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Chapter 3

Alright.

This is inspector Frederique DuPont from Roud City's C.P.S. agency, writing once more about the unlikely chain of events that took place during my last visit to St. Belaroix. I'm talking about the chain of events that would ultimately lead me to uncovering an earth-shattering secret, to which I am now bound.

So there I was, quietly riding my rented horse towards my last stop before I headed back to the inn for the night. It was late in the afternoon, and the sky was beginning to get that familiar orange tint heralding sunset. The small safe I was given — and its unknowable contents — rested securely in a bag inside my briefcase.

'Good Lord, all those missing women...' I thought to myself. 'Could Miss Anabelle really be one of them? Just what happened in that house? Is she even still alive? Are any of them, for that matter? When did it all begin? Who's behind their disappearances? Ah, so many questions...'

So many questions, indeed. Little did I know, there would be even more waiting for me where I was headed to.

'I have to admit it: this case is much more complex than I could have ever imagined! What's worse, the more I dig around, the more I'm convinced that there's something fundamentally wrong with this village...'

Yes. The sheer size of that mystery was beginning to overwhelm me. It was like a rabbit hole that led to more rabbit holes, which led to even more rabbit holes; and that was just the tip of the iceberg! Clearly, I wasn't going to get to the bottom of it, as I naively once hoped. It was just too much for any one man to puzzle out on his own. And that's saying nothing of the danger it could have posed to my own safety.

'If I keep digging, I run the risk of asking one question too many to the wrong people. Do I really want to do that?'

The answer was no. My duty was to my family first and foremost. I couldn't afford to risk leaving my kids without a father, or my loving wife without her husband, just because I didn't know when to stop. Endangering my life recklessly in pursuit of justice, as stupidly noble as that sounded, simply wasn't worth jeopardizing the wellbeing of my beloved family.

'I've made up my mind. First thing in the morning tomorrow, I'm heading back to Roud.'

Eventually, I reached the final stop in my 'tour' around the village: the graveyard.

After tying my horse to a post outside, I took my briefcase and made my way into St. Belaroix's graveyard. The golden disc of the sun was near the horizon line, casting long shadows from the many, many tombstones at either side of me. The sound of my footsteps as I walked down those grassy pathways was the only thing piercing the eerie silence, which otherwise reigned supreme. No one else was around. I was all alone.

At last — and after checking my notes — I found myself standing before a certain tombstone. The plaque on it read “Sophie Marder, 1109-1141," although the “Marder" part was scratched off, as though someone, or maybe something, had clawed it away. But that wasn't all: the tombstone right next to it — which I understood belonged to Mr. Marder — was missing entirely, broken off at the base.

'How strange...' I thought as I examined the damage more closely. 'Who could have done this, and why?'

And then, I noticed something else — something I was not expecting to see, just lying there, on Ms. Marder's grave: a bouquet.

“What in the world..." I trailed off as I stared at those flowers which shouldn't have been there. They were fresh too, as though someone had left them there only moments prior. But I was certain that Ms. Marder had no family in the village! She was an only child, and I simply couldn't imagine her frail, elderly parents, who could barely walk two steps without becoming winded, traveling the thousand miles that separated Roud from St. Belaroix to leave a bouquet on their daughter's grave.

However, after a few moments, I simply decided to let it go. Maybe it was from her parents after all. Or maybe someone had left those flowers there by mistake. Or it was someone she was close to, that I never knew about. Regardless, it had to be something mundane like that. Anything more complicated was just my brain overthinking things for no adequate reason... or so I had feebly decided.

So I shook my head and grabbed my briefcase, remembering why I was there in the first place. It wasn't to ponder about mysterious bouquets or vandalized tombstones, but to do something else. Yes, I'm sure some would say that what I intended to do was silly, but at the time I simply felt it was the right thing to do... in a symbolic kind of way, if nothing else.

'Ms. Marder, I'm here to return a safe that once belonged to you. I don't know what is kept inside, but it must be something of great sentimental value to you. Or at least that's what I've chosen to believe.'

Thus, I began to unclasp the briefcase... and then stopped.

