Inner Demons, Part One

PART ONE

     Evon stumbled back, his brown eyes widening with fear.  He pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed his bow at the shaggy, grey head a mere thirty feet away.  A wolf!  He had seen them before, or their bodies at least, but never had he seen a live one, especially not so close to the village—so close to himself.  He'd heard stories, though: wolves were considered the messengers of the devil, demons incarnate, who killed brutally and mercilessly.
     His aim was unsteady.  He was tall and lean, and his grip on the wooden bow was strong, but his hands shook and his heart raced.  He took another step backwards.  Fallen leaves crackled under his leather boots.  The wolf's ears jerked and its head turned ever-so-slightly in Evon’s direction.
     Reacting before he could stop himself, Evon sprang backwards and tripped over an outstretched root.  The bow flew out of his hand and he fell flat on his back.  He looked up quickly, but the wolf had not taken advantage of his moment of weakness—in fact, it had disappeared entirely.

-----

     Evon walked through the wooden door into his parents' house, still brushing leaves and twigs out of his black hair.  He stripped off his hunting tunic, revealing a moderately muscled torso and the silver cross that hung around his neck.
     "No catch?" Paul, his father and the village carpenter, asked as he entered his son's room.
     "Not this time," Evon replied hesitantly.  "I saw a wolf this morning.  I think it scared the animals away."
     Paul grimaced.  "I'll tell the Mayor about it.  Now wash up.  You're meeting Rebecca tonight."
     This time it was Evon's turn to grimace.  Although he liked Rebecca—she had been promised to him as soon as he turned eighteen, which was now less than a year away—she was in service to the Church, and he had to meet with her and her grandmother every week to have the Tenets drilled into him.  In all of the excitement that morning, he had forgotten that it was today.
     Evon dunked his head in the basin, letting the cool water clear his head and clean his hair.  He hoped that it would wash out the smell, too; he didn't have time for a proper bath.  He put on a nicer tunic, smoothed down his pants, and hurried outside.
     The sun was sinking by then, still above the horizon but falling fast.  Its red light illuminated the dirt roads of the village and turned the wooden buildings fiery orange.  The village itself was relatively small; there was a little less than a hundred inhabitants all told, but many lived in cabins in the forest or farms to the west of the village proper.  A small road ran through the village and through the forest surrounding it, connecting to one of the main roads several miles away.
     In the center of the village was the only stone building in it: the church.  It stood several stories above any of the other buildings.  Evon approached it hesitantly.  It faced east, and he had arrived just in time to see the sun perfectly align with the cross on top of the steeple, turning it blood-red.  Even without that, the church always made him feel a little uneasy.
     Luckily, the church itself was not his destination.  Adjacent to the stone building was the house where Rebecca lived.  She was waiting for him, her brown hair tucked cleanly behind her ears.
     "You're late," she said mock-accusingly.
     "Sorry," Evon replied, "I forgot today was the day."
     Rebecca giggled.  "You know how grandmama hates to be kept waiting!"
     Grinning despite himself, Evon gripped her hand, then walked through the door.  The house smelled, as it always did, faintly of garlic.
     "You're late," a deep-throated voice echoed from the corner, near the blazing hearth.
     "I'm sorry, Miss Jean," Evon repeated with a little bow.  "I forgot today was the day we met.  I…I saw a wolf in the forest earlier."
     "A wolf?" Miss Jean asked, an eyebrow raised.  She moved, almost imperceptibly, to look straight into Evon's eyes.  She was old, but her gaze had lost none of its potency of old.  "Have you told anyone else?"
     "I told Father.  He said he would meet with the Mayor."
     Miss Jean sighed.  "There hasn't been a wolf seen so near the village in a long time.  It's a bad omen."  Her eyes had strayed as she spoke, but she suddenly seemed to remember who she was talking to and returned her focus to Evon.  "Recite the eleventh Tenet!" she barked.
     "I will not associate with demons or witchcraft," Evon replied automatically.
     "Good.  Now, on with your lesson…"

-----

     Evon emerged an hour and a half later, weary and sore from sitting so long.  Night had fallen, and a full moon hovered above the buildings.  Candlelight spilled from open windows, illuminating the road, but there was no one else outside.  It was quiet—deathly quiet.  Even his footsteps in the soft earth sounded loud.
     Evon increased his pace.  He didn't live very far from the church.  If tonight was somehow cursed, he could surely make it home before anything happened.  Besides, he was in the center of town still, near the church.  Nothing would happen…
     Something moved to his right.  Evon spun around, his heart racing, but he couldn't see anything in the shadows between the buildings nearby.  He stood as still as his shaking limbs allowed, staring into the darkness.  After a brief moment, a cat raced out of the shadows and between his legs.  Evon nearly jumped out of his skin with fright, then let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  Greatly relieved that it hadn't been anything worse than Mrs. Amelia's cat, he turned to continue home.
     A huge black shape stepped out into the candlelight from a nearby window.  It was at least seven feet tall, covered in shaggy grey fur, with long claws and saliva dripping from its muzzle: a werewolf, a demon in its true form.
     This time, Evon did cry out.  He turned to run, stumbling but managing to keep his feet, but the werewolf reacted faster.  It pounced on him, its muscular body throwing Evon to the ground and pinning him there.  The claws of one of its hands dug deep into his back as the creature sank its teeth into Evon's shoulder.  Evon screamed in pain, but his struggles to get free were useless.  Blood streamed onto the ground.
     A gunshot tore apart the night.  The werewolf detached itself from Evon's body and leapt back, a hole in its side.  The blacksmith, Lukan, charged it, firing another shot, but the werewolf had disappeared back into the shadows.
     Evon lay motionless in the dirt.  Strong hands picked him up, but he didn't feel it, or anything else.  His mind had drifted into nothingness.

TO BE CONTINUED...