Pastor Jensen made his way back into the fellowship hall.  He was carrying a haphazard stack of books and papers.  Serge got up to help him and I looked away.

My eyes found the bulletin board and wandered around again.

Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.  John 15: 13

The curse began to gnaw at my neck, it slide down my spine and diffused into my blood.  I felt my whole body tremble and I had to grasp the table to keep myself from slipping to the floor.

I froze while the feeling washed over me.  What was that overreaction?

"What's wrong?" my father asked.

I just shook my head.  I did not know myself.  Something had agitated the curse.

I waited until my heart slowed and then I very deliberately reread the verse.

Greater love has no one than this,

I felt fine, well, as relatively fine as ever.  It was not that.

that someone lay down his life for his friends.

The curse attacked me again with the same fervor as when I had dared to imagine Serge's death.

Pastor Jensen had apparently been talking the whole time.  I swung my focus back to him, but my mind kept slipping away.  What was it about that bit?

Then it hit me.  It was the self sacrifice.  The curse was raging against the thought of its removal.  Perhaps, maintaining its grip on my mind was its highest priority.

If Matthias had not held me back from interfering in Serge's fight, if I had thrown myself in to save him, would the curse already be off of me?

Of course, I could also be dead, but it would have easily been worth the risk.

I felt fear sweep through me again, carried on wave after wave of icy tremors.

"What's wrong, Elise?  You're trembling.  Something's the matter," my father said.  His brows were furrowed as he closely observed me.

All three had stopped talking and were watching me.  I tried to answer.  "Gr-greater l-l-love has n-no one..."

Pastor Jensen picked up where I dropped off. "Than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.  What about the verse?"

I looked towards Serge, then at my father.  "Mrs. Lindale," I said, hoping they would get the hint.  I hoped they would figure it out, because it was hard to get out words through my constricted throat.

There was a long moment of silence and finally Serge said, "That story she told, the one where the thrall threw himself into danger to save his master.  Have you heard any tales like that, pastor?"

I turned my gaze to him.  "Well, I know the one of which you speak."  He began flipping through papers.  "Yes, the curse did seem to come off, although I don't know of any other instances of self-sacrifice being the cure, I'm afraid."

"It's tr-true," I said.  I was certain of it.  The curse slammed me again with all its fury.

"Perhaps," agreed my father, "But it remains difficult to find such an opportunity.  Would it work if we set it up?"

"I doubt it," Serge said, voicing my doubts as if he could read my mind.  Everyone fell silent.

The pastor finally spoke.  "It's odd how helpless you are under the curse.  Most of the people cursed are forced to work, but they manage handily.  Normally they spend all their time running over their transgression in their heads, seeped in guilt, not shaking in fear."

"We too have noticed that oddity," Serge agreed.

"I did locate a translation of an old Latin document  listing the benefits of a cursed thrall."  The pastor shifted through the papers and handed it to Serge.  He made a noncommittal sound before my father took it.  I read along with him.

Enthrallment of a criminal is recommended over death in the case that the perpetrator does not seem properly repentant of their crime.  Rather than immediately consigning the criminal to the burning fires of hell, the weighty suffering of the curse allows time to work repentance upon the perpetrator's soul, thus cleansing them and perhaps saving them from an eternal fate worse than death.

The enthralled, given their crimes might not be meet company for women and children, but the curse indeed renders them incapable of true disobedience.  Such a one may occasionally make small moves which give the appearance of freedom, but the enthralled cannot disobey a direct order from the master, nor can the enthralled take action against the life of the master, but rather must make every effort to preserve him.

When the lifespan of the master, whether by plague or external action, ends before that of the enthralled, the magic of the curse can simply be reinstated by the next leader.  Former enthralled often flee upon regaining their freedom, if in an unexpected manner, because after a short period of agonizing guilt they come back to their senses.

My father kept reading, but I stopped listening at agonizing guilt.  For me, it would doubtless be pure terror.  I let my eyes roam the room again, finding the verses on the wall.  I did not reread the one that had upset me.

Deceit is in the hearts of those who devise evil, but those who plan peace have joy. Proverbs 12:20

I considered my reaction.  The curse hummed with the same constant vigilance it had maintained since we had come to Austin's pack.

When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul. Psalm 94:19

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself.  Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.  Matthew 6:34

"Some of my congregants picked their favourite verses," Pastor Jensen said, apparently having noticed where my attention lay.

"They're nice," I lied.  I wished they would help me, but I had little hope, although I supposed I had at least confirmed that if I threw myself in the path of a bullet heading for Serge I really would probably be free in my moments before death.