A strange breeze blew by, gently ruffling the grass. I was still there, except I had stopped moving. It was almost like all my muscles had suddenly locked up. A chill ran down my spine. Something felt deathly different; even though, on the surface, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It all just felt odd and unnerving, as though the air itself had somehow warped into some kind of uncanny, alien atmosphere that I couldn't explain nor decipher, while still appearing perfectly normal.

And then, as a cold droplet of sweat ran down my face, I felt that. It was like a burning pressure right on the back of my neck. 'S-someone is watching me!' I thought to myself, panicking. 'They're behind me. I just know they are! Oh, God, w-what is happening?'

Few sensations are more unsettling than the feeling of being watched by something the most primitive part of your brain identifies as a threat, especially when you can't see it. Your whole body feels menaced to an almost unbearable degree. It's like you want to run, but you can't, because your legs wouldn't respond. That's what was happening to me.

At last, I managed to command my muscles to move, and turned to look behind me...

There, from the forest beyond the border of the graveyard, a pair of eyes was firmly locked onto me. I swear it felt as though they were seeing into my very soul. Try as I might, I just couldn't look away. It was impossible. Those emerald green eyes had me completely in their spell.

“It's... It's a wolf..."

Indeed, those green eyes belonged to what appeared to be a big, shining white wolf. It stared unblinkingly at me for what felt like an eternity, while I struggled to look away to no avail. Somehow, even from that far away, its gaze itself had ensnared me in ways beyond my comprehension, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was at its mercy.

Then, the wolf turned and walked away, disappearing into the woods.

I stood frozen for a few more moments, my gaze lingering over the spot where that wolf had been. I didn't know what to think. I had never experienced something like that before. But those eyes... There was something oddly familiar in them, as though I had seen them before. Of course, that didn't make any logical sense, since that was the very first time I had seen a white wolf, or any kind of wolf for that matter.

Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I did something supremely idiotic: I walked towards the woods.

By the time I realized where I was headed, my legs had already been carrying me in that direction on their own accord for a while. I was just a passenger in my own body... or was I? In truth, I still don't understand exactly what drove me to go looking for that wolf. I'd say it was like some sort of irresistible impulse. Perhaps the innermost part of me understood that I had just beheld something preternatural, and that I would never again be so close to uncovering the answers I was seeking.

So I went to where that white wolf had been. The border of the graveyard was behind me, and in front of me lay the woods. Vaguely, I understood that I was no longer in St. Belaroix. 'T-this is the forest of Lanea...' I silently observed as I recalled parts of my conversation with the chief of police. 'I... I should head back.'

But I didn't. I needed to find that wolf again. As I dared to step a little further into the forest, I managed to catch something white out of the corner of my eye. I quickly turned around and, yes, it was the white wolf. Its oddly captivating emerald eyes were looking at me once more, and I could almost swear that it was... smiling.

“W-what are you?" I asked, trying futilely to discern what kind of truth lay hidden behind those mysterious green eyes.

The wolf simply turned and calmly walked behind the sizable trunk of a very tall tree. I just stood where I was, trying to decide whether I wanted to go after it or not. But then, before I could make my decision...

A young, barefoot woman with very pale skin emerged from behind the other side of the tree trunk. My bewildered eyes opened wide as I took in the sight of her free flowing white hair, which went down almost to her waist. Both her eyebrows and eyelashes were just as strikingly white, and her angelic figure was clad in a matching gown that was perhaps a few sizes too large for her. Regardless, for a moment, I thought I was beholding an elven fairy. But no. That face, those cheeks, and especially those expressive pink eyes gazing at me... I would have recognized them anywhere.

“It's been a while, Mr. Inspector," she said in a soft, calm voice, with a serene smile upon her lips.

“M— M— M-Miss Anabelle?" I stuttered, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

She simply nodded, still smiling. It really was her! Slowly, I started to become more at ease. My mind was beginning to accept that the woman standing in front of me truly was Anabelle. Of course, she looked five years older than how I remembered her, but that wasn't all. She also looked... stunningly healthy, as opposed to how sickly and malnourished she appeared to be back in the day. But the biggest, most striking difference was how at peace she looked. Indeed, very little remained of her perennial sadness and rehearsed expressions. Now she had a genuine smile illuminating her face — a far cry from the pained smiles of yore.

