Prophecy Awakened

by Tamar Sloan

  That’s why it became her everything.

  “Why is this so important?”

  Her eyes remain on the television; her hands tighten around the wine glass.

  “You’ve learned the same lesson I did. They never stay.” Her voice is hard, small.

  And I know who she’s talking about. Why her voice speaks of inevitability. I wonder what has my mother talking. I glance at the bottle, already half-empty.

  “What did he look like?” My voice just as small, but far more hopeful.

  My mother’s eyes scan mine, brush over my hair, then sink back to her glass of wine. He looked like me?

  Her eyes flicker, her mouth turning down. “I have to look over the winter advertising campaign.”

  She turns back to the papers on her lap, effectively closing the shutters. Disappearing into her work, her equivalent of morphine.

  He looked like me!

  I head to my room. Today has been long and exhausting, and just became confusing. Caesar’s tail thumps out his welcome from the bed.

  I sit on the bed, thinking of my mother organizing the placement at Shoshoni. Realizing she’s offered to be my dealer.

  But will it be enough for the brittle cold that has infiltrated my core…for the disillusioned pieces of my mind…for the shattered shards of my heart?

  For the millions of questions that are battering my head, plaguing me every moment of every day.

  The biggest one of all never far away.

  Was it worth it?

  At the end of the day, I don’t have any answers.

  24

  Noah

  “Come on, Noah.” Dad’s booming voice carries up the stairs.

  Mitch smiles. It’s the first one I’ve seen in days.

  I jam my trainers on. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  “Nah. This one is all yours.”

  I nod. “Then it’s our turn.”

  Mitch’s smile brightens a notch. “Then it’s our turn.”

  I jog down the stairs to see Mom come out, camera in hand.

  “Really?” I practically whine.

  Dad pulls me in by the shoulder. “You know the drill, son.”

  We paste smiles on our face.

  “Say ‘I’m a Werewolf,’” she chimes.

  We echo the cue, using that false high tone people do for these moments, and a flash digitally immortalizes the moment. I wonder what caption she’d use for this one in a scrapbook.

  We head to the car. Mitch has his hands in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched. Mom’s hands are clasped beneath her chin, camera wrapped in her fingers. We climb into the car, and Mom’s voice carries through the metal door.

  “Have a good time.”

  We both lean to the side, giving a thumbs-up, and the camera flashes again. Dad reverses and turns off the driveway. We slump back in our seats, the required smiles falling away.

  We’re almost at the Glade when Dad speaks. “Kurt is coming by this evening.”

  My hand grips the seat belt at my shoulder. “He’ll want to finalize details.”

  “This is a two-pack decision.” Dad flexes his shoulders, big muscles bunching like a vice. “First we run. Then we talk.”

  I wonder if Dad needs this as much as I do.

  We walk toward the hidden path, now so full of memories. My mark heats. My healed cut aches.

  We pause at the edge of the Glade, the trees opening out with welcoming arms. With a smile Dad starts running, and shifts. And a giant, grey wolf is thundering ahead.

  Show off.

  I stand at the edge of the grassed clearing. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to change. The two times I have up until now have both been in response to Eden’s fear. But my wolf has been close to the surface. Agitated by Eden’s pain. Animal instincts wanting to tear away the obstacles that are keeping us apart.

  If only it were that simple.

  Because that obstacle would be my family.

  I start running after Dad, not really sure how this is supposed to work. As I head toward the rock, the one carved with the Precepts, I run past the ghosts of Eden and me. Standing so close, heads tilted. Her so uncertain. Me so sure.

  And I’m changing, muscles severing and reconnecting. Organs shifting and relocating. Bones grating and repositioning. I don’t know if it’s the sound or the sensation that has a shudder ripping down my spine.

  And it’s done.

  Once again, smells and sights hit me like a tidal wave. I can finally appreciate the adrenaline rush. Muscles that have been pulled tight with tension, stretch and lengthen. A powerful urge to head east pulls through them. But I know I can’t go to her.

  Instead I lower my head and follow Dad, his light grey form powering toward the trees. I push another burst of power through limbs that feel like someone put the Energizer bunny in there.

  I dart around trees, bark brushing my fur, the wind stinging my face. Dad looks over his shoulder, sees me coming, and picks up his momentum. So that’s how it is.

  I go out wide, bounding over a fallen tree. Stepping up the pace, I shoot forward, catching up. Leap after leap I close the distance between us, until we’re level, fast moving trees a blur of green and brown between us.

  Looking ahead, I see a gap. With instinctive precision, I dart through the space between a determined old tree growing diagonally from a stand of rocks. I leap, push off the granite boulder, and thump into Dad’s fur-covered muscle. He veers to the left, stepping around a wide trunk, a light growl rippling his muzzle. I streak forward. Dad drops his head, lengthening his stride. A bark escapes my lips, and I vault over a moss-covered rock. The hunter just became the huntee.

  Time flies as we rocket through the forest. Playing chase, but neither winning. Doing it just for the thrill of running and pursuing.

  We’re both panting, chests heaving, when Dad stops, his head indicating it’s time to turn back. We set up a loping stride back toward the Glade.

