I nodded, suddenly mute. Her fingers on my knee had felt like being struck by lightning for a fraction of a second, and I could not quite understand why. She was passably pretty, though no great beauty, and I was certainly not feeling up to being attracted to anything given the circumstances. It was deeper than that, somehow. Like a strange little part of myself that I had never noticed before suddenly felt at home. It helped still my mind, and brought me away from the boiling emotions, the fear and confusion I had felt since they had locked me away.

“Do you know why you are here, Mr Townsend?”

“Edgar.” It seemed somehow important to interrupt her, to correct her. The little smile came back, and her palm stayed flat against my knee.

“Edgar.”

That satisfied the strange little part of my mind, the one I hadn’t noticed until now. I had a strange sensation of curling up by a fire, contorted in a way that no human should have been able to, but that felt natural. Curled with my face against my hands, and that hand lightly against the back of my neck. It was fucking strange. But it felt right, somehow. I wondered for a moment if it was the thing within me, but it felt too calm, devoid of the simmering rage that had dominated my days and nights here.

“They say I killed a man, and I think they’re right.”

The demon in the back of the room rumbled then.

“Was no man.”

The woman, Six she said her name was, turned to look at her counterpart for a moment. He shrugged, arms crossed in front of a rather expansive chest. He was a big lad, even posing for human. I would not want to tussle with him. I had the feeling that he could have snapped me across his knee if he so chose.

“Dell and I aren’t from here. We are...visiting. I’ve been curious about Ziran Others since we arrived, and I heard whispers of a group that had done something they should not have.” She hesitated for a moment. I could feel her fingers twitch against my knee.

“The people that had you, they were part of the Cult of the Moon?”

It was obviously a question, and I nodded, mute. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. She seemed to glow, faintly, in the darkened room. Her eyebrows were knit above those strange, otherworldly eyes and I noticed a black smudge - a birthmark - beside one of them. I wondered, distantly, what she was to stand in the company of one of the most fearsome flavours of Other imaginable without hesitation. Demons were literally born from nightmares, at least according to Ziran legend. They were the God of Death - Hishin’s - most precious and awful children. To summon one marked you forever, would ensure that you would suffer a terrible fate.

“The man who died, he was a werewolf.” Her voice was soft and low. She had a strange accent, one I wasn’t familiar with, that gave her voice an almost sing-song, soothing quality. I suspected it would be a pleasure to listen to, when she was happy. “Do you know much about werewolves, Edgar?”

My mouth was so dry, and it hurt to swallow.

“Only stories.” It came out as a whisper, and I hated myself for the tremble I could not keep from it. I was stronger than this, but the thing within me had beaten me down so relentlessly over so long. I wanted to try for bravado, for confidence, but I just couldn’t. I could feel the beginnings of fear lick at my belly. I knew what she was going to say, but I did not want to hear it. The creature, however, seemed rapt, strangely quiet and fixated on the fragile little thing before us.

Six shifted back onto her heels, and her hand left my knee. It made the strange little part of my mind ache, like it was a physical loss. Six clasped her hands together, thumb rubbing absently across the back of one hand with what looked like a little too much force to not be painful. She leaned in more. He twitched and I had the sudden urge to close the gap between us, to press against the cold metal bars like an animal. I resisted, and tried to concentrate on holding her gaze. She was close enough that I could almost feel her breath on my face.

“You’ll know then, a little about how careful werewolves have to be.”

I nodded. They were one of the more maligned of Others. Their bite was highly infectious. It was taboo, akin to murder, to infect a human. The stories I had heard never ended well, at least not for the person on the receiving end of the bite.

The woman hesitated then, seemed to bolster herself for what she was about to say. Even the demon, wedged in the corner, seemed tenser than he had moments before.

“Shapeshifters will generally avoid humans at all costs. The cult that had you, they caught one. They kept him and abused him until he was mad with pain. I think they knew that they couldn't use him if he could think clearly.”

Her gaze never wavered, never left mine.

“To look at you, I suspect you know how savage they could be. They drove him mad, and then they put him in a room with you. You did kill that man, Edgar. You killed him because he bit you.”

The ringing in my ears became a roar, and suddenly it all made sense. I could hear passersby through the thick metal door. Why I couldn’t remember the man I killed, let alone the act of attacking him. Why I was caged. Even the strange bit of my mind, the bit that somehow smelled like the woods and warm fur, made sense.

Suddenly my mind was quiet. The thing in my mind, the wolf, seemed to sit up. Six’s hand was on my arm, her fingers curled against my wrist. It was like that simple touch gave the whole world focus. Her thumb ghosted across a scar, an angry raised mound of flesh that circled my wrist, only freshly healed. I shivered a little, and the wolf shivered with me, so much calmer than it had been since this whole ordeal began.

“Changes for made wolves can be much more violent and unpredictable than those experienced by born wolves and they tend to be much stronger.” Her voice was low, hand gripping the bars of the cage. Her breathing was quiet and even. “Infection has always been taboo. Made wolves don’t produce strong offspring, populations of wolves have always stayed away from infecting humans, except in situations where there are no other mates to choose from. As a result, no one much knows what to do when an infection occurs anymore. The cult certainly didn’t. They brought you here when they realised how unprepared they were to deal with you.”

Her hand travelled down my arm, and curled around the back of my hand again. She touched me with a confidence that I found baffling, no hesitation despite knowing that the thing - that I - had the ability to grow fangs that could tear the hand off her arm. The wolf, far from freaking out the way I felt like I was doing, made a contented huff and seemed to lie down.

“I heard whispers that there was a creature for sale down here, one that everyone was too afraid to buy. I know Zirans tend to keep Others as pets, or slaves. You are not the first made wolf I have met.” She squeezed my hand, reassuringly. “We can keep you safe, while you learn about this new part of yourself. But only if you wish it.”

“If I choose not to go?” Even voicing it made the wolf tense. It was bizarre how just the act of naming it seemed to manifest it as a whole creature, something apart from and yet a part of, my own psyche.

“I am not sure. They would let you go I feel, however I do not think you would stay free for long.”

“You think I’d eat someone?”

Six patted my hand.

“Probably. It wouldn’t be your fault, but I’d say so.”

“Fine then. Take me to this sanctuary.”