Ascension: Book 2 of the Summer Omega Series

by JK Cooper

  Shelby’s mouth fell open. This wasn’t like Elias. But he does have his secrets. He used to be far worse, right? He said as much. She looked at Athena with suspicion. She did this, somehow. I know it.

  Athena met her eyes for the briefest of moments, a fraction of a second. She smiled as if she knew Shelby’s thoughts and confirmed them.

  Ice spread through Shelby’s heart. I thought this pack was safe. I thought it was my home. I don’t know what’s happening. Her bond with Kale felt thinner than ever. His words through our link have felt so distant. Eira had no answers, and the ice spreading in Shelby’s heart turned sharp. What is happening?

  Shelby ran in her wolf through fields of corn stalks of a recently abandoned farm. The farmer had just up and left, the townspeople said, just before harvest time. The boar she chased had no chance. She needed this, needed to kill something, to unleash her rage at what was happening. As she closed on the animal, it spun to face her. The sudden turn shocked Shelby, but perhaps it had accepted its fate. Good. Shelby salivated, or was that Eira? Then, she smelled more scents, more boar. The higher pitched snorts of three piglets found her ears. They were running away . . . away from her. And the boar that had turned . . . the mother.

  Shelby stopped, suddenly feeling sick and guilty. After what felt like several minutes, Shelby walked away. The mother boar’s retreat made scuffling sounds as it went the opposite direction after her young. Shelby howled, feeling small and helpless and cruel and evil and just completely wrong.

  It is not wrong, what you feel, a voice in her mind said. She looked up toward a new scent to see Dakota Riverwind in his wolf.

  Was I projecting?

  Yes, but I understand what you feel.

  As she looked at him, she knew he did. She shifted but remained mostly concealed behind the leaves of the corn stalks that separated them. Dakota shifted as well. His long braid pulled the black hair on his head tight.

  “Shouldn’t I be able to stop all this?” Shelby asked in frustration. “This is my fault, right? I’m supposed to be able to make the pack complete and one, or something like that.” She paused. “Why can’t I? What’s wrong with me? Chenoa hates me. Elias is raging like he’s a semi-tyrant. Sadie’s doubting her place in the pack, as are others. My dad’s a liar and has killed werewolves.” But so have you, a voice said to her. She didn’t want to hear it from Eira right now. “And Kale—”

  She stopped. My bond with Kale feels strained, she thought. She loved him. He loved her. She felt that, knew that, but . . . she didn’t know what was missing, changing. Something was.

  Dakota half-smiled, and she felt he truly knew what she was feeling as his slightly glowing wolf eyes rested on her.

  “Do you know how I was blinded?” he asked.

  “No.” She was curious, and almost peered into him, but didn’t.

  “My father was chief. I had the fever that the Great Spirit allowed to pass upon my people. Many died, covered in rashes and blisters. I myself shook with the fever. My bones felt brittle. My father prayed to Menily, the Moon Maiden, that I would be healed, even if he had to take my place. The spirit of the banished shaman Tahquitz stole my father’s prayer before it ascended to Menily’s ears.

  “The next full moon, as I burned with sickness, Tahquitz sent healing and punishment. I awoke, my eyes blurry. I saw a creature at my feet. Tahquitz in the shape of the wolf, his eyes glowed yellow. Blood dripped from his snout, my father’s.

  “It bit my leg then fled, scared away by Menily, who had finally heard my prayer. I seized from the pain of the werewolf’s bite, but Menily caused my pain to lessen through sleep. When I awoke next, days later, the fever had left, but so had my sight.

  “I cursed Menily and Tahquitz for letting me live without my eyes, for taking my father and answering his prayer cruelly. But when I shifted, I saw the world anew, with my wolf’s eyes. I had never seen such beauty in all the Great Spirit’s creations, and I repented.”

  The story intrigued Shelby, but she wasn’t sure why he shared it with her now. “Why—”

  “To young eyes,” Dakota explained, “things appear finite, but young eyes are often more blind than I am without my wolf eyes. You must see things anew, Ascendant One. See beyond what your eyes tell you.”

