Entry 38

When I looked over at Shirleigh after hearing what Miriam told us, I feared she might be unwell, so I attempted to guide her to a chair to sit down.

She held her hand out to stop me and shook her head. Her face was drained of colour as she tightly closed her eyes.

I took the pitcher from the countertop and poured a glass of water for my companion when she suddenly made a start for the washroom. Miriam stood in the centre of the room, her jaw clenched, and she was clearly on the verge of tears again.

I followed Shirleigh to the washroom, the glass of water in my grasp. The door was slightly ajar, and when I peeked inside, I could see her kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, heaving, and I could tell that she had vomited.

I gently pushed the door open and stepped inside. She turned to look in my direction, some strands of her hair sticking to her face from the sweat that formed on her skin. I had never seen her look so ill.

"Oh...Watson..." She gave me a weak smile. "How embarrassing...for you to see me like this..."

I crouched beside her and placed a hand on her back.

"Are you going to be alright?" I asked, offering the glass in my hand. "That was a lot to take in all at once."

Shirleigh mustered a chuckle, but as she reached for the water, another wave of sickness took hold, and I held her hair back as she retched.

She sighed and sat back on her heels. I let go of her hair and handed her the glass. She managed another weak smile and took it in her hands.

"You should get some rest tonight," I suggested. "I feel as though you went through way more in one day than anyone should in their entire lives..."

"I won't let this shake me," she said aloud. "After all that I have seen. After everything I have been through...a recounting of my past will not be the thing to take me out."

Her grip tightened around the glass. I could see the metacarpals through her skin, and I feared the glass would break at any moment.

"Do you see, Watson?" She looked at me with a fire in her eyes. "This is merely my origin story. Our origin story."

I blinked back at my partner.

"Come, Watson!" Shirleigh leapt to her feet, her heels clacking against the tiled floor. "The hunt is on!"

And with that, she darted toward the sink, brushed her teeth, and ran a brush through her chestnut tresses. She pushed her way through the washroom door, revealing Miriam sitting on the edge of the bed. Fresh tears had stained her cheeks, the sapphires in her head glistening with sadness. Shirleigh strode over to her, took up her hands in her own, and pressed her forehead against Miriam's. Some words were said, but I was unable to hear them. Then Shirleigh took up her coat and turned to face me. She held out my overcoat as I approached. She had a determined look on her face, and she gave me a resolute nod. I took the coat from her hand, and we left to hunt the hunter.

🙤♔🙦

As we strode through the halls, we eventually came across Walker, who had been loitering around a corner. They straightened when we approached, no doubt seeing the determination in Shirleigh's eyes.

"You're going to find the wolf." They stated rather than asking.

"Do you know where they reported the incidents?" Shirleigh questioned.

"On the mountain peak of Xoldokogaina," Walker answered. "It's about an hour and a half from here." They reached into their coat pocket and held out a few slips of paper. "This is the address you're going to need. It'll take you to a bed and breakfast at the foot of the mountain. Figured you'd chase after the creature sooner or later, so I made some arrangements ahead of time."

Shirleigh grabbed Walker by the shoulders and gave them a little shake, a smile on her face. She handed the papers to me, which I stored safely in my satchel. Walker looked between the two of us with a slightly worried countenance.

"Just...be careful, okay?" They told us, fidgeting with their coat sleeve.

I took up their hands in mine and gave them a reassuring smile. "We will.

They gave a curt nod, and we started for the exit.

My mind raced with many thoughts as Shirleigh hunted down a cab. This felt like it would be our most dangerous adventure thus far, and yet, I did not feel particularly scared. That wasn't to say that I was not overcome with crippling anxiety about how all of this may affect Shirleigh. It seemed that she was able to obtain the necessary closure that was locked away when Miriam told her what happened all those years ago, but I was terribly worried about what would happen if we did manage to find the wolf. What if it truly was a werewolf and the person inside recognised her? Would it try to attack her in an attempt to clean up loose ends?

"I do hope you are armed, Watson."

I lifted my head to meet the gaze of my companion as she approached me after successfully hailing a driver, her voice freeing me from my ruminations.

"Oh, yes," I replied, rummaging around in my satchel. "I still carry around that firearm you gave me during the Whitechapel Murders case..." I gazed mindlessly at the weapon at the bottom of my bag and whispered to myself. "My...that seems like it was forever ago..."

