"Yes, I understand. Isaac is safe and sound with me. I'll make sure to watch him, and you can come pick him up when the storm clears. Yes, I understand. He's going through a lot. You're welcome, Ms. Windsor. You too. Relax or you'll pop a blood vessel. Alright, bye-bye."
The tall woman hangs up the landline phone and takes a seat next to me.
"Is the towel comfortable, dear?"
I look down at the grey towel wrapped around my soaked body.
"I-I'm fine. Just a little cold."
She smiles.
"I told you to take off your clothes, but you got so bashful."
I blush and look away. I've only been to the library a handful of times, but even still, I know who Ms. Takako is. I'm sure everyone does. She's the town librarian—one of the tallest women I've ever met, standing at least seven feet tall. She's Japanese—or at least I hope she is. I don't want to assume and be marked as racist. I was always too afraid to ask.
She wears a long white gown, with long black hair and beautiful eyes. She always has a warm smile and is great with children. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a tiny crush on her growing up, but I grew out of it.
"Your parents sounded really worried. Don't tell me my good little library helper is going through a rebellious phase?"
I used to help her put away library books just to be close to her. I lean back in her wooden chair with padded seats, trying to distract myself from looking into her eyes. I scan the shelves of books—old, new, nonfiction, fiction. A copy of Captain Underpants catches my eye. I might have to check that out later.
However, I feel Ms. Takako's cold hand gently grab my face, turning it toward her.
"Your eyes are tired. You're not the happy boy I used to know. Where is he?"
I look away, feeling the heaviness behind my eyes.
"He'll probably be dead in a ditch somewhere real soon—or worse, in some fucking insane asylum."
She gives me a stern look.
"Language, young man. But since you seem to be going through something, I'll let it go this once. Now, tell me what's wrong, dear?"
I can't tell her. She'll think I'm crazy too.
But… there's something about her.
Something that makes me want to trust her.
"I… I don't want you to think I'm crazy too."
She smiles at me.
"I could never think my good boy is crazy. I promise I'll listen to you, and I won't judge."
Part of me doesn't believe her. But another part knows I'll go crazy if I don't vent to someone. So I tell her. I tell her everything—about the girl stalking me, about how she's a werewolf, and how she's been framing me for things I didn't do. About how she made me lose my friends and family, tricking them into thinking I've lost my mind.
By the time I finish, ten minutes have passed. Ms. Takako's face is hard to read, which only makes me feel worse.
"You don't believe me either, do you?"
She places her hands in her lap, her soft, caring smile never leaving her face. Then she takes my hand and places it against her chest. Her cold body presses against mine.
"You've been through so much. You're such a strong boy."
The coldness of her body is oddly comforting, but it doesn't distract me.
"You didn't answer my question. You don't believe me either… do you?"
A silence follows—long enough for me to hear the ringing in my ears.
"Oh, dear. Of course I believe you."
I look up at her, my face still pressed to her chest.
"You don't think I'm going crazy? Seeing werewolves?"
She shakes her head.
"Of course I don't. In fact… I see them too."
I freeze. Emotions begin to swirl in my chest.
I tried to stand up, but her grip kept me in place.
"You… you see them too? Wait—them?! There's more than one?!"
She shushed me gently.
"Yes, there are a lot of them. They live among humans, and most people don't even know."
A thought popped into my head.
"A… are you a werewolf too?"
She was quiet for a moment before letting out a hearty laugh.
"Oh no, sweetie. You've got nothing to worry about. I'm not a lycanthrope. But even if I were, I'd never hurt you."
She booped my nose playfully.
Finally. Someone believes me! Someone knows I'm not crazy.
"You can tell my parents! You can tell everyone I'm not crazy!"
Her smile faded slightly.
"Sweetie, it's not that simple. Even if I helped you, they'd find out. They'd send someone after us. And even then, what's to stop them from not believing me? It's a far-fetched story."
I sighed, knowing she was right.
"Well… there has to be something else we can do! You said there was more than one werewolf. Can you name someone?"