The curse raged at my thought.  My whole body trembled.

I defiantly looked at the next verse.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.  1 John 4:18

Instantly my vision swam as the curse slammed me with everything it could muster.  My body felt as if a blizzard had been released inside and over me and I felt so cold and so exposed.  I shrunk into a ball and closed my stinging eyes.

I almost fell off the chair, but my father steadied me at the last second.  "What is it, Elise?"

I could feel all three sets of eyes burning upon me again, especially Serge's.  I tried to control my quaking.

Serge rounded the table and crouched beside me.  Other than a few prickles stabbing my nape, his presence did nothing to make it worse.  "What happened?" he asked.

My master wanted to know, so it loosened my tongue a fraction.  "Th-there is n-n-no f-f-fear..."

"No fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear?" Pastor Jensen asked.

"Y-yeah.  I-i-it r-really d-doesn't l-like that one," I managed to stutter out.

"Perfect love casts out fear?" my father repeated slowly.

The shivers ran through me, assaulting me violently.

Still beside me, Serge asked me in a low voice, "Do you want to go home?"

I nodded and added, "B-but wh-what if this m-means s-something?"

"Is there at least somewhere more comfortable she could rest?" Serge asked.

"There's a couch in the lounge," Pastor Jensen said.

Serge wasted no time.  He picked me up, and supported me under my legs and behind my back and carried me into the lounge.  He set me down.  "I'll be right back," he said and left me sitting there.

I opened my eyes and looked around the lounge.  There were a couple of tables with chairs around them and a television that must have been more than a decade old on one of those rolling television stands.  I closed my eyes again until I heard footfalls and felt the prickling of his presence.

He draped a blanket over my shoulders.  "Th-thanks," I said appreciatively.

"You really think there might be something there?"

"I don't know, b-but i-i-it does."

"Then we'll figure out what it is.  Want us to move in here so you can hear what we're talking of?"

Absolutely not.  I wanted to hide alone under a rock somewhere.  "Y-y-yeah."

He nodded.

A few minutes later they all came and set up at the tables near to me.  It was oddly similar to the meeting, except that had nothing to do with me and this had everything to do with me and my affliction.

I listened to them debating my overwrought reaction.  "Well, there is the obvious meaning, love can drive out fear," Pastor Jensen said.

"Elise already gives and receives love, from her family, from her friends and that has not rid her of the curse," my father said, his voice slightly bitter.

"The love of God, or perhaps a new bond of love?  Or maybe there is something we're missing about the verse.  Perhaps I will go and search the commentaries."

Serge was sitting very quietly, while my father wrote notes and made occasional noises.

I felt drained.  My mind drifted, and finally went mercifully blank.

* *  *   *   *   *   *  * *

They were still deep into discussion when I returned to myself.

I tried to still my quaking heart and find the strength to move.

"It seems little more than madness that it could be so simple," my father said.

Pastor Jensen was speaking.  "Well, perhaps it is not so simple as it seems.  How would your daughter or any thrall possibly manage to form any sort of bond while so tortured?  And matters of the heart are never simple even when not under the influence of magic, but why would not a new bond of love perhaps help dislodge the bonding of the curse?  Our lives, and the lives of werewolves most specifically, are of that of bonds, bonds to our families, bonds to our packs.  The bond of marriage, the bond of a parent and child?  Something significant.  Thralls have typically lived lives of quiet punishment before now, with little effort made to release them.  Why should she not try to live a normal life?"

"She can hardly have a normal life, she is trapped in close proximity to me," Serge said gruffly.

"And you are trapped near her."

"Hardly."

"Do you feel nothing for the young lady, Serge?"

"Of course I feel responsibility."

"And obvious concern."

"What are you suggesting, Pastor Jensen?" my father asked sharply.

"I'm merely making an observation, Nicholas.  If love is a way to break down the curse, then considering love seems a much kinder method than putting your daughter in danger or waiting death."

Did they really think that love might affect the curse?  It seemed like the nonsense of fairy tales.  Could something like love's first kiss banish the curse so easily?  I almost scoffed, but then the curse began pounding me with its shards of ice.

Why was it so furious?  Could there be some vague truth to this insane idea?  Could love cast out my fear?

I pushed my shaking body up.  I opened my bag and rooted around for the unopened envelope that my father had handed me, surely from Matthias and I remembered the matter which I needed to speak to him.

I swallowed through my constricted throat.  I believed it might be a way.  I needed to talk to him.  The curse howled.

* *  *   *   *   *   *  * *