Usually she made her candles from tallow, but these were different. She dug out sheets of beeswax she kept for special occasions. Only church was allowed to use pure beeswax, but when she mixed dried herbs in it, even the common folk could burn those candles in their homes. She stared at the light yellow sheets in front of her on the table, nausea, fear, and strange revulsion churning inside of her.
“Why should I help them?”
Question had been roiling in her mind before. She had managed to push it aside numerous times before. It was all thanks to her father. He had taught her everything he knew, and based his teachings to one simple fact. One must help wherever help was needed.
“They will need you. Even after I’m gone, people will need light and remedies. Even if the church doesn’t approve, you can make a living out of this,” her father had explained once when vicar had paid a visit to them, preaching about hell and brimstone that would undoubtedly fell upon them both, as it undoubtedly had fallen on to her mother when she had given her life by giving birth to Marie.
With a weary sigh she went upon her task, melting the sheets of beeswax in a pot before adding garlic powder and dried wolfs bane. As a sign of silent defiance she added yet another ingredient, small white flower that grew on the swamps and gave off foul stench of rotting meat when burned. She would tell them it was needed. They would suffer the stench for weeks, and somehow it made her feel a little better. Petty, but she took her revenge wherever she could.
She had hung the last of the candles to harden from the hooks on the ceiling when there was a knock on the door.
“It’s open!” She shouted, wiping her hands to her apron and forcing a welcoming smile to her face. Door opened. Smile wavered, turning to a frightened grimace, then disappearing altogether when Logan stepped in, yellow eyes glowing in the dimness of her cabin.
“What do you want?” She asked with a trembling voice. Yes, she had gone to the carnival earlier to help him out, to set him free, but that was several hours ago, and she had had time to rethink. She wasn’t stupid. Man standing at her doorstep wasn’t the man that had said his goodbyes to her few months ago.
Logan let out a low growl, baring elongated canines and narrowing his eyes, taking a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.
“Smells like shit in here… What have you been doing?” He murmured his question, taking yet another step towards her. She backed away cautiously.
“I have been doing my work. What do you want?” She asked, keeping her eyes averted from his face. The last thing she needed was those yellow eyes of the beast locked with her own.
“You saw me last night. What the hell do you think I want?” Logan spat his question with a venomous tone, inching closer. She felt the unyielding stone surface of the fireplace behind her back. Trapped.
“You came for the cure?” She asked. Logan snorted.
“I did…” He closed the gap between them, pressing against her and licked her cheek. Slow, appreciative rumble rolled from his lips.
“And make it quick… Wolf won’t be afraid of this trinket much longer,” he whispered, flicking the cross on her chest with his index finger.
She pushed him back. He took a few steadying steps before growling again. Then he seemed to get a hold of himself. He hung his head and shuffled his feet.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just give me the cure and I’ll leave.” She hurried over to the shelf she kept her potions and mixtures, taking a small bottle from there.
“Here. But I don’t know if it’ll work when you’re that far gone…” She said, handing it to Logan. He grimaced.
“It won’t work. This is for the next full moon. If I make it that long.”
He would change only during full moon, but wolf would be constantly inside of him, whispering it’s animal desires and wishes, trying to lure him to the darkness. Few people could resist that call. Most of them succumbed underneath. Living in the forest, hiding from the sun, feeding from small animals and carcasses until full moon gave them strength to hunt their primary prey. Humans.
“Logan… Would you… Will you come and see me?” She asked, not really wanting to, but if there were anything she could do to stop him from slipping, she would do it.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea…”
“Come. Come and see me every morning. We can sit outside and talk.” It wasn’t much, but maybe it would keep him on the right path, give him strength needed to fight the wolf’s call.
“I wasn’t planning to stick around.”
“Well, at least wait for a while. I’ll make you some more cure,” she said, now almost desperate to keep him with her. She couldn’t let him go. Not like this. Not when he so obviously needed help. Was she afraid? Definitely. Should she let him go and alert hunters after him? Definitely. That would be the wise thing to do. But would it be the right thing to do?
“I’ll come and see you tomorrow morning,” he finally caved in.
“But just to get the cure. After that I’ll leave.”