She paused, thinking.
"Well—"
Before she could speak, the library door slammed open. Flynn stormed in, drenched from the rain.
"Isaac!"
She spotted me and Ms. Takako, and her expression turned sharp.
"What the hell is this?!"
I stood up, approaching her.
"Babe! What are you doing here?"
She folded her arms.
"I got a call from your mom—she's worried sick. And what the hell did I walk in on?"
I sighed.
"She was just comforting me. It's not like that."
Flynn squinted at me, not convinced. I groaned.
"Flynn, I don't have time for this."
She glared.
"Come on. I'm taking you home."
She reached for my hand, but I pulled it away.
"I'm not ready yet! I was so close to learning the truth—about the werewolves!"
She groaned.
"You can't run away from your parents like this! I said come on—"
"I SAID NO, FLYNN!"
My voice echoed off the library walls. I'd reached my breaking point.
"I'VE BEEN GOING THROUGH NOTHING BUT SHIT FOR WEEKS! My parents are trying to ship me away, Flynn! My friends are gone, Flynn! FOR THINGS I DIDN'T DO! I WANT ANSWERS! I LOVE YOU, I REALLY DO—BUT I'VE GOT A LOT GOING ON! AND I NEED SUPPORT, NOT SYMPATHY!"
It was the first time I ever yelled at her. I didn't mean to—but I was so tired of everyone treating me like I was fragile.
Flynn's face filled with hurt.
"I know you're going through something… I just wanted to help."
I shouted back.
"Well, you're not helping! Just admit it—you think I'm crazy like everyone else!"
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. That silence hurt more than anything.
"If you're not here to help, then get out! I'll do this on my own. Then you'll all see I wasn't crazy!"
By the time the words left my mouth, I realized what I'd done. I was taking my anger out on someone innocent.
Her hands clenched into fists. She turned on her heel and walked toward the exit.
"Flynn… I didn't mean to yell. I just—"
She opened the door into the pouring rain.
"Flynn, wait—"
"I'll fix it," I heard her mutter before disappearing into the storm.
I groaned and looked back at Ms. Takako.
"My, she's angry," she said softly.
I nodded and slumped back into the seat beside her.
"That was our first fight. Oh God, what's happening to my life?"
Ms. Takako gently patted my back.
"Don't take her anger the wrong way. She's going through a lot too."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
She sighed.
"A few days ago, she came to me asking if I'd seen her older sister. Apparently… she disappeared."
My eyes widened. I immediately assumed the worst.
D… did that werewolf bitch kidnap her?!
All she's done so far is torment me… but now she's kidnapping people?
I put my hands on my head, panic rising.
"What am I gonna do? I can't fight a werewolf…"
Ms. Takako gently pulled me back into her embrace.
"Yes... it's a tough thing to do," she said, leaning in, her voice soft like silk.
"But what if I said you could?"
I sighed. "Doesn't mean I can."
She giggled softly. "Let me rephrase that. What if I could give you something to help you… would you take it?"
Give me what? A silver dagger? Silver bullets? Holy water? I'll take it. I'd take anything.
Before I could accept her offer, she added,
"I could give you the means to face the woman who's been ruining your life… or—"
I waited. "Or?"
Suddenly, her cold touch warmed into something soothing. Comforting. Gentle, but undeniably persuasive.
"Or… I could take you away from all of this," she whispered. Her voice turned sweet as honey. "No more pain. No more stress. Just peace. With me. What do you say?"
My eyes grew heavy. It had been so long since I felt this calm. This… safe. It was almost addicting. I didn't want to move away.
No more pain… no more stress…
I was tempted. Tempted to say yes. To let her spirit me away from all the fear and uncertainty. But then guilt surged through my veins like ice water.
If I said yes, that werewolf would go after my family. She already kidnapped Flynn's sister—who knows what else she'd do? I couldn't leave them.
I gritted my teeth and fought against the comforting pull.
"No… I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."
