jaw. I was actually impressed by his bold act; however, this admiration lasted less time than it would have taken him to get away. Somewhat dumbfounded, I looked on as he struggled to drag the young Miss Rachel Delmore, by her arm, towards her house. Suddenly, anger started to grow inside me. I could feel every muscle in my body slowly tighten; it was as if time had slowed to a crawl. Watching them walk away, I suddenly burst into a sprint that caused the snow to wisp up in a fury. Within less than a second, I was standing in front of Miss Rachel and her arrogant fiancé. I reached out and grabbed him by his throat and tossed him into the nearby alley. Then I grabbed Miss Rachel and took her into the alley with me. Once there, I tossed her to the back of the alley and launched my attack on her fiancé. His arrogance tasted almost as enjoyable as his blood, and I killed him quickly. Rachel sat against the building not making a sound, blankly staring at me, as if her soul had already departed her body. I turned my attack to her. It was quick and clean. Miss Rachel Delmore lay dead before me. As I released my grip and pulled away from her neck, I noticed one small tear roll down her cheek. That single tear brought remorse back into my life.
Later that night, I walked back to the hotel where Grace and I were staying; my thoughts consumed by my terrible deeds. I constantly relived the night’s events in my mind; I could not stop thinking about Miss Rachel Delmore. Did she deserve such a dreadful rendezvous with fate? What had I done to this poor girl? Why? What purpose did my anger, my rage serve? These questions played over and over in my thoughts. Grace noticed a difference in my demeanor right away that evening.
"Daniel, what’s troubling you?" She asked.
I told her all about the girl and her fiancé. Grace was visibly upset with my reaction to my victim’s death. Emphatically, she stated that I shouldn't trouble myself with such things. Grace always said the world is a cruel and brutal place, and that our kind had a natural place in the brutality of it all. Nothing could change these truths.
For twenty years, Grace and I worked our way up and down the east coast. We moved west from time to time, but always moving back to the coastline within several weeks. Grace enjoyed the hunting a larger city offered. In June of 1812 war broke out, British troops were everywhere. Hunting during this time was easy, but for some reason, Grace seemed more on edge than I had ever seen her. It was early Fall when we came across a small group of British troops. As we circled the men, Grace suddenly covered my mouth and threw me to the ground. The look in her eyes could only be described as pure fear. She spoke just one word to me, "run." As always, I trusted Grace. I stood and ran as fast as possible. Grace was much faster than me, but on this night, she stayed with me the entire time. About four or five miles from the troops she finally said it was okay to slow down. As we walked, she began to tell me more about our history.
"Daniel, there's a lot I haven't told you about our world," she said with a tone of concern in her voice, "There are many dangers to you — dangers you must learn to protect yourself against. Do you remember anything remarkable about those soldiers?" Grace asked.
"Yes. There was a strong, musky odor, but I attributed that to their moldy uniforms," I answered. Grace lowered her head and cringed.
"No Daniel, that scent was not mold or musk," she said as she stepped in front me to stop my gate, "those soldiers — well, they were something very dangerous to our kind...werewolves!"
Grace went on to explain that werewolves were powerful creatures. Like us, they had extraordinary strength, speed, and other natural abilities. Unlike us, they are not immortal. They live three to four times as long as humans, aging at a very slow rate. She went on to say, one-on-one, they are usually quickly dispatched; the problem is you rarely find them alone. When werewolves hunt, they hunt as a pack, and they are extremely dangerous. They will pursue their prey as a pack, working together to catch and destroy it. Our most significant advantage is they cannot detect our scent while in human form, but we can always smell their distinct odor. She went on to give me the more distressing news. "If they catch your scent while they are in their wolf form, they will hunt you for hundreds of miles. Eventually, they will encircle you — attack you — and most likely rip you apart."
Grace and I worked our way back towards the coast, and by morning, we had reached New York. Finding a hotel, we made arrangements for one week. Grace said she had a lot to do the upcoming night, and that she needed to feed. As I lay in bed, I heard Grace knocking on the door to the room next to ours. The man was more than willing to invite her in. After all, Grace was beautiful and appeared perfectly innocent of the world’s evils. She was an expert at preying on people's emotions. You would never expect that you were talking to an evil monster, who would sooner rip out your heart for entertainment than go to the theater. A few moments later I heard the muffled thud of our neighbor’s body hitting the floor. It was over that fast. In less time than it would take the average person to button their shirt, Grace had taken another life from this world. Several minutes later, she returned to the room with a small trunk and a few personal belongings from the unlucky soul next door.
"Look how generous Mr. Ranterfield was. He left us with some coin and a new dress that was to be his daughter's," Grace snickered as she held the dress firmly to her body and twirled in front of the full-length mirror. She then turned, gently laid the new dress on the foot of the bed. Using both hands, she reached back, ripped the lacing from her dress and slowly let it slip from her body. She was so beautiful; it was as if she had been designed to attract men. Her small frame, pearl skin, and beautiful long strawberry blonde hair were enchanting. For twenty years, I had admired Grace, respected her, but I had never looked at her in such a way. She had always seemed so loving and caring, but as a friend; I never imagined her in any other way.
“Grace, why must you flaunt yourself in front of me?” I asked.
"What do you mean?" She questioned, looking back over her shoulder as she pulled her dress up. "Daniel, can you help lace me up?"
I helped with her dress, and then quickly returned to my bed. As always, Grace just turned and smiled at me. I think she thought this made everything okay, but in my mind it was her way of reminding me that my life was nothing more than a gift she had bestowed upon me, and who knows, maybe it was.
That night forever changed Grace in my eyes. Although I loved and respected her, I started to feel more and more like a charm she wore on a bracelet. Several weeks passed, and Grace was once again growing bored with the city. She had mentioned that this weekend we would be heading west again. She said that she would leave one day ahead of me and that I could meet her at the great falls the following night. This was not, all that, unusual. We had left on separate days in the past, maybe three or four times. So I thought nothing was odd about her instructions. The next morning when I returned to our hotel room, there was a note lying in the center of my bed.
My Dearest Daniel,
It feels as if we have spent a lifetime together, and that is all I have to give. You have been the closest of companions to me over these many years, and I will think of our time together often. There are many things in this world for you to experience. I truly hope you take the time to do so.
With Love,
Grace
Those were Grace’s last words to me…she had left me to fend for myself.
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