Chapter Text
Spring 1939
James stepped out onto the back porch of the stout cabin, scanning the thick woods for any sign of life. “So, where are they?”
“Patience, boy.” Herr Oberhauser joined him and leaned against the railing. “They know I’ve brought a stranger here. They’re very territorial. They don’t like strangers in their domain.”
“But they’re human,” James protested, trying to hide his disappointment. Even though werewolves had been known for almost twenty years, he’d never seen a werewolf in person, only on newsreels. Of course, twenty-five years ago, just a few years before James had been born, no one had ever seen a werewolf and lived to tell the tale. Twenty years ago, they’d come out of hiding — both werewolves and vampires — and helped end the Great World War.
“They’re also wolf,” Oberhauser said, resting a fond hand on James’ shoulder for a moment. “We had a long drive. You stay out here and keep watch, if you’d like. I’ll get dinner started.”
Remembering his manners, James smiled and said, “Thank you, sir.” Oberhauser grinned in response, teeth white against his short, bushy beard, before he went back inside.
For three years, Oberhauser had been James’ mountaineering instructor and mentor. Through his teachings, James had conquered the Aiguille de la Persévérance — the mountain where his parents had died. When Oberhauser had asked how James wanted to celebrate, James hadn’t even paused to consider his answer: He wanted to meet a werewolf.
The Feldkirch Feral Werewolf Preserve was one of a dozen stretches of natural forest in Europe set aside for the werewolves who preferred to live away from civilisation. Hannes Oberhauser was the custodian of the preserve, and he was rumoured to be one of the world’s leading experts on werewolf culture.
Of course, whether or not they had a culture was up for debate. Even the word ‘werewolf’ was a matter of contention. ‘Werewolves’, as everyone knew, changed shape under the full moon. They were monsters preying on humans, with no memory of their true selves. James had heard all the legends. Privately, his teachers swore they were true, claiming that no one had ever seen a werewolf outside the full moon, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
But James had been born after the Supernatural Revelation. Science was already unlocking all the mysteries of the universe. It was just a matter of time before science figured out how werewolves and vampires could possibly exist.
And that could lead to an understanding of death itself. Werewolves — like vampires — were supposedly immortal.
~~~
The wind carried the smell of smoke into the trees. It wasn’t a forest fire. It wasn’t the Custodian’s fire or the oil he burned in his lamps. It was a new type of smoke, pungent and strange.
Last year’s fallen leaves were already soft underfoot. His paws made no sound as he padded across new spring growth. He slipped between the trees, pausing twice to rub against the bark, trying to scratch away clumps of shedding fur. He could have shifted, but that made the itch worse, as if the fur were trapped beneath his skin. He’d tried it seasons ago and ended up bleeding from his own blunt human claws.
The Custodian’s cabin was set in a clearing. He stopped at the edge of the trees, where the shadows would hide his pale fur, and narrowed his eyes against the bright light. Two oil lamps hung at the back of the cabin, filling the darkness with flickering gold light.
And there between them was a human. A human who wasn’t the Custodian.
This one was tall and lanky, with short hair the colour of sunlight. He was bundled in layers of clothing, staring out into the night. The burning smell came from his hand, where he held something thin and narrow, glowing at one end.
A new human.
In his territory.
~~~
Even in summer, night-time in the forest was chilly. Wrapped up in a tweed overcoat, James lit a Turkish cigarette and held his hand cupped over the match until it burned down to his fingers. He finally dropped the match into the ashtray Oberhauser had provided, along with a lecture on potential forest fires. Then he closed his eyes, waiting for his vision to adjust to the darkness once more.
Before he opened them, he knew.
He wasn’t alone.
His breath caught. Slowly, he lowered the cigarette and opened his eyes.
A pale shape slipped between the trees, nearly invisible in the darkness.
In German, James called, “Hallo? You can come out. I’m —”
“James?” Oberhauser stepped out onto the porch, and the pale shape disappeared into the night.
Sodding hell, James thought, taking a deep drag of smoke. “One of them was here,” he complained. “You scared it away.”
“As I said, they know I’ve brought a stranger. But it’s after midnight, and there’s plenty of time for them to get used to your smell.”
