of me; of something else. I had looked all my kills in the eye whenever possible, and the look in his eye was something different.”

“It was behind you, wasn't it?” Terri asked, now drawn into the story.

“No,” Slade huffed. “The moon hadn't even risen yet. The glow was visible beyond the hill, but it hadn't yet appeared. It was that transition between sunset and moon rise—still bright—but the moon and the sun were both beyond the horizon. It was only their reflective glow that lit the forest. No, there was no wolf behind me.”

“So, what happened?” Darwin asked with his raspy ill voice.

“I opted to lunge my sword into his chest. It was an unremarkable experience, really no different than any other execution I had performed. My blade broke through his rib cage, piercing his heart and exiting his back. Blood leaked from the fuller, quickly reddening the white of his uniform shirt. Sometimes I would twist my sword in the wound to bring about death faster, I don't remember if I did with this man. I do remember watching the life drain from him. He looked me in the eye and uttered, ‘
Je ne crois pas que c'est la fin'.
It was later when I discovered what he had said,” Slade nodded.

“This is not the end?” Jim Baker translated without prompting. “What true pastry chef doesn't know a little French?”

“If you didn't speak French, how did you know that's what he said?” Clint asked, doubting the story.

“It's okay not to believe,” Slade assured. “I was a pup once too. In time, if you survive, you'll understand. The simple answer I can give you is I'm not sure that's exactly what he said. I remember the word
fin
distinctly, and I knew that to mean ‘end'. It was what happened a short time later that allowed me to put it together. The soldier slumped to the ground and I retracted my sword thinking nothing more of it. He was dead.”

“What happened next?” The audience child interrupted.

“Patience little one,” Slade insisted. “I still had no idea that I was sitting in the lion's den. I began rifling through the soldier's personal possessions, looking for anything of use or value…I'm not proud of it, but war always brings out the worst in humanity. I removed his coat and began searching the pockets and linings. Sometimes you would find gold or silver pieces, perhaps jewelry, or weapons. Of course every soldier had weapons, but now and then you would come across something special, very special. This poor chap had the most ornate dagger I had ever seen. I can only assume he had stolen it as I stole it from him. The artistry was simply too impressive to be owned by a mere soldier. The blade was no more than six inches long, and polished to mirror quality. It had never seen a day of service, and to me it was as though it was purely ornamental. The silver handle was etched into a beautiful design of Jesus on the cross, perfect to the last detail. The nails in his wrist and the thorns on his head; it was all done so delicately. The cross guard had his arms carved into it with his body, making up most of the grip. His head rested on the base of the blade. It was by far the finest dagger I had ever laid eyes on and I was more than happy to pocket it.”

“Do you still have it?” Clint asked.

“It's tucked away in a safe place. One day I can show it to you, if you like?” Slade offered. “I must have marveled at that dagger for a good long while. The light of day was gone and the moon was now on its ascent above the tree tops before I was able to put it down. I think it was the stirring of my horse that shook me from my treasure trance. He had become restless and began to nicker. Knowing someone was near, I jumped to my feet with my new blade in hand. I toyed with it, yelling at the enemy to come out and to fight like a gentleman. Poised with my blade, I scanned the woods which were still relatively well lit with the rising moon. My horse continued to act up and actually began moving away in a slow trot towards the battlefield. For a moment I started to run after him but then I heard a gasp from behind me. I stopped, turned and found my Frenchman, sitting upright in disbelief. He seemed as surprised as I did. We just looked at each other, not really knowing what to do. Finally he started to laugh and I joined in soon after. What more could one do? I had killed him but yet there he was, alive and well.”

“He's a werewolf!” the child proclaimed.

