SWNOVELS Chapter 64 - Barlow’s Help
Tanya's POV.
I'm over the moon that we've found the notebook, but as I'm flicking through, my smile slowly starts to dwindle down into a straight line. Marco notices this. "What's wrong?"
I sigh. "Each perfume in here cures a different type of black magic."
Caspian's brows crease in confusion. "But isn't that a good thing?"
My chest deflates. "We don't know what black magic was used to contaminate the water. I don't have time to make and try each perfume in here."
The men around me mirror my unsettled expression. We have no way of knowing which perfume is the right one, and some of these perfumes take ages to curate, let alone try and perfect on the first try. None of us have much knowledge on black magic to begin with, and the task is now seeming to be impossible.
"I don't understand. Who would want to poison my pack? We aren't hostile to any witches, and we live such a simple life. We have no enemies," says Caspian with tremendous uncertainty.
As we all stand together, I notice the sun's rays begin to trickle into the cold and dark library, reminding us of how little time with hands. The sun almost mocks our failure. That is until another male voice that separates from the men standing beside me, speaks up to the rest of us.
"I can probably figure out what type of dark magic was used."
All of us turn to face Mr. Barlow, who drifts out from the shadows of one of the book aisles, his gaze somber and firm with his belief. I can't help but once again recall the incident between him and Raphael, and how Barlow's hands were encased with a dark mist when threatened. I grow more skeptical about who he really is and wonder what connection he may have had to Dorian.
However, Caspian doesn't hesitate upon gaining this spark of hope. "You can?" Barlow nods. "Then please help us, we need to know quickly."
Barlow steps closer to me, staring deeply into my eyes with his elderly optics that appear sound and wise despite the wrinkles that encompass the surrounding skin. "Whoever did this is exceptionally strong, and an expert in the art of magic," his gaze flickers back to the Alpha. "I'll need a glass of water where the concentration of poison is the strongest. I'll need to drink it so I can decipher its type."
Caspian only nods quickly, and he and Dylan rush up to retrieve the sample. I on the other hand grow worried, and frown as Mr. Barlow turns back to me. He seems almost prepared to hear my protests. "What if you die from ingesting the poison?"
He pats my arm trying to comfort me. "Don't worry dear, my immune system has anti-bodies different to a normal werewolf. My body can combat the poison. It will take much longer for my body to succumb to the symptoms," this of course doesn't reassure me at all, still frowning as he continues. "But once you create the perfume with the antidote, I'll be all better. Don't worry, all will turn out alright."
I hate that we must risk his life trying to produce a perfume that may not work in the end. The pressure on me is overwhelming, and I internally pray to the Moon Goddess that I would be able to do it. For the sake of Mr. Barlow, the people of the Blue Moon pack, and most importantly, my daughter.
Eventually, Dylan and Caspian return with a glass containing the poisoned water. Mr. Barlow drinks it as my uneasiness grows. And soon he begins to cough uncontrollably. He stumbles, and Marco has to catch him, holding him up right as his body weakens.
"Barlow. Barlow steady, you alright," says Caspian.
The elderly man nods his head with closed eyes, trying to focus despite his body succumbing to the infection. But before he can fall too weak to the poison he relays to me exactly the type of black magic used to contaminate the water.
***
Third POV.
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Although the werewolves now know which strand of black magic has poisoned the pack's water source, there is another problem. Tanya would flick furiously through the notebook, setting down the open page onto one of the tables for the rest to see.
Her eyes scan the page and list of ingredients, before huffing as another obstacle soon comes forth. "We don't have this." She points to an ingredient listed as a 'Ghost Orchid". "This is such a rare flower, it's only present in the capital, and is only available to the royal family that grows it in an extremely controlled environment," her eyes inadvertently turn to Marco who reads the name.
"We're doomed." Says Dylan, pulling at the strands of his hair. "The capital is a long way from here, we will never get the ingredient in time."
Marco shakes his head furiously. "No. Not on my watch. I can get it and get back here in time."
Tanya snaps her gaze to him, with intense worry in expression. "Marco, the journey will put incredible strain on your body."
Marco offers her a small gentle smile. "There is a reason I'm known as the strongest lyc an in the kingdom. Trust me. I'll be alright. You just work on making that perfume, I'll get you what you need," he gently brushes a hand across her cheek despite the uncertainty in her face before moving away and heading out the library, calling his friend Oliver in the process telling him to know he is coming.
As Marco steps out into the cold night, his body transforms, limbs shifting, extending into long lanky and muscular structures that increase Marco's height exponentially. Sharp claws manifest from his fingertips and dark fur encompasses his skin. Marco grunts through this process, although he isn't in any intense pain.
Finally, his snout protrudes, and menacing canines are revealed before the man now lyc an drops down onto his fours. Whilst he could run on two legs, he'd be much faster this way. And so, Marco shoots off with incredible speed into the forestry, determined to retrieve the perfume ingredient.
As Marco furiously gallops towards the capital, Tanya has stationed herself in one of the hospital's medical labs. But she's having trouble reading through Margaret's notebook. Since it's Margaret's own personal journal, the language is understandably vague and tailored to the predecessor's thought process. Tanya has to interpret where needed and try and read the handwriting as best she could. But because of the time pressure, Tanya grows more and more anxious as the hours pass.
She encounters many failures in the process. Some of the equipment Margaret used is terribly old and obviously out of use in the modern age. So, Tanya has to substitute what she has in the medical lab. If that doesn't come with its own problems, Margaret's methods are extensive, and intensely methodical, and therefore, extremely slow. Tanya must find ways to shortcut and speed up the process of some of the steps, which of course leads to a couple of mishaps. She grows frustrated as each second ticks by, and feels no closer to creating the perfume needed to save the people of the blue moon pack. She wants this to work so desperately, but she fears she is incapable. Tanya sighs as she stirs the mixture and once again the solution doesn't turn out right. She tosses her ladle, the metal spoon clattering onto the table out of frustration.
The female runs her hands through greasy, unwashed hair and rubs her eyes that are darkened beneath from the lack of sleep. It is infuriating. She feels so incapable, she knows she's competent at perfumery, so why then does the talent desert her when she really needs it most.
The pack is relying on her. The patients are relying on her. Caspian is relying on her. And most of all, Claire is relying on her. The image of Tanya's little girl lying motionless in the hospital med causes tears to streak down her cheeks in continuous upset.
But then her thoughts trickle to Marco, and his words of encouragement he left her with the day he headed off to the capital. She imagines him in his lyc an form, galloping with fierce intensity through the woods, going as fast he possible good for her, for them, for the Blue moon pack.
She knows Marco is trusting her to have this perfume ready for when he gets back. With a rough shake of her head, Tanya centers herself, releasing a long exhale of breath before getting back to work, working furiously to achieve the desired creation.
Again, and again, and again Tanya works away, and with each time, her technique and application of Margret's methods improving, and slowly her hope begins to rise.
A day passes, and Tanya believes she finally has the solution at the right consistently, now all that is left is to add the final ingredient. Tension rises in the atmosphere as she waits on Marco, and she worries something may have happened to him on his way to and from the capital.
But as she slumps down against one of the wall, she suddenly hears footsteps. Marco rushes into the lab, that jolts her upright. And he hands her the final ingredient she needs to complete the perfume.