She was still trembling when her first real customer showed up. Butcher’s wife, asking some candles because evenings were really dark and she needed more light to sew some clothes to her youngest kids and her husband wanted to read and… She dug up explanation after another, and Marie was compelled to sell her just ordinary candles made out of tallow. Instead she asked what the woman really needed. She got a secretive look on her face and leaned closer to Marie.
“It’s out there again. The beast that killed the cattle. I know you have your ways of keeping it out from your home…”
She sold five candles to Elvira, who shoved them to her basket, hiding them underneath her knitting. Took the coins and chunk of meat she offered in return and steered the woman out. She didn’t like the way her eyes scanned every inch of her small home, taking in every detail, and clearly labeling them as witch’s craft. Elvira left after extracting her a promise not to tell anybody that she had been there. Few hours later her husband came, and bought another set of candles to burn in the store. She didn’t bother to warn him for the possible lack of customers. All day long people crept to her; even vicar came and bought one candle, looking ashamed and disgusted. By the nightfall she had sold all of them, but she knew there would be no use to make more. Nobody would dare to venture through the woods to find her at night.
She checked locks and latches on windows, locked the front door and sat in front of the fireplace. She hadn’t eaten. Chicken was cold, and it probably wouldn’t be wise to eat it anymore, not when it had sat on the table all day, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She would need to eat.
She never heard it approaching. Suddenly it just stood there, remains of the broken door raining to the floor, yellow eyes blazing.
“Oh, Goddess…”
Wolf reared its head and howled out its rage and anger. She reached for the first thing that happened to be near her hand. The poker. It wasn’t much, but armed with it and the cross she started to back away from the beast. If she could lure it further in the cabin, she could probably skirt past it. She could maybe outrun it. Go to church. Anywhere to get away from it.
Wolf crouched and lowered its head. Took in the scent wafting around in her cabin. Sneezed, sending thick tendrils of drool and snot flying over the floor. Grimace it gave told her it didn’t like the scent of garlic too much. It shook its head as if to clear the offensive odor from its sinuses before it stood up again. Roll and crack of neck and shoulders, so much like she had seen the man do all those months ago. Now he wasn’t preparing to assault a pile of logs. Wolf was planning the safest route through garlic-infested cabin to her.
“Logan? Logan, I know you’re in there…” She whispered. Wolf tilted its head; long, fleshy tongue testing razor-sharp teeth jutting from its jaws. It looked almost like it was laughing at her. Laughing at her miserable attempts.
“I know you can hear me. Please. You have to fight it…” The poker dropped from her numb fingers when wolf stepped closer, growl rumbling from deep within its hairy chest.
“Logan…” She whimpered, curling her fingers around the cross on her chest, and pulled the chain of it off from around her neck. Wolf took yet another step closer, head swiveling from side to side hesitantly, scanning for garlic.
“Logan, I’m so sorry…” She whispered, stepped forward, reached for the hand holding the cross, and shoved the silver figurine straight between wolf’s gaping jaws.
She used the wolf’s momentarily confusion to her aid and ducked past it, dashing towards the open doorway. Wolf was howling in agony behind her, but she could hear the soft clink of metal falling to the floorboards. Wolf had been intelligent enough not to swallow the foreign object. She could hear scrape of claws against the floor and dared a quick peek over her shoulder, missing the large shadow that moved to the doorstep, blocking her path. She collided head first with something hot and hairy. Collision sent her backwards, on her back on the floor. Another wolf-man stood in the doorway, howling a challenge to the one that had attacked her. Newcomer had a small patch of white hair on the middle of its chest, right where Logan had had a burn mark when she had been bandaging his wounds.
“Logan?”
Wolf with the white patch didn’t pay her any attention. It stepped over her, approaching the wolf that had tried to attack her just few moments ago. She scrambled on her feet and staggered outside. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Logan had come to her aid. Wolf had come to get rid of her before she had the chance to help Logan vanquish it. Another wolf would be only a momentarily distraction. No matter which one of the beasts won, winner would be coming after her blood. She took the path leading to the village, hoping that the vicar would show some of that mercy he preached for and would grant her access to the church.
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