could keep her staring at her ceiling for hours. Hearing such inconsistent noises breaking the quiet only reminded her she was not alone, and not yet asleep despite how tired she felt.
Jessie shifted to her side and stared out the window of her room. The glass was recently cleaned, product of a strange delusion that she should tidy up the place before the swarm of guests invaded her father’s home. It was only when the women arrived that she realized how stupid she’d been. A pink talking rabbit could have greeted them at the door, and they still would have thought nothing of it. Their eyes were wide, but seeing nothing. She knew them all, and she felt too scared to ask them of their families.
“Blessed of the light, watch over me,” she heard Lyla pray. Lyla was beside her bed, wrapped in a thin blanket she’d brought from her home. It was the fifth time she’d begun the ritual prayer to Ashhur. No matter that others were trying to sleep. It seemed that ritual cadence was the only thing keeping her sane. She was not that much older than Jessie, with a handsome husband and a newborn babe. No amount of courage could have convinced her to ask where they were, nor ask her to be quiet.
So she shouted it mentally. Shut up, shut up, shut up! It was unfair, absurdly unfair, but this was her room. She wanted to bury her face in her pillow and scream until her lungs gave out, to cry until her pillow could take no more tears. Every noise she heard made her heart stop. Every weird creak was the step of a wolf. Jessie could imagine one leering over her, its mouth drooling, its yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Tears ran down her face, and she wiped them with a blanket. Lyla began her prayer for the sixth time. Jessie whispered the words along this time, begging Ashhur to let her sleep, to let her forget the day’s horror for only a few blissful hours.
Granny Jane slept by the door. As if on clockwork, she rolled from her left side to her right every ten minutes. She snored loud, long, and with enough depth that Jessie thought it could pass for the growl of a bear. Her husband had died several years back, and as Jessie wiped tears from her face she wondered how in the world Granny’s husband had endured those many nights. Maybe he’d wedged cotton into his ears, or better yet, candle wax. That’s what she should have done. Despite her exhaustion, she pondered leaving her bedroom and searching the kitchen for some wax to use. But no matter how much she wanted to, she never worked up the nerve. The reason was stupid, she knew, but in her exhausted mind it didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t want to offend her guests, or make them feel they were unwanted. Because in truth she wasn’t a selfish girl, and she knew they’d all suffered far worse than her that day.
“Blessed of the light, watch over me. May I walk your road and never stray…”
A shape blocked the window, a small part of it glinting yellow. Jessie screamed. The window smashed open. As the shards fell, the wolf-man crashed atop of Lyla, its claws flinging blood in wild arcs across the room. Jessie screamed again, and blood splashed across her face, stinging her eyes. Lyla, poor Lyla…this couldn’t be happening. Her mind refused to believe it.
The third guest, a midwife named Wilma, bolted to a sit, screaming as well. She turned to crawl, her portly body nearly smothering Granny Jane on her way to the door. The wolf-man would have none of it. It leapt atop her next, its teeth sinking into the fat of her back. Jessie felt her bladder let go. The creature was so huge, and it flung Wilma’s head side to side, snapping her neck. The sound it made, like a heavy branch breaking on someone’s knee, spurred her to action. She rolled off the bed, away from the door. She didn’t want the thing to see her. That was all she could think of, that infantile desire to hide.
The thing snarled, and suddenly she found breathing difficult. The opposite side of the bed was not enough. She crawled underneath, quietly sobbing the whole while. As if from a hundred miles away, she heard shouts from further within her father’s house. Granny knelt against the door, her mouth open and her eyes wide. Her left arm reached for the knob, flailing at it wildly as if she’d forgotten how the contraption worked.
“Get out of here!” Granny shouted. At first Jessie thought she shouted at the beast, but then realized it was to her she cried. “The window, out now!”
Granny held the doorknob tight, and when the wolf-men tore into her, she never let go. Unable to stop crying, Jessie looked away and crawled for the other side. The window…the glass was shattered from the creature’s arrival. If she could sneak out and hide, she might survive. Stumbling onto her feet, she ran for it, unafraid of the jagged edges of glass that remained. Shards littered the floor as well, and they cut her bare feet. Something tripped her, and she cried out. Lyla’s body. They stared face to face, noses almost touching. Panic gave her speed she didn’t know she possessed. Her hands clawed at the window, and up she went, thinking only of escape. Something tugged her dressed, she fought, and then she was flying.
“No!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, landing atop her piss-soaked bed. The wolf-man towered over her, blood on its claws and pieces of flesh hanging from its teeth.
“Four for Yellowscar,” it snarled, reaching for her throat.
The door burst inward, and in the distraction, Jessie dove once more to the ground. She rolled under the bed, her arms tucked against her chest. She closed her eyes and wished she could blot out the sounds. The wolf-man snarled, but several men were crying out. Steel hit claw, and daring to open her eyes, she saw the soldiers from Blood Tower had come. The wolf twisted and struck, but every time she heard it scrape against something, a shield perhaps, or maybe their armor. Another set of legs came through the open door. She wanted to run for it, but she feared getting in their way. Not knowing what else to do, she prayed the same cadence, her heart aching for poor Lyla.
“Blessed of the light, watch over me.”
A man cried out. Blood splashed to the floor.
“May I walk your road and never stray.”
The soldier hit the ground, his head facing hers. Air leaked from his torn throat.
“May I feel your arms around me when I fall.”
The life in his eyes faded, his arms twitching their last. The wolf-man growled deep.
May I sing your praises when I stand.
More cries. The legs of the soldiers surrounded the wolf, and she heard it yelp in pain.
Blessed of the light, may I love you, as you have always loved me.
A hand reached for her under the bed, and she took it. Crawling out, she looked up to see her father.
“Daddy,” she cried, flinging her arms around him and sobbing into his chest.
“There, there,” Jeremy said, stroking her head as beside her the soldiers dragged the bleeding, bound body of the wolf-man from the room.
She never wanted him to let her go.
10
“Are you sure there are no more?” Jerico asked as he followed the soldier through the town toward the Hangfield home.
“Fairly sure,” said the soldier. “It crashed through the window of Jeremy’s girl. Killed three before we got there, and another before we could get it down. We’ve got it tied up in Jeremy’s cellar. So far it hasn’t said a word.”
“Jessie…is she all right?”
Jerico felt his heart pause for a moment as the soldier thought, but then he nodded.
“Yeah. I remember seeing her crying in her father’s arms. She looked fine. Well, fine as circumstances allowed, if you get my meaning.”
The paladin breathed a sigh of relief.
“She’s a good soul,” he said. “I’d hate for something to happen to her.”
“Four others died instead of her,” the soldier said, halting before Jeremy’s house. “One of ’em was my friend. You saying they ain’t good souls?”
Jerico flushed, and embarrassed, he shook his head.
“Forgive me. I was wrong. What is your name, soldier?”
The man gave him a look, then nodded.
“All right. I see we understand each other. My name’s Gregory. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Jerico muttered as they entered through the front door.
Jeremy was waiting for them, standing in his robes by the door. With him in the small room was his daughter,
