Nightly Howls

by Madeline Blake

  I quickly banish that thought. Nico will always be around for me, no matter what the situation is.

  I hope.

  Wandering through the hallways, I suddenly discover the faint outline of a man lingering against the stone wall. He turns, as if he is waiting for someone, slumping until he is sitting on the floor. There are a few moments of complete and utter stillness, and then he regally rises to his feet. The lights suddenly give out, dying against the overwhelming darkness, as he flicks a switch. He pauses, and then starts walking. Not knowing quite why, I follow him, almost hypnotized by the footsteps as they ring through my head.

  At the end of the hallways, a faint light lingers, growing brighter with each fear-stuffed step. My heart seems to pound even more erratically as we walk, my steps mirroring his. As the light shines brighter on the man, the outline begins to be illuminated, and I know instantly who it is. He enters the room, deliberately leaving the door wide open, and I step inside.

  "Asher," I say softly as the man stands before me.

  "This is the library. Sorry about the lights, by the way, I was afraid one of those idiots would follow us," Asher wastes no time, getting directly to the point. He gestures to the piles and piles of books, stacking from the floor to the ceiling, the rows and rows of even more. It is a huge room, the books on either side, lounge chairs and a spectacular fireplace in the middle. Over our heads a truly stunning chandelier hangs, colossal with a ton of sparkling crystals, and a giant TV is mounted directly above the fireplace. It is on, the display of a computer showing up instead of TV shows. "That's our computer," he explains, "We just use a TV monitor."

  "Wow," I gasp, awestruck, "this is absolutely amazing!" It is another dream of mine; a fantasy I never thought would be accomplished. It is the biggest collection of books I have ever seen. With joy I rush to the first aisle, marveling at their assembling of many encyclopedias, the informative books I have missed so much.

  Back when I was a child, Dad used to have the most stunning library in the whole city. It wasn't nearly as big as this one is, but was stacked with an incredible amount of books. When I had turned five, I vowed to Dad that I would read every single book in his library. But of course... my promise couldn't be kept.

  "We have the prophecy here," a beautiful voice murmurs near my ear, and I straighten slightly.

  "Where is it?" I question.

  "Right this way," he leads me into the aisles, skimming over each book like a searchlight. It is endless, the rows of books, my feet growing tired as our trek continues. They don't have the prophecy in a better place other than these aisles? From what I have heard, they seem to esteem it very highly.

  When he finally stops, I pause too over a particularly thick book labeled Werewolves, Spiers, and Shifters: Complete Edition. On the front is a picture of a menacing werewolf poised over devouring a human and a human battling a truly horrible looking Shifter with a strange looking spear. I slip it from the rest, hiding it behind me.

  "It's okay, we don't mind if you read it," he says, expressionless, without looking up from his task. He seems to be examining the spines of each book, looking for a certain title that belongs to the book he needs. I cross over to his side, noting now the true similarities between Asher and Nico; their nearly identical looks except for the scar and the hair. All this time he hasn't acted like a sourpuss, which is a plus, and also a side of him that is pleasantly new to me.

  He smiles as he extracts the book we need, a dusty one that isn't thick at all. The side reads Summer Kitchen: 100 Delicious Recipes and the cover is completely blank. I narrow my eyes at the slim cookbook, wondering if this is a joke.

  "Trying to find some recipes?" I ask, crossing my arms. We aren't getting any closer to finding the prophecy this way, and although it looks useful, it isn't anything like what we really need.

  His grin grows wider as he rubs his hand on the spine once, twice...

  "What are you doing?" I ask, my anticipation subconsciously spiking as he does it again and again. He doesn't answer me, taking his strong hands and rubbing it endlessly. After I know he isn't going to answer me, I quiet down and just watch the slow, rhythmic movement, hoping for the best.

  When he reaches the twentieth rub, he suddenly stops, and without looking at it, hands it to me. I take it, raising it to my gaze, and gasp as the spine now reads The Prophecy and the cover is adorned with a single green emerald.

  Spellbound, I open to the first page, but it is empty. The second page is blank too, and as I leaf through the rest of the book, I find it is blank as well. I look to Asher, who smiles knowingly.

