Recalling the memory of Jana and Blake, the way they didn’t shun me like the rest of the community for who I was, touched me more than they will ever know. It was definitely weird coming back to this time period after all Ben and I went through in the sixteenth century, especially knowing our families and friends didn’t remember anything from before. The feud was no longer in place, the curse had been broken, and we were normal human beings once again. But the shattered relationships, the people who were never born—those things hurt us the most.
Do I miss being a werewolf and having powers? Sometimes. But then I consider how different our lives would’ve been had the curse remained intact, how we would all be fighting to survive. Now there’s finally peace between the Lowell’s and the Conway’s.
The front door opens and Maggie bounds outside, searching for us. “Mommy! Daddy!” Her black curls bounce with each new step, and she hugs her stuffed teddy bear close to her heart.
“You’re going to catch a cold if we don’t get some shoes on those feet,” I say, as Ben picks her up and situates her on his hip. I tickle her toes, and she giggles. “Why don’t we get your little brother up so you two can play in the snow?”
Maggie gazes beyond me at the blinding-white flurries and gasps. “Snooow!”
“C’mon, let’s get you dressed. Uncle Cameron and Aunt Ali will be here soon, so you can play with your cousins.”
Ben carries Maggie inside as we head upstairs. Little Ethan is fast asleep underneath his rocket-ships-and-planets comforter, and I almost hate to wake him. His tiny chest serenely rises and falls with every new breath.
“Ethan, honey,” I say, gently rubbing his arm, “it’s snowing outside.” Still in a sleep-induced haze, he has a tough time opening his eyes. Gradually, he sits up. “Want to get dressed and play? Uncle Cameron is coming over, too.” Ethan nods, wiggling out from underneath the covers and sliding off the bed.
Maggie runs into the room, all bundled up and ready to face the snow. “Ethan! Guess what? It’s snowing!” She pokes Ethan, and he smacks her arm away, whining, “Dooon’t!”
“All right, you two,” I warn, plucking a bubble jacket from Ethan’s closet, along with some long-john’s, jeans, a sweater, snow boots, and a beanie.
Smirking from the doorway, Ben says, “He’s pretty feisty for his age. I wonder who he gets that from.” He winks at me, and I return the favor by rolling my eyes. Ben throws his head back and laughs. Collecting himself, he reaches out, clasping Maggie’s hand in his. “Let Mommy dress your brother. We’ll wait for them outside.”
By the time I dress Ethan and carry him downstairs, Cameron and Ali have arrived and are on the front porch, talking to Ben. Maggie and their two children are in the midst of a snowball fight. One giant wad of ice lands at my feet, and shared cackling follows via my daughter, niece, and nephew. I set Ethan down so he can join them.
Cameron and Ali greet me affectionately. It’s weird to think they were once completely different people. Of course, only Ben and I know the truth: their other personas don’t exist anymore. Attempting to explain what we went through to our family members will do nothing but cause concern for our mental well-being. Our story will come across as a fictionalized tale, something straight out of a book, but the reality of the situation is that every bit of our prior life happened, and would still be occurring had we not changed the past.
I catch Ben staring at me. What? I mouth to him.
He shakes his head and strides over to me, clutching me tightly against his chest. “I wish I knew what you were thinking.” The heartrending expression behind his eyes twists my gut. There are many days I wish we still had the ability to read each other’s minds, but we can’t ever go back to how things were before.
In an effort to steer the conversation in a cheerful direction, I say, “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll tell you. There are no secrets between us. You should know that by now.”
He grins and tips my head back with one finger, his lips finding mine in an achingly-sweet kiss. “I love you, Candra,” he breathes against my mouth.
“And I love you, Ben.”
We’ve decided not to tell the kids about the events prior to now: how we were sworn enemies, how we were destined to become star-crossed lovers, and how we ended it all. One day, they’ll read about werewolves in fairytales. Ben and I will smile and nod our heads, feeding our children’s imaginations. And when they ask us if werewolves really exist, we’ll tell them the truth: once upon a time, they did, but that was in another lifetime, in a world not so different from our own.
