The hallway was dark, lit only by the glow of the small flashlights that each pack member carried. The alpha carried on ahead of them, his eyes darting wildly around the room, waiting for danger to spring on them at any moment. He knew something dangerous was here, although he wasn't sure what. All he knew was that there was a threat, not just to his pack but also to the four other shifter factions scattered around the city.
The group approached the end of the hall, where a dark corner waited for them. “Scouts,” the alpha commanded. Two scouts, the youngest of the pack, stepped in front of him to peek carefully around the corner. The alpha waited as they assessed the situation. “I smell something odd,” one of the scouts noted.
“Like a shifter?” The alpha asked.
“No, metallic,” the other scout said.
“Blood, then.”
“Perhaps.”
“You should always assume the worst,” the alpha said firmly, and then he waved for the others to follow him around the corner.
It was an eerie sight. Furniture and old machines seemed to have been ripped from their places. Papers from a much earlier time were scattered carelessly, like small ghosts. As the pack reached the middle of the hallway, they felt an earth-shaking rumble under their feet that vibrated under their soles. The alpha held out his arms, telling the group to halt.
Once the shaking had ceased, a low and deep groan rolled down the hall, echoing off of the walls and into the ears of the startled shifters. A strange wind seemed to pass over the group, almost like a phantom’s breath. A monster? Or shifter? Whatever it was, it didn't sound human. The alpha felt a shudder pass through his entire body as if something invisible had passed through him. But he brushed it aside. They had come this far. He couldn't bring himself to back out now.
Another groan, and soon dust and dirt were crumbled down from the ceiling. The shifters hurried, trying not to stumble over as the floor shook again. “Should we signal the others?” A voice asked nervously from the back.
“Are you feeling unsafe?” The alpha asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well…no, sir,” the voice mumbled, trying to mask their discomfort.
“Then we should keep going? Don’t you think?”
Nobody would dare challenge him, not even with the ominous rumbling and moaning that continued to sound all around them, shaking their bones and their souls inside them.
Finally, they saw a light. A faint almost candle-like glow was peeking out from a barely-open door. “The blood is stronger here, sir,” one of the scouts mentioned.
“Whatever’s been saying hello to us is probably on the other side,” the alpha replied. “Should the attack team head in first?” another voice whispered.
“No, let me,” said the alpha, his hand reaching out to touch the scratched and battered metal opening.
Just as he was about to open it, though, a new sound erupted in the hall. A warning howl, followed by the skittering of claws against tiles as the other half of the pack rejoined them. The beta, a black wolf with a streak of white, slid to a halt, gracefully shifting back into human form to face the disappointed alpha. His face was stained with worry and a hint of fear was mixed in.
“What happened?” Asked the alpha.
"We were jumped," answered the beta, sweating and out of breath. "They came out of nowhere, and...they took Henna."
“Who did?”
“We…we don’t know.”
The alpha contemplated the answer, but he didn't have time to pull his soldiers back. A loud and strange chanting came from the other side of the doorway, and a sharp clanking as if dozens of knives were being dropped on the floor.
"Stay close," the alpha warned his beta.
“But sir, we don’t know what’s here. It could be—”
“What? A monster? Spare me the fairy tales, please.”
Without another thought, the alpha slammed his shoulder into the door. He could sense movement and smelt wolf on the other side. The room was wide and empty, the only light coming from a ceremonial circle of candles flickering against the walls.
The alpha could feel the warmth of his pack behind him, but he urged them to wait. As he stepped further into the room, he made out the dark outline of a hooded figure sitting cross-legged in front of an odd symbol etched in red, dripping down towards the floor.
Blood.
The marking was of a star, cut in half by a flying arrow. The figure in the center was whispering, his voice low and haunting as he spoke in a foreign tongue. While he did, the walls quivered again, and dust rained down on the alpha as he moved closer. The figure seemed to be lost in his own mind and he raised his arm towards the sky—something long and sharp was in his hands. It was a dagger, made of a clear, icy gemstone that glittered in the candlelight.
