A weak heart can only harm others.
In Human Skin
How did I feel? In a word, miserable. I felt the same way I felt the first day of my training. Since that night, my hands had been shaking non-stop, no matter what I did to stop it. No matter how hard I tried to think of something else, my thoughts always came back to that night and the paralyzing fear I felt then.
I thought I'd put all that behind me once — yet, perhaps for a while, I felt I'd been kidding myself. Maybe it was when Jo died that I really realized it, even if I continued to pretend afterward that I hadn't noticed the change. My faith had left me. My faith in myself.
After getting away from the hunters, I realized that no one else had my healing ability. I realized that a body like that was damn hard to destroy. I trusted myself too much. I thought I was strong, and maybe I even thought of being invincible.
When Jo died, I realized that wasn't true. And then, standing in front of a man who had tasted the power of the necromancers, I was terrified. I realized then how weak I was. For the first time in my life, I knew I had no chance of winning and every inch of me wanted to run. I hate that feeling. More than anything.
Des put his hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him questioningly.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
I nodded. "Why?"
"I've been calling you for five minutes."
I was not surprised. Since that night, I have often found myself trapped in the depths of my own doubts, heavy, mournful thoughts or memories.
"What do you want?", I raised my eyebrows as I sipped the ice-cold cocoa.
How long have I been in the depths of my mind? When I started to think, my mug was pleasantly warm and its contents steamed with fragrance.
Des watched me anxiously for a while, then pretended not to notice how shitty I felt. Why should I pretend? I was seriously feeling like shit.
"I'll be back later and we'll resume training," he announced, "I'm not supposed to be on any missions for a while now."
I shrugged. "Okay."
As abruptly as he'd walked in, Des left. He knew that I wouldn't be able to fight now — he'd probably have me on his sword in no time. I'd just have to get myself together for the afternoon.
As I was up relatively early, I decided to have a shower. I washed my hair, then got some clothes on, consisting mostly of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and went into the living room with a towel over my neck.
I got the clothes off the dryer and whatever I thought needed it (mostly my favorite shirts), I separated them for ironing. After that, I set about doing that too. It turned out to be a great stress reliever, by the way.
But seriously, are you upset because the teacher gave you a hard time at recess, or because the boss ordered you to do unpaid overtime? Maybe someone has stomped on your psyche with a steel-toed boot, or maybe you want to kill an annoying creep, or maybe you're just in a shitty mood, like me: ironing is guaranteed to fix that!
Especially if you're burning a big hole in your third favorite shirt in a row... I had to keep myself busy, even if I wasn't very successful. To tell you the truth, I felt like bashing someone's head into the wall.
You know that feeling when you're at home and you can't find your place. When you have a tightness in your throat, a black hole in place of your heart, and a hunger in your stomach that won't go away even if you raid the fridge.
Although now you may think I was (apparently) in bad shape. You're wrong. I was nothing compared to Alex. In those three days, Alex still hadn't managed to regain his original shape.
He walked around like a wolf, of course, he understood what I was saying to him, but he didn't react much, he just lay there and tried to sleep. I knew he wasn't sleeping most of the time, he was just pretending, but I didn't bother him. I also knew that he needed to sort things out by himself.
I was worried about him. Shapeshifters sometimes find that they are not in control of their abilities and have difficulty with transformations — this must have something to do with the fact that transformation requires a clear mind. A cool head and iron will — we were all lacking these two things.
I wasn't even sure that he had been willfully transforming that night. He told me that his first transformation happened because he was scared to death — maybe that's the case now too. Anyway, I was worried. I've heard of stories when the shapeshifter fails to change back at all.
When I finally couldn't help myself, I thought I'd get information from the kids about shapeshifting. The big surprise came when I saw him lying on the living room floor, leaning against the wolf, his fingers gripping the silky fur as he breathed softly.
Alex was silent. When I entered the room, he glanced up at me, then lifted his head. Rolo stirred a little but didn't wake up. I think even if he didn't have his heart set on it first, he liked Alex.
I caught him thanking the wolf the other day — though I never would have guessed it, if only because Rolo isn't the type to say thank you for anything. In short, I found he finally accepted Alex.
In the boy's other hand rested his sketchbook, which I quickly picked up and began to leaf through. I found some pretty good pictures of me, plus a black and white dandelion, a butterfly, and bubbles, the subject matter of the drawings really varied. Then I stopped at one picture.
I recognized it immediately, it was taken on our first and last trip together — at least the photo he had copied. Me on the left, I turned to the camera in surprise, Jo smiling sweetly at my side. Behind us — or should I say in front of us? — Alex was stretching with his back to the camera, Coffee was sipping his coffee next to him, also with his back to me. I smiled, the picture brought back pleasant memories.
Alice had taken the photo without my permission, of course. Of course, in retaliation, Alex held him down, and I tickled him until he begged for mercy. Jo laughed gleefully at our childishness, Coffee continued to drink the rest of his coffee without interest.
"Remember this one?" I showed the picture to the wolf.
I read the answer in his eyes.
"Where could he have got the original from?" I wondered aloud as I kept turning the pages.
The next picture was of the wretched beast that was making my life miserable. How can a cat pose so naturally?! I grimaced a few more times at the other cat shapes and then came to the last drawing, which would certainly need a bit more work. It depicted Alex as a wolf.
