Chapter One:
The King of Coins
The night sky was
bright and clear, a slice of the Hunter’s Moon shining down through the sea of
stars above. The moon illuminated the path of a stranger who ran down the
mountain towering behind the town of Midvale. But dawn was quickly approaching, and he did
not stop to rest, though he had been running the entire night.
He prayed he would
make it in time.
The cloaked
stranger bounded down the mountainside, clutching a shivering, naked child
protectively to his breast. The boy could no longer cry aloud. He had passed
out from exhaustion.
Only a few minutes
prior, the stranger had nearly given up hope searching for this, his youngest
son, who had not come home for the evening meal. He had tracked his son’s scent
across the entire mountainside, barely recognizable in the dampened autumn air
from a fierce afternoon downpour. He scolded himself for ever wanting to turn back
to his castle. If he had turned away a moment earlier, he never would have
found him until the spring thaw.
He had discovered
the young boy under the shade of a towering pine. He had tried to dig some kind of makeshift burrow but failed and laid naked there for at least a few hours. A pool of his own blood spread from the iron trap crushing
his foot. One look at the wound confirmed the stranger’s worst fear. It was no
ordinary snare. The parts that weren’t covered in dried blood shined with the
glint of polished silver. It ate into the young one’s flesh like acid, his eyes
wide with fear. He could only whimper, raising his fingers towards him.
The stranger didn’t dare remove the trap himself, lest it poison him as well, so
he pulled on a glove and ripped the entire device from the ground, the
chain rattling loudly behind him as he barreled headlong down the steep slopes between
the towering blue fir pines.
He could not take him
home, though he yearned to bring him to safety. No one at the castle would be
able to remove such a trap. None of his kind could. But a human, if this one could
truly so kindhearted as the rumors said, perhaps she could.
Of the two human
doctors known in the valley
of Midvale, he knew only
one of them would treat his son. Although he did not wish to take him there, he
knew he had no other choice. If left untreated, his son would perish before the
dawn. That is, if he wasn’t already dying now in his arms. The boy’s lips and
cheeks had taken on a pale, ghostly color and his breaths came in shuddering
wheezes.
The stranger did
not linger as he approached the railroad tracks, slowing only to check for the
on-coming trains which frequently thundered by with little warning at best. He
slipped down the steeper slope beyond them, turning towards the town before he
got too close to the river below, where he knew he would not be welcomed. He
knew his territory by smell and could almost see the exact border where the
autumn air hung heavy with moisture and the smell of dampened, moldy ground. He
dared not take the main road into the town either, keeping close into the protective
shadows of the forest, holding his hood down in case he was spotted by an enemy
lurking nearby. If the frequency of those traps on his mountain were any
indication, there were indeed enemies lurking everywhere.
He came upon the
town proper and slowed, his bare feet skidding in the wet mud covering the
ground. He kept to the shadows, watching the buildings warily. Most of the
windows in the brick buildings were dark, but the gas street lights blazed with
flames, marking the ground with sharp angles of light. He skirted these like
patches of quicksand, his ears ever alert for following footsteps. Once he
reached the edge of the last building in town he paused.
Ahead lay
Harrington Manor, separated from the town proper by what amounted to a few
blocks of empty space, the cobblestone street the only indication that it had
ever been part of the town at all. As the road neared the manor, its upkeep
decreased, the stones turning loose or missing completely, weeds sprouting from
all the cracks. He hesitated in crossing this space. He could be plainly seen
here. Taking another look at the lit street behind him and then again at his
son’s pale face, he sprinted forward, not stopping to pull back his hood as a
blast of wind blew it loose, his long black hair flowing behind him.
Iron gates protruded
from a high brick wall that circled the entire estate. They were wide open, revealing
the grounds of the estate just inside. He passed through them without hesitation,
slowing only as he ducked into the underside of bluefir pine larger than the
manor itself. He rested here, spying on the Manor proper between the swaying
branches, just a short sprint away at best.
Unlike the town
buildings, the lights were all on inside the Manor, casting long rectangles of
light onto the ground just before him. He couldn’t wait until he was sure the
other patients had left. He would have to enter now and hope for the best. He
approached the two-story manor, keeping an eye on the windows for any attack.
