by Tara Brown
“Show your brothers what you saw.”
“It will confirm the wolves were against us.”
Miles stopped. His face was pinched, like he was in pain. He spoke with a wince, “I can’t ask you to only show them what your brother did, they too lost nearly a hundred and sixty years. But I can ask that you hold back the rest of the story until you have to tell them that part. Your father is going to start a war. He is going to do things that won’t help either side.”
A spark of anger lit in Briton. “The wolves started this. They did something to make this all happen. Why am I back here? Why did Jamie take me to see my parents? What manipulations am I part of?”
Miles smiled but it looked bitter. “I don’t know the answer to that. You need his blood to see his side.”
Briton glanced at the fading light of the sun. “I need to go. The Halloween party starts soon. It’s my last night with her.” He walked Miles back to Betsy’s house. She was waiting on the porch when they got there.
“Good evening, Briton. How are you?”
He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Well, thank you. Take care of this old wind bag for me.”
She winked. “You always seem to get more wind out of him than I do.”
Briton hugged Miles. “Consider yourself lucky.”
Miles swatted at him. “Off you go, lad.”
He waved at them both and started towards her house. His head was filled with the haunted image from the past and the horrid truths that went with them. He couldn’t believe his life had changed so much in ten days.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liv
The dress was tight, too tight. I felt bloated and gross. Liz walked into the room, her silver eyes shining with worry. “You look so pretty,” she said.
She looked pretty. I turned and smiled. “It’s the dress. You can’t go wrong with a small-town thrift store for barn-dance dresses.” In actuality, Judith had bought it online, but I didn’t want to seem like a spoilt brat. It was a great dress and the cowgirl boots fit perfectly.
Liz was in a grey sweater dress and boots. It made her eyes stand out. Her dark hair was glossy and her makeup was softer than normal.
I, however, was still sweaty and feeling like death. At least my black dress suited my mood. The design of the lace in the back made a huge skull across my entire back. It was sheer and evil looking. My hair was in a high ponytail, and I had large hoop earrings on.
It was perfect for the mood I was in—Judith was good.
“We ready then?”
I shook my head, feeling sick but knowing she needed to understand everything. “I just want to tell you what’s been going on.”
Her eyes shone more as words stumbled from her lips, “I know. My mom told me everything.”
I winced at the everything.
Liz walked to me, opening her arms and wrapping them around me. “I am so sorry this is happening to you.”
I fought my tears but relaxed into the embrace. “It’s happening to us both.”
Liz pulled back, giving a smile that didn’t match the sadness in her eyes. “At least we have each other.” She held her hand out and we walked out of the room together.
Briton was standing at the bottom of the stairs when we got to the stairwell. I instantly felt myself dread being near him. It was worse than any pain I had endured yet. My heart was his but it betrayed me. I felt Liz tighten. What was he even doing in my house?
“It’s okay. Your dad is fine with me being here. He knows everything.” Briton put his hands up.
My father was standing in the hallway near Briton. He didn’t look okay but he smiled. “You girls look wonderful.”
“Thanks, Dad. We’ll be home later.”
The look in his eyes spoke great lengths of his discomfort and worry. But Judith nodded and held his hand. “Have fun. We’ll have the phones nearby in case you need a ride.” All the warnings and advice and precautions were in that sentence.
Briton offered me his arm as I got to the bottom of the stairs. “I will be there for her to the end.”
Judith’s eyes glistened and her jaw set.
I didn’t know what that meant. Was she sad I was going out with Briton, or did she hurt for us and our predicament?
We walked out into the cool night air as a group of trick-or-treaters came rushing at the door.
I left my parents to deal with that, waving backwards as we left the yard. Liz stopped when we were on the road. “I need you to know, I remember everything.”
Briton winced.
She closed her eyes, trembling again in his presence. “I know why you did it and I don’t blame you. My mom told me who and what you are, to each other. I’m sorry for you both.”
I pressed my lips together, hating that everyone knew we couldn’t be together.
Briton pressed his lips into my head, laying them there for far longer than it took to kiss. He pulled back and sighed. “I am so sorry for what I did to you, Liz. I can never ask for your forgiveness.”
“You have it.”
He nodded. “Thank you.” He ran his hands along the bare lace on my back. It gave me chills, the good kind. I snuggled into him, suddenly able to reach my heart again. I looked up at the moon. It was half full. I was running out of time. I could feel its effect on me, but at last I could feel again.
When we started walking again, Briton whispered, “Would you two come with me to see Liz’s mom quickly before the party?”
I nodded. Liz looked apprehensive like she might have an idea as to what he was planning. My wolf brain instantly went for the negative, like he would murder us there.
I pushed it away.
When we got to the house, she was waiting for us. She smiled softly, giving me a look like I should know the meaning of the visit.