In one quick motion, he brought the weapon down, plunging it right into his own chest with an agonizing cry. "Hey, stop!" The alpha shouted. But of course, he was too late. The figure turned to face him, its red eyes glowing through the gaping void in his hood. "You should run," the figure warned, his voice a demonic growl. "He'll be coming soon. And you will die in his wake."
He began to convulse and to the alpha's surprise he saw several dark shadows shooting wildly about the room, before they disappeared into the dark corners. However, one ominous jet-black shadow wafted from the figure's dying body. It hovered threateningly, foreign whispers and gravely voices coming from it as it flew closer to the alpha.
Howls sounded from the distance. Warnings came from the concerned pack in the hallway. Something was coming—or was it already here?
The leader's eyes widened and he turned on his heels to sprint back towards his pack, but the shadow lashed out for him, gripping him by the throat with an inky black tendril.
The alpha’s cheek was slammed against the cold tiles, and glass prickled into his cheek as the shadow wrapped itself around him tighter, like a ghostly snake. He watched in horror as the shadow moved over his chest, spreading like blood from a wound as it slithered up his neck. Then it slid right in between his lips, down his throat, and settled in his belly. The alpha sputtered and choked, hearing only the faint yelps of his pack members as they fought something he couldn’t see.
“Fall back!” The beta cried over him as he tore into the room, and latched his arms around the choking alpha. As the alpha was dragged back into the hall, he could only just see a cluster of fur and gnashing teeth as another pack attacked his.
Then, there was a blinding light, burning bright in his mind’s eye and then there was nothing.
Krista awoke with a gasp, drenched in a cold sweat. What was that light? Those flashes of gruesome images in her mind? Wolves running. An abandoned warehouse. Those piercing olive eyes. An ominous shadow. The very thought of that monstrous creature made her feel nauseous and she tumbled out of bed to vomit into the sink. As she ran the faucet, she clutched the edge of the bathroom counter, her breathing heavy and her chest tight.
Was that a dream? Or was it another vision?
1. FORTUNE
To Krista Sinclair, the office of a fortune teller was almost like a museum mixed with a hint of a grown-up's playground. Colorful chiffon curtains floated down from all corners of the room, with glittery sequins sewn into them. A gold fountain trickled on a nearby shelf, next to a porcelain statue of a hand, labeled with all the answers for palm readings. There were charts of star signs, of planets and their positions that brought the inquirer good fortune or bad luck. A purple neon sign in the shape of a crescent moon seemed somewhat out of place—it was a more modern touch that Krista had added against her mother's wishes, just to spice up the room a bit.
A hand, adorned with black nail polish and gold rings, was spreading out a handful of tarot cards, one by one, onto a sparkling tablecloth. The back of each card was decorated with a silver star, lying in wait. The hand reached up to light a stick of incense, wafting the musky vetiver-like smell around the dimly-lit room.
Krista closed her brown choc
olate-colored eyes and gave a subtle hum as if summoning her power from the Earth. Some of her clients actually believed she was, even though most of Krista's act was for show. She did like how it made the experience just a little more "magical" for them.
“So, Mrs. Remy, what would you like to find out today?” Krista asked as she pulled her deep red hair up into a curly ponytail. A frail woman in a woolen coat sat nervously in front of her, her gloved hands clutching tightly to the purse in her lap. “Please, tell me if I should move on from Eustace or if I should still hold onto him,” Mrs. Remy said with desperation. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“So…the usual?” Krista asked. The woman only blinked at her, and Krista dutifully starting turning over the three card spread. Past, present, future. Krista studied them carefully, giving a casual “I see…” for variety, even though Mrs. Remy always had the exact same spread.
“The Two of Cups in your past means you’ve shared a strong bond and a lifelong commitment. I assume this relates to your late husband?”
