Chapter 6: Teeth in the Dark
The storm finally broke the following afternoon. The wind quieted, the snowfall thinned to lazy flurries, and Ashwood Hollow creaked back to life. Chimneys smoked, people shoveled out their doors, and voices carried through the streets again. But beneath the relief of calmer weather ran a nervous current. Everyone had heard the howls. Everyone had seen the prints in the snow.
By evening, the town gathered in the old church hall, its wood beams rattling with the weight of too many bodies pressed inside. Lanterns glowed on every wall, casting long, flickering shadows across the congregation. It smelled of damp coats, smoke, and unease.
Clara sat near the back, trying to disappear into her chair. Jonah had planted himself at her side, one hand resting casually—but protectively—on the table between them. Elias lingered by the wall, alone, his posture rigid, gray eyes scanning the room like a soldier measuring threats.
The mayor, a wiry man with thinning hair and a nervous smile, tried to sound confident as he addressed the group. "Now, now, folks, let's keep calm. Yes, the storm was bad, and yes, we've all heard… unusual noises. But wolves in these parts are nothing new."
"Wolves don't leave prints the size of dinner plates!" someone shouted.
"They don't stand up on two legs, either!" added another.
The room buzzed with fear.
Then Marjorie stood, her shawl wrapped so tightly around her thin frame she looked like a crow about to take flight. "This isn't wolves. This is a curse. And curses don't just wander in—they're brought."
Her eyes cut to Clara like knives.
A ripple passed through the room. Clara stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks. "Excuse me?"
"You came here with your fancy ideas, your cursed bookstore—" Marjorie's voice rose over the muttering. "Ever since she arrived, the shadows have grown bolder. Tell me that's coincidence."
"That's ridiculous," Jonah snapped, standing so quickly his chair scraped the floor. "Clara's got nothing to do with this."
Marjorie sneered. "Says the ranger who couldn't even keep wolves out of town."
The crowd murmured again, unease shifting to anger. Clara's throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to shout, but before she could speak, Elias's voice cut through the noise, calm and sharp.
"The curse was here long before she was."
The room stilled. Elias stepped away from the wall, his presence pulling every eye. "You've all heard the stories. The disappearances. The mutilated animals. You just chose to pretend it was the storm or the woods. Clara didn't bring this. She's just the one it noticed."
Clara's chest constricted at his words. It noticed me.
Marjorie's glare flickered, but her voice wavered with conviction. "And how would you know so much, Mr. Thorn? Unless you're part of it."
Suspicion flared. People turned toward Elias now, whispering.
Jonah stepped closer to Clara, his hand brushing her arm protectively. Elias's jaw tightened, his gaze briefly darkening at the gesture.
Before the tension could break, the hall's front doors rattled violently.
The room fell silent.
Another thud shook the wood, harder this time.
Then a howl split the air—so close it vibrated in their chests.
The lanterns flickered. Someone screamed.
"Everyone stay inside!" the mayor shouted, though his voice cracked with panic.
The doors buckled again, wood groaning under the impact. A claw punched through the planks, curling like a hook. Gasps and cries filled the room. Children wailed.
"Back!" Elias barked, shoving people away from the entrance. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity Clara hadn't seen before.
Jonah pulled Clara behind him, fumbling for his flashlight as though it were a weapon. "Stay low—don't move!"
The doors splintered. With a thunderous crack, the beast burst inside.
Clara's breath caught in her throat.
It was massive—easily eight feet tall, fur black and bristling, shoulders broad as a bear's. Its snout jutted with gleaming fangs, saliva stringing between them. And its eyes… those burning, ember-red eyes locked onto the crowd with hunger.
Panic erupted. People screamed, scrambling for the corners. Harvey Pike leapt onto a table, waving his accordion like a shield. "Stay back, you mangy carpet!" he shouted, though his voice broke halfway through.
The werewolf roared, the sound shaking the rafters.
It lunged.
Jonah shoved Clara aside just as claws raked the spot she'd stood. She stumbled, hitting the floor, her palms scraping on the rough wood. Terror iced her veins.
The beast swung again, sending chairs and bodies flying. Marjorie shrieked as someone dragged her to safety. Lanterns toppled, smoke filling the air.
Through the chaos, Clara's gaze locked onto Elias.
He didn't run. He didn't scream.
He moved.
Faster than she thought possible, he slammed into the creature's side, driving it back a step. The werewolf snarled, claws slashing, but Elias twisted away with inhuman precision, his coat tearing but his body untouched. His hands gripped the beast's arm—no, its whole limb—and for a moment, impossibly, he held it back.
The strength in him was wrong. Not natural.
Clara's breath hitched.
The beast roared, throwing him off at last, but Elias landed on his feet, eyes glinting with something more than human. He shouted at the crowd: "Out the back! Move!"
People surged toward the rear doors. Jonah pulled Clara up, his face pale, his hand gripping hers tightly. "Come on!"
But Clara couldn't tear her eyes from Elias. The way he moved, the power in his grip—it wasn't normal. It was almost as frightening as the monster itself.
The werewolf swung toward them again. Elias intercepted, shoving Clara and Jonah aside, his body colliding with the beast's. The two crashed into a support beam, the wood cracking under the impact.
"Go!" Elias roared, his voice deeper, edged with something primal.
Jonah yanked Clara toward the exit. She stumbled after him, heart racing, ears filled with screams and snarls. Behind her, the church hall dissolved into chaos—wood splintering, lanterns smashing, the beast and Elias locked in a deadly dance.
Outside, the night air bit her skin. The storm had calmed, but the silence beyond the hall was worse. Townsfolk clustered in the snow, pale-faced, shivering, whispering prayers.
Jonah pulled her close, his breath ragged. "Did you see him? Elias—he's not… he's not normal."
Clara couldn't answer. She could still see Elias's eyes in her mind, glowing faintly—not red like the beast's, but silver, like moonlight caught in steel.
The hall shook with another crash. A window shattered, and the werewolf's roar echoed through the night. Elias's shout followed, fierce and defiant.
Clara's knees weakened. She wanted to run, to hide, but something stronger rooted her in place. She couldn't leave him.
"Clara!" Jonah urged. "We need to get everyone to safety."
But Clara's gaze stayed fixed on the hall, smoke and shadows writhing behind the windows. "He's still in there."
Jonah's jaw clenched. "Then he's a dead man."
She shook her head. "No. He's something else."
Another roar split the air. Then silence.
Every head turned toward the hall. The lantern light inside flickered wildly, then steadied.
At last, Elias emerged through the doors, coat torn, face streaked with soot, his chest heaving. His hands were empty, but behind him, the hall was wrecked—benches splintered, beams cracked, claw marks everywhere. The werewolf was gone.
The crowd gasped, voices rising in frantic whispers.
Marjorie pointed at him, her face twisted with fear. "You see? No man could survive that. He's one of them!"
The townsfolk recoiled, eyes wide.
Elias stood in the doorway, shoulders squared, gaze sweeping the crowd. When his eyes found Clara, they softened, just for a heartbeat. Then he turned and vanished into the night, leaving questions more dangerous than the beast itself.
Clara's heart thundered. The town was shaken, divided, afraid.
And she was left wondering: was Elias her protector… or was he something far worse?