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Chapter Thirteen

There's not much that a three-and-a-half week old baby does, but what they do, they do EXTRA well. Camden cried constantly. When he wasn't crying he was eating. Or pooping. It was like a cycle. Cry, eat, poop, cry, eat, poop. Interspersed in between was very little sleeping for the both of us.

My intention the moment I had laid eyes on Cam was to find a solution. Unfortunately, just taking care of a baby wiped every bit of energy out of me. I knew the guys were chomping at the bit to keep recording, but they were respecting my need to heal.

As if I would ever heal from what I had experienced.

My nerves began to fray even more as the next full moon approached. I had already arranged for Brian and Leighanne to watch him. I had mentioned that I wanted to spend the day at Lauren's grave.

It was partially true.

The one bright spot in this whole murky time was that Cam was healthy and, for all intensive purposes, normal. My fear was that he would grow at the rapid speed in which Lauren's pregnancy had accelerated. Instead, at his first check-up, he was actually small on the scale. No one said it, but I knew part of it was lack of Lauren's presence. It wasn't like I could grow tits and become part cow.

I was already a wolf. No need to add any more animals to the roster.

My protectiveness for Cam seemed to intensify each and every day. The humanistic part of my mind realized I was holding a grudge against Howie. I had yet to let him come over. I knew that the animalistic part of me wanted to tear him apart: revenge for keeping me late.

The night before the full moon, I stocked up on steaks and paced the house. Cam was asleep in his swing; a rare moment. His mouth was open, his puckery little lips quivering every now and then. His brown hair tufted up on his crowd, looking more like fuzz than actual hair.

It was the first time in a month I had experienced any type of long silence. I picked up my laptop, blowing a light layer of dust off of the shiny top. I sank down on the couch, my foot tapping the swing lightly to keep it rocking, and powered it on.

My searches were more of the same - werewolves, legend, cure, Germany. I reread what I had already pulled up before and followed links I hadn't given a second thought.

Time flew by as I continued to hunt for answers. After about the twentieth page, I was about to give up. I convinced myself to look at just one last link. It simply said 'Adele.' I figured it would be a bust.

It turned out to be quite the opposite. My eyes widened.

Adele - Mother Wolf

Circa 1750. An interesting case of lore. Ten women were found guilty of adultery in the small town of Schwdbisch. The eleventh, the ringleader, was a breathtaking blonde prostitute that was only known by her first name, Adele. The ten married women, in desperation, explained that they had been bewitched by Adele to perform immoral acts once a month that they did not fully remember. These ten women were sentenced to a lifelong shunning from their community and forced to leave husbands and children behind. After a fierce chase, Adele was captured and sentenced to death by beheading on the next full moon.

Sketchy historical documents from the time reveal mixed reports concerning the events that occured on the eve of Adele's beheading. Some claimed witchery was at hand. Others claimed that the devil himself arrived on earth. Other reports provide amazing detail, even if the final explanation could not be comprehended. These reports are the ones that will be discussed here.

One witness, who was towards the front of the crowd, describes a terrible transformation. Adele, her face shrouded, her hands bound, was brought to the device that meant her doom. The sun was sinking fast; many mentioned the tense silence of the moment.

The executioner pressed Adele's head down. It nestled in the wood block that would hold her still. She was given the opportunity to say a last prayer; she remained silent.

It is mentioned by two witnesses that the hoot of an owl began the reign of terror. As night's shadow fell over the crowd and lanterns were held up to better see, a loud noise erupted from Adele. The shroud covering her head ripped as a monsterous creature took form where moments before a beautiful woman had stood.

The creature was described as being over six foot tall standing. The hair was long and gold. The face was elongated. A snout held rows of glistening white teeth. Sharp claws extended from paws on the four legs.

Women in the crowd fainted; men scrambled for weapons. The creature dropped to all fours, a loud howl renting the air.

From the forest that surrounded the town, ten dark wolves emerged from the dense foliage. The first victims were those members of the jury that had condemned the women and sentenced Adele to death. The rest of the victims were other women in the town. Some were wrenched from the arms of their husbands. Other husbands ran in fear, leaving their wives defenseless.

For the next twenty years, reports abounded from husbands who swore their wives came back for sexual conquest several times a month. As the rumor became more widespread, these men began to disappear.

Twenty-five years to the day that the failed beheading and bloody attack occured, the last survivor of the town moved away with his children. The town of Schwdbisch ceased to exist.

People today claim that it is to risk's one's life if you're brave enough (or dumb enough) to walk through the Schwdbisch forest on a full moon. Rumor has it that Adele, the mother wolf, still lives today. The rumor has been enhanced over the years. Some say that Adele's sexual prowess comes from her desire to turn innocent men in the hopes of finding her true mate - the male Golden Wolf.

Some conspiracy theorists believe that if Adele does turn a man into the Golden Wolf, it will signal the coming of the apocalypse. Others believe that if the male Golden Wolf can kill Adele, recent victims can be returned to pure human form while older victims may finally find peace in death.

Note: All werewolves are believed to have light brown to black fur. Besides Adele, no other record of golden wolves exist.

My stomach clenched. I re-read the same page at least three times. Each time, I felt sick.

Was it just a story? Or was it real? Either option scared the crap out of me. If it was just a story, I was still no closer to finding a solution.

If it was real, then---then there was a very good chance I was this so- called male 'Golden Wolf.' If so, I was this ancient woman's boy-toy. Had she turned me?

The only glimmer of hope was that nowhere in the passage did it say that Adele couldn't be killed. The only question was...how?

Camden's screams forced me away from the haunting information. I knelt down and scooped up his little body. I held him to my chest and inhaled the scent of baby powder.

I had a son now. I couldn't go flying off to Germany on a whim. I had responsibility. I had--

I had fur on the tops of my hands. I could already feel the itching beginning in my back. I cursed loudly.

I couldn't keep living this way.