She had restored much of the exterior in the time she had arrived, putting on
new shutters and several fresh coats of paint that he could still smell.
Curtains prevented him from seeing what lay inside, only the shadows milling
about behind them. The gilded letters drawn artistically across the front
windows reassured him he was at the right place:
DR.
MEDINA HARPER
Doctor of Supernatural Medicine and Paranormal Psychology
He leapt onto the
porch, and winced when the old boards creaked under his weight. He moved
forward slowly, examining a gilded sign hanging behind the glass of the front
door’s small window with a tilt of his head:
Autumn Hours:
Monday
through Friday (5:00pm to 7:00am)
Saturdays
& Sundays (8:00pm to 7:00 am)
He adjusted his
hood low over his face as his knuckles rapped heavily on the door, his gloved
fist leaving a dent in the softened wood before he realized it. When the door
opened, he frowned as he sniffed a familiar scent. He snarled, bearing his sharp
canines to the gentleman who answered the door.
“Fritz…” The
stranger snarled in a low voice.
Although the young
man wore a tidy suit and stood with elegant posture, his eyes betrayed his true
identity. The irises were orange like burning embers in a dying fire. Even as
he spoke, one could see how his canines appeared sharper than any man’s really should;
especially since the moon was out, though it was not full enough to show
anything more. He wore a coat with long sleeves and black gloves over his hands.
Hands and arms that would be thick with coarse hair. How cunning, the stranger
thought.
“Good evening,”
Fritz said, though there was no welcome in his tone.
“Breathe a word of
my name and our pact is broken,” the stranger whispered.
“As you wish,” he
replied, motioning for him to enter, bowing deeply to him as he opened the door
for the stranger. Fritz shut the door behind him, the three brass bells tinkling in his
wake.
“Where is this
doctor woman?” The stranger’s eyes also reflected the orange light flickering from
the gas lamps on the walls. He kept a hand on the hood of his cloak.
“Dr. Harper is
currently treating another patient, but will see you shortly,” Fritz replied,
keeping his voice even, but his stare said something more.
“She will see us
now,” he roared, “Look!” The stranger thrust the child’s foot towards his face, the dirty wooden stake dangling from the trap’s chain. The wound smelled of death. It
had swollen, oozing with puss and reddened with irritation. Fritz’s nostrils
flared sharply, but he did not flinch at the sight of it. “He cannot wait!”
“Please have a seat, sir,” Fritz insisted, “As you can see there are others waiting
here as well.”
The stranger
turned slowly, holding his son close. At first he hadn’t noticed any of others
in the waiting room where he stood, but could feel all their eyes upon him now.
He pulled his hood down further, hoping no one present had recognized him in
his fearful haste. They had all been so quiet, sitting like porcelain dolls
among the hodge-podge collection of faded armchairs, chaise lounges, and sofas
scattered about the waiting room.
He turned slowly,
taking in the other figures. A chill ran through him figure barely visible as a
whitish tint in the air passed. She faded in and out of vision, drifting
through anything in her way as she paced in mid-air. He stepped swiftly out of the ghost’s way, spying another woman in the far corner. Upon making eye
contact, she pulled her own hood down as well, turning away to the wall. A
vampire. He could smell the blood on her. He turned more and spotted the last
occupant, an elderly troll, who stared openly at him from his armchair, his
bulbous features still as a mountain as he held a thick book between his chubby
fingers. Did this one recognize him? He did not think so. Anyone who did know
him wouldn’t dare stare so freely unless they were engaged in mortal combat.
“Imogene!” Fritz called
as he kept an eye on the stranger.
A moment later, another
ghostly head poked through the ceiling, looking around. It was the face of a
young girl with two long pigtails that swung gently as if caught in a gentle
breeze. She smirked at him. “You called?”
“We have a medical emergency. Can you tell Dee?”
She nodded and pulled
her head back through the ceiling. Footsteps echoed above them, but the talking
was muffled by the floors.
“The
doctor will be down shortly,” Fritz said as he made his way to the receptionist
desk, sitting down behind the counter in a leather-backed chair. “Please take a
seat,” he indicated vaguely around the room.
