Chapter Text
In his experience, inhuman monsters tended to live in caves or decrepit castles. Swamps sometimes. The pristine manors were more often home to the human monsters, but he’d been assured he was looking for something that absolutely was not human, “no matter what face it takes.” The place almost seemed too clean to be lived in—shelves and chandelier dusted, the fireplace empty of ash. Despite trying to keep quiet, the scuff of his boots still echoed through the empty halls.
Something was definitely there. A scent hung in the air that he couldn’t recognize. That was a rarity after all these years, but it seemed to smell like… cleanliness, like clothes washed in fresh river water and drying out in the breeze. No human or beast smelled like that.
Then again, he was probably just dizzy from the sea of wolfsbane growing outside, likely planted to keep his sort away. Unfortunately, it was not enough to put him off from fulfilling his job. Nothing was.
Getting there had taken over a week even with little sleep, and he desperately needed some clean clothes. He undoubtedly smelled of wet dog even in his human form. There was only so much rainwater and mud he could shake out of his fur.
Checking each room showed him several empty beds throughout the manor despite how late it was. Exhausted blue eyes had to be dragged away from them to continue the search. He couldn’t rest yet, not for fear of whatever lived here, but because he hadn’t done enough to earn sleep. If his feet stopped before he found the creature, the collar would know it was in opposition to his orders.
That would not be tolerated.
A sigh pulled from his lungs as he returned to the main room and the polished wooden staircase up to the second floor. Whatever element of surprise he might have had already ended when he knocked on the massive front doors, but the angry groan of every stair under his weight was enough to make him wince. He and the house seemed to like each other on equal terms.
The strange smell was stronger at the landing, strong enough that he didn’t feel like he’d need to continue up the stairs to the third floor. A lone window peered over from that top floor to let in a sliver of moonlight. Waning, thankfully.
The second floor was made up almost entirely by the biggest library he’d ever seen. So many books. Endless rows of spines rose all the way up to the ceiling. It seemed unlikely that someone could even read so much. One of the books lay open in a chair, and he had to pause, just for a moment, as he squinted at the swarm of letters covering the pages.
How strange for a monster to read at all.
“Stop right there!” The voice behind him shattered the silence with such force that his entire body froze and waited for the metal around his neck to burn.
It didn’t happen, though. No, of course not.
That was a child’s voice.
He couldn’t keep the confusion from his face as he spun on his heel to find her there. A little girl, she couldn’t have been older than thirteen and so small that it was no wonder she’d been able to hide behind the furniture. She’d stepped out from behind an armchair just to tremble like a leaf at him. “You’ll make me lose my place.” Her voice was already less firm than her initial command, certainty draining away now that they faced each other.
He felt the same.
This was not a monster. She was hardly half his size, fear just as present in her eyes as determination.
But she couldn’t have been human either. Those eyes were the bright yellow of the full moon, her hair a shock of pink like a spring flower, and she smelled like clean water. Like icy air. Flawless. Inhuman.
He felt his mouth open before he’d decided what to say, and she reacted like he’d reared back to strike. Granted, he probably should have noticed the mace in her hand sooner, but it seemed impossible for such a small child to even hold a bludgeoning weapon, let alone swing it up over her head.
He raised his hands as the panic in her eyes grew, just to face the palms of his gloves toward her in surrender. “Sorry,” he said, and she froze, still ready to bring her swing down at any instant, though he wasn’t sure what part of him she was aiming at, if any. “I didn’t mean to break in.”
The anger in her eyes wavered to confusion, words failing to form for a moment before she managed, “How do you do that on accident?”
Fair point. “Well… I guess I did break in on purpose, but I did knock first.”
Her mouth screwed to the side in a frown. He was not winning any allies with this line of conversation. “Daddy says I’m not allowed to answer the door,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean you should just come in without permission.”
“You’re right. I apologize, but I can promise that I do not want to steal anything or cause you any harm.”
He kept his hands raised even as a silence stretched between them. The way her brows pinched made it apparent that she didn’t believe him. The realization felt like claws digging into his chest—she’d heard this before. Even if he meant every word, it didn’t matter when she’d been lied to already.