  All around me are the rhythms of nature: in our loping limbs crushing the litter beneath our paws, in the trumpeting of the last sandhill cranes before they head south for the winter, and in the cooling temperatures, promising a snow-covered vista in a few short weeks.

  In the deer buck standing in the meadowy opening before us, fur thickened and body fattened in anticipation of the harsh winter months.

  We both stop, dropping to our haunches. Animal instincts track his antlered head, his fawny hide outlined against brown bark and green pine, his eyes alert but not alarmed. He doesn’t know we’re here. Our noses twitch, scenting his sex, age, health. My gums water. The predator in me takes two slow, stealthy steps forward.

  The grey wolf beside me shakes his head.

  I drop to the leaf litter beneath me. He’s right. I’m not hungry. It would be a waste. Done purely, selfishly for the joy of the hunt.

  We both stand, and the buck’s head shoots up, fear blatant in his wide eyes and tense body. In a flash he leaps between the trees, and is gone.

  Dad walks forward, his big body brushing past mine, his head nodding once.

  We’re almost back at the Glade when Dad stops. I come up beside him, wondering why. He looks at me, those matching blue eyes holding mine. He takes a deep breath in, that massive chest drawing out, filling to capacity.

  And he throws back his head, a victorious howl echoing through the trees. Birds of all colors flap up into the air, joining the notes he has thrown into the sky.

  I join him. The sound wells up from deep within my chest, swirling up my throat, spilling from my lips. This moment, its significance, its poignancy, thrust into the yowling notes. Because this moment, the one I’ve always been waiting for, now means I can’t have what my heart wants most. The two sounds mingle and twine, carrying up to the heavens.

  A crack echoes through the trees.

  And my father drops, morphing back to human form.

  As a wolf I run toward him, as a boy I kneel beside him.

  And try to unders
tand the crimson stain expanding across his shirt.

  25

  Eden

  I pull my notepad closer on my lap, turning the page of the text sitting on the leather lounge. Caesar rearranges himself on my other side, his heated body next to my leg. The only part of me that’s warm.

  Studying alone on a Wednesday, again. I don’t even know why I’ve kept up this painful routine, with memories fluttering around like ghostly pieces of ash, drawing my attention like a car wreck. You don’t want to look. But you can’t look away.

  I rub my pounding temples. It feels like I’ve been studying for hours. Not sitting in front of a blank notepad for twenty minutes.

  Caesar’s head shoots up, eyes and ears alert, and a knock sounds at the door. I look at him, brow furrowed. We’re both wondering who’s on the other side.

  It can’t be Jenny, Tony’s wife; she already dropped off cookies earlier. I thanked her, not really sure what do with them. They ended up in the fridge, the white chocolate chunks beginning to melt in the furnace-like heating I’ve turned up.

  And it’s not Tony; he stopped by with cheesecake. I thanked him too, and put it in the fridge beside the cookies.

  Caesar leaps up and heads to the door, me trailing behind. I open it, and take a step back. “Tara?”

  “It’s Wednesday night.” She smiles, although her arms curl around herself, rubbing her upper arms.

  The door stays in my hand. This is the girl who will bond with Noah. “I’m not very good company at the moment.”

  “I don’t need to talk. Just a break.” She holds up a yellow and red packet, eyes pleading. “And I brought popcorn.”

  I push the door open for the girl who bailed me out on my first day of school. Who accepted me, no questions asked. Who believed Noah and I were possible.

  Tara lets out a breath. “Thanks.”

  We head into the lounge and Tara sits on the sofa she shared with Mitch. She looks at the space beside her, then slowly places her books there, her shoulders slumping even farther.

  “So, how have you been?”

  I almost choke on the emotions welling up. I scramble for something normal. “I’ve started some hours at the Shoshoni Vet Center.”

  “Cool. You really have a way with animals.”

  My pen pauses. What has Noah told her? “You think so?”

  “Definitely. Just look at the bond you have with Caesar.”

  Relief relaxes my grip.

  “Even humans are drawn to you.”

  A sliver of warmth snakes into my heart. It feels so out of place, it gives me goose bumps. “Tara, you could make the Grinch feel good.”

  “Just calling it the way it is.” She pulls out her math text. “All ready for midterms?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m finding it a little hard to concentrate at the moment.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She takes her notepad, then stares at it. Echoing my own stance from just minutes ago.

  “What do you do during the day?”

  “I get around.” I hedge. “You?”

  “Art room.”

  “I thought so.”

  We continue to skim the surface of our pain. “Life is pretty awful at the moment.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Suddenly Tara jumps in, from the highest springboard she can find. “How do I do it, Eden?” Her hazel eyes are torn, tortured. “If you were me, what would you do?”

  I sit back into the couch. What would I do? If she bonds with Noah, what sort of life would she lead? Living every day with him as her mate, his twin, the one she loves, never far away. If she doesn’t, she’d be banished from her pack. Never to see the family she loves, the pack she needs.

  A little voice whispers somewhere in recesses of my mind. If she didn’t, Noah would be free again.

  “Can you unbond?”