The End
Bonus Content
“The Discovery”
My original plan was to grab a midnight snack out of the fridge, but once I reached the end of the hallway and heard my parents in a deep, whispered discussion, the idea of chowing down on food didn’t seem so appealing anymore. Careful to stay out of view, I leaned in closer and peeped around the corner—enough that I caught the crescendos and hisses in their words as they entered an intense conversation.
“You knew this day would come; it’s been prophesized for centuries,” Mom said, without any attempt to contain herself. Although she quickly sat back and became silent, hands clenching and unclenching, she eventually composed herself and spoke again. “We have to tell them, you know. The boys can’t be left in the dark on something this important. If we’re going to take over Hartford, we have to dispose of the Lowell’s before they dispose of us.”
Mom opened her mouth to speak, but Dad raised his hand—a signal to shut the hell up in our household. “Sylvia . . .” There was an edge, a warning, in Dad’s tone. I’d heard it—hell, we’d all heard it—before. My body automatically tensed as I waited for an outburst, but it didn’t come. “We have to play our cards correctly,” he stated calmly. “If the prophecy states a Conway and a Lowell are to break the curse, the hatred between our families, then we’ll have to take extra precautions to ensure our boys and the new Lowell girl don’t have any contact with each other.”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Mom said, choking up on the last few words. “How can you sit there and be so composed when you know she is going to be the death of us all?”
“Now, Sylvia—”
“And when I think about one of my poor boys falling victim to her unintentional seduction, I just . . . my mind can’t process the outcome.” She sobbed, and Dad sat there, doing nothing to console her. He almost seemed annoyed that she was taking the news about a prediction so seriously.
I had so many questions. What was this prophecy they talked about? What did it mean for the rest of us? Who was the new girl they were so worried about? I needed to know the answers to all these questions, and more.
“Can we talk about this another time?” Dad inquired.
Mom wiped the tears off her face and responded, “Oh, you would want to drag this out. We don’t have time to waste. She’ll be here shortly; some of the Followers have already foreseen her arrival. And the worst part is that she’ll be attending the same school as our boys.”
“She’d only be attending with Benjamin had you not decided to hold back Cameron and Ethan,” Dad said tightly, his lips pursing.
Mom sliced through him with a disgusted look, and they both sat in silence for a matter of minutes.
“Fine,” Mom said, “we’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
Dad nodded.
I’d never seen my parents appear so exhausted; it was like they’d been secretly dealing with this problem for a while, and only now did they realize the problem was figuratively on their doorstep. That was the point where I decided to step in and find out what the hell was going on.
Slipping around the corner from the hallway into the kitchen, I surprised both of my parents. “Hey, I was, uh . . . just coming to grab a snack.”
Mom frowned. “You should be in bed, honey.”
I hesitated, unsure of how to word the questions burning in my mind. But I wanted to learn more about my par
ents’ chat, and more about the girl.
“I’m not gonna lie—I heard everything. Who is the Lowell chick, and why is she so important? What prophecy are you guys talking about? That sounds like something straight out of a fantasy movie.”
Mom and Dad swapped a glance that told me everything I needed to know, and then some: this girl, whoever she was, was bad news.
“Benjamin, dear, this is a topic for discussion some other time,” Mom said. “Not now; it’s late.”
Crossing my arms, I didn’t budge from my defensive stance. “I want to know, and I’m not going to bed until you two explain what’s going on.”
I was surprised Dad didn’t knock me over the head, but I guessed he understood my position more than I gave him credit for, because he didn’t say a word. Mom, however, was visibly shaken and wanted nothing to do with the subject. I could totally see her mentality shift between telling me and not telling me.
Finally, she spoke up. “The only important piece of information I can give you right now is the girl’s name. Tomorrow, we’ll sit down and have a family meeting, where we can openly discuss what’s going to happen in the coming months.”
