WolfHeart

by Konstantina P.

  12. THE BITTER TASTE OF BETRAYAL

  The morning of Cora´s execution a huge pyre was built to replace the stalls at the market square. Everyone awaited the witch´s death with a similar amount of fervour. The crowd´s reactions varied from apathy to deep hatred but not a single person felt remorseful of what was about to happen. Jen, about to get her revenge, was the most peculiar case of all. She had been dreaming of this moment for more than a decade and yet, now that the time had finally come, it didn´t bring with it the satisfaction she expected. Instead she was feeling numb, realizing that with Cora´s death she would lose the only reason that kept her going all this time. And she would still be alone; nothing could ever bring Alan back. Moira and John were keeping an eye on their daughter constantly, waiting for the inevitable crash to pick up the pieces. Nothing else mattered to them more than not losing another child, however figuratively.

  Joe on the other hand was the only one who concerned himself with the logistics of the situation. He did the math; Cora must have been around eight years old at the time of Alan´s death. Something didn´t add up... Every attempt to approach Steven with that knowledge was thwarted though, and he didn´t have much time to do any further research himself. The girl was unreachable and, even if he did manage somehow to get to her, he would fall upon a stone-wall. Cora had quite loudly declared that only Jen would have the privilege of her explanation.

  The Prince, on his part, was feeling the anger his sister couldn´t summon. Angry with Cora for fooling him... Angry with Jen for still hurting because of Alan... Angry with his pack for pushing him towards the witch... But most of all angry with himself for still feeling the urge to save Cora and with his uncle for enabling that impulse with his suspicions. There was nothing to be done though. The day of Cora´s punishment was upon them and the crowd was asking for blood.

  With her hands tied in front of her with two sets of iron manacles, one from her father and one from the Werewolves, Cora was marched into the market square barely able to hold herself up, her still bruised body protesting at every move. A wave of whispers made their way through the crowd and the screams of murder and revenge died down upon her entrance, giving their place to fear and apprehension. She was said to be the most powerful Magic; she was bound to have something up her sleeve. The sight of her unkempt appearance begged a series of questions: Why was she still there? Will they be attacked in an attempt to rescue her? Jen had doubled the guard around the town, or rather John had, since the Queen wouldn´t let her mind stray away from the tangible memories of Alan. Would that be enough? The biggest part of their own army was scattered around the country making sure the rest of the villages were secure. Would the two Alphas be able to defend the fort if need be?

  Jason swallowed nervously as two Werewolf soldiers wrapped a thick rope around Cora´s body securing her on the wooden post jutting out of the base of the pyre. The scene made his insides twist painfully. He had trusted that girl, spoken in her favour numerous times and he was betrayed along with the rest of his friends. But still, no one deserved that kind of death. He returned his attention back up to her face and the sheer absurdity of the situation struck him like an invisible fist. The last time someone was executed at the stake was long before the war. When Moira was forced by the circumstances to apply the maximum of penalties, a swift blade would always do the trick. Jen had up to now adopted that policy, Joe always doing the dirty as her lead Beta.

  “Are we really going to let this happen?” He spoke softly, only for his Alpha to hear.

  Steven´s tunnel vision broadened away from Cora´s shaking hands and he let out a long-suffering sigh. “She deserves it,” he said with an underlying note of doubt that not even his friend could pick up.

  “She deserves to die,” Jason plowed on. “But this? No one deserves this.”

  Steven´s answer never came as Jen´s voice rose high above the crowd.

  “Cora Larson, you´ve been found guilty of murder. You are hereby sentenced to death. Any last words?”

  Cora moved her gaze to Jen, fear coiled low in her stomach. She knew what she wanted to say though and she had found the strength to say it years ago, when she first realized this moment one day would come. “I´m sorry your mate is dead. But I don´t regret killing him.”