  Ascendant One? That was new. “I’m not sure how to do that. I think . . . I think I’m a failure before I’ve even begun to do whatever Genn thinks I might do. Or be. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” She sighed. “Why does Chenoa hate me so much?”

  “She is a new desert rock.”

  “Yeah, you’ve said that before. Am I supposed to hear beyond what my ears are hearing?”

  Dakota smiled. “She is like Sadie.”

  That stopped Shelby short. “She reads romance novels?”

  Dakota remained stony.

  Right, not the moment for humor. What did Dakota mean? From everything Shelby could see, Chenoa and Sadie were nothing alike. Sadie was feisty and funny and boy crazy and fun . . . but Shelby remembered when she had peered into her best friend when first meeting the pack.

  She believes happiness is a lie but hopes it’s not. She uses her humor to protect her fragile self-image. And she . . . she has no filter. Makes enemies quickly by speaking her mind even though she doesn’t mean to be rude. Shelby understood now. Chenoa just had no social skills. That made perfect sense, actually. The wind and sand have not had time to smooth her. New desert rock. But wasn’t three hundred and eleven years of life long enough to round someone out a bit?

  “So, she doesn’t hate me?”

  “She fears what her Immortal Wolf has shown her,” Dakota said. “But remember that she is a flattened cloud.”

  “Dakota, I’m not sure how many analogies I can take.”

  “She has already given much of herself for others. There is much to her story.”

  Oh. She smiled then sat, putting her forearms across her knees. “You’re really easy to talk to. Thanks for this. I mean, I’m just a seventeen-year-old girl. I wish I could just worry about normal stuff, ya know? Like what celebrity is having an alien baby, how many Instagram followers I have, or who’s going to play the next Batman?”

  “What is wrong with Ben Affleck?”

  Shelby couldn’t answer for the complete shock of Dakota’s unexpected comment. Pop culture knowledge was the last thing Shelby had expected from him.

  “Nobody is better than Val Kilmer in that role, but Ben is not bad,” Dakota continued.

  “Christian Bale?”

  “He is a summer swamp frog.”

  “A what?” Oh. His batman voice. Yeah, he kinda was, Shelby agreed. “I really love you.”

  “You have to. You are our Omega.”

  “That’s not—” She stopped when she saw his playful smile through the stalks.

  “Can a Summer Omega run faster than a Riverwind?”

  “Are you challenging me to a race?” Shelby asked, standing and shifting.

  Dakota shifted and took off in the direction of the manor. Oh no you don’t! Shelby sprinted after him.

  Mareus sat behind the willow tree’s curtain of drooping branches and leaves, the moon's cold light breaking through the narrow slits and raking the ground with brilliant blue streaks. Only at night could he escape the oppressive heat and humidity of this land called Texas, and he hated the false comfort of so-called air conditioning.

  He opened the Isluxua and stared at the alien symbols and words. He could not read them, but Viersin, his Immortal Wolf, could. He brought out his wolf eyes, seeing a pale orange shine on the ancient yellowed pages of the book. The words became discernible to him again. With Viersin's eyes he read.

  The alchemies of ages shall run together at the confluence of the five rivers, and then shall be undone that which was fractured. Honor, glory, and power shall follow him who causes Ascension to rise, and in him will five become one, and one become five. Terror shall be in the eyes of those who seek his destruction; the beautiful ones shall fall at his
feet and beg for his touch; the powerful will exalt him for his strength; the wise will seek his counsel. And all shall pronounce glory upon him.

  Mareus gripped the edges of the book tighter as he read on.

  The Sköllaer, as shepherds of the Five, shall find an One who mends the broken, a Restorer born of dichotomy who rises in the summer of her youth; robed in the garments of Ascension by petition, she shall cause the rivers to be confluent, not as five among one, but the birth of a new river. And this river shall shape the world in the image of those who follow her.

  There, Mareus thought. That section always confused him. The pronoun changes from masculine to feminine.

  There was no distinction in our language, Viersin said. The pronouns are interchangeable. You are seeing what you want to see.

  “Is it talking about two people then, or just one?” Mareus whispered out loud to himself. He turned the page.

