It’s fine. It’s all fine. Sure my family wants to kill me and sure I’m in the Bonecrusher’s lair, and yeah I apparently have been “marked by Death,” whatever that means, but it’s fine. I’m totally not about to throw up.

  “You yak on my rug and I’ll turn you into one,” the Bonecrusher grunts. She shuffles to a ratty armchair and collapses into it. Dust and moths fly into the air at her weight. She doesn’t react.

  I look down at the rug that’s more valuable than my life. It’s gray with thick dust, and has a mysterious stain that smells like blood near the top. My eyes well up with tears and I sink to the floor. The adrenaline has faded, and now all the pain is coming back. My muscles scream with overexertion and my paws twitch with electricity. And my mouth! Dozens of tiny needles dot my teeth and gums. I run my tongue over my gums and wince. They’re splinters from the door.

  I blink, but the tears still come. I’m all alone, trapped with a terrifying monster, banished from my pack because of a stupid rock. Not just banished—Uncle Alder was trying to kill me! My neck hurts from his teeth, and I know it’s going to hurt worse in the morning from the shaking. He could have broken my neck. He was trying to break my neck. And my family just watched him do it. A sob escapes my lips and I cover my eyes with my paws.

  My nose fills with the scent of mothballs and the sickly sweet smell of decay. I freeze and the Bonecrusher’s voice is right next to my ear. “You better not be leaking on my rug.”

  “N-no ma’am, I’m sorry.” I’m trembling with terror. Now that she’s close and I’m not in shock, my body is reacting to her presence. The hair lining my spine stands straight up and my ears fly to my skull. My tail is basically part of my belly. Strength radiates off her in waves, and every danger signal in my body is screaming me to flee. She is bad news. I can’t provoke her under any circumstances. Maybe I can sneak out when she’s distracted…but where will I go? “I-I’m just in a little pain, but I’ll be quiet.”

  The Bonecrusher doesn’t say anything. I risk a peek and she’s crouched in front of me, frowning. Her red eyes glow bright in the darkness of the house. Her fangs poke out from her top lip. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only goes down halfway.

  The Bonecrusher examines my face. I can’t get a good read on her expression. “Why were you chewing my door down?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” I whimper. “The full moon—we don’t think straight. I was just really scared.”

  “Of your pack?”

  “There was a misunderstanding.” I shouldn’t defend them, but it was the full moon. Tomorrow, I bet I can talk to them and we can find a way to break the curse, or whatever it is. Even Uncle Alder…surely he didn’t mean it. I can’t even think about him trying to kill me. Surely he’ll understand in the safe light of day. “There was a whole thing where I got struck by lightning and I might have been marked by death or something—”

  The Bonecrusher’s eyes glow brighter in the dark. “What did you say?”

  I swallow hard. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. What if she tries to kill me too? But it’s too late now. I take a shaky breath. “I have a mark on my side now, and my paw is black.” I lift my paw so she can see. “They umm…didn’t like it.”

  “Show me the mark.”

  “I-I can’t. The full moon…” Once the sun sets on a full moon night, werewolves are locked into our wolf forms. We can normally change back and forth freely, but full moons are special times to honor the moon goddess and the power she gave us. I won’t be human until tomorrow morning.

  The Bonecrusher seems to know the rules. She grunts in acknowledgment. “You’ll show me tomorrow. I’m guessing your superstitious pack ran you out because of it?”

  “Yeah, but like I said, they didn’t mean it.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The Bonecrusher reaches for me. I cringe from her, but her hand keeps going and touches a raw spot on the back of my neck. She pulls her hand back, and her fingertips are red with my blood. “Hmm.”

  I lick my lips nervously as she stands. She yawns again. For the first time, I notice a pair of red reading glasses around her neck on a red and blue chain. “You gonna die if I don’t patch you up?”

  “No ma’am, I’ll be fine.”

  The Bonecrusher raises her eyebrows. I grab at a splinter in my paw to prove myself, but one in my teeth jams up into my gums and I yelp. The Bonecrusher shakes her head in disgust.

  “Pathetic. They don’t teach young’uns anything these days. In my day, we knew how to patch ourselves up after a gunshot wound.”