“Oh, yes! Only I don't think he knew that. His laugh changed to a euphoric moan and he shuddered as though he was having a seizure. When he looked back at me I saw his human eyes drain away. The color was hypnotic but yet frightening. I took a step away from the man but I couldn't help but watch. He continued looking me in the eye, smiling the entire time. His fangs began to push in over his human teeth and he raised his hand pointing at me. A noise filled the air from his body; cartilage and muscles snapping and reforming, filling and strengthening. His finger nails extended, sharpening until they weren't finger nails anymore. The man fell onto his back, twisting and thrusting his waist as though he was trying rape the air. The last thing I saw before coming to my senses and making an effort to escape was his shirt beginning to rip. The buttons began to tug and fail, revealing a thickening mat of hair on his now woundless chest. I ran just as fast as I could. I could barely catch my breath and I had no idea which direction to go. My horse had fled and I was alone. What I knew for certain was something I had never seen before was consuming a man I thought I had killed. I instinctively knew that it was coming for me-very soon.”

“How far did you get before you got bit?” Darwin asked, loving every second of the story.

“Not far, I'm embarrassed to say. When I saw my friend again he came barreling through the trees, knocking me down. The beast was massive, muscular and very hairy. I knew it was the man, but he was now this creature and all signs of the man were gone. The monster tumbled but quickly regained his footing before charging at me again. All I had ready was my new stolen dagger. He charged at me and I swatted, attempting to slice or injure the thing anyway I could. I was lucky and I nicked his limb. It shouldn't have been enough to stop him, but it did. He howled and ran off, I never saw it again.”

“How did you win so fast?” Terri asked.

“I wasn't sure at the time, but as I learnt about the power I realized the dagger was made of silver. What would have been a normal cut for anyone else was like being cut and poisoned for the werewolf. I was lucky to have looted such a fine blade; if not that for that, I surely would have been his first meal. It was his first transformation. As time went on I realized his torn coat was his wound from an attack the previous night. It healed completely which is why he said it wasn't the end when I stabbed him. He also seemed shocked as he changed, like he hadn't been expecting it.”

“So, did you get bit or just scratched?” Clint asked, now appearing to believe the historic tale.

“Neither,” Slade announced. “What I had seen was terrifying, but it also intrigued me. The idea of transforming into something else actually appealed to me. I had heard legends of shape shifters, but I was by no means an expert. It was a split second choice that I never thought about. It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time and I only half believed it would work. In my hand was the dagger with a rich coat of blood running along its blade. Like a dog lapping up meat on the kitchen floor, I swiped the knife with my tongue and swallowed the iron fluid.”

“You turned yourself!” the child exclaimed.

“Yes,” Slade said. “I thought about what I had done only for a little while, but the excitement of my night eventually wore off. I found my camp after a few hours and settled in for the night. When I awoke the next morning I had broken out in a cold sweat. I was shivering uncontrollably and my stomach felt as though it was in a vice. I vomited numerous times, dry heaving to exhaustion. I had never experienced illness like that before. The entire day drifted by in a convulsion. I made no attempt to get up and I thought about nothing, mostly because my head throbbed.”

“What was wrong?” Caroline asked.

“I had infected and poisoned myself. The blood I consumed was werewolf, but it had been tainted with silver. I didn't realize for years that it was silver poisoning. I just assumed the pain and sickness were part of the transformation. The illness subsided that evening, and it was only a few minutes before the moon got me that I had considered the possibility I was about to change. The illness was so severe I had forgotten about what I had done to myself the night before. It was more or less at that moment when I began to change.” Slade finished, sounding unsatisfied.

“You regret becoming a lycan, don't you?” Caroline asked.

“It's been a long life; lonely for the most part. It has had its advantages. I have seen a lot and met some of history's most amazing people. I have never loved though; no family to care for. In many ways I feel hollow as though there are no more life lessons to learn. I came here with J.D. as a last ditch attempt at life. What I crave is community, like when I was a boy. I've seen a lot, and I know a few things. I can help, if you'll let me,” Slade pleaded.

“Of course you can stay. We could never turn one of our own away,” Tara offered before even looking to anyone else for an answer. The decision had been made.