Instead of being angry, she gave me an encouraging smile.
"Don't apologize, Isaac. You're a good boy. And good boys fight for what they want."
She stood up, suddenly towering over me.
"Come with me to the back."
I followed her through the quiet aisles to the back of the library. The employee lounge.
Now that I thought about it… I'd never seen anyone else working here. Just her.
How does she even maintain this place by herself?
In the back room, she led me to a wall lined with glass display cases.
"These books are considered historical relics. One is the diary of the town's founder. Another—a bestselling novel that originated here in Ashvale. But this one…"
She pointed to the third and final case.
Inside was a tall, ancient book the size of an old dictionary. Its cover was bound in cracked birchwood, stitched together with faded cords of red wool. The title was written in a language I didn't recognize:
"Гримуар Кости и Берёзы"
But what really caught my attention… was the spine.
I could've sworn it was made of knuckle bones.
"This book has been in the library long before I arrived in town. From what I heard, it was found in the Wiccan House—oooh, scary!"
She wiggled her fingers at me with a teasing grin, then opened the display case and gestured for me to take it.
I hesitated. The book looked… wrong. Ancient. Like something no one was meant to touch. But if the answers I needed were inside, then I'd read every page if I had to.
I reached in and took the book.
It felt heavy… yet strangely light. Cold on the outside, but with a pulsing warmth at its core. The smell of dirt and ash clung to it.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to have this?" I asked. "What am I even supposed to do with it?"
I looked up—and noticed a grimace on her face, like she'd just caught a whiff of something rancid.
"Of course. It's more than fine," she said, pinching her nose.
"It's registered under your family's name."
My eyes widened.
This thing belongs to my family?
I rubbed my thumb across the rough cover, then started to open it—
But Ms. Takako quickly grabbed my wrist.
"Don't," she whispered sharply, still holding her nose.
"At least… not here."
She looked repulsed, like the book's very presence made her stomach turn.
"Okay," I muttered. "I'll take it home, then."
She nodded, stepping out of the room. A moment later, she returned—holding the Captain Underpants book I'd been eyeing earlier.
"I checked this out for you," she said with a wink. "I noticed your eye earlier."
I grinned, taking the book.
"Thank you."
She smiled warmly and gently cupped my face.
"Anything for my favorite good boy."
She stood tall, placing her hands on her hips.
"Now how about we roll out the library TV and watch a movie together?"
I smiled. The idea of a moment's peace… it sounded nice.
"Okay," I nodded. "That sounds nice."
We took a seat on the old couch and picked a movie. Something old and grainy—but oddly comforting. Hours passed. I was tempted—so tempted—to open the birch book. But I didn't want to upset Ms. Takako.
Outside, the rain softened to a gentle drizzle.
Just as the credits started to roll, I heard the front door swing open. My dad walked in, soaked and stern, his raincoat dripping on the floor.
He spotted me instantly. His face shifted from relief to frustration, and he stormed over.
"Dad, I—"
He didn't let me finish. He pulled me into a tight hug, his raincoat dampening my already-wet clothes.
"Why would you run like that?" he said, his voice cracking. "You scared the hell out of us."
I had expected him to be mad. But my parents—they were always protective first. They preferred to show me what I did wrong, rather than yell.
"I… I'm sorry. I just ran out without thinking."
He stood up and looked over at Ms. Takako.
"Thank you again for watching Isaac, Ms. Takako. Once again, we're in your debt."
Ms. Takako flashed her ever-winning smile. "No problem at all, Mr. Windsor. He was very well-behaved. As all good boys are."
My dad chuckled awkwardly. "Heh… yeah, he is. Come on, Isaac. We're going home."
I nodded, quickly sliding the birch book under the Captain Underpants cover. I gave Ms. Takako a hug.
"Thank you… for everything."
She gave me a sly, almost secretive smile.
"You're most welcome, Isaac. Most welcome."
Outside, we climbed into the truck. I slid into the backseat, even though I usually sat up front. The silence between us was thick. Almost suffocating.
