Wulfric

Edith died two days ago, and I was already stir-crazy.

Two days shut away in this house, waiting for time to pass me by when it never really would. If this worked, if I managed to avoid ever meeting my soulmate, I'd never get to stop waiting for it to happen. It would always pose a looming threat, waiting to take me and then to swallow my family up next.

How long before the boredom of it all swallowed me up?

Edmund came into the room and gave me a small smile. "Hungry?" he asked.

That was another thing. I was always hungry.

I couldn't go out to hunt for myself, and we didn't have easy access to bagged blood. Even if we did, I'd hesitate to take it. Taking from a stranger behind a bar was one thing. It didn't hurt anyone and you could make it very pleasurable for your donor. Taking from a medical facility, from stores of blood donated to help ailing humans, felt wrong.

That left me with only one real option: feeding from my brother. He had to hunt twice as much, and it didn't satisfy me as well as human blood would. Everything I took in was filtered through his vampiric body already, so it tasted and felt diluted. But it would keep me functional and sane, and that was what mattered.

In response to his offer, I grimaced. Edmund correctly interpreted that as an affirmative and sat down beside me, rolling up his sleeve and holding his arm out in front of my lips. Despite myself, my mouth filled with venom and my fangs ached. It was pure instinct to plunge them into my brother's flesh and suckle until the ache in my throat eased and my stomach stopped churning. When the haze of need cleared, I gently eased away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The wound in my brother's arm healed in seconds, and he rolled his sleeves back down heedless of the blood still smeared across his pale skin.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"Anytime," Edmund said.

The worst part was that I knew he meant it. I didn't like relying on him like this. I sighed and laid back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I didn't like how my resolve was already wavering. What quality of life was I offering myself and my brother like this? Me, stuck in this house and Edmund, not able to go far else he'd leave me to starve.

"Edmund?" I whispered.

"Wulf?"

"I'm doing the right thing. Right?"

Edmund shifted so he was sitting on his knees and leaned over me to block my view of the ceiling. "I can't answer that for you," he said.

Couldn't he? What was this for, if not him?

Because I knew the answer for myself after only a couple of days of living this way. I didn't want to be human again. I didn't want to age, or to die. I didn't want to lose the person I'd become in the past several hundred years, and I knew I would change if I accepted my destiny.

But all of that would still be better than living like this into eternity.

If it just affected me, the decision would be easy. It would hurt, and I could feel the burn of anger in my chest at my life being railroaded like this, but I could accept it if it weren't for the ramifications to Edmund.

He frowned down at me for a few more seconds before disappearing from my view. I sat up to find him studying me. "What?"

"Are you happy?" he asked.

I didn't need to answer. Surely, Edmund was asking rhetorically. But I played along. "Not particularly."

"Then it's probably not worth it," he concluded. As if it could be so simple.

"What about you? Are you happy?" I asked.

Edmund's eyes filled with tears and he shook his head. "We just lost our sister, Wulf. Of course I'm not happy."

And wasn't that the answer I had been seeking? I could keep Edmund from feeling this again, when my time would come. The heat in my chest cooled down into a disturbing, chilly acceptance. It truly felt like it might freeze me from the inside. I felt brittle, like I could shatter at any moment. I almost felt like crying.

I leaned back again and shut my eyes. The view behind my eyelids was better than staring up at the spackled white ceiling for any longer.

--

"I'm home!" a deep voice called. The sound was accompanied by the sound of our front door slamming against its doorstop. Edmund sprinted downstairs and slid into the living room to beam at our intruder.

"Arlo!" he cried, and flung himself at the man in the doorway.

I hung back, though I was so glad to see my friend I felt I could cry. I didn't step forward to greet him until I had better control of myself. I only took a few steps forward before Arlo wrapped me in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you, man," he said, thumping my back twice before stepping back.

"And you," I replied. He truly was a sight for sore eyes. Arlo was Edith's grandson, and I could see her in his face. His cheekbones were prominent, like hers had been. His eyes were wide and always bright with emotion. And there was something about the shape of his nose that was reminiscent of hers, though his was broader.

The duffel bags he'd had slung over his shoulders clattered to the ground and he kicked off his boots. "So, what's for dinner?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically. "Are you offering?"

Though, food would be a problem. Hopefully he remembered to bring his own, because our kitchen was treated as more of a workshop. Edmund really enjoyed crafting and candle making, and all his supplies were tucked into the cabinets. The refrigerator was a relic that I wasn't even sure functioned anymore and the oven hadn't been run in years. The stovetop worked, something I only knew because Edmund used it to heat wax and oils. If Arlo planned to stay here for any significant amount of time, we'd have to seriously reconsider remodeling the kitchen.

Arlo clutched at his throat with both hands, widening his eyes in dramatic, showy horror. The effect was ruined by the mirth in his eyes. It warmed my heart so much that I wrapped him up in another hug. Arlo patted my back and shot a concerned look toward Edmund. "Is he doing okay?"

Edmund's only answer was to launch himself at us and join the hug.

"Okay, so you've both gone wackadoodle. Great," Arlo muttered to himself. Edmund swatted at him halfheartedly, then we all separated.

"How long do we have you for?" Edmund asked.

Arlo shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

And for all his carefree attitude and words, and all his teasing, I could see the truth in his eyes as they flicked back and forth between myself and my brother. Arlo was here because he was worried about us, and he wouldn't leave until he was sure we were okay. Judging from how his smile was wavering and his brow was fighting to furrow, we were in worse shape than Arlo expected.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "We'll have a little work to do to get a room ready for you. Why don't you and Edmund sort out the food situation while I take care of that?"

