"What are we doing here?" Constance asked, shivering in shadows cast by giant rocks.
Constance, Hugh and Carlson stood inside a circle reminiscent of Stonehenge, weak Scottish sun throwing ominous shadows across the grass.
"Roses are beautiful, their aroma unrivaled, but they still have thorns to protect themselves," Carlson said. "We are going to give you thorns."
"Carlson and I have been discussing your continued nightmares, and he thinks if you strengthen your gift and learn some self defense, you may sleep better."
"You have been discussing my sleep habits?"
"Miss Allen, through no fault of your own, you are affecting all of our slumber," Carlson said dryly.
"It's true," Hugh said sheepishly. "Today I heard a maid telling the head housekeeper that she dreamt she was watching a wolf die on an old altar."
Constance's stomach turned. "But they're not supernatural."
Carlson shrugged. "There's much we don't understand about you. What we do know is everyone needs a good night's sleep, including yourself."
"It bothers me that I pass out after I use my power. It seems very impractical." She looked at Hugh. "Power? That sounds strange. It has never once made me feel powerful."
"I know," he said. "Will you let Carlson train you?"
"He can certainly try." She clasped her hands in front of herself to keep from fidgeting.
"Very good," Carlson said. "This will be good for my master as well. He's been very lax in his wolf training."
Hugh muttered under his breath.
"To start, Hugh is going to shift."
"Carlson can keep you safe if anything goes wrong," Hugh said, his gaze unsettled.
She nodded.
Hugh strode toward one of the stone pillars, removing his shirt while he went. Scars crossed his bare chest.
"What scars a werewolf?" she asked, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers over the shiny skin, her heart doing a one two beat.
"Another werewolf," Carlson answered, as they watched Hugh disappear behind the pillar. "His father insisted he train. Though I was always suspect of his methods."
Constance's heart twisted.
"This is good for my master, Miss. To use his wolf for something constructive, to see that the animal inside might be his ally."
A great black and white, brindled canine trotted out from behind the pillar and looked at her expectantly.
"He's waiting for you to make him feel something."
"Like what?" She asked, nerves rippling through her stomach.
"Let's start with an easy one. How about joy?"
"Easy, right." She closed her eyes and tried to think of joy. All she saw was Simon being dropped into the arena. Hugh whined.
"Tell me about Christmas?" Carlson said. "The last one in which your father was in attendance."
"Mother tried to make pudding," Constance said with a smile. "It caught fire somehow, and Da had to throw it in the snow. We laughed so hard. She's an awful cook. Luckily Gran had made a backup gingerbread, and we sang old songs until after Simon fell asleep curled up next to him."
"Very good," Carlson said.
Hugh was wagging his tail. He gave her a short, joyful bark.
"Let's stay away from anger to start. I'm not sure that's the best thing to feed a werewolf."
"Agreed," she said, watching the wolf trot happily around the stone circle.
"Let's see what sadness does."
"Must we?"
"You should know all the arrows in your quiver."
She closed her eyes again and tried to think about the last time she'd felt sad. "Not scared," she whispered to herself.
She remembered Simon curled up, back against a log.
"Is father going to come back?" he'd asked.
Constance thought about lying to him. "I don't know."
He'd held his watch tightly in his fist, and he'd looked so small.
"I'll take care of you, Simon. Don't worry." He'd nodded.
Her heart was heavy inside her. She didn't know if she'd ever see her father again. Was unsure if he was even still alive. Their army checks had stopped coming a long time ago. She hadn't lied when she'd told Mary she hoped her father would walk her down the aisle, but now she'd be happy just to hug Gran and Mother again.
Mary came unbidden to her mind.
Her friendship had been a lie. She had pretended to know Constance, pretended to love her. It had all been a lie, all the gifts a trap.
Claws tore at the inside of her chest. It was happening again. Simon was being dropped into the arena and they were holding her back. He was so small in there all alone, and Mary was just standing there. She was letting it happen.
Constance couldn't breathe.
The vampire was looking at her. He was asking her to help him and she couldn't. She couldn't help him. All she could do was save Simon. She'd promised her brother she'd take care of him, but the vampire was looking at her with trust. He understood they were both captives. They were kindred spirits.
His head rolled across the arena.
Simon was screaming.
Constance.
The vampire was staring at her, his eyes lifeless, black blood was spreading under his body.
Simon was screaming.
Constance. "Constance!"
She was standing in the stone circle, overcast sun shining down on her.