  “It happens, but it’s rare. The pair must stand before the pack, and their Alphas, and renounce each other.” Tara’s hands drop. “It would look like we’re rejecting the other pack.”

  Leaving the alliance shaky at best.

  “Not an option then.”

  “Not an option.” Tara’s echo drops like a dead weight.

  I let out a quiet breath. “Is there really a choice?”

  Her hands come to her face, pushing backward into her hair. “This is so messed up. Do you know what one of the worst things is?”

  I look at her.

  “I hate my dad for doing this to us. For breaking up so many things, just to make something else.”

  I think of my own mother. “I wonder if they know. What they’re saying when they put something else before you.”

  Tara’s lips tip up in a watery attempt at a smile. “I’m glad I came, Eden.”

  My hand rubs down Caesar’s spine. “I’m not sure I should have.”

  Tara’s brow furrows, confused. I watch her figure out what I’m saying. If I had never come…because I was the spark that started all of this. This chain reaction.

  As realization dawns Tara starts shaking her head. “It’s not your fault, Eden. Noah was meant to be Alpha. Mitch hated the idea of taking it from him.”

  I wish I could believe her.

  Tara flops back onto the lounge. “It’s next week.”

  My heart constricts. So soon.

  “On the full moon. So clichéd. We don’t even do it at night.”

  And I know I won’t be friends with Tara anymore. Goosebumps spread across my skin like a rash. School will be unbearable.

  Tara brushes her deep red hair back from her face. “We could have been besties,” she says sadly.

  I could have had a bestie?

  “That would have been pretty cool.” My tone echoes hers.

  Tara straightens in her seat, reaching for her book. “We should really get our study pants on.”

  I like the way she thinks. I grab the matching text, gaze flicking over the tightly jammed numbers. “How do you think Pascal came up with his triangle?”

  “My theory is he probably sneezed, spilled his ink well, and then his cat tracked it across his desk.”

  I feel my chest lighten a little. “And voila! We now have binomial coefficients to torture many generations to come.”

  “Exactly.”

  And even though we haven’t found any answers, the light-hearted joking is enough to lessen the load, enough for us to focus on the study we have to do. We bend our heads over our texts, and pens begin scrawling across notepads.

  I’m just wondering if I should pull out the cookies, when I freeze.

  My head shoots up. “Noah.”

  Tara glances up at me, her face changing from confusion to concern when she registers my expression.

  I throw the text on the sofa. “Something’s happened. We need to go. Now.”

  “What? What’s going on Eden?”

  My stomach, abdomen, entire chest cavity is roiling and heaving, an awful mix of fear and despair churning through them. And I know they’re not mine.

  I head to the door, grabbing the car keys, a confused Tara following. She must have picked up on my panic because she jumps into the passenger seat, quiet.

  I drive the fastest I’ve ever driven in my life. Dangerously and obnoxiously. I cut off a slow-moving van on the highway, not having time to make room. It sounds its horn long and hard.

  “Go suck a duck!” Tara calls from the window, then falls back into the leather seat. “Some people have no idea.”

  We arrive at the Phelan house, and my seat belt is undone before the car stops, my door open before I turn off the engine. I rush up to the front door, but pause.

  “What?” Tara’s voice is getting panicky.

  “I think they’re inside.” But Noah is not.

  Tara opens the door, scrambling inside. “Mitch?” Her voice carries into the house.

  I turn, and follow the veranda, out to the backyard.

  I find Noah sitting on a timber bench, shoulders curved down, head in
his hands. I walk over and stand before him. He looks up at me, eyes full of shock and fear and hurt. Without a thought to the shattering pain of the past weeks, I fall to my knees in front of him. Wordlessly, he lifts his arms and I slide between his legs, my arms moving around his waist. He pulls me against him, laying his cheek on my head.

  We fit together with the inevitability of two magnets connecting. As natural as two halves reuniting, feeling like the universe has realigned to its rightful place.

  An instant warmth radiates from the point where my head touches his chest. Gosh, I missed that warmth.

  He breathes in a deep, deep sigh. “Dad and I went for a run. It was amazing.”

  I can almost see the images, a large, white wolf and his larger, grey counterpart, paws thundering through the Reserve. Running, leaping, howling. I feel Noah’s exhilaration at finally being able to roam with his father. As a wolf. As the Alpha heir.

  My arms tighten around his waist, and the warmth pulsating behind my ear becomes a throbbing furnace. Spilling its heat down my spine, through my body.

  “We were heading back to the Glade. We were both done. I heard it, and then he dropped.”

  “Heard it?” I whisper.

  “A shot, Eden. He was shot.”

  I pull him even closer, spurring another burst of heat through my scalp. “Another ricochet?”

  “Not this time. It went straight through his chest.”

  “Noah.”

  I lean back and look up at him. At this boy who is broken and hurting. At this boy whose pain is overflowing in steady trickles down his cheeks. At this boy who has shown me more light, hope, and joy than I ever imagined.

  I tuck my head back in, holding him tight. The point where my head touches his chest is generating so much heat that it’s winding and spiraling around us. I feel like it should be glowing, luminescent with the energy it’s producing. Tangible heat that wraps us in warm arms.