Most people, even the most hardened, would have at least had a tremble in their hands or a bead of sweat rolling down their cheek while staring down a devilish beast–but not Victor. The werewolf leaped toward Victor, who dodged and rolled across the grass. The beast slid along the dirt, skidding to a halt at the same time that Victor hopped back onto his feet. With an annoyed flick of its ear, the werewolf let out a frustrated growl and charged once more. As the werewolf pounced, Victor attempted to slip the dagger beneath its woven necklace. Before the blade could cut through the stems, the werewolf turned its head and sank its fangs into his shoulder. A dull pain swelled down Victor’s arm. Victor groaned, managing to shove the beast’s head away. He staggered back, cradling his hurt shoulder while trying to catch his breath. The werewolf, whose face wasn’t quite man or animal, stared at him, hungrily licking its lips. 

“If you can’t manage to prune a few flowers, then you may not be suited for this line of work after all.” Nicholas teased from the sidelines. “Perhaps you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?”

Victor glared at him and then back toward the werewolf, taking a shaky breath. 

“Come and get me,” he growled under his breath. 

The werewolf clicked its teeth together and darted forward, leaping through the air. Victor dodged to the side and ran past the beast, darting into the forest. He wove through the bushes, gracefully swinging himself forward using the low-hanging branches.  

“Running away?” Nicholas taunted, appearing on a tree branch as Victor ran by. 

“So not only do you have the Cheshire Cat’s smile, but his tendency to hide up in trees as well?” Victor taunted back.

He could hear the werewolf’s growl growing louder, its footsteps thundering up from behind. Just as the creature’s claws skimmed his back, Victor ducked, sending the werewolf flying forward. A circle of rope had been laid across the ground, hidden beneath a pile of leaves. As the werewolf stumbled forward, the rope cinched around its ankle. In an instant, a net sprung up from the ground and hoisted the werewolf from a tree branch. Victor, panting, walked over to the struggling beast and cut the necklace off its neck, sending the flower petals falling to the floor. The werewolf began to grow sluggish, its growl quieting. Slowly, it began to shrink and morph back into the shape of a man. Consciousness returned to his eyes, and he grabbed his head with a painful groan. 

“What happened–?” he asked groggily.  

“All will be explained,” Nicholas said from the treetops. He untied the rope on the branch, loosening the net so the Dolph could step out of it. With a graceful hop, Nicholas leaped down from the tree branch and landed on the ground. “But for now, drink this. It’ll make you feel better,” he said, handing Dolph a glass vial filled with a foul-smelling liquid. Swallowing down his disgust, Dolph downed the bottle and wiped his lips. 

“I appreciate the drink, but what I really need right now are some clothes,” Dolph said, suddenly becoming aware of his nakedness.

 Nicholas smiled, pulling out a stack of folded clothes from behind his back. After Dolph had gotten dressed, Victor and Nicholas escorted him back to the clearing where Lyall was waiting. She raced across the grass and wrapped her arms around Dolph, weeping with joy. 

“Thank the Moon! I was so worried about you, my dear friend!” she cried. 

She lifted her head and wiped away her tears, switching her gaze to Nicholas and Victor. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Victor felt an ounce of warmth swell in his chest, a tiny blossom of pride. 

“It’s no problem,” Nicholas said, tipping his hat. “Just trying to keep the peace.”

Lyall reached into the woven pouch at her side and pulled out a small drawstring bag of coins. 

“For your troubles,” she said, handing it to Nicholas. 

He and Victor parted ways with Lyall and Dolph, heading back up the steep forest trail toward the manor. The sun was beginning to set, casting elongated shadows of the trees stretching across the forest floor. 

“That was smart of you–using the traps the farmers had set up in the woods to your advantage,” Nicholas said as they walked back toward the manor. Victor grumbled inaudibly, still nursing his bleeding shoulder. “Oh, here, let me take care of that,” Nicholas said, stopping. He reached out his hand and placed it gently over the wound. A warm yellow light began to glow from the palm, sealing the wound shut. Suddenly, all the throbbing pain Victor had been feeling dulled away to nothing. 

“Thank you,” Victor said, rolling his shoulder.  “Though, I suppose I was only in that condition because of you,” he added with a hint of bitterness. 

“My apologies.” Nicholas chuckled. “No more tests (though you passed with flying colors). From now on, we work together as a team. I only wanted to ensure that if I became incapacitated in any way, you could hold your own in a fight.”

“It’s not true what they say about werewolves…is it? That their bite-” Victor began anxiously. 

“No, you will not turn into a werewolf,” Nicholas reassured. “A werewolf can only turn a human if it’s during a full moon. Tonight is a waning crescent, not to mention that the sun is still out.”

