A Dark Hand - Part Two

“Hey, buster!” said Frederica’s Uncle Toby jovially as she walked in through the front door. He half-leapt, half-climbed over the couch in the front-room, almost falling on his face because he was dressed in a full chicken outfit. He managed to make it to her, and rubbed her messy hair back and forth playfully. “How was your first day of school?”
            “It was terrible,” sulked Frederica as she fell into an armchair in the living room.
            “Why?” asked Toby, suddenly serious. He sat lightly on his feathers on the couch opposite her. “What happened?” he asked.
            “I don’t want to talk about it.”
            Toby frowned sadly, his greying eyebrows and goatee only barely visible through the mouth of the chicken head. He opened his mouth, about to press on, and decided to leave it. He made his way to the kitchen.
            “Business was great at the store today,” Toby offered quietly from the kitchen. “I think the midnight sale is going to go really well.”
            “You do realise you can change out of that stupid thing and then back just before you leave, right?”
            “No, it took me about four hours to get it on this morning. It’d be a hassle.” There was a pause as Toby clanked around in the kitchen. “Hey, I made your favourite for dinner. Just say when you’re hungry and I’ll pop it in the oven to finish.”
            “My favourite?”
            “Chicken pasta bake.”
            “Is the pasta wholegrain?”
            Toby paused, clearly confused. A few seconds passed during which he located the empty bag, and flipped it over.
            “No,” he replied.
            Frederica stood up.
            “Then I’m not eating it. White pasta is too fattening. I’ll just have a salad when you’re out later.”
            Toby did not respond. He just watched her storm up the stairs sadly, his tail feathers drooping.

* * *

When Frederica entered her room, she slammed the door. Just to show Uncle Toby she meant business, she opened it, and then slammed it again.
            She flumped down onto her bed, and cried for a little bit. Why did the Trenton High lunch hall have to be so poorly stocked? Why couldn’t Uncle Toby buy the correct type of pasta at the store? Why was Alex so goddamn beautiful?
            After a while Frederica turned around on her bed, and took in her room. Her familiar collection of cute, stuffed animals lay at the bottom of her bed. The familiar band posters lined the walls. Familiar photographs of her and her friends lined her memo-board. Her familiar collection of music CDs – primarily indie metal and Japanese rock music – and DVDs – primarily anime – filled the shelves. But it was just not the same. These things felt foreign out of their original Tampa setting. The animals had been born so far, far away; the bands would never play here; her friends would never visit. Only in her music and anime could she find any semblance of true solace.
            Frederica put an imported DVD into the blu-ray player that lay beneath her 32” flat-screen television – both of which had been a gift from her Uncle Toby – and began to forget herself. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

* * *

In her dreams she saw Alex. He was perfect. There was light all around him. No angle of his perfect skin was left unlit. And that was all he was... skin. He was completely naked.

            Frederica’s subconscious blushed. Then it began to approach Alex in a way that she hoped could come under the category of “seductive”.

            “Why,” she began, “are you so perfect?” She pronounced the last word a syllable at a time, letting each sound roll perfectly and fully formed off of her tongue – a tongue which now began to reach towards Alex, so that they could unite as one.
            Then her tongue suddenly reeled back – back into the recesses of her dream mind. She realised Alex wasn’t happy. He was not undressed in a sexual manner. He was nude. He was exposed. The lights bored into him from every angle. He began to writhe, to try to escape. But he could not. Then he looked her straight in the eyes.
            “Help me,” he said. “The lights.”
            The light grew brighter and brighter until it consumed all, blinding Frederica to her own dream.

* * *

Frederica awoke in a cold sweat, the bright white light of the blu-ray player’s idle screen screaming at her. She looked at her bedside alarm clock in a daze: 11:45pm. She grabbed some of the Kleenex she also kept on her bedside table, and mopped herself down. After a quick, cold shower, during which she couldn’t stop thinking about Alex’s naked, vulnerable form, she made her way down to the kitchen. She made a quick tomato and goat’s cheese salad, grabbed a can of cola, and sat out on the porch.
            Frederica scooped mouthful upon mouthful into her lusting mouth, then washed it down with that cool, cool, cold, icy liquid.
            By some miracle, she realised, it was actually a warm night in Trenton.
            She stood up to stretch her legs, and noticed it was a full moon. It was larger than normal. Somehow this only made it more beautiful to Frederica.
            She turned off the porch light, strode to the side of the dirt track that was her road, and looked up at the moon and the stars.
            Eventually her gaze returned to the Earth. She looked down, and noticed a stain on the gravel. She bent down to look at what it was. It was blood!
            Frederica looked around, suddenly alert. She heard a mewing noise. Across the road! A cat, injured, dragging itself into the forest.
            Frederica was horrified. Cats were her favourite animals. At times, she sometimes even wondered if she shared a connection with the species, if their souls were somehow intertwined. They both liked milk, after all.
            She dashed across the road to find the cat, hoping to bring it back home and call for a vet.
            It somehow seemed to have vanished into the forest. She looked around, searching for any sign of the injured cat. There was a mewing from deeper in the woods. Frederica looked behind her at the house, wondering if she should run indoors for a torch. It was a full moon though, so she decided not to bother.