"We're gonna have to talk about this sooner or later," my dad said softly.
I leaned forward, resting my head against the seat in front of me. My eyes drifted down to the birch-bound book clutched in my arms.
"Son," he continued, "me and your mother… we made the choice to invite her here. We didn't think it'd scare you like that."
I bit my lip. And then—I broke.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, and finally, finally, the tears fell. Weeks of silence, pressure, confusion, and fear—all pouring out at once.
The warmth of the library, the comfort of Ms. Takako's smile, faded from my skin. The cold, heavy weight of the real world settled back in.
"Please don't send me away," I sobbed. "Please. I won't talk about werewolves anymore. I won't cause any more trouble, I swear. Just… please don't send me away."
My dad pulled the truck over to the side of the road. The wipers clicked back and forth across the windshield. He turned to face me.
"Son," he said gently, "we're not going to send you away. She just wanted to talk to you. Like… a therapist visit."
He placed his hand on mine.
"We love you. So much. Seeing you go through this—it's painful for us. We don't know what to do. We're not going to send you away, we just… we want to help. But we can't do that until you let us."
My throat felt dry. But my heartbeat slowed, just a little. I wasn't being sent away. That helped—but it didn't fix everything.
"I… I have a problem," I said, voice trembling. "I… I'd like therapy, please."
He nodded slowly, eyes watering just a bit.
"That's a step in the right direction, son. It's a step. For what it's worth, I don't think you're crazy. Just… stressed."
I nodded, and we started driving again.
"Not to be rude," he muttered after a moment, "but Ms. Takako gives me the creeps."
I smirked a little. "She's a nice lady, Dad."
He chuckled, pulling back onto the road. "Whatever you say, son."
He focused on the road, and I took the chance to pull out the birch book. I held it in my lap. The wood cover was cool and rough under my fingers, stitched with faded red wool. My hands trembled as I opened it to the index—only to find a handwritten message scrawled in ink that had slightly faded:
fOR MY DESCENDANTS,
IF TROUBLE COMES FOR YOU AND YOUR KIN, MAY THIS BOOK HELP YOU HOW IT DID ME.
I AM TRULY SORRY FOR WHAT I'VE DONE, AND HOW YOU MUST FIX WHAT I DID.
THIS BOOK IS POWERFUL. IN THE WRONG HANDS, IT COULD CORRUPT EVEN THE PUREST OF SOULS, AND BRING ENTIRE BLOODLINES INTO DAMNATION.
THIS BOOK WILL HELP YOU FINISH WHAT I STARTED.
DO NOT LET IT FALL INTO THE WRONG HANDS—ESPECIALLY NOT HERS.
GOOD LUCK, AND GODSPEED.
I stared at the page, my stomach twisting.
What the hell is this thing?
"Corrupt the purest of souls"? "Bring bloodlines into damnation"?
My ancestor wasn't playing around.
I noticed a few things right away. First—"This book will help you finish what I started."
That could mean anything. But given what Ms. Takako told me… it had to involve the werewolves.
Second—"Do not let it fall into the wrong hands. Especially not her's."
That had to mean her. The wolf bitch.
It would explain why she attacked me. She thinks I have the book. And now… technically, I do.
But then I remembered what she said to me:
"I want to test your worth."
Worth of what?
Was this a game to her? A twisted initiation?
I flipped the page.
My heart sank.
The next page—and the next one, and the next—were all written in a language I didn't understand. Symbols, swirls, jagged lines that looked like they were written in charcoal and blood. The only thing I recognized were faint, almost ceremonial signatures at the bottom of each page. The paper itself felt… wrong. The corners were stiff and fibrous, like old papyrus.
Page after page. More symbols. More confusion.
"GEE, THANKS A LOT, ANCESTOR," I muttered.
I leaned back into the seat, letting the book rest against my chest.
If I was going to stand a chance against that werewolf—and protect my family—I'd need to read this thing. Every word.
And lucky for me…
I knew just the person who could help.