I chuckled and put the notebook down on the coffee table.
"I'm proud of you, mate," I said, "You've softened the kid's heart."
He just nodded his head in response. I stroked his head and he gave an awkward yelp.
"All right, all right, it was just a reflex," I apologized, "Besides, you can't say it didn't feel good!"
He turned his head away in annoyance to express his displeasure, which I rewarded with a giggle.
"I'm going out for a bit," I announced.
I saw the question in his eyes, yet I didn't answer what he wanted to hear.
"I'll be back soon."
Even though it was around six in the afternoon, I started walking towards the Goblin bar. Although the 'closed' sign was hanging on the door when I pressed the doorknob, the door readily opened.
Zénó was hustling behind the counter, steaming hot chocolate was waiting on the counter. I sat down and nodded my thanks. I wasn't surprised that he knew of my arrival — after all, we were talking about the second-best informant in town.
"How may I help you?" he asked with a slight smile.
I sighed deeply.
"We've caught Dorián Vincze," I declared, "But we've paid a heavy price."
The owner nodded. "We often get lost on our way. You'll get over it."
"Alex..." I said, "My best friend is a shifter. He's been unable to change back for three days."
Zénó paused for a moment.
"So, you came for advice?" he asked.
I nodded. He continued to wipe his glass and scanned my face with his narrow eyes.
"There's nothing you can do," he stated, "Be patient and trust your friend. That's the best you can do in this situation."
"But are you sure he'll be okay?", I looked up at him.
Maybe he could see the desperation in my eyes because he answered:
"Of course. I'm sure he will be fine."
He was lying — and we both knew it. I stood up and thanked him for the drink. He refused my payment, so I went on my way.
When I got home, Des was waiting for me in the back garden. He jumped up from the grass and drew his sword.
"You're scared," Des said suddenly and swung his sword to get rid of the blood on it.
I felt my hands clench into fists. Des could get me mad with just a couple of words. Even as a child, I swore I wouldn't be scared of anything. I smiled smugly, as if someone who doesn't have a frosty blizzard raging in their chest.
"It'll take more than that to scare me," I said and appeared in front of him.
I pulled my hand back and in one swift motion tried to pierce his chest with my claws. The hunter dodged the attack in one leap, but I reached out with my other hand to shut his big mouth before he could say something that would really piss me off.
I grabbed his chin, fully aware that I could crush him in an instant. Then I glanced down at my belly, eyes wide. The wound had spewed the contents of my stomach onto the ground, stinking of stomach acid, blood, and intertwined intestines everywhere.
I dropped to my knees and stared up at my brother in almost disbelief, recognizing him for a moment as the cold-blooded hunter who killed monsters like me day after day. Never, until then, had I been so grievously wounded. I couldn't speak, I could feel the blood in my throat and mouth, and the world blurred before me for a moment. All I felt was the blood-red heat inside me.
"You are afraid," Des repeated almost coldly. "You are afraid of yourself. You are afraid of your instincts, which long to destroy and devour your friends."
I pressed my lips together in a sharp line.
"It's natural, Shay," Des said, leaning his sword against his shoulder, "Vampires crave blood and fae desire destruction."
The hunter shrugged. "But your friends are not so weak as to let you eat them without a fight."
I let out the air trapped in my lungs.
"And if you ever lose your head," he smiled almost softly, "I won't let you destroy everything around you."
I gave a giggle that slowly turned into a laugh. For the first time in a very long time, I laughed, almost freely, almost in relief.
Then the next moment Des jumped back, his eyes widening. A thin cut appeared on the edge of his cheek.
"Des, that fucking hurt," I said, and raised my wrist to my lips, from which blood suddenly began to spurt.
Even though I thought Des had let his guard down for a moment, he almost cut my hand off despite the sudden attack. I was sure he would not be able to follow my movements.
Very, very slowly I pulled my bloody lips into a smile. For a moment neither of us spoke. Des was probably waiting for more attacks, and I was just savoring the last moments of pain before my body fully healed. I hated pain, but now I was basking in it because it meant Des was strong. And that was more comforting than any words of consolation.
I sighed deeply and struggled to get up. "I'm gonna have a shower."
With that, I left the hunter behind.
When I stepped out of the shower, I was aware of Alex's heartbeat. Just in case, I went into his room. Alex was standing there putting on a T-shirt — in his human form!
A whole mountain fell from my heart at that moment. A huge sigh erupted from my lungs as if I had been holding my breath for weeks.
The wolf looked up at me, and from the look of surprise in his eyes, I realized how sentimental I must have looked, because he was a little embarrassed.
I then simply stepped up to him and kicked him as friendly as possible in the shin. He cried out in pain. What did he expect me to do, hug him or something?
"Don't do that again," I ordered, and then turned and headed back to my room.
"Sorry," said the wolf, and I left his room without a reply.
However, I still heard Rolo sneer.
"I think your behavior shows suspiciously masochistic tendencies," Rolo remarked, but he couldn't quite hide the relief in his voice, "or is it more of a master-pet relationship? Which do you think is the more accurate hypothesis?"
Alex snorted, and not very kindly slammed the door in the face of the grinning kid.