* * *

After about ten minutes of feeling as if she was right behind the cat, she realised she was lost. It being dark, and her being new to the area meant only one thing: she was pretty much screwed.
            The only thing that made it worse was a howling that sounded unnervingly close. She suddenly remembered something Uncle Toby had told her on her first day in Trenton: “Don’t go out into the woods on your own at night, buster. I’m not the only wolf around these parts. Jokes aside, I mean there are actual wolves. Big, huge ones. You’d be pretty stupid to go into the woods alone at night. Especially if it’s a full moon. I hate to get all superstitious on you, buster, but it’s just a fact that there’s a much higher mortality rate round these parts when it's a full moon.”
            After remembering this, Frederica began to sulk. She hoped she didn’t die. She had only just gotten to know Alex. She began to walk in one direction, hoping to make it back to her house before she got killed or something. There was a howl just to her right. Then shortly afterwards just to her left. Then to the back. Then the front. She felt surrounded.
            Frederica leant against a tree, and began to sob. To think of all the things she would miss out on in life, just because she had been kind-hearted enough to try and help an ailing cat! She never got to get married, or have kids, or be a magnificent wife and mother. Speculations of her and Alex’s possible children began to cross her mind.
            A terrible face loomed out of the darkness. Its eyes were a deep, dark red. Its white fangs shone through the darkness – the moonlight glittering off the saliva that dripped from its mouth. As it made its way forward Frederica realised that it was not a wolf. Or it was a wolf... but rather... it held itself as if it were human. And there was definitely something human behind those horrible eyes. There was blood-lust, sure. But there was also that human passion for life behind them, too. Even if it was, currently, just a passion for blood-lust. With this, her fear began to turn into pity and affection. What a poor creature this werewolf must be – for that was the only thing it could be – cursed to live this moonlit existence.
            Frederica began to compose a haiku for it in her head, as the creature drew closer to her. With each syllable she composed she noticed another feature of the beast that confirmed it was indeed a werewolf: the human form, the snout, the ears, the dreadful eyes, the thick, luscious fur...
            The werewolf was almost upon her when it suddenly yelped, and fell back, a part of its arm missing from the elbow. Blood spurted everywhere, covering Frederica’s shirt and staining the tree behind her. What had just happened?
            Then Frederica saw him, illuminated in the moonlight. It was Alex. Tall and mysterious, clad in a trench coat, with a Japanese steel katana clutched in his left hand. The blade was red. Red with the werewolf’s blood, she realised. This was quickly removed with a swish and dramatic flick from Alex’s wrist.
            “Frederica...” he muttered, almost inaudibly.
            “I love katanas,” she replied, and then continued too quietly to hear: “and you...”
            Before Alex could continue to converse with her he was set upon by another three werewolves. They didn’t seem interested in her anymore. They just seemed interested in Alex. Frederica couldn’t say she blamed them.
            One of the werewolves lunged for him, but its form only met the trench coat, which Alex had quickly cast aside at the last moment, like some sort of matador. Before the beast could comprehend what had just happened, Alex had sliced its legs and its feet apart, and then silenced the startled thing before it could realise that it would never walk again.
            The final two werewolves stared Alex down. One of them made a feint at Alex, but he didn’t even flinch. He swiped at it, but it deflected it with its long, vicious claws. It then roared at Alex angrily, and the two werewolves made off deeper into the woods.
            Alex cleaned his blade on the bark of a nearby tree, and then sheathed it. He strolled over to his trench coat, flicked it up into the air with his foot, and then caught it on his arms on its way down. A move that Frederica thought was somewhat unnecessary, but also incredibly alluring at the same time.
            “Are you all right?” he asked, as he moved towards her.
            “I... I think so...” she started. “Physically, yes.” Frederica began to notice that she was shivering, but wasn’t cold.
            “Here, take this,” Alex said. He eased his muscular frame out of the trench coat and wrapped it around her. Their faces brushed past one another as he did this, and for a second or two they lingered, eyes locked with one another. Their lips drew close, but then Alex moved away.
            “We should get you home,” he said. “It’s not safe for you out here.”
            “Yes,” was all Frederica managed to say.

* * *

Most of the way home passed in silence. Eventually, Frederica managed to pluck up the courage to ask a question.
            “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
            Alex smirked. “It just sort of comes naturally.”
            “How did you know I was in trouble?”
            “Well, it’s lucky for you I was following you.”
            “You were what?”
            “That’s not really important right now, is it? Surely you should be asking me about what those things were? About what I am?” They arrived at Frederica’s porch. “Well,” he continued, “I’ll tell you what I am: I’m dangerous, Frederica. I’m not safe. This is why I have to ask you never to talk to me again, not even at school. I’m even changing classes to make it easier for you. I am very self-sacrificing that way.”
            “But, Alex...” whimpered Frederica as he began to walk away. Then she realised she was still wearing his coat. “Don’t forget your coat!” she called after him. He turned, and walked awkwardly back.
            “Oh, I almost did forget it. That was silly of me.”
            Frederica turned around so that Alex could remove the coat from her himself. As he did so she felt his cool breath against the back of her neck, and she blushed. Softly, Alex turned her around to face him again. They leant towards each other. Frederica’s hot and ready lips wrapped around Alex's, which were surprisingly cold. They began to passionately embrace. Each time Frederica softly breathed in, she wasn’t sure whose saliva was hitting the back of her mouth, nor did she care. After ten minutes, Frederica began to play with Alex’s stylish, loosely spiked hair.
            “Your coat isn’t the only item of clothing you can take off of me tonight,” she purred.
            At this, Alex quickly pulled away.
            “I’m sorry, I...” he began to walk backwards. “I shouldn’t have. I... I’ve got to go.”
            “Sorry,” said Frederica, as Alex drifted back into the night. “I’m so sorry...”