“If you don't mind me asking, I'm curious to know why you didn't create a pack of your own. If you were so lonely I mean?” Terri asked as softly as she could.

Slade replied, “My chosen method of self-infection has also prohibited me from procreating. Believe me, I have tried. I don't understand it, but the residual silver in my DNA self destructs when it enters another human being. In short, my DNA kills humans and lycans. It is my curse.”

“You don't have to be alone anymore. Welcome to New Haven.” Darwin formally approved the citizenship of their new arrival.

“Thank you,” Slade said humbly. “Now, tell me about your little forest, what's she been up to?”

The little forest had been up to a lot. The problem had festered for a long time without anyone really noticing. It was like a flea infestation that had been there for months and then suddenly it explodes to intolerable levels.

What do fleas love to feed and breed off of?

Slade had tried to bring the community of New Haven up to speed with his centuries of knowledge. He had done much, and seen more than a mere mortal could ever imagine. Even still, his understanding of what was happening was nothing more than a theory. Worse yet, he couldn't really say what was on “the other side”.

“The first time I encountered something I couldn't explain, where time and space seemed to converge, I was still a young man. I was full of piss and vinegar, not a care in the world, really. I was a different person in those days. I was filled with rage and a superiority complex,” Slade said.

“You seem so mild-mannered now; is that what time does to you?” Tara asked politely.

“I think it's a side effect of time. It wears on you. Why continue to be angry at something you cannot change?” Slade replied with a defeatist tone.

He continued his story.

“I had booked passage to the new world on a schooner that would take me from Southampton to Mobile, Alabama, with stops in Bermuda and Santo Domingo. The year was 1854 and in those days a crossing took more than a month.”

“You changed on the boat?” Terri asked without waiting for the answer. “How'd that work out for you?”

“I booked passage with no intention of being on board during a full moon. I was angry, and killing people didn't bother me, but I still wanted to make my entry into the new world without a cloud of suspicion hanging over my head. I had already had a few close calls on the moors and as exhilarating as it is being discovered, I found it to be quite impractical in the long run. No, my plan was to disembark in Bermuda and wait until my monster had made his appearance. On the original itinerary it was a workable idea, perhaps a bit naïve on my part. I failed to realize that sailing vessels were rarely on time.”

“So, what happened?” Darwin asked.

“It was August, and the Atlantic can be a rough place. Due to inclement weather we had to divert to the south of Bermuda, missing it entirely. At that time customer service wasn't a pressing matter, and although I objected to the change in our scheduled port of calls, not much else could be said-the Captain put us on to Santo Domingo and that was final.”

His audience remained quiet waiting to hear of Slade's slaughter, forgetting the entire point of the story was about the other world.

“The night of my transformation, I had resided to the fact that there was nothing I could do to prevent these people from being torn to pieces. Sure I could have jumped ship, but I really wasn't interested in dying, or being adrift for God knows only how long…I went to dinner that night knowing full well I would change before the end of the meal. It was the first time I had ever willingly sat down in a group and waited for the change to happen. Maybe it was a bit perverse, but I found it oddly amusing knowing someone at my table would soon be the first to have their throat torn out.

“I remember we were having some kind of stew that night. It was a small schooner, no more than a hundred people on board. The seas were heavy that night and most passengers weren't feeling well enough to eat. I was sitting at the Captain's table; the captain was to my right. I remember him commenting how dry the rolls were, and that's when the first wave hit me,” Slade began to build the story.