The stranger could
have left then, and he almost considered it until his son coughed, opening his eyes
wearily. He looked at him a little blankly, almost not recognizing him. But
then he began to cry softly, possibly from relief. The stranger nuzzled his
son’s forehead. He noticed the others were openly watching him, so he growled a brief warning as he stalked
about. He finally chose a red velvet couch framed with carved dark wood. Honestly, he mainly chose it because it was the furthest seat from the receptionist’s
desk. He and Fritz avoided any eye direct contact, although they both were watching
each other carefully. It had been a long while since the stranger had seen him
last, and though his looks were more human, he could never hide his true scent.
The other waiting patients sat in silence as well, save for the occasionally
flip of a book page or soft sigh from the ghost. As he waited, he gripped the edge of the couch arm,
digging his fingernails against the wood, wishing they were his claws and that
he was sharpening them.
There were many
books scattered around, stacked on short side tables and even some spilling
onto the cushions and many more abandoned on the floor. Human literature, ha!
Even if the stranger felt so inclined to read anything he wouldn’t touch the
stuff. The floor beneath him was littered with a stack he had swept off the
couch before sitting down. As he shifted uncomfortably, his son still cradled
in his arms, he used a stack of them as a footstool, muddying the covers with
his bare, hairy feet. At the very least it was warm and dry in this place, and
his son’s shaking had abated slightly, though he feared that was only a sign that his condition was worsening.
All eyes turned to
the door as it opened. A long, pale face peeked out of it. Dark circles
underlined the young woman’s drooping eyes. Her hair was carefully pinned back
in a large bun, but a large strand had come loose, drooping into her face. She
brushed this bit back with her gloved hand as she scanned the room
methodically.
“What’s the
emergency?” she asked Fritz.
The stranger leapt
to his feet as he carried his son towards her. “Treat him immediately!” He
stumbled over the books he had been resting his feet on, nearly dumping his son
onto the floor in his haste.
The woman noticed
the long chain with its muddy stake dangling from the man’s arm and hurried
out, shoving aside the door as it banged against the wall. She knelt down, her
skirts brushing against the mud dripping on the ground from the both of them. She
reached towards the boy and prodded the trap carefully, examining it. The boy
flinched at her and whimpered softly.
“Another silver
one,” she mumbled and then spoke up, “Yes, I must see to this wound immediately.
Follow me,” she said, standing up, “Fritz,” she turned to the receptionist,
“Can you fetch the tool box from the supply room? I’ll be up in room three.”
“Oy! I’m next!” the troll shouted, standing up
from his seat, “I’ve been waiting for over an hour already!”
Medina bowed to him, “And I do appreciate
your patience Mr. Burr, but I must attend to this emergency first or this boy
could die.”
“Bah,” Burr
replied, “Don’t know why I ever bother showing up on time.”
The stranger
followed her into the hallway and found it hard to keep up with this young
woman who darted up the stairs so quickly as if every step were already
familiar to her as her own two feet. Even though the halls were dimly lit, she
knew her way well for a human and ducked into an intimate room with only enough
space for a metal hospital gurney, a wooden chair beside it, and a sink
embedded in a stand with cabinet space above and below. The stranger maneuvered
into the small room and laid his son down onto the medical gurney, taking a
seat beside him in a wooden chair.
Medina removed a flashlight from a pocket on
her black doctor’s coat, which buttoned all the way up to her collar. Printed
on a patch was the name HARPER stitched in bright white letters. She shined the
flashlight into the boy’s eyes, which reflected back the light in a soft glow.
She replaced it in her pocket and gently poked and prodded along his face at
different points, pressing a spot under his chin, her fingers feeling around
the back of his head. The boy winced. “Does it hurt here?” She asked.
“Can’t you see his
foot?!” The stranger yelled.
“Please refrain
from shouting in my clinic,” she replied calmly as she continued her
examination. “I’m checking him for additional injuries. He appears to be
suffering not only from exposure but a mild concussion as well. He also has a
bruise forming at the base of his skull – I’m assuming from tripping into the
trap on an incline and losing his balance in the mud, falling onto his back.
