Under The Full Moon
Ashleigh straightened up from the lady lying on the floor, and stretched. She looked at her watch and bent down again, speaking slowly to explain that it was time for her to go. The old lady smiled absently at her, and Ashleigh turned to leave. She'd been helping out at homeless shelters, speaking to the people there, getting to know them. She was really looking for those that were very sick, but couldn't afford medical care. It made her feel like her life had a purpose when she healed them. They didn't know it was her, of course. She would have been lifted up as some sort of angel or something, and she didn't want that kind of recognition or attention. No, all she did was sit with them, holding their hand, talking to them while her powers worked their magic.
She wiggled into her coat and flipped her dark brown curls over the collar, pulling a scarf tightly around her neck. It was snowing outside. As she put her gloved hand on the handle of the door, it swung open and knocked her backwards, bringing a large man into the room, followed by a strong burst of icy wind and a whirl of snowflakes.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered while wrestling the door closed, “didn't see you there.”
She looked him up and down, taking in his broad shoulders and the muscular build that was visible through his coat. When her eyes found his again she blushed at him catching her staring, and he held out his hand.
“I'm Michael,” he said, and she introduced herself.
“It's a pity you're on your way out, I would have offered to walk you if I didn't volunteer for a shift now.”
“Oh I'll be around,” she said shyly.
They worked together a couple of days later, talking to the homeless, helping with food distribution and doing blanket runs. They got along well, and by the end of the day they knew it was only going to go one way.
A few weeks later they were officially dating and they were inseparable. Michael was everything Ashleigh could have wanted in a man; sweet, caring, considerate, manly. He took care of her, and let her be herself, and in return she was herself in front him, shared her life, her art, her passion with him. Months went by, and they only grew closer.
One night, Ashleigh was awoken from a restless sleep by an eerie howl that pierced the night air and made the hairs on her arm stand up. A few seconds of silence, and another howl followed, closer this time. She got up and walked to her window, chills running up and down her spine as a third howl could now be heard, way too close for comfort.
She peeked through the curtains, and on the grass in her front yard stood a werewolf, his read eyes glowing in the night and moonlight reflecting off the sharp teeth lined up in his half open mouth has he stood panting. Fear gripped her by the throat. She grabbed her phone from the night stand and ran down the passage to the kitchen. She stuck her hands into the icy dishwater, looking for her sharpest knife, while she dialed Michael's number with the other hand. His phone kept ringing with no answer, and before her fingers found the knife in the basin the wolf's big head popped up at the kitchen window, his red eyes closed as he sniffed the air. He knew she was there.
Why wasn't Michael answering his phone? She didn't know who else to call. She ran to the stairs in her art room, and climbed into the attic, pulling the foldable stairs up behind her. She hoped that the wolf wouldn't be able to reach her there. She held the knife ready in case he did, listening intently by the trap door. Glass broke and she heard another howl. Then a terrible noise as the wolf found her trail into the art room, and started trashing it because he couldn't reach her. She wanted to cry for all her works of art going to waste. Finally, by the time dawn rolled round, she heard another crash of broken glass. She stayed hidden for another hour, but when she still heard nothing she dared open the hatch to peek out.
The wolf was gone, and her art room was a mess. Paint was spilt all over the floor, staining some paintings she'd already completed, and the chair at her desk was broken. Scratch and bite marks were on several things.
After cleaning up most of the mess and calming down from the shock herself, Ashleigh phones a number she only ever uses when it's very important. An old man's voice crackled into life, and she made an appointment for an hour later.
In his office, she told him everything that had happened.
“It seems intent on getting you, specifically,” he said after he listened quietly until she finished, “he would have left to find someone else if he was only after blood. Do you know why a werewolf would want to hunt you, my dear?”
“I have no idea. I've never had problems like this before. It was like it was frustrated at not reaching me. What must I do?”
“The only thing I can think of is arm yourself for when it comes back. Werewolves can't heal themselves from a wound inflicted by a silver object. Get yourself a dagger or a gun with silver bullets. Even the touch of a silver necklace will burn the skin.”
Ashleigh talked for a while longer, then thanked the old man and left his office. She didn't like the idea of killing it. It seemed wrong, because werewolves couldn't help their existence or their nature. But still, if it was her life or the wolf's she knew which decision she would make. She preferred for it to be last resort though. If she could get away from it, rather than kill it, she would. She went to a jeweler and ordered a silver dagger, in case of emergency, and a few days later it was safely tucked under her bed within reach.
The next full moon the same piercing howl awoke her, and immediately she grabbed the dagger and strapped it to her leg. She didn't wait this time, but ran to her attic immediately. The wolf knew where to find her this time, and before she had the trap door shut he was already in through her window, jumping up and snapping his teeth right by her face. She managed to close it, and sat back on her haunches, breathing hard from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Everything would be alright, she told herself; they would just wait it out until sunrise like the month before. But the wolf had other plans. This time, it went outside, and jumped onto the roof. Ashleigh stilled as she listened, hoping that whatever it was trying to do would fail, but then a scratching sound appeared, and as she looked at the area where she sound came from she saw the tiles start to move. She squealed in horror and wrestled with the trap door to open it up again. As soon as she had it open and she was halfway down the stairs, the wolf jumped off the roof and in through her window again. It launched at her with teeth bared, and without another thought she pulled the dagger from the strap around her leg and stabbed it in the chest.