“My back and jaw dislocated with a thunderous crack that grabbed the attention of everyone in the room. I gasped for air as I slammed my palm down on the linen table cloth, making all the flatware jump and jiggle. I remember the woman sitting next to me asking if I was all right but I couldn't answer her. I cranked my head to look her in the eye as sweat began to run down my temples. I saw her concern for me wash away to be replaced with acceptance that death for her had arrived. I smiled through my pain and the screams that were erupting in the room. My clothes began to rip and my face darkened with the evil that I was. Our dear captain took a silver serving tray and smashed me in the head, trying to save his passengers. I continued to press my palm against the table until it snapped and collapsed to the floor, taking all the dishes and flatware with it. I kicked a half piece of table that had landed on my foot and hurled it across the dinning room, sending it crashing into the main doorway. My pain subsided and I rose from my seat; my pants still intact. The captain was shouting at me, praying I think, perhaps an informal exorcism; I don't really recall. I could have killed him first. It would have made sense since he was right there, but I was drawn to a child standing in the corner holding her dolly.” He paused recalling his actions, but stopped short of the entire story. He concluded with all he could, “It's strange the things we're driven to do.”

The crowd continued to remain silent, understanding the torment and guilt that Slade felt. There was guilt in pleasure, the pleasure made the guilt tolerable, but it was ever there-just beneath the surface.

“Mister Slade, why do you feel pain when you change?” Tara asked.

“For decades that's how I thought it was for us. I hadn't realized that our monster was pleasurable for the rest. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When I saw that French solider begin to change, I would not have said he appeared to be in pain, quite the opposite. My own transformation had always felt like a strand of barbwire being fed up my asshole until it reaches the back on my throat and just before I can't stand it any more, it's yanked out in one fell swoop taking my insides with it.”

The audience cringed and flexed their buttocks muscles in unison, but no one commented.

Darwin suggested, “Doctor Gagnon may be able to help.”

Slade only looking down at the table. “No. For nearly two hundred years I have endured my pain. It is the burden I bare, the price of immortality.”

“Bullshit!” Tara shot back. “It's a wonderful feeling that you have been denied. We must help you. Darwin we have to rid Slade of this curse! No one should have to experience that hell every month.”

“I said no!” Slade barked with his revved up voice that plowed over the restless crowd. “I've grown accustomed to it. Your generosity is not unappreciated, but I have come to help you.”

“Okay Mister Slade, I can respect that,” Darwin paused briefly sitting up from his chair to look Slade in the eye. “What happened on the schooner?”

Slade gave Darwin a grin before lighting up another smoke and continuing his story, “The next morning I awoke in the hallway outside my cabin. The boat creaked and rolled gently. I could see the light from outside filtering in through the portholes. I could smell the blood; the air was thick with it. I stood up and made my way to the deck to find I was alone. That really was no surprise to me. The first thing I noticed was one of the lifeboats was missing. I assumed that several of the crew and passengers launched before I got to them. The vessel was still at full sail so I knew they left the ship in a hurry.”

“What did you do?” Tara asked.

“What could I do? I was alone at sea, with no real knowledge of the ocean. I went to the bridge to see if I could figure out how to navigate the ship. I found the compass and knew roughly how it worked. From what I could tell we had been traveling southwest. I altered the ship to heading of west and left it at that. I knew sooner or later I would find land going west, preferably America.”

“What about this other world?” Darwin pressed, attempting to get Slade back on point.

“Oh, yes,” Slade cleared his throat. “It was about a week later when it happened. The air was much warmer, quite humid-more so than I had ever experienced. It was late, probably nearing midnight when I noticed a strange green hue directly off the bow. I considered trying to avoid it but with my limited knowledge of sailing, I decided to leave the ship on course for whatever the green was. For twenty minutes I watched this brightness come closer to the vessel until suddenly it enveloped the ship and I was standing inside a luminescent fog. It felt like I was inside, the sound snapped back at unusual intervals. The hair on my arms rose on end, the sails fell slack, and then it happened.”

“What?” Several of the listeners belted out at once.

“I had never seen anything like it. Another vessel came into view off the port. It was massive and it towered over my small boat. It was gray; at least in the green mist it appeared gray. As it began to pass me I could see the ship was made of metal and then I saw a name written on the side. I only saw it for a moment and I remember thinking-what an odd name for a ship.” Slade again seemed lost in thought.