“It was quite the surprise to see you here," she said. “I didn't think our paths would ever cross again, but I'm glad I was mistaken. It's always nice to reunite with an old friend after so long."

Yes, it was definitely her! Anabelle, who was presumed dead, was actually standing before me!

“Wh... what are you doing here?" I tentatively asked.

“I live here, Mr. Inspector. This is my home now," she replied, her arms outstretched.

“Y-your home? So, you... You've been living here, in these woods, for the past five years?"

“That's right! The forest welcomed me with open arms, and I accepted its embrace with all my heart. It was the easiest decision in my life."

“But... why? I don't understand..."

Anabelle turned and looked in the general direction of the village.

“I no longer belong in St. Belaroix," she said. “No. I never belonged there. I was always meant to be here, ever since I was born. This is the only place where I can truly be free. That's really all there is to it, Mr. Inspector."

I took a step forward.

“Please, Miss Anabelle," I began. “Tell me what happened five years ago. I... I need to know the truth."

She gave me a long look full of forlornness. Somehow, I could tell she wanted to spare me from learning something I was never meant to learn. But I truly wanted to know that forbidden truth, however horrible it was. I had come so far; turning back simply wasn't an option anymore.

“Do you really want me to tell you?" she asked. The implied warning was almost palpable in the tone of her voice. Anabelle was clearly giving me one more chance to reconsider.

“I do," I declared with a firm nod, inwardly bracing myself for whatever was to come.

“Alright, if you're so sure..." she said, letting out a sigh. “To make a long story short, your old suspicions about my stepfather were correct. He truly was the vilest, most wretched human being I had ever met. I couldn't possibly tell you how much pain and suffering he inflicted on me throughout the ten years we lived alone in that accursed house, following the death of my mother — a death he also had a hand in, mind you. But, yes, he treated me like I was less than human. I'm talking beatings, cigarette burns, starvation, death threats, humiliation, keeping me locked in the basement, and more. Much, much more."

I was speechless; mouth agape. It was far worse than I had ever imagined!

“...W-why didn't you tell me anything?" I asked, still horrified.

“I was young and weak, and I was scared," said Anabelle, looking up into what little could be seen of the sky through the treetops. “He basically held my poor Jacinthe hostage. 'Tell the inspector anything I don't like, and your dog dies,' he'd say to me every month before your visits. That's why I had to keep my mouth shut. I could only tell you what he wanted me to tell you."

“T-that's horrible..." I said, shaking my head in disgust with myself, remembering all the times she had given me that telltale forced smile of masked suffering in the past. “I... I'm sorry. Please forgive me for not— for having failed you so, so utterly."

“It wasn't your fault," she said, giving me a faint, yet reassuring smile. “You did all you could. I know that, and I bear no resentment towards you whatsoever."

I knew she meant those words, and they certainly helped me find some semblance of peace, but I couldn't just forgive myself for the part I had in allowing that monstrous man to do what he did. And I still can't. That's a cross I'll have to carry on my back for the rest of my life.

But, of course, that was only a minuscule piece of the truth...

“S-so, then..." I cautiously said. “T-the night of the fire, y-you..."

“The night of the fire... was also the night I heard the call of the forest," softly spoke Anabelle in her strangely serene voice. “I let it guide my weakly, shaky footsteps to whatever fate awaited me in these woods, and that changed my life forever. Thus, upon accepting an unbreakable bond, I was granted the power to be the artificer of my own destiny. With that power, I had never again known fear."

I listened to her words with rapt attention, even though I wasn't entirely sure of what exactly she was talking about. The call of the forest? An unbreakable bond? The power to never again know fear? Despite my best efforts, I just couldn't even begin to understand what any of that actually meant. Regardless, a vague feeling of dread started to grip my insides all the same...

“In truth," she continued, “I would have never returned to my old home, if not for the fact that I just couldn't leave Jacinthe with that horrible man. So I went back there to take her away from him... only to find that he had killed her while I was here; 'to teach me a lesson,' as he had put it himself."

My dread intensified.

“Oh, God..." I said, already knowing what Anabelle was going to say next. “So, t-the fire... Your stepfather— I... I mean, y-you—"

She gave me some kind of unreadable look, and then:

“Yes, I murdered him."