  “You have so much nerve!” Jen let out a sarcastic little laugh. Moira´s subtle nudge served to remind her that this wasn´t the place and time to engage the witch. Suitably chastised, the Queen motioned to one of the soldiers who picked up a torch and lit the pyre on fire.

  The thick smoke was what Cora felt first and she burst into a fit of cough as her vision started to grey. Steven forced himself not to look away, his eyes steady on the girl when in reality he was looking at her blankly, staring through her rather than at her. Jason wasn´t so strong and tore his eyes away from the spectacle, the other Betas following his lead. Danny gagged when the smell of burning hair hit him, the first sparks reaching Cora and making the air putrid with smoke and burnt flesh. Jason placed a soothing hand on his shoulder while Erin and Ian moved closer in silent support, knowing that their friend´s stronger sense of smell was worsening things for him. Steven almost took pity on them and he would have ordered them out of sight if he didn´t, selfishly, want his pack close; even if some of them -Mark and Lynn in particular- had refused any part in this charade, as they had called it.

  The wind picked up suddenly and the crowd became restless as a twister circled around the pyre, gathering in its twirling currents ash and wood and flames and sucking the oxygen out of the fire in mere seconds. When the last of the flames died out, Larson himself materialized in the middle of the market square, bowing sardonically in front of Jen. He was a small man; clearly his built was not the thing that made him a war general. The strange glint in his eyes though would still mark him as an obvious threat even if his actions during the war weren´t criminal. Chaos ensued, the most sensible of the crowd trying to flee in panic and the curious ones staying close enough to observe, if not directly on scene. Steven stepped in front of his sister, claws out, ready to protect her, while Joe joined the guards in surrounding the enemy. Steven´s pack remained close to Moira and John as protocol dictated to protect the royal elders.

  “You!” Jen spat.

  “There is no need for all that,” Larson said waving his hand around to encompass the Werewolves´ defensive stance. “I´m simply here to see my dear child.” He turned his gaze to Cora who had lost consciousness long before her father´s dramatic entrance. He jumped on the pyre, careful of the seared wood as he untied her and took her in his arms. He threw her body on the ground in front of the pack and the two Alphas watched on edge, ready for whatever trick the Magics were about to perform. Cora´s hair was singed and her dress´ hem was completely ruined. Her shoes had melted on her feet and large burns were covering her shins up to where the fire had reached.

  “Now look what you did,” Larson said. “Let´s see if we can wake her up.”

  He drew a small knife out of his boot and leaned over Cora, slicing her palm open. Steven and Jason jumped into action but Larson threw his hand in front of him and everyone surrounding him was knocked off their feet, their backs colliding with nearby walls and staying glued there, unable to move.

  “It´s not polite to interrupt,” said Larson calmly.

  The few people that had remained behind scattered after seeing their leading packs so easily overpowered. The two Alphas desperately tried to take a step forward, only for Larson to laugh in their faces. The Magic King sliced his own palm open and grasped his daughter´s, connecting their blood and undoing the spell that had her manacles locked. It was easy work after that to undo the cuffs the Werewolves had put on her, thus freeing her completely.

  “And now watch,” he said and peered around him making sure he had everyone´s attention. The pack stopped struggling against the invisible force that held them immobile and watched mesmerised as Cora´s wounds started to scab over and turn into scars in the blink of an
eye, the fresh burns disappearing completely leaving her feet healed. With a sickening crack, her previously broken ribs snapped into place and the now yellow bruise around her eye faded completely.

  “Isn´t it amazing?” Larson crooned. “And she doesn´t even know she can do it. It wouldn´t do to let her have such power while she was younger.”

  Cora let out a groan, her eyes blinking open and her breath hitching when her gaze concentrated on her father. She tried to stand up but she was too weak, still dizzy and confused about the lack of pain. She could remember the fire eating away at her body; she had smelled her own burning flesh. What was happening? After a few false starts, she realized there was no way she could get on her feet so she turned on her stomach, crawling away from Larson and towards the pack, always seeking Steven out even after everything. The Prince didn´t struggle to get to her this time -not sure if he should- as he waited for things to play out.