  "Look closely," he commands, his words strong as steel. I oblige him, glancing at the first page deeply. To my surprise, when I stare at it hard enough, words begin to appear, as if writing itself on the page.

  "There will come a person equal to a werewolf and a Spier, who also possesses an ability like no other, leading a complete pack, bound together by loyalty and friendship. They will defeat the red-eyed wolf, not without losing one of their own on the journey, and another will come to take his place. Through discord and strife they will travel, friendships and relationships forgotten, but they will succeed, destroying the red stone and vanquishing Shifters once and for all. Then the werewolves will vanish into the mist, their purpose served, for one cannot exist without the other."

  "Is that all?" I ask, staring at the paragraph of craziness with disappointment, "I was hoping it would talk about a Spier being able to heal the people possessed by Shifters."

  "This is the reason why we exist," Asher says softly, "we live for a purpose, and once that is completed, we die... and all you're saying is that all? Seriously, Ella."

  "I'm sorry Asher... I'm just a little disappointed that my question wasn't answered," I stare at the paragraph over and over, hoping for anything, but nothing is found. This has absolutely nothing to do with me.

  "You know..." Asher lingers over my shoulder, and I get a whiff of his sweet-smelling cologne. "There have been very few cases of Spiers getting that ability. However, they profess it to be a very limited power, only able to use maybe once in a hundred years. I guess that time means nothing to them though, being immortal," he notes slyly.

  "Immortal?!" I exclaim.

  "If you survive, of course," he says darkly. We pause, suspended in silence. Being immortal... would that be a good thing? "You would be able to live with Nico forever as a human instead of being converted to a werewolf," he adds softly, "which means that you can have children. Crossbreeds, of course, but still..."

  "Children? Oh no, we won't..."

  "That's what you think," he smiles evilly, plopping down in one of the chairs. I carry the book with me, sitting in the one opposite him.

  "Why can't two werewolves have children?" I wonder.

  "Because our population would grow too large, obviously. We are all immortal, so every conversion must be approved by the council. Crossbreeds, however, are more loosely monitored because they are not immortal, with an average lifespan of around two hundred years," he lazily kicks his feet onto the coffee table.

  "Why did you show me the prophecy?" I finally ask, looking clearly into his eyes, "why are you telling me all this?" Nico would never tell me what he is saying now.

  "Because you asked," he smiles, "and even though curiosity kills the cat, it is better to let the cat know instead of keeping it wondering forever."

  We sit in silence, I watching the huge computer screen, Asher absorbed in reading.

  "I want to become one," I finally think aloud, Asher's head snapping up from the magazine, "a Spier... but Nico doesn't want me to."

  "It's not exactly Nico's choice, don't you think?" he scoffs, looking at the chandelier above us. A pause ensues, tension stretched between us, and then he speaks again. "We can do it tonight. Nico and the others are going to be at Moonlight, and the full moon is coming out today."

  "You sure got it planned out, don't you?" I narrow my eyes, and he grins.

  "I knew,
from the moment I set eyes on you, that you would want to help," he shrugs, "and I prepared accordingly."

  I think about the pitiful boy locked up in the bedroom right now, his soul swallowed by the Shifter. My father, how he looked before he drove us to death. The men on the mural, with eyes like fire. I can't just stay here and pretend like I can't do anything. I have to at least try.

  And if I die trying, so be it. I don't have too much to live for anyway.

  "I will," my voice, barely above a whisper, emits. Asher grins, and stretches out one handsome hand. I feel, suddenly, as if I am making a pact with the devil.

  A thunderclap rings through the air as my hand grasps his, rain slipping down the windows, then falling to its death.

  Betrayal

  ~ Nico ~

  "You really think I should?" I ask, peering into Jake's deadly serious eyes.

  "Well, we don't want your fans to boycott the club just because you aren't there anymore," he replies plainly, "this way, you can deal with them yourself."