“Okay . . .” A name was better than nothing, I supposed; it was a start.
Exhaling a weighty sigh, Mom continued. “Her name is Candra Lowell, and she is going to destroy the very foundation we’ve built our lives upon.”
“The Meeting”
I’d been thinking about the family meeting we had just a few days ago, involving both my immediate relatives and our Followers. Mom and Dad explained the prophecy to us, how there was a witch who cast a spell on the Conway and Lowell lineage five hundred years ago. Specifically, she directed the spell at Alaric, who was an Ancient . . . and one of my great-grandfathers.
Mom said she fully expected Alaric to show his face within the coming months. After all, they were terrified the spell would be broken, and either one of my brothers or me would fall head over heels in love with Candra. I didn’t believe a word of this prophecy, until everyone at school talked about the new girl in town. It was safe to say we hadn’t received more than five new students at Conard High School in the four years I’d been here.
Mom and Dad were right: changes were coming. I could almost feel a shift in the atmosphere. More people were on edge, and tension was so thick in the hallways I could hardly concentrate on walking from one classroom to another without hearing whispers of my family. It was like they expected us to do something about Candra. How dare she enter our domain after we’d taken over most of Hartford, infiltrated the local government, and schmoozed with the crummy politicians? That was what concerned people the most—whether we could actually prevent her from destroying us.
On the flip side, many students, teachers, and citizens had no clue what occurred on a daily basis. They didn’t know werewolves befriended the shadows and stalked the forests at night; they were content behind their four walls. Besides, the fewer people who knew, the better chance we had at survival.
So there I sat in English, watching the students file into their seats, everyone staring at the new girl standing near Mr. Everett’s desk. As I observed her, she seemed nervous. She avoided eye contact altogether, focusing instead on the notebook she held and drawing something inside. What did she sketch? Was she an artist? Was it tiny doodles outside the red-lined margins, or was it something else entirely? I shook my head. I had no reason to wonder about her.
But the more I watched her, the more I realized how harmless she appeared. This was the girl who would bring down our house? Not likely. It was almost laughable. I couldn’t wait to tell Mom and Dad how wrong they were about that stupid prophecy.
Mr. Everett strolled in, coffee in hand, and announced, “All of you can pass your homework from last night—” He cut himself short when he noticed Candra stood by his desk. And homework from last night? He probably meant last Friday. We’d only been back to school one week and already the teachers were doling out homework like the world was going to end before the year was over. Mr. Everett should definitely down that coffee in one gulp; he needed it.
Hastily reading the piece of paper he snatched from Candra’s hand, he said, “Everyone, this is Candra Lowell. Where are you coming to us from, Candra?”
“Charleston,” she responded.
“Charleston, huh? You’re a long way from home. What brings you here?” He paused. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”
A bunch of the girls in class giggled, while the boys snickered. This was turning out to be an entertaining show.
“You’re right. It’s not. But, so I won’t have to answer the same question a hundred times today, I’ll tell you. I live with my aunt and uncle now because my parents couldn’t handle me.”
I found myself sitting straighter in my chair. She wasn’t as meek and feeble as I originally thought, which only caused my mind to spin with more unanswered questions.
“Okay, why don’t you take a seat in the desk by Benjamin Conway?” Mr. Everett suggested. He nodded toward me.
Shit. I’d been too preoccupied with my assessment of our current situation to even notice the empty desk beside me. If she already knew about the family feud, then she’d know this was the biggest mistake of her life—other than moving to Hartford.
I ducked my head in an attempt to avoid making eye contact. Not to mention the fact that the majority of teenagers in the room knew what was at stake, how our families hated each other. It would only fuel the gossip fire if I acknowledged her.
