The Midnight Moon [ONC 2024]

Chapter 8: The Werewolf

I had walked these cobbled streets all my life. I knew every lane and alley like the back of my hand. I had contacts in every walk of life, from the upper echelons of Morteton society (Lord Loverall's son William and I often drank together in The Star, a tavern close to the Crossroads of The Temple) to those who walked the line of the criminal underworld, and often strayed over it (Rosea Bardley came immediately to mind, but she is another story entirely). I also knew my fair share of folk in the magical community. Some I got on well with, others...not so much.

Darius fell into the latter category. Darius was a werewolf and a professional tracker. Naturally we had crossed paths a number of times, given our respective vocations, but that didn't mean we got along. I'm not sure why we didn't, but I had taken an instant dislike to him, and him to me, and neither of us seemed bothered enough to find out why.

When Vanteray had turned over the third card revealing the Werewolf, I knew it was Darius it was referring to. Call it intuition. Call it on-point, given how my luck seemed to be unravelling that day. It also threw some light on the other cards of the reading, as well as Vanteray's warning of danger. Darius was dangerous. He was a very good tracker, probably the best in Morteton (I would never give him the satisfaction of actually telling him that), but his temper was legendary.

And that led me on to the next point. The Maze. If Darius was standing at the turning to one of the paths ahead of me, I would usually automatically go another way. Working with him wasn't worth the trouble, unless I was in dire straits.

This got me thinking, was I in dire straits? Did I need the Werewolf's help? Or was I being encouraged to seek him out for another reason? What would happen if I didn't? What were these consequences Vanteray spoke of? And did they solely impact me, or the others involved in the case?

My head was a maelstrom of questions, continually whirling around but never getting any closer to the answers. That, combined with being in Vanteray's company for the first time in a year, was all having an effect on me, preventing me from thinking clearly.

As soon as that final card had been revealed, I had left the caravan, thanking the fortune teller for her help. She reminded me of the cost of said help, and I promised to return as soon as the case was closed to settle my account.

'Come sooner, if you need me,' she had said, but I had stepped through the door, closing it behind me as she spoke, and so didn't respond. I had been able to breathe a little better once out in the fresh night air. I had been able to think clearer too, the further away I got from Vanteray.

The walk back to town passed in a blur as I turned my attention inwards and let the swirling, crazy thoughts take over. I needed to find some sense in what I knew, and what I didn't. I needed to work out what my next step was, and whether I was going to ignore the fact that the Werewolf had made an appearance in my reading.

I had no trouble getting back through the West Gate; I knew the watchmen on patrol, and even though the Gate had been shut, I was allowed admittance. I wondered if I should head back to the agency and tell the three who awaited me there what I had learnt. The problem was, I had learnt little, so there seemed little point. I wondered if I should head to a tavern, and mull over the case whilst drinking a tankard of ale, but I couldn't guarantee I would remain company-free. I had friends in all the taverns, as any puzzlesolver worth their salt should, but if I needed to think, that perhaps was a foolhardy move, given how pressed for time I was.

And speaking of foolhardy, I decided there and then, almost as I reached my own front door, that I should just go to speak to the werewolf. Sometimes you had to do a thing, with little preparation and forethought, if it was ever to get done, and I realised that I disliked Darius enough not to do it if I thought too hard about it. If nothing came of it, then I guessed Darius wasn't as important in the reading as I had first thought.

Darius lived not too far from my own house on South Gate Street, on High Wall Road, so it wasn't much of a detour. The location gave him easy access to the wildlands beyond Morteton's town walls, no doubt useful when he shifted forms and wanted to let the wolf in him run. The house was not dissimilar to my own, smallish - compared to other houses in the area - but certainly well-to-do. I had never been inside his home, unsurprisingly, and he had never been invited to mine.

I approached the front door, using the wolfs-head knocker (a joke I didn't think Darius was capable of), and waited. It was quickly opened by Darius himself, his coat in his hand as if he was just about to go out.

'Slaine,' he stated, in recognition and cool greeting. 'What do you want?'

'Darius. You are about to head out, I see. Busy?'

'Yes,' he said, stepping out into the street and locking his front door behind him. 'Are you heading back to your agency?' I nodded. 'Then I will walk with you. My business is virtually on your doorstep.'

'Really?' My brow furrowed, and suddenly I was asking, 'Surely not the missing witch?'

'Yes, her familiars were here, asking for my help, not long before you arrived.'

'They were?'

'Why do you sound so surprised?'

'Because her familiars were at the agency this morning, asking for me to take the case.'

'Well the case is mine, Slaine,' Darius growled. 'I've taken it, so back off.'

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Chapter word count: 1011

Story word count: 9826