“Mister Slade?” Darwin said.

“Cyclops,” Slade replied sternly. “The name of the vessel was the Cyclops.”

“The name is strange, I'll give you that, but what does this have to do with the other world?” Terri asked.

“It's not the name of the ship that's strange,” Slade assured. “This was a ship out of time. I would learn later that the Cyclops disappeared in 1918. And, yes, I am certain I saw Cyclops.”

“How can you be sure? I mean how long were you really able to see the name?” Darwin suggested.

“It's okay to disbelieve me, even though you yourself have seen things you cannot understand,” Slade replied with grace. “As though it was meant to be or like it wanted me-the two ships stopped side by side. I tossed a rope to the deck. I missed a few times, but eventually I got lucky enough to get the rope caught on something so I could climb aboard. And that's what I did.”

Slade again paused for posterity before continuing, “The vessel was the largest I had ever seen. It seemed to stretch on forever. Just behind what I thought to be the bridge was what appeared to be a cargo area. Steel beams and wires crisscrossed overhead-I'm not really sure what purpose they served. So I did what came naturally, I began to explore.”

“Did you find anyone?” Terri asked.

“No. It was a ghost ship, but for me, it was too intriguing not to look around. I had never seen anything so amazing. Ships were made of wood, and were not this large. I knew I had stumbled onto something. I wanted to know where it had come from and find out if I could go there as well. Wherever it had come from they had technologies I had never dreamed of. On the walls were glass encased objects that as I approached began to glow brightly. As I moved away from them they dimmed, and then extinguished.”

“Those are lights,” Clint announced as though no one else had clued in to that fact.

“Yes, they were. Again, in 1854 electric lamps did not exist so for me, it was fantastic. Still, I don't know why my presence seemed to activate them. Of course in later years I realized lights did not work that way, so what happened on the Cyclops remains a mystery to me. In any event I found dated materials on the bridge that told me I had indeed time traveled; or that the ship had. On a desk next to some navigational charts, I found a cargo manifest and a captain's log and the last entry was from on March 9, 1918. I don't know exactly what it said, not word for word, but it went more or less like this…

“March 9, 1918,

“We've been out from Barbados for many days now and we've yet to see any signs of Turks. The crew is growing restless. I cannot find anything wrong with my navigational methods and yet nothing seems to be where it should be. The crew are all behaving irrationally, almost insane. I must admit, I am also having feelings of…

“That's all that was written in the last entry. I didn't read anything before that.”

“Why not?” Darwin asked.

“I was compelled to leave the Cyclops,” Slade replied. “As fast as I could.”

“Why? It sounds like that would have been an amazing adventure!” Tara said.

Slade looked to Tara and grabbed her hand with his large meat hooks, “I don't frighten easily, but what I saw on the Cyclops to this day still chills me.”

“What did you see?” Darwin asked, lowering his voice to almost a whisper as though being quiet might sway Slade into openness.

“I could feel them. If you could imagine ice-cold air gluing to every inch of your body in an instant, zapping the heat from you…and even then it doesn't quite explain it. The eyes, it was something to do with the eyes. An inch from my temple I could feel it sizing me up…but there was nothing there. I was afraid to turn and look at it, but I knew it was there. My teeth chattered and I could see my breath.”

* * * *

“Mutinous bastards!” Captain Worley charged removing a knife from his belt line. Swatting at the air the transparent commanding officer gazed towards Slade who was frozen in place.

“They'll come for you too! It's only a question of when! My suggestion to you, when they do, you should listen,” Captain Worley advised as he moved his dagger to his ear and loped off his flesh, tossing it to Slade's feet.

Iced to the bone, Slade began to tilt his eyes to the ground to find the ear a few inches from his left foot.

“Take it you fool!” The Captain demanded. “They're almost here! Take it and go!”