There was no emotion in her voice.

“I ended his life with my very own two hands," she continued, speaking her words with an eerily distant tone. “In fact, I did it in the most gruesome way you could possibly imagine. He screamed and screamed, begging me for mercy as I slowly pulled his innards out, but I simply had none for him. Ah, to be fully honest with you, I enjoyed it far more than I should have. I'm not proud of it, although I don't regret it either. Does that make me a monster? ...Well, it doesn't matter. The bastard deserved it."

I couldn't possibly express how horrified I was. My brain wouldn't comprehend how such a beautiful young lady could speak so candidly about ripping someone's entrails out. But the most unsettling part was just how lifeless her voice sounded as she shared those grisly details with me. Not even her eyes reflected so much as a shred of emotion.

“I... I don't know what to say..." was what I eventually pushed out of my throat.

“You asked me for the truth, Mr. Inspector. I was just giving it to you," she remarked, slowly regaining her smile. “Heh, I'm sorry. It must be shocking for you to learn that the little albino girl you once met ended up murdering her stepfather, then abandoning human civilization for a better life in the woods."

“So, uh..." I began to say, turning towards the graveyard in the distance. “I suppose it was you who scratched Mr. Marder's last name off your mother's grave, and destroyed the tombstone on his."

“Guilty as charged," she readily admitted without even the faintest trace of remorse. “I don't care what the papers say. As far as I'm concerned, Mom's last name was the one she got from my father: Lenoir. And that's also the only surname I will ever recognize as mine."

I briefly wondered how she could have broken a tombstone all by herself, but I figured a sledgehammer might have explained it.

“Ah, I have to be honest with you, Miss Anabelle," I said, trying to be as tactful as I could. “Even if Mr. Marder was a terrible human being, which I don't doubt he was, I still don't know if I can be comfortable with the idea that you took justice in your own hands. I won't judge you, but... I wish things could have been resolved in a more, uh, lawful manner, I suppose."

“So do I, and perhaps in an ideal world things could have gone differently, indeed... However, I'm afraid that this world of ours is anything but ideal," she said with a certain longing in her reddish pink eyes. “Still, I fully respect your views, Mr. Inspector. I will not try to convince you that what I did was correct, because of course it wasn't. Personally, I simply chose to accept that I had made a mistake — one I don't regret making."

I took a moment to process her words.

“I must ask," I eventually said to her. “You, uh, wouldn't do it again... w-would you?"

“Hmm... I probably wouldn't. I mean, I very much doubt that there will ever be another 'Mr. Marder' in my life. Trust me: the way things are now, no man could possibly hurt me the way he did ever again."

“A-alright... Then I'll pray that the 'Mr. Marder' who lies beneath that broken tombstone over there is the only one you will ever meet."

To my surprise, she chuckled.

“Hahahah, no one lies in that grave, Mr. Inspector. It's empty, as they never recovered more than just a couple bones."

“Oh... I— I see..."

By that point, the sun was already grazing the horizon line.

“Miss Anabelle... If I could ask you one more question..." I said.

“Yes? Go ahead."

“A few hours ago, at the police station, I was shown a list of women who had gone missing from the village in the last thirty years. There were certain patterns, s-some of which appeared to involve this forest, a-and I, uh... I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

She just looked at me for an uncomfortably long time, saying nothing. Perhaps it didn't last longer than ten seconds or so, but it still made me — a grown man — fidget awkwardly were I stood, struggling (and failing) to hold her stare.

“You're asking a forbidden question," she suddenly said, not breaking eye contact. “I can answer it, but I must warn you: you cannot speak of this to anyone who isn't in communion with the forest. Not even a trusted friend or your very own spouse. You will be sworn to absolute secrecy."

She was being deathly serious. The way she emphasized those last two words left no room for interpretation. For a moment, I felt my resolve faltering... but my curiosity was stronger.

“I understand," I said, still trying to hold her intense stare with little success. “I promise you, I will take that secret to my grave."

“Very well. I will trust you, Mr. Inspector. Please don't betray my trust."

“I— I won't!"