“Have people come here before to try to hurt you?” he asked, unable to keep the worry from bleeding into his voice.
She took a step back, her gaze dropping from him even while she kept the mace held up. Her appearance could have all been a façade, a trick to make him drop his guard. He’d already seen it done before from the kelpies, the sirens, the whisps. And he’d fallen for it before, having to drag his broken body away after an ugly fight.
He desperately hoped he would not have to fight her. Just seeing the way her hands shook made it impossible to see her as anything but a child. He had to bite back the anger threatening to rise from his throat at the idea of anyone who could think of hurting her.
Including himself.
Releasing a slow breath, he let the tension fall from his shoulders before settling himself down to sit on the smooth wooden floor. Hopefully he looked less threatening when she didn’t have to look up at him. If he ended up limping away from here or, ideally, dead, then it would be worth it. As long as he did everything he could to not be another person who’d harmed her.
She continued to gauge him with suspicion, reaffirming her grip on the mace as he bit at the fingertips of his glove to help tug it off. Her arm had to be getting tired by now. “I think,” he said through his teeth and the leather, “you might be like me.” As his claws met the air, he let the glove fall to his lap. Trim them as much as he liked, they always grew back dense, sharp, and obviously inhuman.
The girl’s eyes were alight with curiosity at the sight of them, showing no concern with why he knew what she was or even what he was doing there. He was so accustomed to reactions of fear or confusion at the sight of his hands that he had to fight the urge to put the glove back on under her stare. Instead, he forced himself to continue. “I’ve been attacked more times than I could remember. Once people realize I’m not human they get angry. Or scared. Sometimes violent.”
Her expression softened, and she nodded along to his words. “I don’t understand why they always want to fight me. I don’t want to… I never meant to hurt anyone.” She sounded so small.
“It’s not your fault if you have to defend yourself.” It felt strange for the words to leave his mouth, a belief he’d never afforded himself, but it was so clearly true for her. “Sometimes running isn’t an option. Sometimes you have to fight.”
Sometimes he didn’t get a choice.
Though her brows remained furrowed, the mace began to drift down by her side as though she’d forgotten about it. “Um, I don’t have claws, though,” she said. “Why do you have claws if you’re like me?”
He felt a smile tug at his lips. “We’re not quite the same, but you’re not human, right? Neither am I.”
“I’m just like a human.” Despite the insistence in her words, she didn’t look sure about them. “That’s what Daddy always says.”
He considered asking her what she really was even though he already knew the answer. A homunculus, something that shouldn’t have been able to exist. An aberration, his master had said.
It wasn’t like he was any different.
Without any warning, the girl stepped toward him. He hadn’t even considered that a possibility. No one was supposed to come near him, but by the time his shock gave way to the idea that he needed to back away from her, she was already kneeling in front of him. Her odd yellow eyes held no malice or fear as she reached out to grasp at his clawed hand. Her hand was so small next to his. She examined his claws so delicately, like they weren’t something he’d used to tear people open.
She shouldn’t have trust anyone this quickly, but especially not him. His teeth sank hard into his tongue to stop himself from saying it aloud. That almost cost him the tip of his tongue when she dropped the mace at her side. It crashed to the floor with such force that he was amazed the wood didn’t crack beneath it.
Not quite “just like” a human then.
She didn’t seem to notice the noise, looking back up at him with the innocence of any normal child. “So you’re a cat?” she asked, much too excited about the idea. “A cat man? Oh, or a bunny! Bunnies have claws too.”
“Close. I’m afraid I’m more of a wolf man.”
Even that wasn’t enough to strike a moment of fear in her. A smile broke out across her face instead, her eyes gleaming. “A wolf man! You’re a werewolf!?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t sure his attempt to smile was working against the concern filling his face. “So you’ve heard of us, then. People aren’t usually so excited when they realize what I am.”
“I read about werewolves in my book!” She hopped to her feet, still grasping his hand as she pointed toward one of the books among the hundreds on the shelves. “Werewolves are like big dogs!”
