by J. R. King
He was halfway to the school when movement drew his eye towards the garden. He couldn’t be sure if he’d seen someone disappear behind that hedge, or if it was just his imagination. Curiosity urged him towards the thick green bushes, concealing behind their walls beds of violet and fuchsia and red. There was no one on the benches, and not a single person seated at the fountain. He scratched his eyebrow curiously, wondering what it was he kept expecting to find.
The sounds of the fountain began to fade, replaced by voices as he neared the cafeteria. They were just starting to serve breakfast, and many of the students looked equal parts hungry and haggard. He stepped through the glass doors, moving without direction through the half-empty hall. A boy veered towards him from the lunch line, and Christian narrowly avoided his tray, scowling over his shoulder at him. When he did, he noticed Kaleb slinking in through the back. Christian ducked into the hallway, hoping against hope to avoid that awkward conversation. It wasn’t until he noticed the brunette trailing him up the staircase that he began to grow suspicious.
Christian followed the spiral up to the second floor, taking an unexpected turn into the gifted section of the library. He’d never seen it so dead, but honestly, the quiet was a welcomed reprieve. And the good news was that it seemed he’d lost Kaleb; if he was even following him at all.
He sat on the floor, pressing his spine into one of the shelves. Time passed with little movement, leaving him alone with his thoughts. They were thoughts that made him realize why he’d come here in the first place. Aria…
Christian closed his eyes, throwing his head back against the shelf. A single book crashed to the floor, pages fluttering in the absent space. He ignored it for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth before reaching for the worn leather. It didn’t look like a book Vardel would carry. It didn’t look like a book at all, really. The cover was wrapped with a soft, thin strap, and covered in a fine layer of dust. He craned his neck to look up at the shelf. It didn’t even look like anything was missing. The first page stuck to the second and third, and he peeled them gently apart to stare at the beginning of the passage.
It has been half a moon, at least, since the leaves have fallen. She grows weaker by the day, and yet I cannot bear to depart my service. For I have been tending the Garden most my life. In my solace by the shore, I ask, how has this come to pass? Blame lies in the bold dreams of dogs and men, no doubt. They arrived with the rising sun, a swell of settlers in search of new harbor. Among them, a visiting magister I not dare turn away, a spry sort of character with plenty of utopian stories to tell, and a heavy handed fellow with the right kind of kin. All are as culpable as the next in my despair. Quiet were they who haunted the Garden, but whispers of deceit moved with the wind. It wasn’t long ago that I watched the village flourish, people pleased by goods and gold. My eyes were blinded by beauty. By a fair maiden brought to me by the sea. I welcomed her into my home, walked with her below my beloved tree. Vivian, my angel. She was never truly mine. My heart longed while hers came to belong to another. One who took her like a flame in the night. Only then, did secrets reach my door, along with news of marriage. Hatred and jealousy overtook me, and I fear in my haste I helped to destroy all that which I had sworn to protect. I cannot condone their actions, no more than I can excuse the heinous deeds I have committed. My spirit will not rest, I fear. As the Garden perishes, I feel my own flame flickering with it. But there’s little left of me, now. Too much, in the forms of anger and hatred, have left. Too much I gave in sowing the punishment for their betrayals. Revenge will be my dying breath.
The faint sound of footsteps reached his ear, and Christian looked up from the flowing cursive. The movement seemed intentional and distinct. And he waited patiently from his seat on the floor, perking up when a pair of legs appeared from around one of the shelves. “You,” he said.
Kaleb smiled at him impishly, stilling near the aisle’s end. “And here I thought you’d ducked in here just to avoid me.”
Christian set the journal down. “That’s what happens when you follow people,” he said.
“Why, I wonder, have you been running away?” Kaleb said. He moved into the space, testing limits neither of them knew were there. His presence was clearly making Christian unsettled. “Problem?”
Christian frowned. “You’re a bit of a rough kisser,” he said.
“And you’re somewhat of a mystery. Not what I’d expected in the least. But if I’m to be sure, I’ll need more than just a little taste. What do you say? You don’t seem all that opposed.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Kaleb closed the gap, crouching in front of him on the floor. “I’m sure it was there. The spice of something… wild in your veins.” Before Christian could question him further, Kaleb made a split second decision. He bared eager fangs to the boy, retracting them just as quickly.
Christian shoved Kaleb back against the bookcase, his instinct to run thwarted by his own morbid sense of curiosity. He used the shelves at his back to climb to his feet. Kaleb glared at him from where he sat hunched on the ground, strands of hair covering most of his face. “Don’t look at me like that and maybe I’ll offer you a hand up.”
“I’d prefer answers,” Kaleb said.
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to be making demands.” He slipped a hand into his pocket. Eyeing Kaleb with scrutiny, he watched as long fingers pushed through waist length hair. Christian placed his fear aside, kneeling down in front of him. “I might know what you’re going to ask,” he said. “But I also know I don’t have the answers.” He sighed, falling back into his spot on the floor. He grabbed the leather bound book, fidgeting with it in the silence.