I didn't know what I was getting myself into, and I suddenly began to have second thoughts about it, but it was already far too late for me to back down. I had already given her my word, so my fate was sealed, whatever it was. Slowly, it began to dawn on me that I was standing on the brink of something far, far bigger than a mere list of missing women at a deteriorated police station, and a chilling sensation ran down my back...

“Alright," she said, jostling me away from my foreboding thoughts. “Do you remember that white wolf with green eyes you saw before?"

“Y-yes? Was that a pet of yours, Miss Anabelle?"

She chuckled again, seemingly amused by my apparent ignorance.

“Hahahah, no. That was me."

I blinked confusedly.

“...I'm sorry?"

“That white wolf was me. You see, I'm what they call a lycca-vanni, Mr. Inspector. In other words, I am a she-werewolf."

I gaped soundlessly like a fish out of water.

“You don't believe me, do you?" she said.

“I— I— I mean, uh..."

Truthfully, I didn't know what to say. But at that point I was thinking that Anabelle's psyche, alas, might had no longer been attached to reality. Then again, after the decade-long nightmarish ordeal she had been through, plus the gruesome murder she had gleefully committed (as per her own words), as well as the fact that she was now claiming to be a wolf, what else was I to believe?

“I could very easily prove to you that I'm a she-werewolf," she added, “I'd just need to transform before your eyes, but, well... Do you think you could handle that?"

“M...Miss Anabelle, I... I just don't—"

“Yes, I know. You don't believe I can do it," she said with a sigh. “Alright. Since that's the case, I suppose I have no choice but to just show you."

My skeptical mind was only seeing two possible outcomes. Either she suffered a mental breakdown once her attempts to transform inevitably failed; or she didn't, and then I had to convincingly pretend to be impressed by a non-existent 'transformation.' Which of the two possibilities came to pass ultimately hinged on how delusional she was, I concluded.

“Alright, here we go," she said, taking a step back. “Remember: as big and scary as I'm going to look, it's still going to be me under all that white fur, so don't be afraid."

I nodded nervously, remembering that the best course of action in these cases is to humor the other person. I needed to focus and do my best to 'react' to something that simply wasn't going to be there. Or so I naively thought...

Then, of course, she transformed.

As her body grew unnaturally taller and her muscle mass expanded, with a layer of white fur quickly spreading along her shifting arms and legs, I could essentially feel my whole conception of the world shattering into a million pieces right then and there. My knees buckled, and I fell on my rear as my increasingly horrified eyes beheld her hands turning into claws, and her face into that of a wolf's.

Eventually, her transformation was complete. Towering ominously in front of me, Anabelle now stood on the monstrous legs of a werewolf. The hulking creature's bushy white tail waved slowly behind her, and her wolf ears flicked as she cast her gaze upon me with her inhuman green eyes. I swear I could feel the rumbling sound of her breathing as her canine nostrils flared, surely taking in the scent of my fear.

No words can describe the kind of primal terror that had seized me. I just lay there, unable to move even a single finger. All I could do was shake uncontrollably, not unlike a fatally wounded gazelle cowering helplessly before the doomful lion who would give it death. As I unconsciously whispered a stuttering prayer to God, my horror-struck mind sought refuge in the memories of my wife and kids, whom I would likely never see again.

“You are paralyzed with fear," said Anabelle; her voice coming out of her beastly wolf mouth. “Well, I suppose it was to be expected. After all, I'm sure I look like a nightmarish monster to you now."

I tried to say something, but my jaw refused to move.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Inspector," she continued, stepping closer to me. “Trust me: if I really wanted you dead, you wouldn't have had the chance to even see me in this form."

She extended a monstrously large claw towards me.

“Come on, give me your hand. I'll help you up," she said.

It took me several moments to muster the courage to raise a shaky hand towards her outstretched one, but I eventually did it. Even after I was back on my feet, Anabelle-the-werewolf still stood about three heads taller than me. It was impossible not to feel intimidated by her overwhelming presence, especially with the sight of those enormous claws and fangs imprinting the promise of a horrible death onto my dread-filled retinas.

“Y—you truly are a werewolf..." I finally said between gasps.

“That I am. And so are all the other missing women you had asked me about."

“T-they're all like you?"