  "Fine," I huff, "but you better not auction me off in secret while I'm there. I know you... you'll do anything for a bit of extra cash." Jake is our moneyman, business-like with a wild side. I have absolutely no idea why the girls like him. Obviously they can tell that the green wads of paper in their hands appeal more to him than they do.

  "Don't worry, I'm not inhuman enough to do that... but that's a great thought though. Imagine! We'd make 100,000 bucks off you for your last auction. They'd all be bidding like crazy," Jake dreamily says, brushing a hand through his short, crystal white hair.

  Without another word, I storm out of the kitchen, wanting to avoid one of Jake's devious schemes. It's not like I could pull another "boyfriend of the week" package anyway. Everything has changed since I met Ella.

  I can barely remember the Nico from a couple days ago who could enchant any girl at all, all the while thinking that it was just a game. I was a true player then, toying with people's feelings, making them believe I cared. My behavior was a lot lazier, my existence almost meaningless. I was a lot meaner too, cutting off all contact with my bewitched clients when I gained another one.

  How can mating change me so much?

  Even if I want to morph back into my old self, the part of me that wouldn't give Ella a second glance, I can't. Every touch that she gives sets my heart on fire, making my skin tingle. I can almost feel her emotions, like a throb in my chest. Every part of me longs to be by her side, to smell that truly intoxicating fragrance that has been there since the beginning.

  Even the others have admitted her smell is above ordinary, although I'm sure it is heightened around me. With this added enchantment, Ella is so irresistible that her looks aren't necessary. Just one word, one step closer so her smell is magnified, attracts me greatly. Her appearance doesn't matter now, so unlike the hundreds I have dated in my lifespan.

  Not that her appearance is as horrible as she thinks it is. What really makes her seem so ugly is when she is sucked of self-confidence, convinced she is hideous. But if she straightens her back, tilts up her head, wears a little bit more fashionable clothing and smiles, then she isn't ugly at all. Maybe that's just a lovesick guy's opinion, but to me, it's absolutely true.

  I walk down the hallway, passing by Ella's room and almost stopping. Ella doesn't even seem grateful that I am being patient for her. She can tell I'm her true mate for life, and I know she is attracted to me. How couldn't she? The mating practically forces you to fall under the other's spell, Ella fighting valiantly but failing. I can see it in her eyes, the way she wants me. So why is she objecting every step of the way? Am I really that bad?

  I suppose I am so detestable that she cannot allow me even a single kiss. Ella can really bring down a guy's ego.

  I slip into my room, walking to the closet and swinging it open. A plethora of stylish suits all hang, available whenever I want to be fancy. The girls like it better if I wear a suit, and it will be best to wear one anyway when we go. Unless they suddenly decide to throw eggs at me or something. I don't know if something like that could ever get out.

  Picking a dark gray one that accentuates the color of my hair and eyes, I tug it over my skin. It takes less than a minute to put on with my speed, my hands blurring.

  A stupid idea comes to mind, and I walk to the door connecting my room and Ella's. "Hey Ella?" I call, "you okay?"

  There is a silence, a long one that stretches seemingly forever. "I'm... fine," a whisper barely louder than a sharp intake of breath emits.

  "Will you come with us to Moonlight?" I invite, imagining the scenario. They would throw everything they got at Ella, shifting their hate from me to her. Especially since her appearance is lacking a little. However, I really want her by my side, to be close to the sweet smell that attacks my senses.

  "I think I'll pass," her shaky voice replies, and I go sit on my bed. I slide my feet on it, my head on the pillow, and stare at the ceiling. The slow ticks of the clock as the second hand moves ring through my head, a beat I can't get out of my mind.

  "Nico!" Wes calls, "it's time to go already!" I shoot out of bed, slinging the door open. Suddenly wary, I troop back in, checking my hair in the mirror. A stray piece is sticking up, my hairbrush quickly attacking it. Now it is perfect.

  Being flawless is essential when I am going to a place like this.

  Wes, Jake, and a very depressed-looking Yi stand by our Mercedes, waiting anxiously for me. "Where's Asher?" I wonder aloud. It's not an auction week, so Asher is not required to come, but he usually goes anyways. He seems to enjoy time at the club, turning into a devastatingly handsome devil whenever he walks through those glass doors. We all do, for we know the more flirtatious we seem, the more bucks those ladies will cough up.