“Explain it to me,” Kaleb said, leaning against his knees.
“Explain what? You’re looking at a guy who just found out the name of his mother this morning. I don’t know anything.”
Kaleb’s mouth spread into a grin. He took in his features in the sunlight, picking up on all the little similarities there were to see. “What do you want to bet I know more about you than you do?” he said. Christian gave him a skeptical stare, and Kaleb leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankle. “You’re new.”
“That’s kind of vague, don’t you think?”
“A new, fledgling wolf who’s likely only changed a handful of times. Let me guess, you don’t know anything about what you are?”
Christian squinted. “…Keep going.”
“You’re enamored with the redhead,” Kaleb said.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
He laughed. “It has to do with a lot.”
Silence echoed around the room, the shadow of a bird fluttering quickly across their faces. Christian eyed the carpeting as Kaleb spoke, feeling like the answers might be just as confusing as the questions.
“The trait,” Kaleb said. “It comes from your mother.” He took pleasure in the confounded set to Christian’s features. “Would you like to know who she is?” he asked. “Would you like to know who you are?”
Christian leaned back, feeling the shelves bite into his shoulder. “If you know so much, what’s my mother’s name?”
“Navarro.”
The tension melted from Christian face. “You’re insane.”
“Don’t believe me? Why don’t you check the yearbook?”
Christian licked his lips. “You’re on,” he said.
The yearbooks were located in the main area of the library, a few aisles from the entrance. They found the alumni section and started skimming through the tomes. Some dated all the way back to the 1930s, and not all of them were in order.
“So what do I get after I prove that you’re full of it?”
“If it helps,” Kaleb said, “I already know what I’d like.”
Christian scoffed, rolling his eyes. He plucked the book in question from the shelf, making sure to take his time. The first few pages lent themselves nicely to familiarizing him with the times. T
he cars were almost as atrocious as the hairdos, and some of the teachers, he realized, hadn’t changed much over the years. He finally reached the senior photos, flipping quickly to the H’s. Christian almost couldn’t believe it. And yet there it was, right near the top. Joseph Hayes. His eyes skimmed to the photo. Somehow, he was surprised to find the image of a young man staring back. He was little more than a boy with a perfect smile, but the resemblance was notably uncanny.
“Hurry it up,” Kaleb said. “We haven’t got all day.”
Christian flipped through the next few pages, stopping just shy of the N’s. “I think I know how you figured out what I am,” he said. “But before we get to the big reveal, why don’t you explain how you came to this odd little conclusion?”
“That you’re a Navarro?” Kaleb smirked. He watched Christian give a gentle nod, hand still hovering over the pages. “It’s just a guess. I’ve overheard a smattering of conversations. And I’ve had some experience before, piecing together people’s sordid affairs.”
“That still doesn’t explain it.”
Kaleb sighed. “I know what you are because of last night’s little game. You’re new. You haven’t fully come into yourself yet. That’s why the very smell of you doesn’t drive me mad. It’s also why I could only tell what you were when your blood passed over my tongue. I could taste it.” He paused, regarding Christian carefully and trying to gauge how much to divulge. “I took a stab by saying you were completely in the dark. Obviously, your newfound brother doesn’t share the same trait as you. After you confirmed that, it was easy enough to surmount that what you are was something you inherited from her.”
Christian couldn’t help still being dissatisfied with Kaleb’s explanation. “But why the crazy jump to, I’m a Navarro? I just don’t see how you could have come to that conclusion.”
The librarian swept past their aisle in a soft shuffle of clothes. They waited quietly until she was out of earshot.
Kaleb spoke then. “You’re chasing after a girl who’s cursed to fall in love, with a Navarro. Every time I see you, you two are together.” Kaleb finally grew impatient, tearing the book out of his hands. The pages complained loudly as he flipped them without care. He surrendered the book to Christian again once he’d found what they’d been looking for. “Donna Navarro was a werewolf,” he said, keeping his voice low. “And so are you.”
The glossy paper shone under the fluorescent lights. Christian gazed uncertainly at the page, not wanting Kaleb to be right, and fearing even more that he was wrong. He’d never been this close to knowing where he’d come from before, and oddly, he had never been more terrified. The neat list of names cut quickly to the one he’d been expecting to find, and he followed the row of photographs to the one listed as hers. A blonde haired, blue eyed beauty stared back at him, smiling sincerely above a quote about growing older but not growing up. His eyes flicked over her face a dozen times, wanting, but not finding any familiarity there. “I don’t look anything like her…”
“No?” Kaleb said. “You do look a good deal like Rome.”
Christian glowered at him above the yearbook. Had he been in a better mood, he might have demanded that he take that back. He would have, if he thought he was actually wrong.
