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It wasn’t that Bonne hated being a werewolf; he hated the uncertainty that comes with it. There is always a danger hanging in the air, waiting for you if you’re a werewolf. Not acting like one doesn’t keep the danger away, but it makes you less susceptible than living every day expecting it.
For example, when we walked into his shop, I looked around to make sure we were alone and that there wasn’t someone lurking in the dark waiting. I can’t help but be conscious. It borders on paranoia, and it is because of the wolf part of our nature.
Bonne has learned to ignore most of it, though. I don’t know whether to be happy for him or worried. With everything volatile now, he would need his wolf senses to remain alert.
We walked down the aisles in the shop, past shelves stacked to the brim with different types of herbs. Some hung freely on the racks; some were trapped in jars, and some ground to dust and packed in bottles. There were some jars with animal parts like a raccoon's skull, a crocodile's teeth, and other things like that. I can’t come into his shop without him around. At least not this far into the shop. Everything about it is creepy. I guess I understand why he tones down his wolf part. We stopped in front of what looked like a kitchen but was a counter for making all sorts of preparations. He had an array of equipment, ranging from an industrial grinder to mortars and pestles of different sizes. The kitchen could also sub as a standard laboratory.
Bonne didn’t like the wolf nature, but he was obsessed with it, always studying it, looking for herbs and mixtures of herbs and minerals, even animal parts that could enhance or subdue it. He always had some grand idea that he was working on.
We were there to look at his latest invention.
He picked up one of the mortars and the pestle by its side. There was ground-up material inside it. It looked like a red flower of the sort, with some other black color and green colored things, all mixed.
“What’s that?” I asked him, eyeing it skeptically as he started stirring the mixture.
“You know, I thought the new alpha guy wouldn’t let you in on the hunt,” he said. “They hate your ass over there. You lone wolves. They think you’re a band of devils or something, and you’re Lucifer.”
“They better think I am Lucifer and not mess with me.”
Bonne chuckled and shook his head. “I would have loved if he had sent you away. You have no business in pack wolves’ business. It will mess you up.”
“It’s been four years, Bonne. I can handle it.”
“You say that, but I’m not so sure. Anyway, I know there’s no stopping you now. You’ll do what you want to do.
“Good, you know that. Stop preaching to me and tell me why I am here and not out there hunting.”
“Come on,” Bonne said. “You’re not going to hunt like those primordial wolves out there. This is a mix of beet, charcoal, and ageratum. The ageratum isn’t easy to come by around here. It is the main ingredient in the preparation.”
“What does it do?”
“It enhances your senses. Helps you focus.”
I took the mortar from him, and took a sniff from it. It had a particular earthy smell, and it irritated my nose. “I’d rather not,” I told him.
“Oh, come on. I have been working on this for days, looking for someone to finally use it.”
“I am not going to be your lab rat, Bonne.”
“Lab rat has such a stink to it. You’re a test subject. Trust me, with this, you’ll get the girl in hours. Shorter than any of those wolves out there can manage. You still smell her, don’t you?”
“Yes, I still smell her,” I said, and that was disturbing. It was usual for a smell to stay attached to me as a werewolf, but it mostly leaves in minutes, sometimes hours, if it invokes a feeling in me. It had been almost half a day since I smelled the girl, and her scent was still so thick around me. It was almost like if I turned around, I would find her behind me.
“Good,” Bonne said. “This will make it even sharper. It will be like you’re tailing footprints in muddy soil. So easy. Trust me.”
He looked like a kid about to fly a rocket for the first time. He took his craft so seriously. Too bad I was going to have to break his heart.
“I trust you, Bonne. It is the powder in the mortar I don’t trust. Can you just get me the usual?”
“Where’s your spirit of adventure?” Bonne said as he collected the mortar from me. He didn’t see the irony in his question because here I was going after a werewolf so powerful that she killed her alpha. What could be more adventurous than that?
He set the mortar down and walked to the end of the room, where he recovered a small vial filled with well-grounded herbs and handed it to me.
I don’t remember what he has in this, but he told me once. He mentioned them once and listed all of their functions. I didn’t care about that. I just cared that they worked fine for me. The mixture makes me more aware of my surrounding. Everything about the concoctions Bonne makes affects our senses. They just do it in different ways.
Imagine being out in the jungle; a single lick of the powder in the vial will give you access to every single thing around you. You will be able to sense everything. You will hear the crawling insect underneath the roots of a tree. Nothing at all will escape you. You will see so far into the distance, and any change in the air will get picked up by your skin immediately. He had a load of other mixtures, but this was the only one I liked.
“Thank you,” I said and collected it from him, then we headed out of the back room and into the main shop. By the time we got out, it was fully light outside, and people were beginning to show up.