“That’s not-“
“Can I see your wolf form? Please!” Her hands both clasped onto his as if in prayer. “Do you have a tail? I want to see!”
Eyes wide in a daze, he must have looked much like a kicked dog. No one had ever sounded excited at the idea of seeing his other form, at least, not without sadism painting their tone. He definitely needed to explain to her how to interact with strangers. At least, to his benefit, her book hadn’t explained clearly that he wasn’t supposed to have claws or fangs without a full moon. If it had told her werewolves could transform freely, it had been wrong about all except him.
“I’m very sorry. I’m not the same as a dog or even a wolf,” he managed as he rose back to his feet. “I am a monster in that form.”
Despite her excitement fading to a pout, she still hadn’t let go of his hand. “People say I’m a monster too, but I don’t think I’m scary. I bet you’re not scary either.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it, but you are certainly less scary than I am.” Still, it seemed like a good idea to change the topic before she insisted. “Would it be alright if I asked for your name?”
It did the trick, immediately brightening her demeanor. She finally released his hand to clasp hers behind her back, straightening upright with a smile. “Oh, that’s right! I haven’t introduced myself. You can call me Momo. That’s what Daddy calls me. What’s your name?”
His head tilted, eyes falling to their corners. Always an awkward question to answer. Only his master could have his true name, but mentioning that required him to explain that he had a master. “Most people call me ‘Dog,’” he offered instead. That much was true, regardless of what form he was in.
He may as well have sworn at her for the look she gave him, shock turning quickly to anger. “That’s not a name,” she huffed. “You have to have a name.”
“Truthfully, I don’t like my real name.” Not when he only ever heard it attached to a command. “Even Dog is preferable, but you can call me whatever you’d like.”
He anticipated further questioning that he would struggle to answer without lying, but she had already moved on to humming in thought. “Okay, I can come up with a name for you,” she said with a sure nod before darting past him to get to the book she’d left lying open. The move put her back to him, and she showed no concern at this, her attention on the book. He wished he could tell her that it was unsafe to drop her guard, that she was not safe around him, no matter what he tried, but then…
His collar hadn’t activated yet. He hadn’t felt the burning pain run through his arms and force them to move.
Strange.
He jolted back to focus as she spun on her toes and held the book up for him to see. “How do you pronounce this?” she asked, pointing to a word.
“I’m afraid I don’t know. I never learned how to read.”
That was common enough where he’d come from that he didn’t think much of it, but it looked like he’d knocked the wind right out of her. “You don’t know how,” she mumbled as she brought the book back down to her eyes. “Gosh, I will have to teach you.”
It was his turn to look startled. Never mind why she would bother with that, it wasn’t like he was going to stay there for long enough to learn something like reading. It wasn’t like he could even if he’d wanted to. Surely, he couldn’t.
Yet the collar still demanded nothing of him. He replayed the command he’d been given over and over in his head. Capture the creature and bring it back. Make sure no one else gets ahold of it. Make sure it does not escape. And if any of that becomes impossible-
He blinked as realization burned through him like the first gasp of air after being underwater.
His master did not give him a timeframe.
Commands usually came with “now” or “immediately.” Over the years, all of his masters had come to understand how easily he could warp a command if the wording wasn’t exact, whether he wanted to or not. This was the first significant gap in his favor in some time.
As long as he did not break any of the demands, he could simply remain there without the collar activating to force his hand. If he stayed around long enough for her to trust him, he could convince her to come with him without having to force her. That had to be better. Then, at least, she wouldn’t have to feel scared. She wouldn’t try to fight him or run. She would be safe, at least until they returned to his master.
The idea made him feel sick to his stomach, but it had to be the better option.
“Seeg- Sigh-” Momo was muttering, squinting at her book. “You know, I’ll just call you Siggy, er- Ziggy! How’s that?”
Admittedly, it was an odd name. He’d never heard something like it, but then again, he’d never heard “Momo” either, and it would probably sound less bizarre than Dog to most.
“That’s fine,” he said.
“Great! Then you’re Ziggy now.” The book slammed shut with a dull thud between her hands. She looked back down at it. “Wait, no, my place!”