Mrs. Remy leaned in, hooked on every word Krista had to say. It honestly put Krista off a bit. She didn't mind putting on a show, but it sometimes rubbed her the wrong way if a client latched too tightly on to their fortunes, hungry for answers she wasn't even sure were true.
“What about right now?” The old woman asked. Krista rubbed her thumb along the corner of the Queen of Swords card in front of her. “It seems that you have a decision to make that’s troubling you,” she said.
“That’s why I’m here, of course,” the old woman scoffed. Krista smirked at her. “The Queen of swords is a strong woman, like yourself. However, she thinks with her mind, not with what’s inside her heart. I know it seems tempting to follow your heart, but you’ve been clinging to your painful memories for a while now.”
The old woman grimaced as if she'd known what she had to do all along.
"But it's not all bad," Krista reassured her as she pointed to the last card. A single man staring back at her. "Your future is occupied by the Emperor. I see a strong and sturdy man. Perhaps you'll meet him soon."
“Is it Eustace?” Mrs. Remy’s eyes flickered.
“The future is always uncertain,” Krista reminded her. “But because of the, erm, circumstances of your late husband, I should tell you that I can’t bring him back.”
It broke her heart to see the woman looking so upset. She reached across the table, cupping her fingers around Ms. Remy’s fragile ones. As she did, she saw the flicker of an old man’s face in her mind, smiling and holding hands with Mrs. Remy. Another vision—a real one this time. “It’s not too late for you, you know,” Krista said quietly. “There might be someone you already know who has an interest in you.”
She didn’t always let her visions affect her readings, but she felt that the old woman was a special case. After thinking for a moment, Ms. Remy raised her head. “I think you may be right,” she said with finality. “I think I’m going to call that man from the assisted living home after all.”
“That’s a great start,” Krista said with a soft smile. The woman snapped her purse open, and handed her usual payment over to Krista. “For your trouble,” she said. Krista thanked her, packing up her cards and saying a quick ritual before closing her reading.
On her way out, Mrs. Remy turned to Krista. "My dear," she said. "Have you ever read your own fortune? With you being so connected to the spiritual world, you must be curious about your own love life. Aren't you?" Krista was startled to see the woman wink at her and she waved her hand dismissively.
“I’d like to try to keep my feet in the present if you know what I mean,” Krista replied.
“Interesting,” Mrs. Remy said. “I thought for sure you’d use your gift for fun once in a while.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it fun,” Krista said with a slight laugh. “After all, a job is a job.”
"Well, it sure is an exhilarating one, I'll tell you that." The old woman said her goodbyes and left Krista alone in the cold dim room.
Krista locked up for the night before ducking behind a secret curtain and heading up a flight of stairs. The fortune teller’s shop she had inherited from her mother had an upstairs part that served as her private apartment. It was a stylish, yet simple studio, with a couch, a coffee table, a small kitchen area, and a corner with a bed just big enough for her. With a heavy sigh, Krista turned on some light techno music and lit some purple candles, before eventually making her way over to the fridge which was stuffed with six packs of beer and leftover Chinese takeout.
She cracked open a nightcap, sipping the foam from the top. She stripped off her sweater and scooted out of her tight jeans before throwing on an old baggy t-shirt and sitting cross-legged on her plush carpet. Mrs. Remy's words were still echoing in her mind. “Use your gift for fun once in a while…”
She looked over at the boxed-up pack of tarot cards—her mother's old practice deck. They seemed to be waiting for her on the edge of the coffee table. They were a gift for taking over the family business. Krista's mother was still alive, though to Krista she might as well have been a ghost. She hadn't spoken to her daughter for about a year, ever since she went to find herself on a "spiritual journey" to the Himalayas without even saying goodbye.