The house was lit up with candles; they were everywhere, pulling the air from our very mouths. It made it stuffy and stink of wax.
“Have a seat at the table. Palms in, face up.”
Briton and Liz sat and did as she asked without hesitation. I was more nervous. It felt like a trap.
I sat after a second and placed my hands on the table. She sat in the fourth chair and pulled out a long silver needle like I had never seen in my life, from a long black box. I pulled my hands back instantly. She laughed. “I will never hurt you, Liv. You must know that. I am bound by the rule, ‘Do what ye will, but harm none.’ I take it very seriously.”
Liz rolled her silver eyes at me. “Stop being such a baby.”
“What about the egg sandwiches?” I scowled and slid my hands back towards the middle. Briton chuckled.
“That’s a problem I have. When I feel something, I put it in the food. I was listening to a stand-up comedian when I was making them.” She pricked two of his fingers, Liz’s and her own. None of them even winced. I leaned forward more so she could prick mine. I, of course, winced but so did Briton when my blood filled the air.
She took our fingers and placed them so they touched the person next to us, blood to blood. It was not very sanitary. She closed her eyes. I didn’t want to close mine, but they shut on their own.
She said something, and I couldn’t smell the candles anymore.
I was lost in the fog.
I heard a scream, a man fell to the ground next to me. He was massive and covered in furs. His blood drained onto the field next to me. More screams filled the fog.
I tried to reach to get the bloody fingers into my grasp, but I was alone. Briton and Liz and her mom were gone. I was holding nothing but my own hand.
Another man screamed as a spear cut through his middle. I heard the juices of his body gush against the metal tip. It made me gag.
A woman screamed.
I ran toward her scream. She sounded like someone I knew.
Maybe it was Liz.
I ran past a man who was frozen, mid-throw. His spear still touching his fingertips, though he didn’t hold it. It too was frozen mid-air.
The wom
an screamed again.
I ran, tripping over the frozen dead and dodging the men still standing but not moving. Their faces locked in a fierce battle cry.
I stumbled blindly through the field of dead and frozen people, sobs pouring from my parted lips into the cold, thick fog.
Sobbing took the place of the screaming.
When I reached the crying woman, I was stunned still.
It was Liz, and yet it wasn’t and somehow I knew her, even in this form. Her dark hair was braided and tied up. Her face was tear stained and filthy. Her beauty was masked by sorrow and agony. Her silver eyes leaked silver tears as she cried over two bodies, also frozen to the ground. A blonde girl and a dark-haired man. She clung to them.
Suddenly a rage filled her. She screamed again, but this time it made me jump back slightly.
She turned the two dead people over, shocking me even more. The girl was me, and yet not. She was dead on the ground next to a man identical to Briton. Their filthy hands frozen in their last act, gripping to one another. They were a version of us, but like Clan of the Cave Bear meets Masterpiece Theatre.
She screamed again, making the earth shift.
I stumbled to the right, regaining my balance. Her thin arms flew to the air, as if she were calling down the thunder. She screamed words I didn’t know but I suddenly recalled. She called upon a curse. A curse to teach them that for every life they take, they kill themselves inside. They must learn to suffer hardship until the two who lay on the ground dead may be reunited in love. She wished they would survive by the death of goodness and their souls would rot inside of them.
She rocked and chanted and suddenly the men around me began to thaw. She took a dagger from the body of the dark-haired man who looked like Briton but lay on the ground dead. She stabbed it into his chest and screamed something. Half of the field of men fell to the ground, dropping their weapons and clutching their writhing bodies. Screams and curses tore from their lips. She pulled the dagger and stabbed it into the chest of the girl who looked like me. I screamed in pain as a fiery hell drove itself into my chest too. The remaining half of the men fell, joining the others in screams and crippling pain. Bones broke, bodies suffered horrendous acts of violence. She pulled the dagger, stopping the pain in my chest instantly.
She positioned the dagger at her own chest, chanted one last thing, and drove the blade into her heart. She screamed and the earth churned. The men screamed louder until she dropped, landing on top of the two people who looked like Briton and me.
Then I was pulled back into the fog that felt like it was lifting and taking me with it. My eyes burned from the feel of it on my face. I closed them, and when I opened them, I was in a forest. It felt familiar.
A man walked towards me, but not to me. He didn’t see me, he looked past. I spun around to see a man I could swear I knew. He looked like Briton, but not as tall, nor handsome.
The man smiled at him. “Good to see you again, Gunnar.”
Gunnar? That was Briton’s brother. He smiled back, his was a kind face. “I don’t understand what you want, Samuel. I have come on good faith.”
