Title: Carnivale (Prologue/?)
Rating for chapter: PG-13 (mild torture)
Summary: A fic for Halloween; Elijah is the star of a carnival side-show that passes through Orlando's town, but unlike most performers Elijah is kept against his will. (Werewolf!Lij) (unbetad, mistakes are my own.)
“I command you in the name of the Holy Father, leave this child!” The priest held his cross before the young child’s face as he continued to recite from his small black book. “I cast you out demon! Leave the body of this child!” He began to murmur in Latin, he closed his eyes concentrating all of his faith on the young boy lying before him.
The boy squirmed and pulled at the uncomfortable bonds that tied his arms and legs to the corners of his bed. He was small, even for a five year old, his frail body was splayed across the sheets and as he fussed his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw by the coarse ropes. He looked to his parents who stood in the doorway. His father had an arm around his mother and both were unable to look at him as he called out for help between his wracking sobs.
His attention was called back to the priest as the holy man’s voice rose. He looked back towards the old man, his skin was ashen and worn but his face was alive with passion and hate. The boy shrieked in terror as the priest’s cross was again brandished in his face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” the boy moaned “I won’t be bad anymore I promise…” tears flowed form his large blue eyes “I’ll be good, I’m sorry!” The priest ignored him only bringing the cross closer. The child forced his head back into the mattress striving to stay away from the silver icon.
He could feel heat radiating from it, a heat that he knew would burn. It was burn just like the time he was at that fancy restaurant and he picked up his fork and the time he accidentally touched his mother’s wedding ring. It would scold and sting and leave a mark. “Please…please….please…” he mumbled through his tears.
“Be still demon!” The boy screamed as the priest shoved his cross to the side of his neck. Panic built within the child and he could feel the adrenaline begin its route through his bloodstream. Within seconds the boy was replaced with the monster. His thin, fragile body was now muscular and covered in course brown hair. Hips, knees and jaw all transformed into sharp angles, while his mouth and nose contorted to form a snout. The boys screams faded and a sinister growl took its place.
“He has arisen!” The priest proclaimed as the young werecub struggled against the restraints “Beast! I charge you in the name of the son and the father and the Holy Spirit! Leave this child!” A howl echoed through the room as the priest removed the cross from the wolf’s neck peeling from the flesh it had seared. The wolf snapped at the priest’s hand just barely missing it. Again the priest read from the Bible murmuring words in Latin over the sounds of the struggling cub.
“Stop it!” The mother yelled from the doorway, “Can’t you see he’s hurting him?” she asked her husband.
“It has to be done, love.” His voice cracked as he struggled to maintain control of his emotions.
The priest continued the exorcism well into the night, the monster eventually tired and passed out, and its canine form turning back into that of a small boy. Halfway through the mother left unable to watch as her only son was subjected to such treatment; the boy’s father stayed hoping against hope that this would work. That his son would be cured.
In the morning the mother carefully untied her son and tended to the child’s many cuts and bruises; including an unfading burn in the shape of a cross on the side of the boy’s neck. The boy slowly sat up, with the help of his mother. She was small and frail like him, she had the same large blue eyes and the dark brown hair that cascaded down her back was the same color as his. Once he was upright she reached over grabbing a small bottle of lotion that was supposed to help heal his wounds. Though the child knew he healed faster than most little boys his age, she still lathered it on generously to any area that looked red or swollen. It wasn’t until she came to the imprint of the cross on his neck that he felt the solution sting and he closed his eyes cringing as it made its way into his skin.
“I’m so sorry honey.” His mother whispered as she blew onto his neck helping to soothe the pain.
The young boy looked up from his seat on the side of the bed searching his mother’s eyes. He knew he was different than the other kids. He knew most children didn’t get stung by silver or forget things whenever there was a full moon. He wasn’t stupid; he knew when most people stepped on a nail while playing outside it didn’t heal in less than an hour. What he didn’t know, was why all those things happened to him. His parents never talked about it and whenever he asked they just told him to be quiet and go play. But then last night the man from their church had come and his parents had tied him to his bed and he heard words like monster and demon and he knew that the priest was talking about him.
“I’m sorry I was bad momma.” He whispered as she rubbed a healing lotion onto his wrist.
“It’s alright Elijah; it’s not your fault baby.”
Even though he was tired and in pain, Elijah could see that his mother’s smile didn’t reach as far as it usually did and her eyes held more fear than they did the night before. Deep in his soul he knew the truth. He was
a monster and being a monster meant his parents couldn’t love him.