Human Hugh was cupping both sides of her face.
"Come back Constance," he said. There were tears on his face.
She sucked in a breath and then another and another. Blinked up at him. He released a long breath.
"That was unexpected," Carlson said.
"I've never felt anything like that," Hugh said, wiping his face. He rested his forehead on her's "She was never worthy of your friendship."
"I'm sorry," she said, realizing what must have happened.
"It's my fault," Carlson said. "I didn't realize how powerful your emotions would be. You got trapped, I'm afraid. Hugh shifted back and pulled you out."
She felt foolish. It shouldn't be that hard to manage her own damn emotions.
"We'll do something else today," Carlson said. "Hugh will shift and hide and we'll see if you can locate him, sensing his emotions."
She nodded. She was still looking at Hugh, his golden eyes helping to keep her pinned to the actual present.
"Um, close your eyes," he said.
"Why?"
"I shifted, Constance. I didn't take the time to put my clothes on."
Her eyes widened.
"Give me some privacy, m'lady!"
She snorted a laugh but closed her eyes tight. Well, maybe not that tight. She listened as he shifted and then as the sound of his running faded.
The valet touched her arm. "Alright use your senses to tell me where he is."
She scanned her surroundings and took a deep breath, tried to settle her nerves. "So, how do I go about this?"
The valet shrugged.
She sighed, pushing her own worries to the background, tried to reach out. But she didn't feel anything. There was only the call of the birds, the smell of the earth, a feeling of curiosity... Oh!
She looked around now that she'd caught hold of it. She could see traces of it in the air. It was a grey blue, so light it was nearly invisible. "Behind the stables," she said, pointing to the old stone barn.
Carlson pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew a note too high for her to hear.
Hugh bounded out from behind the barn and rewarded her with one joyous bark.
She closed her eyes again. Carlson waited longer before he had her open her eyes, but this time it was easy to find traces of him in the air.
"In the tree line to the west."
Carlson blew the whistle and Hugh trotted out. He was such a magnificent creature. She wanted to run her fingers through his scruff. She wondered if that was a terribly improper thing to do.
"He doesn't scare me," she said.
"Healthy respect is probably all that's needed with Hugh for twenty-eight days of the month. He's the most careful werewolf I've ever known."
Hugh had disappeared again.
"To the east," she said. "Probably a quarter mile away."
Carlson raised an eyebrow at her but blew his whistle. A couple of minutes later, they could just see him running toward them. The wolf came all the way back this time, right up to her side. In wolf form, he was nearly as tall as she. He nuzzled her hand with his nose and she sunk her fingers into his coarse fur. It was amazing. This was Hugh, and not at the same time. This beast in front of her felt like Hugh. He had that unwavering loyalty but something else mingled with the strength under restraint, a hint of the wild, that thing she felt when she looked in his eyes.
How could something so lovely be a monster?
He blinked at her like he'd heard her thoughts.
"You're beautiful," she whispered.
"One more time, Miss?" Carlson asked.
"Make it harder this time, won't you?" She said.
Hugh stuck his nose in the air and then trotted back down the hill.
"While we wait, I could show you how to throw a punch. Not every monster is supernatural."
"I think you're just trying to distract me while Hugh hides, but you're right." She met Carlson's eye. "We should train Simon too."
"I believe he and the dogs are out with Owen checking the Fallow deer herd but we can certainly include him in our training sessions."
She nodded, something inside her loosening.
"Let's begin. Put your feet shoulder width apart. You want a sturdy base to make it harder for your opponent to throw you off your guard."
She did as told.
"You're going to punch from your middle and your shoulder," he said, patting his stomach. "Not your arm."
It sounded like gibberish, but she gave it a try.
"May I?" He asked, nodding to her form.
She nodded back, and he made an adjustment, lifting her elbow.
"Twist into the jab," he said, demonstrating.
"My mother made this look so easy," she said, feeling foolish as she swung.
He lifted her elbow back up. "She has had years of training, I'm sure."
She couldn't imagine it, her mother who loved the finer things in life and came from a very old-fashioned family.
"Again," he instructed.
She twisted and swung.
They kept up in this way for what felt like hours, but in actuality was more like one half of an hour. Maybe she was starting to get the hang of it when she felt a subtle shift in the air. She looked around, expecting to see Hugh's signature grey-blue trail, but instead a small group of people were hurrying toward them. She lowered her arm.
"Seems we have company," Carlson said, pulling out his whistle. He blew one long silent note.