Arlo didn't have a chance to agree before I took his bags and bounded up the stairs. The distance did nothing to diminish the sound of their conversation.

"Edmund? Does Wulf need to feed? He doesn't look too good."

Edmund didn't respond right away, and for a moment I wondered whether he was going to respond textually instead of verbally, to keep me from eavesdropping. He must have just been choosing his words, though, because he eventually said, "We're working it out. And before you offer, you couldn't do much to help. Humans can't be fed on very often. It's not healthy. There's a reason you can only donate blood six times per year."

"But will he be okay?"

I wanted to laugh at that, or maybe cry. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. All I knew was that a knot of emotion formed in my throat, and it wanted an outlet. This is for Edmund, I reminded myself. His safety and happiness were worth any price.

"He'll be okay," Edmund said softly, so softly that I wondered whether Arlo would be able to hear it at all.

It didn't actually take long to prepare Arlo's room. It needed new bedding and all the surfaces needed dusting, but my inhuman body was able to carry out the job in minutes. I opened the windows to freshen the air, then returned downstairs to find that Edmund had pulled the refrigerator out to plug it back in.

Arlo opened the fridge door to reveal shelves packed full of yarn, sorted by color and weight. He whistled and moved to open the oven door, where Edmund had stashed his sewing machine. This prompted a bark of laughter from Arlo, followed by a funny snorting chortle that had me laughing, too, though I had long since forgotten it was strange to use kitchen appliances as storage spaces.

"I don't do much oven cooking, anyway," Arlo said, still chuckling a little. "Though if you wouldn't mind clearing out a little space in the fridge, I'd appreciate it."

Edmund pulled a basket he had woven down from on top of the cabinets and made quick work of moving the yarn from one shelf into it. He tucked the basket back above the cabinet and gestured toward the fridge with a flourish. "There."

"Thanks," Arlo muttered distractedly as he examined the knitting and crochet tools tucked into the door of the refrigerator. He seemed particularly amused by the butter tray being full of stitch markers.

Edmund cleared his throat. "Should we go grocery shopping?" he asked.

Arlo shook his head. "Actually, I was hoping we could talk."

Edmund and I exchanged looks, and wordlessly walked out into our living room. Arlo didn't follow right away, and when he did come into the room, he put fisted hands on his hips and said, "Why yes, Arlo, of course we would like to talk with our most favoritest great-nephew who came all this way just to see us. Follow us to our parlor, why don't you?" His voice was clearly meant to mock the slight accent Edmund and I still retained from our homeland. He did a terrible job of it.

Edmund, ever one to smooth things over, gestured grandly at the seat next to him on the couch. "Please, join us."

"Also, this isn't a parlor. What cabin has ever had a parlor?" I groused.

Arlo didn't respond. In fact, once he sat down he looked rather... nervous. Edmund and I exchanged another look. Arlo breathed out what I guessed was a steadying breath before saying, "I wanted to talk about your curse."

I stood up and walked over to the stereo. A CD of my favorite sonatas started playing quietly. It would give me something more pleasant to focus on than this conversation.

"I know you probably don't like thinking about it," Arlo said, "but I have an idea I think might be worth pursuing."

"You think you've got something we haven't come up with in the centuries we've been dealing with this?" I asked. It came out more scathing than I intended, and I opened my mouth to apologize. Arlo didn't give me a chance.

"Yeah, I do."

Well, that was unexpected. Either he was getting cockier with age (entirely possible) or...

No. I refused to get my hopes up. Arlo was sweet for trying, but there was no getting around the curse.

"Look, just hear me out," he said. "I've been doing a lot of traveling, met a lot of people. And while I was out there, I heard about this guy who can find a person's soulmate."

I went cold. Maybe... Maybe Arlo was on to something, after all. "He could trace mine," I said. "I'd know exactly who to avoid."

Arlo nodded. I sat up straighter. What were we waiting for? "Where is he? How can I find him?"

I was so excited, I almost missed the way Arlo swallowed. The way his shoulders pulled in and his eyes flicked toward Edmund, full of uncertainty. Edmund, too, looked worried rather than excited.

"Are you sure about this?" Edmund asked. "I mean... really sure?"

"Yes," I answered. I didn't even have to think about it. This was exactly the solution I had been missing.

Arlo sighed. "I'm not sure where he lives, exactly, but I know how to reach him. There's a magic shop in Southern California. I hear the owners there know how to get in touch with him."

My mind was instantly full of plans. I preferred to avoid sunnier places, since they severely inhibited how much time I could spend outdoors, but I'd happily tolerate any amount of sunlight to make this work. "Where is this place?"

Arlo pulled out his phone and a minute later, my phone pinged with the address of what looked like a house on a residential street. I opened it in my map app and turned on navigation. "If we leave now and drive through the night, we can get there tomorrow afternoon." I eyed Arlo and amended, "tomorrow evening." He would need more stops than Edmund and I would.

"Maybe we should wait a few days," Edmund suggested uncertainly.

"No." My mind was made up. I didn't need my soulmate. I needed my brother. I needed to know I wasn't going to cost him his immortality. I needed not to lose myself to a curse that had already taken too many people I loved.

I needed this.

"Fine. I'll go pack a bag."

"At least I haven't unpacked yet," Arlo said with forced cheer.

I nodded absentmindedly and dashed upstairs to put together a small pack for myself. Tomorrow, I thought. The word was a promise. Tomorrow, I'd be free to live without fear of the curse taking away everything I had that mattered.

This is good, I told myself. The thought did nothing to ease the ache in my chest.