  I don’t say anything to that because I don’t know what to think. Who is shooting at the Bonecrusher? And how can she live through a gunshot wound? If it was regular bullets, maybe, but no non-human is going to tangle with her. And human monster hunters know all about silver bullets. I’m so confused.

  The Bonecrusher sighs in my silence. “Get as many splinters outta your feet as you can. I gotta stop the bleeding before my whole house smells like wet dog. Pain in my ass.”

  I watch her leave the room, disappearing around a corner, in disbelief. She’s…not going to crush my bones for her tea? She’s helping me? I’m suspicious, but also relieved. At least my death won’t be tonight, like I thought a few minutes ago.

  I carefully pick splinters from my paws while the Bonecrusher rambles around somewhere. My ears catch the sound of pots and pans rattling, and her distant swearing. She finally comes back as my left paw is clear of wood and half my right. She dumps an ancient first aid kit next to me.

  “Haven’t done this in a while. Stay still.”

  I don’t dare move as she dabs alcohol onto my wound and wraps gauze around my neck. It’s a little tight, but now isn’t the time to complain when the Bonecrusher’s hands are near my vital areas. When she’s done, she lifts my lips with her thumb. Her hands are like blocks of ice.

  “This is nasty work. I should let you suffer for eating my door.”

  “I’m sorry again,” I say, hoping she can see my apology in my eyes.

  The Bonecrusher sighs heavily and withdraws some tweezers from the first aid kit. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I stay quiet while the Bonecrusher carefully picks shards of wood from my gums. I observe her, some of the fear fading into awe. She’s not a monster like my aunts and uncles said. She’s a little mean, and not very gentle, but she’s helping me. She doesn’t have to. She could snap my neck at any point and drain my blood.

  Which reminds me…I take in her fangs, her glowing eyes, her astronomical strength. “Umm, Mrs. Bonecrusher?”

  “What,” she grunts.

  “Are you a vampire?”

  “Very good, nice job,” she says sarcastically as she extracts a piece of wood from my tongue. “They still teach you something in obedience school.”

  For some reason, that makes me relax. Vampires are really bad news, and werewolves never get along with them, but I’m comforted that she isn’t an unknown horror. She’s a vampire, and a sort of mean old lady. Not the boogeyman of my family’s nightmares.

  “There.” The Bonecrusher removes the last splinter. My whole face hurts, but it’s an ache and not a sharp pain. Once I sleep, I’ll probably heal overnight thanks to the moon’s restorative power.

  “Thank you, Bonecrusher.” My tail thumps the ground against my will.

  The Bonecrusher points at it. “Don’t do that. I just don’t want blood on my floor.”

  “Yes, I understand.” My tail’s still wagging. The Bonecrusher rolls her eyes and gets to her feet.

  “Pick the rest out yourself. I’m going to bed.”

  But it’s the middle of the night! I thought vampires were nocturnal. Even my family, on a normal full moon night, would be partying until dawn. “Aren’t you a vampire?”

  “What’re you, a cop?” The Bonecrusher grabs a small, square pillow from the ancient couch and throws it at me. It lands inches from my head. “Take that and leave me alone. We’re talking about that door tomorrow.”

  I watch her stomp upstairs, a little stunned. My ears catch a door slamming, some shuffling of footsteps, and then nothing. I drag the pillow to me and lay my head on it. It’s covered in dust, and the cloud tickles my nose into a sneeze. I close my eyes, straining to hear. The old house creaks and groans around me, but that’s not what I’m listening for. Finally, I hear my family’s voices, faint and unrecognizable. I try to make out any words, but they’re just garbled yips and barks. Why can’t I…the realization hits me like a train. Because I’ve been exiled, I’m not part of the pack anymore. I can’t understand my family’s words because I’m no longer part of the family.

  A tidal wave of grief washes over me. Uncle Alder has banished me. I’m a lone wolf now, a fate worse than death. My dad used to warn me that lone wolves were dead wolves. We’re nothing without our packs.

  I squeeze my eyes closed tight against tears. I won’t cry. I can talk it out with them tomorrow, and they’ll let me come back. Well, at least they might be open to the idea if I get rid of the mark. One thing at a time.

  I curl up in a ball, shuddering. I’m exhausted, so sleep comes easy, even after the second worst night of my life. But, strangely, the last thought I have before I fall into unconsciousness is that the pillow the Bonecrusher gave me is very soft.