  "He's in his room," Jake lazily answers, "probably obsessing over the stock market again." Asher is a huge stock market guy. He is a master of figuring out which will skyrocket and which will plummet.

  "Ella doesn't want to go?" Wes questions innocently.

  "No, she wants to go get pelted by wine glasses and whatever else they can get their hands on," I reply sarcastically. Of course she would not want to go. She's not exactly a social butterfly. I was just stupid enough to ask her.

  All four of us shuffle inside the luxurious and incredibly spacious Mercedes, Jake in the front seat with Wes beside him, then Yi and I in the back. I, at times like this, always feel like a celebrity, knowing that we are going to a place where people think us to be famous. I am so used to anonymity throughout the week, except on our dates, that it always feels like a splash of frighteningly cold water when we take the first steps out of our Mercedes into a sea of wealthy fans.

  The car gives a low, healthy growl, and then starts the smooth ride over to the club. For some reason, I have a feeling that I am like a pig being led to the slaughter. I probably won't get out of the club tonight without a few scrapes, bruises, and red tomato splotches. If someone's feeling particularly spiteful, I imagine they might pour their highly expensive drink on my head.

  I'm looking forward to ending my highly successful career, though. Repeat customers, Meryl especially, have been kind of... possessive, lately. I have tried explaining to them that "Boyfriend of the Week" does not mean "Boyfriend of the Month" for a select few, but the meaning doesn't exactly get across to them. They almost enjoy calling me and paying the $500 fine.

  I lean my head against the tinted windows, looking into the baby blue skies. Clouds that are a deep, devastating gray are spotted across the horizon, symbolizing the dawning of a horrific thunderstorm. I have always thought of clouds as a bruise, marring the otherwise perfect sky.

  The sun is setting, rays of orange and red starting to shoot through the air. With the way this car is moving, it will be nightfall before we reach the club. I hate traveling by car; wolf form is so much easier. However, it burns so many calories, and we don't have any meat to eat when we get there... making us want to take a delicious human snack to ease our hunger. W
hich is definitely not good, especially with rich, snotty, and especially beautiful women practically throwing themselves at us.

  Yes, traveling by car is certainly safer, but painful all the same.

  Ella's smell is dangerously small, the weakest it has been in days. I find myself sniffing for it, trying to search for the quickly-vanishing scent that enchants me so deeply. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to leave her. I should have dragged her with us, forcing her to at least sit in the car. I don't like leaving Ella with Asher also... even though he's probably not going to do anything, anyways. Asher can be a hermit sometimes, staying in his room for hours doing who-knows-what.

  The lush landscape around us, filled with tall trees, prickly bushes, and many colorful flowers, fades into a concrete road, trimmed grass, and stubby buildings as we reach the edge of our territory. We own practically the entire forest, earning both privacy and a great place to hunt. Rumors swirl around the surrounding area, some of which we start ourselves, scaring most people into fearing the forest more than death itself. We're lucky Ella never heard those rumors, for then we would have a lot of explaining to do.

  The huge city looms before us after we reach the edges of the suburbs and inch along the interstate. Cars multiply, many old and beaten, trudging home from work. Suddenly, the T-word begins to develop. The word I hate more than anything.

  Traffic.

  Bumper to bumper, never ending torture erupts in the blink of an eye, the overcrowded roads stretching endlessly. Our destination seems to grow farther and farther away as we sit, unmoving.

  Ages seem to pass as Jake slowly maneuvers us through the throng of cars and trucks. Why does everyone have to use this road?! Why can't we just use our wolf form?

  Once again, I must say that I hate cars. Ella's frightful story from a few days ago only reiterates this point.

  Exactly as I predicted, the sky is a majestic, sapphire blue that is quickly morphing into a deep black by the time we reach the towering building, climbing almost fifteen stories in height. At the top is the famed Moonlight nightclub, where you get a perfect view of the beautiful moon every Saturday.