“Is that necessary?”
Oberhauser nodded and took away the cigarette. He stubbed it out in the ashtray, crushing every last glowing ember. “It’ll take time, James. Come back inside and go to bed. Tomorrow, we’ll hike one of the safe trails.”
“To where the werewolves live?” James pressed, looking back out at the trees. He’d seen one of them. He was certain of it.
“No. But we’ll go to one of the places they allow me to visit.” Oberhauser took hold of James’ shoulders and added, “But you must swear to me you’ll not go there alone, boy. They’ll only accept you if I’m there. These are feral werewolves, boy. Even if some of them look human, they aren’t.”
A shiver of fear raced down James’ spine. He swallowed, his throat tight.
“Swear it, boy. By the blood of your family, swear you won’t go out there without escort.”
James nodded, looking up into his mentor’s face. “I swear.”
~~~
The next morning over breakfast, James asked, “Are there really werewolves living with humans? As humans?”
Oberhauser nodded, stirring sugar into his coffee. “There are. I know a few — though I’m sworn not to reveal their identities. Humans are still unwilling to accept them, no matter how helpful they were in the war. They think the werewolves are monsters.”
James looked at the nearby desk, piled high with notebooks and pages of Oberhauser’s observations. He’d been openly studying werewolves for nine years, though James suspected he’d known them — or of them — for far longer. “But it’s the vampires who drink human blood.”
“And who look ‘normal’,” Oberhauser said grimly. “With their fangs hidden away... why, I could be a vampire, and you wouldn’t know it.”
“Except for the way your skin tanned and burned without catching fire during last summer’s climb.”
Oberhauser barked out a laugh. “There’s that, but I’ve heard vampires can go about in the sun for a short time, at least. Under a proper coat and hat, they’re at no more risk of burning than any of your fair-skinned highborn ladies.”
James couldn’t hide his shudder. He stabbed a fork into the last bit of sausage and ate it with angry bites. Vampires were nothing more than carrion that happened to still be able to walk and talk. But werewolves had beating hearts and could walk unharmed in the brightest sunlight and could even have children, if they chose. They were still humans , or close enough to hardly matter.
“Come on, boy,” Oberhauser said as he set down his now-empty coffee cup. “Put on your coat and gloves. Let’s go find some werewolves.”
~~~
The preserve took up a spreading valley and the mountains to either side. Wire fencing bordered the forest along old trails once used for skiing and hiking; the rest of the border was marked by warning signs.
Oberhauser led James along the border for some distance before finally turning off to the right, heading down into the valley. As part of James’ mountaineering lessons, he’d studied rudimentary tracking, but he could see no evidence of footprints, other than plentiful deer. No human or wolf prints, and certainly nothing to show evidence of a half-man half-wolf form, if it even existed.
“If we get separated, go up the slope,” Oberhauser instructed quietly as he walked. “Even I don’t go too deep into the valley without invitation.”
“Yes, sir,” James said absently with a nod. He wasn’t really paying attention. He was too busy looking around, scanning for any signs of life, like the one he’d seen the night before.
“The area’s a haven for deer, but you’ll see small game, too,” Oberhauser said, gesturing at a clear set of tracks that looked like they might be rabbit. “They hunt, most of the time, but I’ve managed to trade with them a few times — mostly pelts for things they don’t have. Bread, clothes, sweets.”
James glanced over at Oberhauser in surprise. He’d never imagined a werewolf would like candy, of all things.
They kept walking until they stopped by a stream with a small waterfall. The stream headed downslope, where it met up with the main river that ran along the bottom of the valley.
As they stopped in front of the stream, the slow trickle of water surprisingly soothing against James’ excitement, he said, “I have some PEZ on me. Do you think they might like that?”
Oberhauser sat down on the rocks and opened the rucksack he carried. “I think so,” he said approvingly, digging through the contents. He took out the vacuum flask of coffee and unscrewed the top. “It’s always a good idea to negotiate...”
Whatever else Oberhauser said was lost as James caught sight of movement off to his right, close to the waterfall. His heart skipped before thudding hard in his chest as a streak of white moved through the trees.