  In the center of the next page was a symbol he had studied often since recovering the Isluxua from the Hoia Bocia Forest in Romania. A tree limb in the shape of scythe, the side profile of a wolf’s head wearing a helm, a serpent wrapped in a flare of fire, a bow and arrow, and a pair of wings with a downward pointing sword between them. Each symbol was connected by intertwining vines, threading around each element to create a wreath that encircled a blazing sun. The rays from the sun reached out like tentacles of fire beneath the wreath. Below the insignia in the same alien tongue were the words, “The Five Keys of Ascension and The Restorer.”

  He caught the scent of someone approaching.

  “Is who talking about two people?” Athena asked as she stepped from behind a tree. She kept her distance and remained upwind to keep his scent off her.

  Mareus closed the Isluxua.

  “My people,” Mareus answered. “I’ve been reading the prophesy passages.”

  “Shouldn’t you know what they mean? It is the record of your people, right?”

  “Not exactly,” Mareus said. “It is the record of the Immortal Wolves, whom the Sköllaer—my people—swore to join in protecting the Isluxua.”

  Athena looked wistful. “I sometimes wish I could have seen it, Father. I wish I could have seen Alsvoira, and when you became the First, the father of our kind.”

  Yes, Mareus was the first Lycan, the first whom an Immortal Wolf had unified with, and in his blood ran the power of that first union. There was always power in a first new making, be it a spell, a word, a name, or a new being.

  “How is your work against my mother and father?”

  Athena’s lips pursed. “She is strong for one so young. I have learned that she only manifested last year, at sixteen.”

  “Her current body is young, but not her wolf,” Mareus said. “Thyra may not remember anything, but her wolf has awakened. Eira will not have forgotten.”

  “They are known as Kale and Shelby now.”

  “Kale . . . and Shelby,” Mareus said slowly, as if tasting the words.

  Mareus remembered awaking on this world after going through the crystal portal, his mind completely wiped of even traversing through the Goddess’s gateway. Viersin, he knew now, had slumbered for hundreds of years within him—a side-effect of the crystal portal for his Immortal Wolf. But Viersin’s memories had not been erased. They were intact when he finally awakened.

  Those early centuries had not been kind to Mareus and his parents, while their wolves slept. They were immortal, it seemed: never aging, never growing ill, immune to the plagues of humanity. Yet they could not explain where they had come from. They had no people, no country, no origin. They simply were. Dropped without memories into a cruel world where they did not belong.

  Eventually, people noticed their agelessness, and they were scorned as demons, monsters, users of dark arts. They could not be hurt, not permanently, but humanity found ways to harm them. Farmers refused to employ them. Venders refused to sell them their wares. They were forced out of their homes by hunger.

  So, they hid, running from refuge to refuge across the world, forced to leave their established homes every few decades for their own safety, lest someone notice their immortality again.

  Vagabonds and nomads, Mareus thought darkly. The world was cruel to them, and Mareus did not like to visit those memories. He shuddered.

  One day, having been shunned from yet another village — this one in the foothills of modern-day northern Italy — it happened. Skotha awakened. Sweat had poured like rain from Daeglan, the rush of memories and knowledge overwhelming him. Then, the shift. Mareus watched his father morph from man to beast. They hadn't known what was happening, but shortly thereafter, one by one, each of their Immortal Wolves had awoken.

  We were vicious, Mareus remembered. We did not know who we were. What we were. Our wolves were slow to speak. They no longer suffered persecution though, meting out vengeance upon entire villages when anyone sought to shun them or bring them harm.

  Viersin then convinced Mareus to seek out all those who had shamed or harmed them over the centuries. He, though asleep, had seen them all. Daeglan and Thyra objected, but Viersin’s insistence was too much for Mareus to resist. He levied chaos and death across many parts of Europe, turning dozens, a power that had surprised him and Viersin alike.

  Eventually, Viersin showed him their history.

  The Sköllaer. Alsvoira. The Isluxua. The prophecies of Ascension. And the Advent.