Thankfully something cushioned his fall – probably bluefir needles this time of
year. Is that how you found him, on his back under a tree?”
The man stared at
her. How did she know? Perhaps this woman was a witch after all?
“What’s your
name?” she asked the boy.
“My son does not
speak,” the man replied quickly.
He sniffled and
looked to his father, holding onto the man’s arm. He was still shivering slightly.
She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a blanket, offering it to the stranger
who wrapped it around him, save for his injured leg.
“His name is
Caleb,” Fritz replied.
They turned to see
him standing in the doorway, holding the tool box. “You haven’t changed much,
Father.”
Medina’s eyes widened.
“You are not my
son,” the stranger replied, a growl rising in his voice.
“Fritz, if you
cannot be civil with the client, please leave.” Medina scolded, glaring at him.
Fritz’s hands
shook as he stared at her. Her glare did not let up as they stared at each
other intensely. Finally he snuffed, dropping the tool box loudly onto the
table. He disappeared back into the hallway. They could hear his boots echo
down the stairs.
“You must be Fenris,
I presume,” Medina
said, “King of the House of Coins.”
“Silence!” His
eyes widened as he grabbed her wrist. She winced as he clamped down harder,
growling. She struggled and looked up as the hood on his cloak fell back,
revealing more of his features. Most noticeable was his tanned complexion and
the curly black hair that covered nearly all of his face, his mouth and chin
lost in a sea of thick beard. A face that was remarkably like Fritz’s with the
exception that he was clean-shaven and kept his hair cut short. Through his
snarl she saw fangs that could bite and rip flesh. His eyes showed a fierceness
that all his race carried, his pupils large and deep like the mouth of a cave.
She could feel him searching her for any weakness.
“You tell anyone of my visit this night and I
shall—”
“Sir,” she replied
loudly, “All my patients’ identities and their subsequent illnesses are kept
strictly confidential.” She gently placed her hand on top of the one nearly
crushing her wrist. “Now kindly release me so I may release your son from this
abomination.”
He hesitated,
looking again to his son’s face. The boy looked frightened.
“If you hurt him…”
“The only way he
will get hurt is if that wound is left to fester. I must extract the silver and
cleanse the wound or he may lose his foot altogether… or worse. He may have
were-blood, but this is no normal injury. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, it’s not
healing.”
Fenris released
her, looking down for a moment.
“If you like,” she
offered, “you may assist me with the procedure.”
Fenris considered
her for a moment before replying, “What must I do?”
“Once I have it
pried open, you must extract his foot from the silver teeth. It will be painful
for him but you must remove it quickly while I have it open. Do you
understand?”
Fenris nodded.
The little boy
began to cry again. Medina
bent down to him and took his hand.
“Hello Caleb, My
name is Medina,”
she said softly to the boy, and he watched her carefully, sniffling. “Your
father and I want to remove this nasty trap off your foot. It’s going to hurt, but
I promise you when I’m done treating it you’ll feel much better. May I do
that?”
The boy nodded,
more tears rolling down his already reddened cheeks.
“Just lie back and
relax, there you go,” she said. She unsnapped the hinges on the tool box and
dug around for her crowbar. She pulled it out and angled it into the trap. With
enough leverage it wouldn’t be a problem. She just hoped Fenris was quick
enough or the boy would suffer greatly if it should close on him again.
A few moments
later the boy’s screaming howl could be heard all the way down in the waiting
room and even out in the street if there was anyone there to hear it. Everyone
who did hear it felt a shiver down their spine and shifted uncomfortably.
Every stabbing
pain the boy felt reflected in his father’s eyes. He watched the young woman
set to work, amazed at her knowledge of were-folk physique and her ingenuity as
she managed to extract the silver and seal the wound, finishing it off by rubbing
a salve over it and wrapping his foot in bandages. When she finished the boy
had grown so tired from the stress that he passed out completely, breathing quietly
as he slept.
“I need to speak
with you,” he said, indicating the door.
She nodded and
took him outside the room, shutting the door.
“Tell me,” he
said, “Will he live?”
“Yes,” she said, “But
he has a long way to go. I would like to keep him here a few days for observation
until he recuperates enough to stand again.”
