Description: Francis grabbed Evan's arm and rolled up the sleeve. A burning line of red dots circled his forearm near his elbow. "You were bitten," Francis said. "Some say getting eaten by a werewolf is better than being bitten by one." Cleo peeked out the curtains. "It's already getting dark," she said. "Should we tie Evan to the bed and stay with him until morning?" "I'm afraid that won't work," Francis said. "When he transforms, the bed will break into splinters and the rope torn to bits...along with us." "Seriously, guys," Evan said, sitting up. "I'm feeling better..." Evan stopped. He sniffed at the air. He could smell the oil from the dim lamp, the earthy wool of the blanket, the stale hay inside the mattress, all in more detail than he could ever remember noticing. "Weird," Evan whispered. Evan sniffed again. The hairs on his neck stood up. He smelled swampy mud and nervous sweat. He heard shallow breathing. There was someone behind the door. Evan sprang from the bed. He surprised himself by how far he was able to leap. He landed softly, took two steps, and flung open the door. A hunched figure disappeared around the corner of the building. "We can't stay here," Francis said. He loaded a small jar, some papers, a coil of rope, and a few other supplies into a leather bag and slung it over his shoulder. "What do we do?" Evan asked. "There is a way to get rid of the werewolf inside you," Francis said. "Call animal control?" Cleo asked. "No. A cure," Francis said. "We need to find leaves of wolfsbane, sprinkle it into water collected from a flowing stream, and stir it with the silver Lycan Spoon under the light of a full moon."

Please Wait