“It’s strange how something so delicate and beautiful could be so deadly,” Victor said, thinking of the pretty pink petals that had fallen off the woven necklace. 

“I thought the same of you while watching you fight that beast,” Nicholas said. “I must admit, at first glance, I didn’t think much of you. But you’re quite agile when you need to be. The way you moved–it was almost as if you were a gymnast.”

“That’s probably because I was one. After my parents passed away, I was put into an orphanage. One day, a man came looking for a child to take under his wing. Apparently, he had been a famous gymnast and wanted to pass his skills on to the next generation. He said that it couldn’t be taught to someone, that it had to be conditioned into them from a young age. He saw potential in me, so I ended up being the one he chose. Rather than father and son, we were just a coach and his student. I trained hard and won many competitions, but once I reached adulthood, I gave up my career in order to pursue my true dream.” Victor explained. 

“You gave all of it up?” Nicholas asked. “It sounds as if you had real talent; why waste it?”

“Because even if I had talent, I had no love for it.” Victor sighed. “That was a dream chosen for me by someone else. Seeking the impossible…that’s what I want to do…what I have to do.” 

For the first time, Nicholas saw the flicker of emotion, genuine emotion, glimmer in Victor’s eyes. The pupils, typically apathetic, danced brightly for just a moment. There was such a desperate sadness held within those eyes that it made Nicholas’s heart ache. But then his heart thumped. It thumped so loudly and painfully that it shook his entire body. Hurriedly, he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a flask. He twisted off the cap and took a swig of its contents, feeling the pain in his heart subside. 

“What’s that?” Victor asked, pointing to the flask. 

“Oh, just some whiskey to calm the nerves,” Nicholas said, averting his gaze. 

. . .

Back at the manor, Victor continued his routine from the previous day, with a bath followed by supper. Once he was finished eating, he read by the fireside in the library until he grew tired and the sky had grown dark. 

“Night has fallen, and your bed awaits,” Nicholas said, entering through the doorway. 

“If I may ask, what is it that makes the manor so dangerous at night?” Victor inquired, putting the book he had been reading back onto the shelf. 

“You seek the impossible because you find comfort in it. Well, let’s just say that some things are best left unknown.” Nicholas said. “That much I think we can agree upon.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Victor sighed, a little disappointed by his host’s answer. Like the previous evening, Nicholas escorted Victor to his room on the second floor, bidding him sweet dreams and good sleep. 

In his bed, Victor tossed and turned restlessly. He didn’t want to live in blissful ignorance as so many people did. It would be easy to simply deny the strange possibilities of life and go on living mundanely, but that wasn’t his goal. He wanted to know things. He wanted to learn every possible fantastic thing that could ever be, and only then could he truly know the impossible. His brain prickled with curious thoughts, and his eyes kept wandering back toward the door. It seemed to call to him, becoming him with something stronger than words. 

His curiosity overtook him, and Victor threw off the covers, hurrying across the room. As he reached for the door handle, he hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt for betraying Nicholas’s trust. But as he replayed how he had fought for his life while Nicholas had simply stood aside and smiled, the guilt subsided. With a sharp inhale, he turned the knob and opened the door. 

With a tentative step, he peered out into the long, dark hall. In the day, the manor was filled with noise, but now it was deathly quiet. The skeletons had all vanished, and Victor suddenly felt rather alone. He crept down the hall, careful not to disturb any loose floorboards. His pupils dilated in the dark, adjusting to the shadows. Whenever one finds themselves in the dark, Victor thought, they suddenly revert back to prey.

Victor heard a low growl a few feet away and froze. He fumbled for the lighter in his pocket and sparked the flame, casting it out into the shadows. The light fell across a monstrous face with glimmering red eyes and sharp white teeth. It was distorted, similar to the face of the werewolf he had seen just hours prior, but with longer ears and less fur. 

Victor let his heart settle and his breath steady. His lips went to speak, but as they did so, the creature snatched the lighter from his hand and crushed it. The darkness consumed them both once again, and the only noise Victor could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his throat. 

“You don’t scare me.” Victor spat. “I have encountered far worse beasts–”

Suddenly, Victor felt a cold, clawed hand caress his cheek. 

“You have never encountered something like me.” a voice that wasn’t quite a growl said from the shadows. “Go back to your chamber.”

“But I have so many questions. Like, who are you…what are you?” Victor asked. But there was no reply. 

Victor groped blindly at the air but felt that no one was there. He hurried back to his room and closed the door. In bed, he wrapped himself beneath the covers so they hid his face, the cold touch of the creature’s fingers lingering upon his cheek.