“Yep. And they all live happy lives with their werewolf partners too, as do I, although they're not all here. Some of them had chosen to settle in places far away, taking their mates with them," she explained.

“Partners? Mates? A-are you talking about... m-male werewolves?"

“I sure am!" said Anabelle, nodding her white wolf head. “They're the ones we bond with upon heeding the call of the forest."

“So, uh... Once a year, a male werewolf would abduct a young woman from the village, turn her into a female of his kind, and then take her as his mate? D-do you not have any choice in the matter?" I asked, still struggling to understand this new reality I was being exposed to.

“Oh, we have every choice in the matter," she remarked pointedly. “Rest assured: nobody is abducting anyone here, Mr. Inspector. And although it's true that the call of the forest works in ways we don't fully understand, we are still free to refuse it. Not that many do, of course, since refusing the call is the same as refusing the chance to let our fated werewolf partners deliver us from the misery of the outside world, which they're happy to do through the love they shower us with."

“So you... Y-you are, uh, mated to a male werewolf yourself too..."

“I am, and he loves me. And I love him back," she said, smiling warmly with her lupine lips. “We have a child too. He turned ten months old a couple days ago."

There was so much for me to take in, but the fondness I felt in her words did sound authentic. Even if I had trouble visualizing what could drive a woman to willingly mate with such terrifying creatures, I had to accept that Anabelle was... genuinely happy to be where she was now.

Indeed, despite the highly — and I mean highly unusual circumstances, she had found a loving partner, and they both had a child together. Except the three of them were lycanthropes living in the woods, secluded from human society. And it seemed like it was the same with all the other missing women in the list. They had all voluntarily chosen to abandon their old lives to become one with their werewolf mates.

“Well, I believe I've given you the whole truth," said Anabelle as she began to change back into her human form. “You no longer have to worry about us, although I must remind you that you can't share any of this with anyone. You have to keep the promise you made me, okay? It's very important that you do."

“After what I've just seen, I— I wouldn't even dream of breaking your trust, Miss Anabelle."

She just chuckled innocently.

In only a few moments, all the beastly features of her werewolf body receded. Before me, once more, stood a hauntingly beautiful twenty-three-year-old albino woman with very long hair. Her gown, which had fitted her transformed form just fine, was back to being a few sizes too large for her.

“Oh!" I suddenly exclaimed. “I, uh... I just realized why you're wearing such a large gown."

“Oh, this?" she said, slightly tugging the white fabric outwards. “I'm only wearing this because I had come to visit my mother's grave. Normally we don't wear any clothes, since we tend to spend most of the time in our werewolf forms, and the fur is thick enough that we don't feel naked."

“T—that, uh... That makes sense, I suppose..."

“So, then; now that I've answered all your questions, how about you?" she asked. “What brought you back to St. Belaroix, Mr. Inspector?"

“Ah, y-yes, you see..."

Thus, I proceeded to tell her of the notice I had received the day before, informing me of the impending closure of her late mother's bank account. I also told her that she had one month to claim it for herself, but it didn't seem like she was very interested in doing that...

“Eh, I have no need for money," said the young albino woman, shrugging her shoulders. “The Crown can keep it, for all I care."

“Are you sure? We are talking about a billion Gold here! That's the kind of fortune that can change someone's life forever; and as your parents' legacy, you are fully entitled to it!"

“Well... I suppose it would make it easier for us to get things for the pack, and I could donate the rest to a charity or something. But how am I going to prove to the bank people that I am Sophie Lenoir's daughter? Any documentation proving my identity likely burned in the fire, along with the rest of my house..."

“I have a copy of your birth certificate in my files. We can rebuild your documentation from that. It's all up to you, Miss Anabelle. Chances like these don't come often in life, if at all."

She gave it some consideration, and then...

“Alright, Mr. Inspector. I'll do it."

“Great! I'm sure you won't regret it!"

Following that, as the setting sun continued its descent, we spent a few minutes deciding on a date, time, and place for us to meet in Roud, so we could do the necessary paperwork. Afterwards, just before we parted ways, I remembered something else:

“Oh. Just one more thing before I leave," I said, raising my briefcase.

“Yes?"