A phone buzzed next to her with a new text message. Krista eyed it nervously. “Dinner?” read the message from a man named Chris. Chris from the bar the other night. He was in business or IT or—whatever. Something boring that she couldn’t remember. She hadn’t had much luck with men lately. Any time she met one, they managed to make her feel like a freak by the second date…if she was fortunate enough to get to that stage. Whenever the conversation got around to careers, she always got funny looks. Whether people believed her or not, it still made her feel, well, freakish, and had done ever since she was small and just learning about her visions.
Her visions were often the reason she preferred to stay a recluse. It was hard to have a relationship, or even just a friendship when you constantly had flickers of a future about to go sour. They had been getting stronger in the past week, which only made her more anxious. All day, she had been distracted with that face she had seen the other night in her dreams. Handsome, stubbled, and with piercing olive eyes. He seemed to be looking right into her and it sent a quiver through her chest.
What did he say he was? A shifter? Krista thought. She waved her hand above her head. It sounded like bunk to her. It was a dream, not a vision. Although that shadow… there was something about it that made it all feel real.
Still, she wondered. Never check your own fortune, was her personal rule as a psychic. The thing about Krista’s fortunes was that most of the time they were bound to come true, at least… that’s what she thought.
She thought of the way Mrs. Remy's eyes had shone when she had said how exhilarating it was to have your fortune told. Her mind wandered and her hand hovered between picking up her phone to text Chris Whomever or picking up those damned tarot cards. Maybe if she did just a small reading, she could discover a hint about that stranger in her dream.
"What the hell?" she shrugged, chugging the last of her beer and slamming the can on the table. Anything was better on a Friday night than getting all gussied up and pretending to be interested in Mr. Whomever. She politely reached for her phone, and composed and sent a polite "No-thank-you" text before grabbing her cards.
They felt different in her hands this time, almost taboo. She even checked over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching her break her one and only rule. The cards fluttered softly as she shuffled them while thinking of a question to ask them. Only one floated to the top of her head.
“Is my dream just a dream? Or is it something else?” She spread out three cards: Past, Present, and Future. Why were her hands shaking? It definitely wasn’t the first time she’d done this. However, it was one thing to tell other people’s futures. When it came to her own, she found herself frightened and a little overwhelmed.
&n
bsp; She took a deep breath and turned over her the first card, representing her past. Three of Swords—a single heart pierced by three blades—a past struggle or strained relationship. She rolled her eyes. That’s probably thanks to Mom, she thought. Her present card was The Fool—a light-spirited looking man with a dog running at his side, which represented the possibility of a journey, or a new start. Strange… Krista thought. With some hesitation, she turned over the last card. Oddly enough, it felt the heaviest out of all the others. Her heart pounded in her chest as she brushed her thumb along the edge of the card. She flipped it as if she was ripping off a Band-Aid.
Her eyes widened. If she had been living in a horror movie, thunder and lightning would have ripped ominously through the room. But it was just her, in her tiny studio, alone with the horror of the future.
The scene depicted a castle-like structure, with lightning striking into the crumbling brick. Two figures were falling from the windows, screaming as they tumbled towards the unseen ground. The Tower—a notorious symbol of danger…and that something horrible was headed her way.
Krista stared blankly, trying to reinterpret the meanings. After all, the cards weren't always crystal clear. Her eyes kept gazing down at the couple falling to their doom, and suddenly a piercing sting vibrated in her skull. She saw the shadow again. It latched onto her chest before it lunged, mouth agape, right towards her face.
2. INTERRUPTED PEACE
Ryland was supposed to be recovering. But, he couldn’t stand sitting around when he knew his incompetent beta, Tristan, was out running things in the Rogue’s hideaway. For the past two days, Ryland had been giving orders to his pack from his bed, using Tristan as the unfortunate messenger.
He clutched at the ache in his bandaged side. When he winced, he could feel his skin prickle, the tightness of his healing wounds stretching over his skin. The infiltration of the warehouse didn't go quite as planned, with him running straight into that bone-chilling ritual and the rest of his pack being attacked by unfamiliar wolves.
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