A painful howl sounded from its throat as it staggered backwards, and then crashed into a pile of canvases. Slowly, it started shrinking, losing its fur. The nose became short, and claws turned into hands. After the transformation was complete, Ashleigh gasped in horror to see Michael lying on her floor, bleeding furiously from his chest.
A cry escaped her lips and she crouched next to him, looking at the damage she'd done, her one hand stroking is cheek. He moaned softly but didn't open his eyes. She closed hers and concentrated really hard, forcing all her energy onto him, letting every cell of hers do what she had been doing absently for so long at the shelter. It took a lot from her, and it took long. For a while she feared the damage was too great and she was out of practice for something this big, but then the bleeding stopped and the knife wound slowly started closing. After it was closed she held on to him a while longer, and only when he opened his eyes and smiled at her with questions in his eyes could she let go and relax.
She slumped back, every last bit of energy drained out of her.
“What happened? How did I get here?” he asked, and she realized he knew nothing of what he'd done. Carefully she told him.
As she spoke, his eyes grew sadder and sadder than she'd ever seen him, and when she finished, instead of embracing her as she'd hoped he would, he withdrew. She looked down at her hands, not drained of their color.
“What's wrong?” she asked carefully.
“I can't be with you,” he whispered softly, “I'll never forgive myself if something happened to you and I find out it's my fault. I love you too much.”
“There is a way…” she hesitated, “I know of a healer, if you want. You can go see him, he can help.”
He looked at her, and suddenly his eyes grew dark. He didn't want to see a healer. It wasn't a disease, there was nothing wrong with him. How could she expect him to give up who he was? He came from a long line of people who all had the same and even though people didn't accept who they were, it was still the truth, and he wouldn't change it. His voice raised, louder and louder, and she found she was shouting back, trying to convince him to do it, because otherwise she would lose him. But he kept refusing.
“It's not like you're normal either,” he argued, “and I wouldn't ask you to give that up.”
“I didn't try to kill you. More than once,” she retorted and his face closed, like a curtain had been drawn and covered his emotions.
“I won't give myself up.”
“Then we can't be together, as your said,” she finally said quietly, “I must ask you to leave.”
He got up, glared at her, and walked out.
She sat on the floor in her trashed art room, feeling emptier now the he was out of her life than she had been when he'd drained her momentarily of her healing powers. She didn't cry, she wasn't angry, there was nothing left. She was just empty. She sat there for hours, feeling like she would never get up again. But then she did. She got up, cleaned up the room as best she could, and before she closed the door for what she felt would be a very long time, she cast one more glance over the paint stained floor and the bloodstained pile of canvases.
Weeks passed, and Ashleigh went on doing what she always did, volunteered at shelters, and spent time with those who had no one else. She didn't go into her art room, not once, and as time passed it felt like bit of her was never going to return. She found it was harder to heal now, and often it was only a half job. But she carried on because she didn't know what else to do. She wouldn't let herself stop to think, she wouldn't let herself stop to miss him.
Then one day there was knock on her door, and when she opened it Michael stood there, looking like he'd aged years since she last saw him.
“I went to a healer,” he blurted out before she could say anything, “my family hate me now, and I feel like I don't know anything anymore, I don't know who I am, but I know that without you I'm nothing anyway.”
She stared at him, not sure what to do. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he looked so guarded. So she invited him in and made him tea, and on her couch he told her everything. How he'd fought with his family, how they'd kicked him out and didn't want anything to do with him if he went through with it. How he had to choose, but just couldn't do it without her anymore. His life had purpose for the first time when he'd met her. So he gave it all up, and got it done. He was just a human now, begging her to be with him. She felt tears run over her cheeks as she half-laughed half-cried, and nodded, letting him enfold her in his arms.
Chapter 1
Ashleigh meets Michael at the place where they both volunteer to help those in need and a passionate romance develops between them. Michael doesn't know it, but Ashleigh has the ability to heal through physical contact.
Chapter 2
A few months into their relationship, a werewolf starts hunting Ashleigh, and every month from then on she fears for her life during full moon, looking for a way to escape. She sees an expert who tells her how to kill it, but she doesn't want to go that far because she has supernatural powers herself and it seems unfair.
Chapter 3
One night, Ashleigh can't get away from the wolf quick enough, and it corners her. She draws a silver blade that she's been keeping on her just in case, and stabs the wolf, who changes into Michael, her boyfriend. She realizes her boyfriend is a werewolf, and heals him before he dies.
Chapter 4
Michael feels bad for hunting Ashleigh, but when she asks him to see a healer, so that she can be with him without him trying to kill her once a month. He's angry because she didn't tell him about her healing powers, and he says being a werewolf is a bloodline thing in the same way. He doesn't want to be cured of his heritage. Ashleigh leaves him.
Chapter 5
Michael can't live without Ashleigh, there's a big hole in his life now that she's gone, and he realizes that the only way he can be with her is if he does go to a healer. He speaks to his family, who reject him for making the decision, but in the end he decides that he loves Ashleigh more, and he goes back to her as just a normal human now, asking for her back. She accepts him.
Characters:
Ashleigh - long curly brown hair, brown eyes, feminine and delicate. Artistic, able to heal by physical touch, compassion for people and volunteers to help out often to heal.
Michael - shaggy brown hair, green-brown eyes, tall and muscular. Volunteers to help those in need, turns into a werewolf on full moon.