"Good, because whatever happens on that mountain tonight, it will end with the wolf tormenting the people of the Basque Country no longer."

Our cab slowly rolled up to the curb. Shirleigh reached over to open the door for me, and I climbed in. She made her way to the other side, sitting beside me. She adjusted the cap on her head and folded her arms as she leaned a shoulder against the door. Right then, I knew I had lost her to the recesses of her mind for the rest of the drive.

We would stop by the Exteberrikoborda—the location of the address Walker gave us—for a brief moment, then off we were for the mountain of Xoldokogaina.

🙤♔🙦

An entirely new air surrounded Shirleigh as she marched through the mountains of snow that only grew higher as time passed. She appeared stronger, more determined, more resolute in her actions. Not even the bitter breeze could stagger her. If we were going to find whatever haunted these mountains, there was no doubt in my mind that we would find it tonight.

She held an arm out, stopping me in my tracks. I held my breath; the creaking of the branches overhead was the only sound that cut through the deafening silence.

I followed Shirleigh's gaze, which was transfixed on something in the distance. When I squinted my eyes, I could make out something set in the snow. Actually, there wasn't anything in the snow; what I thought were objects were actually hollows. Rather, a trail of hollowed-out snow.

When we drew closer to the trail, my blood ran cold seeing that the impressions were actually footprints. If they had been the prints of an animal such as the one we were searching for, I feel that it wouldn't have rattled me so much if they belonged to an animal, like the one we were searching for, but the prints did not belong to an animal. The footprints were those of a human. One who was not in possession of footwear at that.

A branch broke off from a tree behind us, which caused me to jump in alarm. My hands shot up to cover my mouth lest I make a noise that may draw the attention of anything that lurked beyond the trees. Shirleigh turned to me with a concerned expression written across her face, so I gave her a reassuring nod to let her know that I was alright.

We each took cover behind separate trees that seemed to form a gateway to a secluded area hidden within the forest. We had come much farther this time than the first. If something were to happen, it would be a long way back to the nearest city.

We remained still behind the trees. The silence that fell upon the woods was almost deafening. The only sounds that could be heard were those of the heavy snow falling upon the ground, the rustling coming from beyond the trees, and the blood rushing in my ears as I waited anxiously for our next move.

As I reached up to pull my scarf tighter around my face, the noises on the other side of the trees ceased, and so did my movements. I held my breath as I listened to what followed—the huffs of something smelling the air and the low growls of a beast.

The sound of crunching snow filled the air, and my heartbeat wouldn't be loud in my head if the sound came from under the weight of Shirleigh or me, except neither of us had moved an inch.

The crunches grew louder as something approached from just beyond our hiding places. The bushes rustled, and I brought one of my hands up to my mouth as the head of an enormous wolf emerged between the trees where Shirleigh and I stood. Its head hung low to the ground as it stalked along the snow, looking as though it were tracking the scent of something familiar. It paused where the two of us could see its massive form, directly in the midpoint between us. Its head slowly rose, and as the moonlight hit its eyes, they glistened like newly polished rubies.

The beast was motionless underneath the moon's glow. My jaw clenched tightly as I anticipated any sudden movement it might make. I slowly slipped my other hand into my satchel, finding the grip of the firearm within. After determining that the safety was off, I gripped the weapon tightly, the cold steel searing through my gloves.

I tore my gaze away from the wolf to glance at my partner, several feet away from me, still planted at her tree. She was justifiably just as frozen as I was. A small, wee bit of relief washed over me, however, as I saw that rather than the deer-in-headlights look from our previous encounter with the wolf being written across her face, there was a more resolute, determined look in her eyes. At least that is the expression I believed to have seen in the darkness of the clouded sky.

Suddenly, the hound snapped its head in Shirleigh's direction, its massive body following suit. The guttural sounds coming from the animal rattled my bones. Shirleigh flung her coat open, revealing her firearm, but before she could reach it, the wolf leapt in her direction.

Without a moment of hesitation, I aimed my revolver directly at the hound and fired. An agitated growl escaped the beast as it turned toward me. If I were able to acquire its attention—if I were able to harm it—then it could be killed.