As she frantically flipped back through the pages, he debated how far he could stray from the manor without her before the arbitrary magic of the collar would decide he was trying to escape his orders. It wasn’t like he could stay there constantly, but then again, staying just outside was also unsettling behavior.
Before he could decide on the least creepy course of action, Momo spoke up through his thoughts. “Oh, Ziggy, do you sleep?”
“Do I sleep?” He had to take a moment to make sense of the question, having met few creatures that didn’t need some form of rest. “Yes, I sleep.”
She nodded. “You look really tired, so I thought so. Daddy used to look like that a lot.” A moment’s sadness flickered through her eyes, but she was quick to shake it. “It’s really late, so you should take one of our rooms.”
He hoped he looked grateful because he was horrified that a small girl would offer a room to a man who had just appeared in her house in the middle of the night. Even if this was to his benefit, he didn’t think he could accept it. “I can sleep outside just fine,” he said, but the words had barely left his mouth before she was shaking her head.
“No way! It’s freezing out there. We have plenty of beds. Come on, I will show you.”
He had already seen all of them, but he kept quiet as she led him down to one of the many rooms and said, “You can have this room.”
He had to hope that “for tonight” was implied.
It had been so long since he’d stayed in an actual bedroom that his steps dragged with hesitation against entering it. The room was not just nice but affluent, pristine. This was not a space he should have been allowed to exist in. He was bound to get dirt on everything.
“Do you need anything?” Momo asked as he tried to figure out what to do besides stand in the center of the room.
“Oh um, no, this should be fine. Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”
“You’re welcome!” She was beaming, her cheeks tinged the same color as her hair. He couldn’t fathom why unless this was the part where she sprang the trap and killed him. At least that would have made some sense. Instead, she said, “You get some sleep, and we can talk more tomorrow.”
The door closed between them, leaving him to stare at it and wait.
He heard nothing but the settling of the old house against the autumn winds.
And he was exhausted.
Sleeping in the bed was out of the question. The quilt was far too nice for him to get dirty, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in one anyway. He could lie to himself and say that taking his wolf form made more sense in case things went south, if he suddenly needed to fight, but the reality was that it was just more comfortable to curl up on the floor with his tail keeping his nose warm.
Sleep crashed into him hard enough that he didn’t wake when the door swung back open.
Momo didn’t think much of the cold. She was aware of it, yes. She could tell when it was cold, but the feeling never settled beneath her skin, never made her shiver like she saw her father do on winter nights.
She often sat near open windows in her coziest nightgowns and socks while she read. Sometimes the moonlight was bright enough for her to read without any candles. Tonight was not one of those nights, and the wind was really doing a number on her candles.
Grumbling, she clambered her way off her favorite reading chair to go shut the window. As her hand touched the sill, the icy stone pressed back against her fingers. Her breath came out in a cloud among the outside air.
Oh, she realized as the shutters clattered shut, it must have been cold in the house too. It wasn’t like she ever used any of the fireplaces unless she felt like poking at a fire for a while to cure the boredom. But an important question sprang to mind—did werewolves get cold? Werewolves were just cursed humans if her books were right, so… probably.
And she had left so many of the windows open.
“Oh no, I am a bad host,” she hissed, and after all the etiquette she’d read about too. She couldn’t let herself fail her first guest.
Even running through the house at a sprint, her socked feet made almost no sound against the wooden floors, and she hopped over the creakiest spots to make sure of it. Window after window snapped shut until she felt sure she’d gotten them all.
Maybe that would keep the house from getting colder, but it wasn’t going to help if Ziggy was already cold. Most of the rooms only had a couple blankets. She squished her cheeks between her hands as she wracked her brain for how many blankets humans needed when it was cold.
Sakura… Sakura was under so many and still shivering. Always so cold.
The memory was so hazy that the more Momo tried to reach for it, the more it seemed to slip through her fingers, but she could feel the chill deep in her skin. The weight of the blankets was almost smothering.
If Ziggy could feel that cold, then he must have needed more blankets. Luckily, she had a whole closet full of them, enough for a whole house of guests. Filling her arms with a stack that she could just barely see over, she darted back to Ziggy’s room only to freeze at the door.
