TWENTY-FIVE

I watched Clemmy and Blake sprint off towards the battle, leaving me standing on the shore. Nothing about this felt right. I needed to be there with them, I wanted to help even if that meant throwing the enemy with cans of soup.

The irony was I'm human. I couldn't grow claws and fangs and turn into a wolf the size of a polar bear to defeat my enemies. And the last thing I wanted was to be a liability on the battlefield as Craven Pride defended their territory against Lucine and her pack. As much as I despised admitting it, Blake was right, Rheon should focus on surviving, not on protecting me.

With that heavy thought in mind, I took off toward the castle while the howls continued in the distance. All I could do as I hurried across the grounds, was hope and pray that no one would get hurt, that Blake would get the chance he needed to confine Lucine and perform his ritual on her. It would be up to Rheon to decide what to do with her once her magic had been stripped.

Finally, the backdoor of the castle came into view. Bursting through it, I entered the kitchen. For good measure, I moved a table in front of the door in case an enemy wolf would break through it.

The silence of the castle is palpable, almost unnatural. My movements and rapid breaths are the only sounds that filled the grave silence as I searched the drawers and cabinets for something, anything that I could use as a weapon. Once I found a rather big knife, I set out to search for any medical supplies I could use to wrap around my arm. It's throbbing after my hasty trek over the castle grounds, and the smallest of movements pulled agonizingly at my charred skin.

When I couldn't find any first aid kits in the kitchen, I hurried to one of the downstairs bathrooms to continue the search. One would think the staff would keep a first aid kit close by where they worked, but it seemed I thought wrong.

Entering the bathroom, I slammed the door closed and locked it, paranoid with the raging sounds coming from outside. If an enemy wolf did catch my scent and came for me, at least they'd have to break down the door first, thus giving me enough time to ready the knife if necessary. Dropping to my knees, I rummaged through the cabinets underneath the sinks, keeping my injured arm as still as possible.

"Where the hell is it?" I muttered in panic as I, yet again, couldn't find a first aid kit.

Out of the blue, a knock sounded at the door.

My heart jolted as I held the knife toward the source of the sound, backing up until my back pressed against the cold wall. My breath was shallow and fast as I stared at the door handle, fearing the moment it would turn and open...

"Ashlyn?"

I clamped my hand over my mouth the muffle the utter sound of relief when I recognized the voice. Grandma Selene.

Unlocking the door, I step aside as she rushed in, eyes blown wide with panic as she embraced me in a hug. "Goddess Three, we were so worried! Everyone thought Lucine killed you and Clemmy, Rheon was livid with anger, he nearly leveled the fountain when Kenna delivered the news."

The feeling of her warmth seeping into me was enough to make my eyes well up with tears. But there wasn't time for heartfelt reunions, not while my mate was out there fighting for his life and freedom.

"I'm fine, Grandma," I said and pulled back, "But I need to find a first aid kit to get my arm wrapped up. There is a possibility that Lucine can be stopped, and I want to help in any way I can." Like hell am I staying put in the castle while the pack is fighting in the battle outside. As soon as my arm's wrapped up, I'm going out to help.

"Which is why I brought this." Grandma Selene placed a battered tin in my hands, and I can vaguely see the outlines of a red cross on it. "I smelled the stench of burnt flesh the moment you entered the castle, knew it was you right away. The kit is a bit outdated, but it'll work. Here, let me help."

While I held the tin, she set to work cleaning my wounds as carefully as possible. But no matter how cautious she was, the level of agony caused by Lucine's burns didn't compare to anything else I've ever felt.

"I'm sorry, dear, so sorry," she stressed as I choked on my cries after she debrided some of the dead skin from the wound, "This was caused by witch fire, it's bound to hurt a hell of a lot more."

Once most of the grime and dirt of escaping the cave was gone, she applied a soothing ointment to the raw wounds before wrapping my arm from wrist to shoulder with a bandage. Despite my body being stiff from writhing around, and my breathing shallow and rapid, I couldn't miss the deep frown etched on her face.

"What's wrong?" I asked hoarsely, fearing the worst; that the burns are too severe, and I might lose my arm. Because, let's be honest, that's how much it hurt.

"The scars that will form once those wounds heal," she began gravely, "they might never fade. Even if you accept Rheon's mark and become a werewolf, you'll never heal. That's what witch fire does. No creature can ever heal from it."

My stomach sank at the thought of having to wake up each day and see Lucine's marks on my arm. If I twisted my limb at an angle, the scars resembled a shackle with its cuffs binding my wrist and upper arm, a symbol that I've been the witch's prisoner.

However, there wasn't time to wallow on that thought. It's cleaned, it's wrapped up, and at least the pain will someday subside. Right now, I had to find a way to help Rheon.

"Grandma Selene," I said and grasped her hands desperately, "I want to help Rheon in any way I can. I know I'm just a human, but you would've done the same if it were you in my shoes – werewolf abilities or no. You know more about this world than anyone. Is there any way I stand a chance against a werewolf?"

She opened her mouth, and I got the feeling she was going to protest, no doubt try talking me out of my crazy plan. But then she paused, and her shoulders sagged. Her silence proved I was right, she would've done whatever she could to help her mate in a fight, even if that meant getting hurt in the process. She was more human than a werewolf, and that's where we were the same.

"Not many things can kill a werewolf," Grandma Selene started, "Their skins and fur are too thick to be penetrated by most steel objects, and silver as you found out, isn't considered a weakness to us."

I cringed inwardly at the memory of that first awkward family dinner. I still can't believe I made such a spectacle over silver cutlery. It seemed the knife I grabbed from the kitchen just lost its value.

Wait.

My eyes grew when I recalled something that was said that night.

"Well, we're not fireproof," Victor stated and waved one of the candlesticks at Rheon.

"How about fire?" I asked the older woman, "Will that do any harm?"

Grandma Selene narrowed her eyes before nodding sagely. "That might just do the trick. Most creatures can be killed with fire, vampires, witches, even werewolves."

That was the answer to my problem. But now a new question presented itself: how do I get close enough to an enemy to set it ablaze without it sensing me and biting off my head? Striking a match and tossing it at the wolf won't work, neither would holding a candle to its fur. I'd have to get really close for it to catch fire.

The most effective weapon would've been a flamethrower, I figured.

At first it was just a thought, but the more it brewed and simmered, the more it became a consideration. That would be an effective weapon, indeed.

"Do you know if there are any liquid fuels in the castle?"

The older woman pondered the question before answering, "There is some lamp oil and lighter fluid in the staff's quarters. What are you planning, dear?"

"My grandma used to be a teacher before she retired," I said and brushed past her into the hall, "In fact, she taught me most of the things I know, and that includes how to build a flamethrower from scratch."

"She sounds like my kind of person," Grandma Selene agreed as she followed on my heels, "What should I do?"

My eyes searched the corridor until I found the basis of my flamethrower: a fire extinguisher. Unhooking it, I tossed it at the older woman who caught it effortlessly. "Any chance you still have some of that werewolf strength left?"

She grinned and twisted the cap of the fire extinguisher clean off. A yellow powder burst from the open nozzle and coated everything it touched in a light dust. Grandma Selene remained on her spot, that grin never leaving her face as the dust settled around us.

"How's that, dear?" She quirked a brow.

My eyes were blown wide after that minor act of toughness. At last, I found the words to speak, "I think that was utterly badass and that you and my grandma would've gotten along just fine."

"I'm looking forward to meeting her at your and Rheon's wedding, then." She gripped the fire extinguisher under her arm and marched past me toward the kitchen. "Now let's go build a flamethrower and send all those fuckers to hell."