“What!” Fenris
snapped at her, Medina
stumbling back just out of his reach. “I won’t let you experiment on him!”
“I’ll do nothing
of the sort! Listen to me, he’s in shock. He needs to be kept in a quiet,
sterile environment and rest. He’ll also need a fresh change of bandages every
couple hours and he’ll need to drink a special medicine to counteract the
silver poisoning his blood.”
“I
can do that for him!”
“I’m
sorry, but you cannot. The medicine must be fixed fresh and contains
ingredients that are very potent. A little too much of one or the other could
do more harm than good.”
“You removed the
trap. I’m taking him home,” he started to open the door but she put her small
hand on top of his.
“Please, you can’t
move him in this state! Do you want him to lose his foot?”
Fenris growled but
this time not at her. He leaned his face on the door, breathing heavily, trying
to consider all his options.
“If he is to stay,
than I must stay as well.”
“Oh, so you have
no obligations to your House then? Considering you came here alone, I’m
assuming no one knows where you are.”
“You speak the
truth. They await my return.”
“Why don’t you
trust me with your son?”
“Why should I?
You’re human! How do I know you won’t treat
him like all our kind is treated?”
“I should think my
efforts tonight have proved my loyalty. Your kind and mine don’t have to be
enemies. I believe we can be friends.”
“Then you are
foolish and naïve.” He jerked his hand, trying to remove hers. Medina glared at him, grabbing his wrist with
both arms. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Perhaps I trust
you to some extent. Tell me though, how can you, a mere woman, protect my son
from others who are not as… courteous as you? I have many enemies, many that are
far from human. They might visit here, feigning illness just to get at him.”
“No one will know
he is here. I will house him in my guest bedroom far away from the other
patients.”
“And what if that
information should come to light? What if you are attacked suddenly?” He
snatched her wrists, shoving her up against the wall, baring his teeth close to
her neck. He was shocked that she had not soiled herself and still kept that
glare on her face. But no matter her spirit, she was just as frail as any other
of her species. “How will you protect him then?”
“Fritz will
protect him, just as he protects me.”
“Ha! Then you are
twice as foolish. He will betray you just as he betrayed his own pack.”
An animal-like
growled echoed in the hallway. They turned to see a pair of blazing orange
eyes. Only until the figure came closer into the light did Medina recognize him as Fritz. He was like
another being now, his proper posture gone, leaning down low as if he were
about to spring, baring fangs that reminded her he was far from human himself.
“Release her. Now.”
“You want a fight,
boy?” He threw her away and she fell down.
Fritz rushed towards
her, but paused for a moment to glare at Fenris. Suddenly, the two of them
snarled and snapping at each other.
“I won’t fight you
in a place of healing! But neither will I allow you to hurt her!”
“Fritz! I’m fine!
Please stop!” She scrambled to her feet, heading towards them.
“Are you a dog
now? You take a human’s command?” Fenris grinned.
“What did you
say!?” He snarled.
“I said, where is
your leash, boy?” He laughed.
Fritz nearly
jumped at him but for Medina’s pulling him back.
“Please,” she
leaned towards him, whispering into his ear, “Don’t.”
He took long, deep
breaths, still staring at his father, his breath hissing out of him. Fenris just
folded his arms, smug in his apparent victory as he saw it. The boy was just
the same as always, prone to emotions. In that way, he was every bit like his
mother, Fenris mused.
“My loyalty lies
with Dr. Harper now,” he said at last, “She took me in when my pack abandoned
me. I would give my life for hers.”
“Fritz…” Medina whispered as she
felt his hand close around hers, removing it from his shoulder gently.
“Gentlemen,” she
said, slipping between them, “I urge you please. Caleb needs peace and quiet.
It will only upset him if he hears fighting. King Fenris, I swear to you as his
doctor that we will protect him with our lives. If any harm comes to him… then…
Then you may harm me as you see fit in compensation for any injury he receives
while in my care.”
“What!?” Fritz
raged, “No! Medina,
you--“
She shushed him
whispering, “Please, it’s for the good of Caleb.” Fritz backed off, but
fidgeted, keeping his head low, still breathing too hard. It would be a while
before he would calm down to his usual self.