If she knocked, she might wake him up. Waking him up was rude. Not knocking was also rude. Brows knitted, she leaned her weight back and forth between her feet to toss the thoughts around in her head until they made sense.
With her hands so full of blankets, it would have been hard to knock anyway, she decided. Leaning her shoulder against the door, she instead called, “Um, Mr. Ziggy?” The door drifted in under her weight. Though little light fell in with it, she was able to see the strange shape on the floor.
Huge. Fluffy.
The blankets dropped from her mind as well as her hands, landing in a heap on the floor.
It was true that he wasn’t a dog. Sort of.
He was a very, very big dog.
And he had a very fluffy tail.
Entranced, she tiptoed around the pile of blankets to get closer. This must have been what Fenrir looked like, she thought. Maybe she’d picked the wrong myth book to find him a name, but then again, Fenrir was supposed to be scary, and Ziggy just wasn’t.
She dropped down to her haunches, balancing on her toes to take a closer look at his pale fur and huge pointy ears. Though his breaths were so deep and slow that they seemed to shift his entire body, he didn’t look relaxed. He was curled up so tight that he looked like a fuzzy pill bug. Just like in his human form, his brows were furrowed, worrying about something even in his sleep.
She reached out to run her hand along his head. The rest of him looked bristly, but the short fur between his ears was soft, and after a few pets, she felt the tension between his brows ease beneath her fingers.
At least, until his eyes snapped open. His gaze flashed to her wide with panic, and she yanked her hand back.
She must have hurt him. Somehow. Again. She always did this. She tried so hard not to. She’d been so careful. But this always happened. It was always her fault.
Dread tugged heavily at her chest as he rushed to stumble back from her, his claws scrabbling against the floor. His ears were flat against his head, round eyes snapping in all directions like cornered prey.
She slowly pulled herself upright, hands held tight to her chest so that she wouldn’t be able to hurt him. They were just about the same height now, but she was the monster again. “Sorry,” she said, taking a slow step back. Despite the cold, her face felt hot, and she couldn’t stop the tears from blurring across her vision. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.”
His body froze save for his ears, which shot up at attention.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” she gasped. “I promise. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
The worry returned to his brow, and he cocked his head to the side. She hadn’t thought much about whether he’d be able to speak like that, but he did breathe a deep sigh through his nose as he took a few slow steps toward her.
“Y-you can leave if you want,” she struggled to say through trembling lips, “but you don’t have to! You can stay!” No one would want to stay when she was like this, but scrubbing at her eyes wasn’t enough to stop more tears from coming. “Please stay. Just for tonight. Please, I don’t want to be alone.”
A large, soft weight bumped against her hand, stopping her from continuing to rub her eyes raw. Sniffling, she found Ziggy sitting in front of her. His brow was still furrowed, but she found no fear in his eyes as he ducked his head back down toward her hand. Once he had her palm resting against his head, he stilled himself in the awkward position.
“Are you… Are you saying it’s okay if I touch you?” she asked, needing to make sure. She was still shaking so hard that he must have felt it through her fingers.
He gave a slow nod while keeping her hand balanced. Now that she thought about it, he looked pretty silly there waiting to be patted when he wasn’t really a dog. It just made more sense to throw her arms around his neck and finally get to feel someone warm and close for the first time in so long. Even if he’d just sat there still like with his hand on her head, she would have been happy, but he let his chin drop to her shoulder, leaning his head against hers.
“It’s been so long since someone came here without getting mad at me,” she murmured as she squeezed tighter, feeling the bristles of his fur against her cheek along with the cold metal of that thing on his neck. His fur hid it better than his shirt had. “I’m so tired of fighting people. I just want to talk to someone. You don’t… have to stay forever, but can you stay for a little while, Ziggy?”
It was hard to know what he would have said if he could talk, but she had a feeling he still would have looked worried even as she felt his head nudging against hers in another slow nod. A relieved laugh bubbled up from her throat. “Thank you, Ziggy.”
Even as another short huff of air left his nose, his tail whapped at the floor beside her.