In love with the enemy

I observed my father’s careful preparation as he laced his dagger with Wolfsbane, a toxic plant known for its unique ability to render a werewolf lifeless. He had ground it into a fine powder and transformed it into an oil. Wearing rubber protective gloves, he meticulously coated his dagger, patiently awaiting nightfall.

Wolfsbane, also known as Aconitum, is an extremely toxic plant containing alkaloid compounds. Ingesting or coming into contact with the skin can lead to skin irritation or, worse, poisoning.

Wolfsbane wasn’t a rare plant. My uncle, Adam, cultivated it for a living, selling it to wolf hunters and those in need for medicinal purposes. It was often used to treat pain, fever, and rare ailments.

My father turned to me and said, “We will leave at night. Go inform your sister.” After speaking to me, he headed outside to the balcony, a place where he often reflected on my late mother while gazing at the lush grass surrounding our small bungalow.

My mother, Sophia Noah, was a fair-skinned woman with blonde hair, known for her exceptional height, slightly taller than my father. Her life came to an abrupt end one night as my parents were returning from the opera. Their Mercedes Benz C300 was attacked on a country road by a pack of wolves with the uncanny ability to transform into humans. While my father survived the attack, my mother did not.

Her death fueled a burning desire for vengeance within my father. I vividly remember how he left my sister, Emma, and me in the care of my uncle, Adam, for a year to learn how to hunt and eliminate werewolves. Upon his return, he embarked on a mission to eradicate hundreds of werewolves in the countryside. Despite the mayor’s ban on hunting, my father’s thirst for revenge surpassed any obstacles.

I made my way to my elder sister’s room and found her seated in a revolving chair, reading a book on werewolf hunting. Her hatred for these creatures matched our father’s in intensity.

Taking a seat on her bed, I began, “Dad said we’re leaving at night.”

She sighed, flipped a page in her book, and replied, “Good.”

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of hunting down the creatures that took my mom?”

“I mean, of going out every week. Normal young adults go clubbing or even travel.”

“This is more meaningful than all of that, Emily. How was school today?”

“The math teacher seems to dislike me even more now,” I chuckled. “There’s a new guy in class though.”

“What happened to the last one?”

“He stopped coming.”

“He might have been a werewolf,” Emma laughed lightly.

“But do you really believe they live among us, as humans?”

“Emily, where do we hunt werewolves?”

“In the woods, in Westify Hills?”

“It’s not like they have a separate kingdom. They live among us, probably even in your school.”

I chuckled and said, “I wish mom were here.”