“Think back,” I urge him. “You say you've been watching Dervish every time there's been a full moon. Has Meera been here? Or anybody else?”
Bill-E shifts uncomfortably. “Well, not every time. But —”
“So how does he get out?” I interrupt.
Bill-E thinks a moment. “He must hang the key nearby,” he says. “He lets himself out when the change has passed.”
“Then what's to stop him using it when he transforms?”
Bill-E rolls his eyes. “Have you ever heard of a wolf that can use a key?”
“He used it the other night. When he brought the deer back.”
“But he hadn't transformed then,” Bill-E notes. “You said he looked the same as always.” He stands and paces around the kitchen as he outlines his thoughts.
“This is the way it must work. During the lead-up to the full moon — and for a few nights after — Dervish's hormones are all over the place. I don't think he physically changes, but he isn't in full control of himself, which is why he wanders around the forest, hunting animals. At the same time, he's human enough not to attack people. He doesn't kill.
“On the night of the full moon, it's different. The beast comes to the fore. It takes over. He can't risk loosing it on the world. It would kill at random — animals, humans … whatever it found.
“So he chains himself up.” Bill-E clicks his fingers with excitement. “He locks himself in the cage, ensuring there's a live animal for the beast to rip to pieces and feed on. He stays there all night, howling, transformed, wild. In the morning, when the phase passes, he lets himself out and carries on as normal.”
Bill-E stops and smiles warmly. “I've always admired Dervish, but never as much as I do right now. He's dealing with his curse. Living as normal a life as he can, yet protecting the world from the monster within him, locking himself away when he must, enduring the loneliness and hardship …”
“Stop,” I remark sarcastically. “You'll make me cry.”
Bill-E whirls on me angrily. “What did you call me for?” he barks. “If it was just to sneer, I can leave as quickly as I came!”
“It wasn't to sneer,” I mumble. “I asked you here to help.” I stare miserably at him. “I'm scared. If he changes tonight and comes after me …”
“He won't,” Bill-E says confidently. “The cage is there to prevent that.”
“Maybe.” I nod. “But I'm not sure I want to run the risk. I was thinking I could maybe come stay with you for a night or two … ?”
Bill-E blinks. “I've never had a friend over to stay,” he says. “I don't think Grandma and Grandad would like it. Especially not after you woke them up this morning.” His face brightens. “Tell you what. I have a better
idea — I'll come and stay here!”
“What will that achieve?” I frown.
“I'm fatter than you,” he laughs, patting his stomach. “If the werewolf gets free, it'll go for me first, since I'm so tasty-looking. That'll give you a chance to run for freedom.”
“You're crazy,” I huff.
“Of course I am,” he smiles. “After all, I'm a Grady!”
A long, tense day. Bill-E, despite his good-humored assertions that we have nothing to be afraid of, is just as nervous as me. In some ways he's worse — he looks very pale, and has been sick a couple of times. He says it's some bug he's had for the last few days, but I'm sure it's nerves.
“Maybe you should go home,” I suggest as he returns from his latest vomit trip to the toilet. “You won't be much use throwing up all the time.”
“Don't be too sure,” he smiles thinly. “Perhaps I can repel the
werewolf with puke.”
“That's one I never saw in the movies!” I laugh.
Bill-E has to leave in the afternoon, to check in with Ma and Pa Spleen and Pretend he's been to school. “I'll have a quick meal, do some homework, then tell Grandma I'm coming here for the night — I'll say it's part of a nature project, that I'm doing an essay on the habits of nocturnal creatures.”
“Not so far from the truth,” I grimace.