  “What do you want?” Jen asked when it became obvious Larson wasn´t going to help Cora up.

  “You know, it´s cute that you think I´m here for you,” the Magic King replied, deeply amused. Cora finally managed to support her weight on the wall and push on her feet, leaning back on it between Steven and Jason but out of arm´s reach.

  “What do you want?” The witch repeated Jen´s question.

  “I want to take something pure and twist it into something cruel and shameful. Isn´t that poetic?” The man said. “I want you to lose everything, like I did.”

  The small knife Larson had used to draw blood from himself and his daughter flew out of his hand, stopping a few inches away from Jen´s throat and staying there, hovering in the air. Steven growled, his claws scratching the wall behind him. Moira used every single ounce of power she had in her to reach her daughter but she only managed to make her fingers and head move. It wasn´t enough...

  “That nice jewellery I gave you years ago,” Larson continued, “it did something more than trap your magic inside you. It slowly drained you from it so that now you have just a teeny-tiny drop left.”

  Cora took a few steps towards Jen but her legs gave out and she collapsed in front of the Queen. “Let them go,” she pleaded, surprising the Werewolves with her request. Why would she want to save someone who had almost burnt her alive? What reason could she possibly have to remain faithful to a bunch of Werewolves that had only caused her pain?

  “That´s completely up to you!” Larson said, delighted. “You have power for one more trick. What will you use it for? Save her,” he motioned towards Jen, “or save yourself?”

  Cora locked eyes with Jen. The Alpha Queen believed without doubt the witch would let her die so her hesitation only seemed like she was putting on a show.

  Larson though was quick to pick up on his daughter´s intentions. “Do you think they´ll thank you if you save her? They will pick up where they left off, tying you back onto that pyre and setting you on fire. I guarantee it.”

  Cora shook her head, looking around her forlornly, trying to find anyone that could help her save Jen and get the rest of them to safety. Her eyes met Joe´s who tilted his head imperceptibly towards the town´s gate. Cora saw from the corner of her eyes Lynn and Mark approaching the scene carefully. She had to stall and, thankfully, Joe had the same idea.

  “How killing Jen would take everything away from Cora?” He asked Larson.

  “Steven will never forgive her,” the man stated simply.

  “That´s your strategy?” Steven countered. “A childish love?”

  Larson threw his head back and let out a creepy, satisfied laugh. “A childish love?” He hiccupped. “My dear boy, you have no idea, do you? You are mates!”

  “No, we are not,” Steven denied, shaking his head. “I would have felt it.”

  “You would, if I hadn´t rectified the fact quickly. A single spell can do wonders for hiding someone´s true identity.” If there was any truth in what he was saying, it would be hard on Steven but even harder on his pack. The Alpha would blame himself for not sensing his link to Cora despite the performed magic and they would need a miracle to make him keep his head straight after this.

  “I first felt a bond between you and me at Bay Valley,” Larson continued. “Imagine my surprise when I figured out what it was. Werewolves are not the only species that mate, you know. Killing your brothers that day made me feel marginally better.” He kept smiling through his admission, ignoring the low growl that rose deep in Moira´s throat upon hearing about her sons´ deaths. “So they are dead because of her,” Larson continued, “and now your sister will die by her hands and of course, let´s not forget poor Alan. You see where I´m going with this?”

  “You are out of your mind,” Cora said through clenched teeth.

  “Am I? Let´s see. There are two options here. Either you slice that bitch´s throat and everyone here witnesses it,” he said holding up one finger. “Do you really think, even if your puppy managed to somehow forgive you, that he could ever stop picturing it? Or you either use your last trace of magic to get yourself out of here, not knowing what will happen to them afterwards,” he held up a second finger. “Either way, you end up alone and hunted. I win!”

  “Why?” Cora felt her lips curl in disgust.

  “You took everything from me!” Larson screamed, his calm facade slipping for the first time. “You let your mother die!”