Without thinking, James turned, tracking the movement. He caught glimpses of fur when the creature — a werewolf? James wondered hopefully — darted between the trees. It finally stopped behind one particularly large pine, and James went still, hoping not to startle whatever it was.
Not one to get caught unawares, Oberhauser had also fallen silent. Slowly, he leaned forward and put down the vacuum flask, with the lid balanced on top. As he sat back up, he put a warning hand on James’ arm.
“Sit, boy,” Oberhauser said softly, pressing James’ arm.
James ignored Oberhauser and took a tentative step forward. There was definitely something there — a flash of pale white fur, the faint cloud from hot breath. And it had to be a werewolf, because, God, it was huge . Much bigger than James had expected.
Then it stepped deliberately into sight, paws splashing quietly into the stream, and James was very glad he hadn’t followed Oberhauser’s order to sit. The wolf’s head was as high as his chest. Its legs were long and thin, its body slender, though its tail was thick and bushy with fur. Its head was down, gold eyes looking intelligently from Oberhauser to James and back.
“Hallo, Alec,” Oberhauser said, his deep voice calm.
“You know him?” James asked with quiet reverence. He didn’t look away from the werewolf and took another tentative step forward.
Oberhauser nodded, relaxing a bit. “Alec Trevelyan, born twenty years ago to Edwin Trevelyan — one of you Englishmen — and Marta.”
The werewolf — Alec — crossed the stream slowly, showing no sign of understanding Oberhauser’s speech. As he stepped out of the water, he shook each paw, splattering mud to the sides. With his white fur shedding in clumps and lean, gangly build, he was no neatly groomed prize hound; no one would mistake him for anything other than a wild, feral creature. But the intelligence in his eyes was obvious, at least to James, and when he stopped and opened his jaws, showing long white fangs, James could almost imagine him smiling.
James smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you, Alec,” he said. “I’m James.” Screwing up his courage, he took a few more steps forward, putting him almost within touching distance of Alec. He felt a sudden urge to close the distance even further so he could touch Alec’s fur, but he remembered something Oberhauser had said about werewolves finding that sort of touch intimate. If he tried, he wasn’t sure Alec wouldn’t try to attack him.
Alec crouched down, not quite sitting. He lowered his head and inhaled — or so James thought, at first, watching as Alec’s body seemed to go tense.
And then, between one breath and the next, he was no longer a wolf, but a slender, muddy young man with long blond hair hanging around his face and eyes that were still wolf gold.
“Custodian,” he said, his voice rough. The German word was mumbled, almost slurred — unpracticed. He barely flicked a glance at Oberhauser before he went back to staring intently at James. “Is trade.”
“Is what —” Obserhauser began, rising. “James? No.” He huffed out a quiet laugh. “James is a friend.”
Alec rose from his crouch, entirely unashamed of his nudity. In human form, he had the same rangy, almost underfed build. He walked towards James, weight balanced on his toes.
James felt himself start to take a step back and froze. He glanced warily at Alec, afraid of startling the werewolf. He cleared his throat and glanced at Oberhauser before turning back to Alec. “Yes, I’m a friend.” He pointed at Oberhauser. “A friend of his. For a long time now.”
Alec didn’t shrug. He didn’t react to that at all, and James wondered just how much German the werewolf understood. It felt almost as if Oberhauser didn’t exist for Alec, he was fixated so completely on James.
Even without the fangs, it was a little unnerving.
Without saying anything, Alec kept walking to James, until they were just a foot apart. There was no sign at all that he felt the cold air pouring off the high mountains or the light spray from the nearby waterfall. Under the dirt, his skin was healthy and unscarred.
The gold in Alec’s eyes slowly bled away to a deep, brilliant green. He still had his mouth open just slightly — not slack and stupid but to breathe deeply, as if tasting the air. “James,” he said thoughtfully. “Is not live here.”
“He’s English,” Oberhauser said, “not Austrian.”
A shift brought Alec even closer. He was filthy enough that the smell should have been overpowering, but all James could smell was the earth and forest. As the werewolf leaned in, James flinched and stepped away, out of Alec’s reach.