But then there was that other side of me, the curious side, which wanted to look her in the eyes and see if there was any indication she sought malice toward my family. So when she was halfway down the aisle, I glanced up. My gut twisted when our eyes locked; it was the strangest feeling I’d ever had. She seemed as staggered as I was . . . until she tripped and landed face-first on the floor, breaking the connection. I didn’t laugh like the other kids in the room, though. Actually, I felt sorry for her.
She quietly gathered her belongings and slid into her seat. Mr. Everett made a snide comment about how, if she was finished, he could begin his lesson. This only caused more laughter.
As for me, I couldn’t stop staring. I knew this was going against everything my family warned me about. I knew it was wrong. Even as her brunette locks slid down her shoulders and shielded her face from view, I wanted to gently brush them back, just so I could see her. Most of all, I thought, my family needed to know that she wasn’t the girl who would destroy our lives; she was just a clumsy, anxious, beautiful young woman, who was trying to make it one more day in this Godforsaken world. She was just like the rest of us.
“The Intervention”
After the circus act last night, where my family basically thought I’d lost my damn mind, school today was tiresome. I hadn’t slept well since my brothers told me, in all seriousness, that I’d be the one to ruin the family name, and my parents actually agreed. They recommended a break, so I wouldn’t be focused on Candra; they were too afraid I’d become obsessed with her and screw up. One small mistake and my family members wouldn’t hesitate to lock me in the basement for a week as punishment. I’d seen them do it to a few of our Followers, and when they weren’t watching, I’d always bring more food or water to those who were imprisoned.
Most of the time, I disagreed with the way my parents treated people—like they were a pile of shit beneath their shoes, something they could just step on and squash, then forget about. Humans meant nothing to them, and for some reason, that bothered me. Were we really so different from everyone else? Yeah, we were a pack of werewolves with magical capabilities passed on from generation to generation, but beneath it all, we still walked, talked, and ate like humans. We had the same characteristics as other humans, and we performed daily activities just the same. On the outside looking in, we appeared ordinary. So, where did they get the idea to treat people like peasants? It wasn’t moral.
Once the final bell a
t school rang, I stopped by my locker and shoved a book inside. A couple of guys passed by and gave a half-assed hello, asking if I’d show up to the football game Friday night. I didn’t have the heart to tell them it was the last thing on my to-do list, so I said, “Maybe.” My response seemed to satisfy them, as they continued on and said they hoped to see me there.
Exiting the double doors from the side of the school, I was bombarded with fresh, sweet air and sunshine warming my face. To be honest, I hated being cooped up in school all day and not outside, enjoying the beautiful weather. Maybe my parents were right. Maybe I needed a break.
As I searched the parking lot, which became emptier as the minutes ticked by, I noticed Cameron’s car was still sitting in a spot at the rear, shaded by a large tree. That was odd; Cameron and Ethan were usually waiting for me by the car, smoking a cigarette and trying to look as badass as possible. Where were they? I made my way over to his car, pulled on the door handle, and realize it was unlocked, their backpacks inside. My stomach almost caved in on itself. I knew exactly what they were up to, and if my idea was correct, they’d be harassing Candra by now. But where?
Scanning my memory for a possible solution, the only thing I could think of was that Candra didn’t drive, and her family didn’t drop her off or pick her up. Not that I blamed them; they only lived a few blocks from the high school. Which would be the perfect place to start.
I took off in a sprint down a nearby street, hoping I’d cut them off. With any luck, maybe I wasn’t too late. I sincerely wished I’d be mistaken, that they wouldn’t be bothering Candra, but my gut told me otherwise.
Rounding a street corner, Cameron, Ethan, and Candra came into view just a little ways down the road. Cameron was too busy yanking on Candra’s arm, and Ethan was too busy being Cameron’s little bitch, for either of them to have noticed me. As I neared, a spark ignited between Candra’s arm and Cameron’s hand, which knocked him to the ground. What the . . .? In true Cameron fashion, he stood up, brushed himself off, and pointed a finger at Candra’s face, making some sort of empty threat. “You’ll regret this” was all I caught as I approached.
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