  “I was a baby!”

  “And yet, you had enough sense to save yourself.”

  Cora could see that he was growing agitated. She didn´t have the luxury of time anymore, she needed to act quickly. Even before all the revelations, there wasn´t ever any doubt in her mind what was the right thing to do. Jen didn´t deserve to die and even if she did, it wasn´t her choice to make. Besides, she had given a promise once upon a time and she fully intended to keep it. She raised her hand and felt her magic surge through her, familiar even after so many years. The knife held at Jen´s throat fell to the ground the same time Mark and Lynn stepped foot in the market square and scattered a yellow powder in the air. Immediately, the spell holding the Werewolves immobile broke and they charged towards Larson who managed to disappear in the same whirlwind that had brought him there.

  Once the air died down and the dust settled, Mark and Lynn ran to Jen, patting her down to make sure she wasn´t hurt even if their wish was to go to their own Alpha first.

  “Is everyone okay?” The redhead asked as people started coming out from their hiding places. Jen nodded and took a menacing step towards Cora only to be intercepted by Joe.

  “What are you doing?” He asked as both he and Jason moved to stand protectively in front of the witch once again.

  “Everything that happened was her fault. Move out of my way,” Jen said.

  “Be reasonable,” Joe spat, voice full of sting. “The entire town just witnessed her saving your life. What would they think if you punish her now? What example will you set?”

  “Joe is right,” Moira said walking up to them. “You need to let this go.”

  “She still killed Alan!”

  “She´s part of our pack.” Danny´s quiet voice interrupted their argument and they all turned their attention to him. “If what he said is true... If Steven is her mate... She´s one of us. You can´t touch her.”

  Steven´s Betas turned to him for guidance after Danny´s declaration and he kneeled in front of Cora. “Is it true?” The Alpha asked, cupping her face reverently and with a strong sense of guilt. He couldn´t keep fooling himself with the notion of not believing in mates now that his was staring him in the face.

  “I don´t know,” Cora said, flinching away from his touch. “I don´t think I want it to.” There was no other way to look at it; he had sold her out without a second thought. If he deemed it right to be concerned now, she didn´t wish for it anymore.

  “Fine!” Jen snapped. “Let´s see who she really is.” She pushed her brother away throwing him off balance and let her claws out.

  “Jen, no!” Lynn screamed
but it was too late. Jen´s sharp nails pierced Cora´s skin, the index finger going deep in her temple and her thumb digging a hole behind the girl´s ear. And just like that, everyone bound to Jen by family or pack, dove deep into Cora´s subconscious.

  13. THE MEMORIES

  SIX MONTHS OLD:

  Larson´s wife holds baby Cora, singing her to sleep with an adoring expression on her face. The room´s windows are secured with bars on the outside, making it essentially a prison, but the woman doesn´t seem concerned. She looks too young and extremely happy. Her complexion is healthy and her clothes clean, her hair perfectly woven into a braid. She hears someone shouting from the hall outside and her head snaps up as she rushes to the open door. Whatever she sees has her panicking and, with the hand that isn´t holding the baby, she slams the iron door shut and bars it. She wraps the baby in a small blanket and hides her under the bed, praying that she will stay quiet. Someone bangs on the door with something heavy and after a few thrusts it comes off its hinges. Three masked men enter the room, claws out, and surround her.

  “Where is your husband?” One of them asks.

  “He´s not here.”

  “You are coming with us,” the one who appears to be their leader says and motions to the other two. They grab the woman by her shoulders but Cora chooses that moment to let out a small gurgle. The room freezes. The man in charge looks under the bed and finds the small bundle.

  “What do we have here?”

  “Leave her alone!” Cora´s mother raises her arms and the two men holding her fly across the room. She starts for her daughter but the man left standing pierces her through. Cora, sensing her mother´s distress, lets out a heartfelt wail.

  “What did you do?” One of the other men says, getting to his feet and dusting himself off.