“Take me home. I need to know that Annika is safe.”
Chapter 11 - Annika
I hear the chaos at the front door, but can’t bring myself to go forward and see what’s going on. I heard Heinrich’s voice already, and I know he just entered, along with a drone of other footsteps, as if he weren’t alone.
“What’s going on…?” I whisper the question to myself, forefinger curled against my lips in contemplation, foot tapping impatiently behind the door, my mind unsettled because there’s a part of me that wants to go out there and check what’s going on.
But I am not ready to face Heinrich again.
Even then, I thought I heard loud howls in the distance just now, a few faint screeching cries, and felt an unsettling tingling sensation in my fingertips. I refused to look outside, refused to see the source of those sounds, and maybe it’s because I’m in denial.
I still am as I hear footsteps leaving the cabin and see the shadows of two figures passing the curtain, which remains closed even though it’s daytime. Perhaps I’m somewhat of a coward, hiding in this very same bedroom as if it’s become a place of sanctuary instead of the prison it was initially. But something in my chest—the tug of my heartstrings, maybe, or the way my heart beats uncontrollably—compels me to finally open the door, just in time to hear a raging cry of pain.
“Gah!”
I follow the sound to the main bathroom, only to find the door thrown open, and Heinrich sitting on the edge of the bathtub, dripping blood from the arm he’s trying to patch up.
“Heinrich…?” My first instinct is to rush into the bathroom, suddenly compelled to see what the hell is going on, and help in any way I can.
He lifts his eyes to mine, the soft orbs full of sadness and pain, and my heart tugs.
“What happened…?” I ask softly as I drop to my knees in front of him, grabbing a gauze swab and the alcohol from the floor.
“D-demons…” he croaks in a hoarse tone, nodding at the bottle I’m holding in a trembling hand. “Can you pour that over the wound?”
I nod fervently, wincing when I notice the full extent of the damage. The wound is ghastly, flesh ripped from bone, a horrifying bruise spreading from the elbow outward. Closing my eyes as if I’m bracing for the sting, I pour it over his injury, hearing him suck in a breath through his teeth.
“Sorry…” I grimace, opening my eyes and pressing the gauze over the wound. He sucks in another breath, his face contorted with pain as I apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I’m no professional, but I do know the basics.
“Do you think you can stitch me up?” he asks, voice hoarse as he stares at my face.
His breath is hot and ragged as he leans in, head bent over the pain, shoulders slouched with weakness I never thought I’d see from the man, and my heart aches for him. It’s a deeply ingrained ache I feel, and no matter how much I might have hated him before, seeing him in this condition torments me as much as his suffering. And while I feel the pain for him, my mind is filled with one thing plaguing my thoughts.
The demons are real.
Heinrich Rudolph wasn’t spewing lies when he told me about them. He wasn’t lying about anything.
“I can try…” I relent with a hesitant nod, and he gestures to the medical aid kit on the floor.
I reach out with trembling fingers toward the medical kit, finding a suturing needle and the thread while he clutches the gauze to his arm. Working purely on instinct, I thread the needle with precision, tongue pressed into cheek as I squint my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I readjust myself on my knees, fingers full of worrisome tingling, and I gulp hard as I meet his weary eyes again.
“Ready?”
He nods shortly, then removes the gauze with a wince, turning his face away and bracing for what’s to come. I place one hand on his upper arm, and get the shock of my life when the tingling sensations burst from my fingertips and spread outward onto his skin, and suddenly, the torn skin begins to magically crawl over the exposed bone, weaving together without the use of a suturing needle going anywhere near his arm.
“What the—”
Heinrich turns back, mouth agape as he watches what’s happening with wide eyes, his skin coming together to neatly knit the wound, while I can’t seem to remove my hand from his arm. I’m too shocked to move it, frozen as I stare at the spot, my jaw dropped.
His eyes flicker to mine, a warmth passing over the greenish-blue depths, a softness tugging at his brows and the corners of his eyes. I feel as if my hand is stuck to his arm, an invisible bind on my wrist, keeping me glued there. I barely breathe, my breath hitched in my throat, and only when the powerful tingling stops can I remove my hand and gasp.
I stare at Heinrich’s arm in disbelief as he moves it, then touches the spot that was nastily wounded, now miraculously healed, and all that’s left is the bruise and a glistening, fresh scar where his skin was torn.
“H-how…? H-how is this possible…?” I murmur, falling back onto my heels as the needle slips from my quivering fingers.
Heinrich takes a measured breath in as he meets my dubious gaze. “I would say it’s because I’m a werewolf with quickened healing abilities, but as I told you before, my strength, my powers, have been declining because of the demons.”
“What are you saying, Heinrich…?”