  His bloody trek across Europe had attracted the attention of an ancient order meant to respond to the arrival of magical races. Hunters, men committed to eradicating magic, armed with silver ankhs and holy water supposedly collected from other worlds. That’s when they learned they could be hurt. I led them to my parents.

  Daeglan and Thyra did not survive the Hunters’ persistent tracking and coordinated attacks. Mareus, with Viersin’s help, managed to escape, though narrowly. Viersin remained semi-dormant afterward, slowly dripping what he knew of Ascension and the Advent into Mareus’s mind. He lived for those centuries among a village in the Swiss Alps. He fathered many over the centuries, but only one had been born a Lycan.

  Athena, my first true-born. There is power in your making.

  He looked at his daughter now, admiring what he had created. She also remained ageless once puberty had done its work. Her beauty could not be rivaled. And she was born an Omega, possessing the ability to engender and to sever. Beliefs. Tendencies. Loyalties. Even sanity, with enough time. Bonds as well, Mareus thought.

  “Father,” Athena said, breaking him from his reverie. “I have a gift for you.”

  Mareus stood, his head nearly touching the closest arcing branch of the Willow tree. He clutched the Isluxua to his side with one hand. “What gift?”

  “A new member of the fold. Someone rejected and alone.” Athena turned and held out her hand to a figure standing outside the curtain of willow leaves and branches.

  Mareus instinctively sniffed the air and caught the scent of another Lycan, one not of his pack. Parting the drooping frondescence, a young woman walked forward. Her head remained bowed, but Viersin sensed a storm within her.

  “This is Rachel Bingham. She has suffered much.” Athena took a step away as the wind shifted. “I will return with another next week. Others will follow.”

  Mareus waved his daughter away as his face softened. He looked upon the broken girl, Rachel, with empathy. He reached his free hand out toward her, and she tentatively took it. In a tender but commanding voice, Mareus said, “Tell me. Tell me how they hurt you. Tell me everything.”

  Rachel Bingham began to weep, and Mareus pulled her close, embracing her as she let her anguish flow.

  Shelby slipped into the dress with stiff, awkward movements. Training had been brutal the last few days, especially the classes she got to teach others how to fight while partially shifted. She pushed herself harder than she thought she could. Sucks being the example.

  Most of the pack couldn’t hold a partial shift for more than seconds, their bodies choosing human or wolf. Ka
le had caught on quickly, but he had his Immortal Wolf and previous lives to lean on. Chenoa and Dakota could do it easily. Rachel had shifted back and forth in angry spurts, before storming out and missing several days. Sadie had been allowed back, but on probationary terms where she wasn’t allowed to train full time and kept at a distance from Elias.

  Which is stupid! Shelby felt a pang of guilt for calling her Alpha stupid, but she couldn’t help the feeling. Sadie could partial shift almost as well as Shelby, Kale, and Chenoa. Shelby suspected her venatrixness helped her out. She has more practice playing with her appearance than any of us. She’s too valuable to the pack for this.

  Shelby swallowed the icy anger. It kept bubbling up, but she had to control it if she wanted to do any good for the pack. She sent out a pulse of comfort and patience, aiming more of it at Elias than she initially intended. That man needs to let Sadie come fully back.

  It isn’t your decision, Eira spoke to her mind.

  I know! It’s frustrating!

  You didn’t let me finish, Eira said with a smile. It isn’t your decision, but you can greatly influence that decision. You are the pack’s Omega. Never forget.

  Did you just give me permission to manipulate our Alpha?

  The smile turned downward, but only slightly. Manipulate? No. Encourage toward wisdom? Always. But you must respect whatever he decides after.

  Shelby nodded as she rubbed the soft, dark purple material of her dress and eyed the matching bruises it showed on her arms and legs, deep enough that they hadn’t healed completely from the evening before.

  She pulled the dress off again, hung it carefully on the back of the chair in front of her vanity, and shifted. She paced around the room, letting Eira heal her. Can’t show up to a dance looking like Grant beats me, even if that’s pretty much the case. His most recent hand to hand combat class had been brutal. He’d broken out lead pipes, like they were the worst players of Clue. Sadie got that one right.