“There's a reason I had come to the graveyard today," I began while unclasping the straps that held it closed. “At the police station, I was given an item that had been salvaged from the rubble of the Lenoir estate. I originally intended to leave it on your mother's grave, since it clearly once belonged to her. But now that you're here, I think it would be best to hand it to you instead."

Anabelle watched with curious eyes as I pulled a bag from the briefcase. Then, from within the bag, I produced the small and battered, yet still stalwartly sealed safe I had gotten from the local chief of police.

“Oh, interesting..." said the beautiful barefoot woman as she beheld the rectangular box of solid cast iron in my hands. “I don't think I've ever seen that safe before. Is it empty?"

“It's not, but I don't know what's inside. No one could ever open it. Despite its small size, it was clearly built to withstand extreme abuse. In other words, without the combination that releases the lock, I'm afraid this safe will remain sealed," I explained. “Now, do you remember if your mother ever shared something like a sequence of numbers with you?"

Anabelle hummed for a few moments as she, I'd imagine, searched her earliest memories for anything resembling the combination for a safe. And eventually...

“I don't think she ever did, Mr. Inspector. Or maybe she did, but I was far too young to understand."

“Oh. Well, I suppose it was worth a try," I said somewhat dejectedly.

“Hmm, may I have a look?"

“Of course! It's yours now!"

So I handed the safe to her, and then watched as she looked intently at it from every angle, as though she was studying it.

“Well, even if we can't open it," I offered, “I imagine you can still think of it as a keepsake from—"

RRRRIIIIP!!

I stood frozen with my eyes open in utter shock as I watched her shift her arms and hands into those from her werewolf form's, grip the safe with her massive claws, and TEAR the lid away as though it was made of cardboard!

“Well, there we go. Problem solved," she simply said, smiling her pure, innocent smile while her arms reverted to normal.

“Y—y-yes, I— I see..."

So, then, inside the safe there were three objects: an antique key made of bronze, an old book written in Ancient Galian, and a note. The note had Ms. Lenoir's handwriting on it, and was addressed to Anabelle. It read: “My beloved daughter, I entrust both this book and this key to you. Please treasure them as I did, for they once belonged to your late father, may he rest in peace."

The sun was almost all the way down by then. It was beginning to get dark, so I said my farewells.

“Alright, I hope you have a good night, Miss Anabelle. It was... quite the experience talking to you."

“I'd imagine so!" she said. “Hopefully you won't have bad dreams tonight, Mr. Inspector. But if you do, I'm sorry!"

“Ah, please just call me Mr. DuPont, if you will."

Anabelle gave me a confused look for a split second, and then simply laughed.

“That kind of request is more effective at the start of a conversation, wouldn't you say?" she jokingly observed, amused. “Alright, Mr. DuPont, I'll be seeing you next week in Roud City!"

And that's the story of how I learned that werewolves are in fact real, and that they quietly adopt women whom our society has failed into their pack. Despite their monstrous appearance, which will strike fear in the heart of any mortal who would dare gaze upon them, they still grant salvation to those poor women who need it the most: the ones living miserable lives beneath the cold, uncaring shadows cast by a willfully blind world. Yes, it boggles the mind, but I suppose deliverance can sometimes take forms we simply cannot comprehend.

Regardless, I now find myself bearing the overwhelming weight of a secret which I am not allowed to share with anyone. It almost feels like I'm now living in a completely different reality — one in which I'm all alone, since everyone else around me still lives in the old reality, including my wife and kids. None of them knows what I know, but my lips must remain sealed, for that was the promise I had made to Anabelle (and under no circumstances do I ever want to find out what happens if I break it).

In only a few days, she will be coming here to claim her late mother's inheritance. I have to make sure the paperwork is ready for her before she arrives. As for me, I think I'm going to close this report now. Writing it definitely helped me put my thoughts in order, giving me a little peace of mind in the process, so it has already served its purpose.

Thus, once I complete these last few sentences, this is going straight down a hole between the floor tiles under my bed, never to be seen again. Afterwards, I'm going downstairs to give my wife a big, big hug as I tell her how much she means to me. And then I'm going to kiss her.

Perhaps if we all started doing little things like that more often, the world might yet become a better place.

To be continued...