Then she turned
back to Fenris, “Do we have a deal, your majesty?” She extended a hand to him.
Fenris stood
there, considering everything. He had to admit there was something about her he
liked. A fierce loyalty he did not know a mere human could possess. Even though
she was physically weak, she showed no fear in his presence and even offered
him her own life should she fail. There was something to admire there indeed,
even if she was a mere woman.
He extended his
own hand and she took it, squeezing his hand as tightly as her feeble hand
could. He smiled, surprised at her audacity, trying to show him a bit of
strength. This small gesture, if nothing else, showed him he had made the right
decision.
“I must wake him
and explain to him the situation. Then I shall take my leave.”
“Of course,” she
released his hand and opened the door for him, “Do give him my apologies for
the noise.”
“Hmm,” Fenris
said, shutting the door behind him.
Before she could
compose herself, Fritz had her by the arm, guiding her into the room across the
hall, shutting it behind them silently.
“Why did you do
that?!” he yelled.
“The walls are
thin here. Please, keep your voice down.”
He took another
deep breath, huffing out through his nose. “Forgive me.”
“Fritz, I had to. It
was the only way to convince him. At any rate, no harm will come to the boy
here, so he won’t harm me.”
“He will claim
abuse when he returns just to hurt you.”
“He will do no
such thing!”
“You don’t know
him like I do,” he glared.
“Fritz, please,”
she took his hand, squeezing it, “This is my chance to foster a good
relationship with the Pack. He is the first werefolk to come here. And you know
as well as I do they’re in need of a doctor - especially with all of these
traps popping up everywhere. Who knows how many of your kind have had to suffer
a slow painful death, trapped on their own mountainside so close to rescue? Are
you so hardened against them that you wish that death upon them?”
Fritz stared down
at his feet. He shook his head at last.
“Perhaps through
this kindness he will want to welcome you back.”
He pulled back his
hand. “Maybe I don’t want to go back. Have you ever considered that?”
“I don’t mean to
intrude,” Imogene leaned through the door, part of her arm leaning on the door
frame as if it were wide open, “But the chickens downstairs are getting
restless. They don’t even like my jokes!”
Medina groaned. “You told them puns,
didn't you?”
Imogene giggled
and nodded, covering her mouth with her hands. She floated into the room, doing
a somersault mid-air, her giggles overtaking her.
“We'll discuss this
later,” she said softly to Fritz. “Imogene?”
“Yeah, Sis?”
“Tell them I’ll be
down in a moment.”
“Sure thing!” She
dove straight through the floor like a high diver, immediately followed by
chorus of frightened yelps. One of these days she was going to get her sister
to stop doing that and use the doors like everyone else.
Medina was shocked
to find King Fenris was waiting for them as they returned to the waiting room.
“Is there
something more you need, sir?” She asked quietly.
He hesitated, but
finally asked, “How much do I owe you?”
Fritz slipped back
behind the counter, sitting down in his chair, setting immediately to work. “Nothing,
sir. All Dr. Harper’s services are given free of charge.” He lowered his voice,
“Though I know that’s a difficult concept for someone like you to understand.”
This time, they
stared at each other in silence. Neither of them snarled this time, not even
Fenris, but their eyes reflected their true nature, pupils narrowing to slits.
Imogene’s wispy
head popped up between them through the desk, and they both leaped back in
fright. “He’s right you know, you’re free to go now! Have a nice day!” Her hand extended up through the desk and
waved at him, “Thanks for stopping by! Oh, and tell your friends!”
Fenris recovered
from his surprise rather quickly and turned away with a grunt, yanking his hood
down over his face. He did not look back as he swiftly crossed the room. He
wrenched open the door and let it bang shut behind him, the bells rattling, as
he ran headlong back into the fading night. The illusion of his human clothing
hissed away into clouds of steam as he ran, stretching down to all fours. His
foot prints shifted to paw prints in the wet ground, and he was more than happy
to trade his clammy skin for thick fur. He did not look back as he leapt atop
the gated wall in a single bound and disappeared into the night.