Alec leaped back, hitting the earth not with feet but with paws. A twist, a flash of his tail, and then he kicked up a spray of mud as he leaped the stream and disappeared into the woods on the other side.
Shocked and surprised, James took a step after Alec before stopping. He hadn’t meant to scare Alec away; he’d just been caught off-guard.
With dismay, he turned to Oberhauser and asked, “Will he come back?”
Oberhauser gave him a reassuring smile. “He was greeting you — learning your scent. You, hmm... refused a handshake, you could say. He’ll give you another chance, I expect. He seemed to take to you.”
“Okay,” James said with a brief nod. He glanced back in hopes of seeing a streak of white, but when there was none, he finally turned and walked back to Oberhauser with a resigned sigh. “I just... I don’t know. I guess I didn’t understand.” He frowned and glanced back again.
“There’s far too much to learn about them in one day, boy,” Oberhauser said, picking up the vacuum flask. “Sit down and have something hot to drink. We’ll walk a bit more, maybe see some of the others.”
“All right,” James answered and finally tore his eyes away from where he’d first seen Alec. Of course he wanted to see more of the werewolves, but he couldn’t stop feeling the disappointment of watching Alec run away. James didn’t know if it was Alec’s boldness, his vibrancy, or just the fact that he was James’ first interaction with a werewolf. All he knew was that he wanted Alec to come back.
~~~
James .
He ran down one of the high trails, at the edge of his territory, heading for the Custodian’s cabin, but he paid no attention at all to the forest around him. He’d need to hunt, but that could wait. Or he could find food at the cabin. That might be a better option, avoiding the distraction of the hunt for the much more interesting new human the Custodian had brought him.
Then it occurred to him that James was living at the Custodian’s cabin. His scent would be there. And he probably had things , all the useless trinkets humans collected like magpies and ravens collected bright feathers and flowers for their nests. Things that James had collected would have his scent. There would be something small, something easily carried away without the need to shift out of his fur.
Food, then a search for something James had collected. He could be to the cabin, done, and away into the forest long before the humans, walking on two feet, were even halfway back.
Even better. He could find somewhere dark and private from which to learn James’ scent and watch — and to warn away anyone else who came too close.
~~~
James walked into the cabin, feeling no better than he had after Alec had taken off. He and Oberhauser had sat for a while before exploring the area for more werewolves, but they’d found none. More importantly they’d found no more signs of Alec.
Ever since he was a boy, James had dreamed of seeing a werewolf. It had been everything he’d expected; he’d just wished it had lasted a bit longer than the few brief moments he’d got to spend with Alec. He wished he hadn’t been so bloody stupid and scared Alec away.
Distantly, he heard Oberhauser mention something about a late lunch, but he ignored it in favour of heading for his room. He wasn’t really in the mood for company, and he certainly wasn’t hungry.
He pushed open his door, only to stop in his tracks. He had yet to unpack his suitcase. After getting dressed that morning, he’d closed the suitcase and shoved it into one corner of the room, just in case Oberhauser decided to spot-check his room.
Now, the suitcase was in the middle of the floor, lid thrown open, clothes spilling out. James’ first thought was that he’d been robbed — it had happened at school, though he’d always got everything back, in the end. But that was ridiculous. No one had been here, except him and Oberhauser —
And apparently a certain white-furred wolf, he thought when he spotted the fine white hairs everywhere .
Had Alec been in his room? When? Why?
James walked in and closed the door. He crouched down to examine one of his jackets. The dark charcoal wool was covered in shed fur, and one sleeve was damp. Baffled, he sorted through everything, trying to remember what he’d packed. His engraved hunting knife was still there, as was the multi-tool Oberhauser had given him back when he’d first started taking climbing lessons. He didn’t have anything else of value.
Only his light blue shirt was missing — the shirt he’d worn for a day and a half straight, on the trip to Feldkirch. Alec had come back here and stolen James’ shirt .
But why? James’ shirt wouldn’t fit Alec properly.
Still, James couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about the theft. In fact, he was delighted that Alec had come here specifically to steal something of his — that Alec wanted something of his. Perhaps he hadn’t scared Alec away after all.