Page 30 of Bewitched By the Werewolf
With my limited knowledge on the subject, I take it to the one person with a vast knowledge on many subjects. Fynn is at home when I track him down. He has a massive collection of books containing mostly knowledge and history of non-humans. As a mere, he likes to collect things. His preferred collection is information. The unedited history of non-humans from non-human points of view, rather than the tainted mythologies humans have written about us. If anyone will know why my wound isn’t healing, it will be him.
I knock on his door and thankfully he answers. He doesn’t always like guests, prefers to study and work in peace. Fynnopens the door and greets me in his human form with a polite nod. It would be difficult to open the door if he were in his true form with a tail.
“Sheriff Evans, how can I help you today?”
“Hi Fynn, I was hoping you could help me with an issue I’m having. Aprivateissue,” I say in a quieter tone. I trust Fynn to be completely confidential. He is the literal opposite of Dottie when it comes to gossip. He likes his privacy and I respect that, so he respects mine.
“Of course, please come in.”
He waves me in and I enter. We step into his living room just off the entry to talk. I know he has a massive library filled to the ceiling with books that takes up most of his home, but he retains a few general use rooms for the occasional guest. It’s decorated with a dark brown leather couch and armchair and matching wooden furniture. Some might assume a mere would prefer nautical themes with blue and white stripes and seashells, and some of them do. But they’re like everyone else and have their own personal preferences. Fynn’s is librarian professor.
Fynn gestures to the couch offering me a seat.
“No, thank you. I just need to know what could do this.” I unbutton my shirt and slip it over my shoulder to show him the partially healed wound on my upper chest between my clavicle and shoulder. It’s red and tender but sealed and not bleeding. “It won’t properly heal even with fairy dust, and I don’t know why.”
“Interesting,” he says stepping closer and slipping on his glasses to get a better look. “When did this happen?”
“Saturday night.”
“And you shifted and applied dust to it immediately?”
“Yes. Twice.”
Fynn hums and gently brushes a finger over the pink scar tissue. “And what caused this?”
“I was shot—”
“Shot?!” he exclaims and reals back, eyes widening.
“With an arrow. Don’t worry there’s no threat to anyone but me, apparently.”
He nods and goes back to inspecting my wound. “Do you still have the arrow?”
“Yes.” I pull the eight-inch rod from my back pocket unwrapping the cloth around it and handing it to him. “I think there might have been something on it, but I don’t know what.”
Taking it, he holds it up to the light, spinning it in his fingers. There’s still smears of blood on it since I didn’t want to clean it in case there is something on it. Again, he hums in thought. I’ve learned Fynn does not like to be interrupted when reading, researching, inspecting or speaking. It’s best to just be patient and quiet and wait for his conclusion. It’s usually correct so it’s worth the patience.
Fynn sniffs the arrow and wrinkles his nose. “I suspect it’s wolfsbane. One of the myths the humans got right when it comes to shifters. For some reason it doesn’t agree with your blood. Seeps in like a poison to weaken you. Which can cause the slowed healing.”
“So, I’ll be fine?” I ask tentatively, hopefully. Because this pain in my shoulder is seriously annoying.
“Yes. It’ll heal, just slowly. Let the wolfsbane leave your system and you’ll heal up good as new.”
“There’s nothing I can do to speed it along?”
“Not if you’ve already used fairy dust. Sadly, this is just one of those things we can’t control.”
A bit like my inner beast. He’s not that easy to control either.
Fynn hands the arrow back to me and I rewrap it, shoving it in my back pocket. I do not need any more of that getting on me. I look back up to catch Fynn frowning at me.
“Is there something I should be aware of? Or someone I should be looking out for? A crossbow bolt covered in wolfsbane is not the average hunter’s tool. It’s specific.”
“There’s nothing to be concerned about. It was a one-time event that won’t happen again. A misunderstanding of sorts.”
Fynn studies me for a moment, contemplating my excuse. I don’t know for sure that it is a one-time occurrence, but I’m sure as hell going to do my best to make sure it is. Tess will not be shooting anyone else with a crossbow if I have anything to do with it. As long as I keep eyes on her and make sure no one shifts around her trailer, including myself, it won’t happen again. She’s literally becoming a pain in my ass, but that’s not going to stop me from protecting this town. Even if she smells like the Garden of Eden’s forbidden fruit, I will not be tasting her.
~