“You’re in love with the same girl, you have the same mother… maybe you should consider what else you might have in common.” Kaleb turned, leaving him to his thoughts as he walked unhurriedly towards the exit. He called contentedly over his shoulder before disappearing from sight, “Perhaps this brother won’t be as clueless as the last.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Where We Began
Birds chirped happily overhead as they flitted through the clear September sky. Ariahna opened her eyes, blinking at tall blades of grass brushing gently against her nose. The events from the night before nearly forgotten, she wondered briefly how she had gotten there. Soft rays of sunshine shone through the branches, lighting the spaces in between. She found herself staring up at the towering tree and out at the glistening lake. A chill autumn air raced by, and she shivered, huddling into the warmth at her back. An arm tightened around her waist, and Aria smiled. “Good morning,” she whispered.
“Morning,” he said with a yawn.
She sat up stiffly, shaking loose leaves from her wild curls. Rome was curled up behind her, clothed in nothing but a well-worn pair of jeans. She turned to face him, burying her face against his chest. “Did you leave sometime last night?”
“Just for a moment,” he said.
The limbs of the tree arched upwards into the mist below the clouds, creaking softly as the smaller ones swayed this way and that. She eyed the giant trunk, taking in the weathered state of its bark. It was little more than a corpse, and yet the dormant thrum of magic was unmistakable, pulsing gently at its core.
“How did you know it was me?” she said.
“I didn’t. It’s always been you though, hasn’t it?”
“I can’t believe you’d do something so reckless.”
Rome smiled at her chastising tone. “I wanted you to know. Whether or not you knew already was irrelevant. It was more important to me that I didn’t lose the opportunity to tell you myself. How else could I ever expect you to trust me? There have already been too many lies.”
Aria shook her head, eyes falling to rest on his collarbone. She gazed up at him a moment later, trying to hold on to something which felt so fleeting. “I wanted you to know, too,” she said.
“I know,” he whispered.
She sat up again, this time turning her back to him. Ariahna could feel Rome move to join her, the warmth of his presence at her side. “We’re not the same. I know you know it.” Ariahna looked back at him longingly. “Do you ever wonder if we really are perfect for each other, or if it’s just close enough that we can’t tell the difference? And what if it’s that much more apparent, without the curse there to push us along?”
“It’s not about being the same,” he said. “In each moment, all we can do is choose. And I’ll never stop choosing you. It’s that simple.” Rome drew her into a slow kiss, easing them back in the grass. They were removing limitations and boundaries; finding out what it was they wanted, what it meant to be vulnerable. “I love you,” he breathed.
Ariahna stilled. She couldn’t escape the sincerity in his eyes. “I love you too,” she said. She smiled at the freedom found in those words, listening to the sounds of rippling water and the creak of much smaller trees in the wind. They settled comfortably in the grass, talking quietly as the morning drifted into afternoon. Without meaning to, they had ended up on their backs, watching the clouds move listlessly across the sky.
“What do you think your happiest memory is?” Rome said.
Ariahna took a moment to think about it, weighing a few early instances in her mind. A smile lit up her face when she came to a particular one. “I was picking daffodils with my mother in her garden. She grew all kinds of flowers, but daffodils were her favorite. She always kept big bouquets of them around the house. I realized how much she loved them, and it was something that I wanted to share in with her. So one afternoon, we went out trimming armfuls of them together. On the way back up to the house she let me scatter some along the path. It was the first time I’d ever helped her. I remember feeling so important.” Her tone was quiet and filled with things unspoken. “I know what you did for me that night,” she said suddenly. “Christian and I, we’d be a lot worse off if it hadn’t been for you.”
Rome didn’t want to think about that. He had a shady image of Richard sneaking into a hospital room in his mind. No one deserved that. Not even the guy who’d attacked them. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“I think that’s an understatement.”
Rome leaned over on his side, hovering above those delicate green eyes. He couldn’t help but notice every detail (the soft hints of yellow sparkling in the light). She drew a breath as his fingers caressed the side of her face. It
was likely that Ariahna knew what was coming before he did. Their lips met slowly. “You’re perfect,” he said.
“If I am, then it’s only in your eyes. And I love you all the more for seeing me that way.”
Rome smiled before risking another kiss. He trailed a few along her jaw, lips brushing over her ear. “You’re perfect for me.”
Aria’s cheeks filled with color. She had to avert her gaze to avoid the laugh sparkling in his. “There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.”
“We’ve got time,” he said. “There’s no need to rush.”
She exhaled, features twisting into a frown.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “I can guarantee you it won’t change my mind. I’ve met your father already. And I know who you are, if not exactly what you are. So whatever else you’re worrying about, it doesn’t matter.” He pressed his lips against her neck, trailing gentle kisses down to her collarbone. His fingers smoothed over the curve of her waist as the tall grass continued to sway around them.
“Promise me we’re going to beat this thing,” she said.
Rome smiled at her. “I feel like we already have.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Road’s Led Us Here
The stairwell was empty. It was early still, and the eerie silence of a large space unoccupied filled the halls. If Rome could have chosen, Ariahna’s father wouldn’t be returning to Vardel today. In fact, if it had been up to him, they wouldn’t be here at all anymore. Running was too seductive a temptation. But their problems weren’t going to disappear if they just closed their eyes and pretended they weren’t there. They’d catch up to them eventually. Things like that always did.