Samuel laughed, it was evil. I could tell right away. I wanted to tell Gunnar to run, but I assumed he also could not see me. “I have something for you.” He nodded his head. Gunnar frowned, not realizing the man was not nodding at him. Two more men slipped from the woods. They shot something at Gunnar, hitting him in the back. He spun around, but before he could say a thing or even scream, he fell to the forest floor. Samuel turned and drank a blue liquid from a vial.
“The old witch’s sister still thinks I love her. This potion wears off in two hours. I have no time to waste. I’ll meet you back in the woods. Bring clean clothes.”
The men carried Gunnar’s limp body deeper into the forest.
Samuel turned and walked into the field towards town. He dropped on his knees when he got into the long grass. Pants and muffled screams filled the grass. When he stood up, he was Gunnar. Except he was sweating and staggering. He stumbled through the field, looking exactly like a drunk Gunnar. He headed for a house on the edge of town. When he got inside, screams filled the night air.
I stood there, scared to move. I didn’t know how to escape the dream I was in. I wondered if Briton was seeing this same thing? Was he hurting? I wanted to see him, to hold him and tell him it was just a dream.
Samuel/Gunnar left the house after all the screaming stopped. He was covered in blood. He crept along the dusty street towards the town.
I didn’t move. I waited. I didn’t want to be near him. He came back after a while. There was a girl over his shoulder. She hung limp like he had killed her. When he got to the edge of the field, he lowered her and bit into her throat. I closed my eyes. I could hear him making sounds, but I dared not look.
The grass crunched close to me. When I opened my eyes, I jumped back. He was standing right in front of me. His eyes narrowed, like maybe he saw me. But he started walking through me, back towards the forest, leaving the dead girl in the field. I walked to where she lay. She wasn’t dead. She gargled and gagged on her own blood from her torn throat but didn’t die.
A man came running from the town, shouting a girl’s name. He seemed panicked. I could see blood running down his head like he had been hit by something or someone.
The girl moaned.
The man’s head snapped around, looking in the direction of her gargled cries. He ran to where the noise came from, screaming and dropping to his knees.
The girl gargled once more, saying one thing, “Gunnar!” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. He sobbed, gripping to her lifeless body.
I was pulled back into the fog again.
My eyes closed and opened. I was in a cell. Gunnar, the real Gunnar, was chained to a wall. His wrists were burned brutally from the chains holding him. He was weak, lying there. His body was covered in sores and wounds that didn’t seem to heal. He was thin and a strange color—greyish.
A man walked into the room, holding a cell phone. He turned the phone, like he was Facetiming someone.
The person on the phone spoke, “We will need another dose, the wolves are breeding. They promised not to breed, and I have seen that they have broken their promise. Get the venom and report when you have enough. You’ll need a little of the wolf too. There are vampires there again.” I could swear I knew the muffled voice I heard.
The man laughed and hung up the phone, slipping it into his pocket. He grabbed a jar and a small makeup brush. He dipped it into the jar and dragged the milky substance across Gunnar’s bare chest. It jerked him alive as a searing sound sizzled through the air. Gunnar screamed, thrashing and rattling the chains.
The man grabbed a needle and stuck it into Gunnar’s opened mouth. He pulled a chalky red liquid from his mouth.
He pulled out a second needle and did the same.
He left the room, walking into another cell. A woman hung there limp. Her dark hair was matted against her face. My throat instantly tightened.
She wasn’t just any woman, she was my mother. My long-dead mother.
Only she wasn’t dead. My brain screamed that it was impossible. She had been in a coma. She was dead. But my eyes and heart saw the truth.
My heart broke. My breaths came in jerky moans. I rushed to her side, but my hand swiped through her. It was a dream. It wasn’t real.
The man lifted a jar from the small filthy table and pulled a tiny makeup brush from it. I screamed. “NOOOOOO! PLEASE DON’T HURT HER!”
He ignored me. I was a ghost in the dream. She woke instantly as the brush was dragged between her breasts. Her face changed drastically the moment she was awake. The scream ripping from her thrashing face was a roar.
He collected from her the same way he had Gunnar, sticking needles into her screaming mouth.
My mother screeched like I had never heard. The sound of it triggered something inside of me.
I screamed too. My voice became a roar with hers. We matched. For
a moment, and then it faded again.
She hung there, limp and defeated.
There was no way it was a dream. She was real. No dream could make a sound so harsh.
I was pulled back into the fog, and when I opened my eyes, I was at the table. My body was vibrating. I backed up the chair, knocking it over. I turned and ran for the door. I knew what to do. I didn’t even know how I knew, I just did.
I sprinted along the grass and the streets. A pain tore at my skin but I ran harder. I got to the field, the one where the girl had died and dropped to my knees. Vomit heaved from my lips. Arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me. I knew it was him. I hoped Briton was getting me as far from the town as he could. I knew what the dream had triggered, and I could tell by the urgency in his movements he did too.