It bounded in my direction, puffs of condensation escaping from its muzzle, its teeth gleaming in the moonlight. I fired another round at the beast, causing it to stumble in its tracks. I attempted to fire once more, but my revolver jammed. The wolf shook, the dusting of snow falling from its slate grey fur. Its glowing red eyes peered up at me through the heavy flakes.

Just as it picked up its front leg to step toward me, gunfire rang through the trees. I flinched and instinctively covered my ears. After a moment, I removed my hands from either side of my head and slowly opened my eyes. My attention was fixed on the snow beneath me, silence flooding my ears. A dark patch stood out in stark contrast against the white canvas. When the clouds exposed the pearl in the night sky, it cast light upon the dark patch, and I recognised it as blood. There were other splotches scattered across the mounds of snow.

Registering the silence and the blood spatter, I jerked my head up in fear that something horrible may have happened.

I exhaled a sigh of relief, my legs nearly buckling beneath me when I laid my eyes on Shirleigh, standing a few feet in front of me. I lifted my head to look at her once more to assess the situation.

She loomed over a figure that lay in the snow; both were unmoving. As I slowly moved toward her, I was able to make out the same spatter across her face. I rushed up to her, but she remained as still as a stone-cold statue; the only things moving were her hair, carried gently by the wind and her chest, steadily rising and falling.

I touched my hand to her cheek and wiped away some of the blood. Was it hers?

She reached up and removed my hand from her face, and I realised that her attention remained fixated on whatever it was on the ground before her.

I followed her gaze to find a person lying in the cold snow, surrounded by a sea of crimson. Their open eyes told me that they were the wolf that had hunted the Basque Country, though glazed over, they still flickered that forboding shade of scarlet that we had grown too familiar with.

"I know this person..."

I turned back to my partner, her wide eyes staring down at the motionless body.

"We met him in Zuberoa...back then..."

I knew that when she said "we", she was referring to her family, and that "back then" was during that tragic holiday. I remained silent, stuck somewhere between shock and exhaustion.

"He was far from a kind person, berating us as we passed him on a street corner."

"Do you remember what he said?" I asked.

Shirleigh shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes glinting and translucent in the moon's rays. I saw the exact moment a thought came to her, and she turned to look down at me.

"He was sent after us...my family..."

My blood ran cold. The wind whistled through the trees, causing clumps of snow to fall from their branches. The flakes that rained down from the clouds grew fewer and farther between as the grey blanket in the sky finally began to disperse. And it was then that I was able to see the entirety of the scene before me. The body lying in the snow, covered in blood from sustaining multiple bullet wounds, Shirleigh looming over it, also doused in ruby liquid, though unharmed, it would seem, her firearm grasped tightly in her hand, which dangled by her side. The footprints in the ground, from where the man was once a beast, could be seen changing just as he had before falling into the cold bed of snow.

🙤♔🙦

After our encounter with what Stjerne Johnson says her people called "Ulven fra Baskerland", Shirleigh and I returned to the Palacio de Oriol, where we were initially met with the suspicious stares of those inside before they realised what had been done and thanked us with intense fervour.

"Oh, thank the Heavens!"

As soon as we rounded the corner, Miriam threw herself at Shirleigh, embracing her in a tight squeeze. She buried her face in her sister's hair, a few muffled cries echoing throughout the hall. She looked over at me, took my hand, and dragged me in. I could not help but be reminded of our first time encounter, when she had done the exact same.

"Oh, look at you," Miriam drew away, holding her sister by the shoulders. "Is this blood yours? Are you hurt? There's so much of it, oh, I hope none of it is yours."

"None of it is hers," said I, hoping to provide some reassurance. "Shirleigh is physically unharmed."

"Thank the Heavens," Miriam repeated as she pulled her sister back in for another embrace. "What happened? You have to tell me what happened. Oh, but it's so late, you both must be terribly exhausted. And you, Love, are in desperate need of cleaning up. I can't stand to see you covered in blood like this. The things you must have seen, the things you must have done. You should tidy up and get plenty of rest, both of you. You will tell me all about it tomorrow."

And we would tell Miriam about the encounter with the werewolf. She would tell us how she remembered the man they came across in Zuberoa, but thought nothing unusual about him.

And we would return to London a few days later, where a previous incident had spiralled out of control.