“Damien, can you get your father from his office?”
He nods enthusiastically before running away and disappearing up the stairs. Soon after I got pregnant with Damien, Austin didn’t like staying away so he moved most of his things from his main office at the pack house to his rarely used office in ours.
“So, what brings you here? Usually you call before stopping by.” He doesn’t look up at me. Instead, he puts all his attention on baby Ana. “Dad?” I call again and he snaps out of it.
“Sorry, Celeste, but something urgent has come up. I need to speak to you and Austin immediately.” From the tone in his voice, I know not to argue. I, instead, direct my attention towards my son and Austin as they come down the stairs.
“Damien, can you watch your sister?” I ask sweetly, already knowing he’ll say yes. He loves his baby sister.
“Of course, mama!” He gives me a kiss to the cheek before gently taking Ana from his grandpa and setting her in her bouncing swing.
“In here, dad,” I say quietly as I grab hold of Austin’s hand.
Once we’re alone and out of earshot from the kids, I turn back to my father. “What’s so urgent, dad? Usually, you’ll spend at least a little more time with your grandkids before you bring up something of importance.”
“It’s starting, Celeste,” he states calmly and my eyebrows scrunch together.
“What is?”
“It! The war between the supernatural beings on earth and the demons in hell. It’s starting, so I need you to come with me to start training our warriors.”
I take a deep breath. This is what I’ve been training for.
“Okay, let’s go,” I reply, ready to go, but he stops me.
“First, Celeste, there’s someone you need to meet.”
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Chapter 1
“I promise. I won’t be out long.” I try to convince my grandmother as she interlocks loops of wool that somehow produce a blanket, which we do not need anymore.
I watch her as she knits. It’s like a child learning to speak, wondering how strings and words come together so flawlessly and gain meaning. She rolls her eyes at me and continues to rock back and forth in her old, wooden rocking chair; one that my grandfather built before he passed away. She looks like some image of perfection.
The creaking noises crawl up my back and into my ears. My grandfather had a knack for woodwork and was often found working outside, though I was too young to remember the sight of it.
I inch closer to her as she acts like I didn’t ask a question.
My grandmother and I are different. There are two sides to us. One side is human, and the other is beastly. This animalistic half has been with me since birth. I had no say in the matter, as it remains entirely genetic. Like my grandmother, I can turn and shift into something wild. A creature coated with thick, rich fur and built with sharp, threatening teeth. A wolf. Specifically, a werewolf, were meaning man, which is silly because I am clearly not a man.
In our human form, we are just like anybody else, nothing special. We feel the cold bite into our skin. We get injured and bleed. We are just as vulnerable as everybody else. Just plain human. The other side of us though, the beastly side, is a different story. Once we shift and turn into wolves, our senses enhance. We become strong and hard to kill. We become animals.
My grandmother and I are not the only werewolves in existence. There are actually hundreds of our kind scattered around the world. I was born into a pack, though I do not remember much about it. It is a vague memory, as at that time, I had other things to worry about, other problems to distract me. Though in the pack, I lived with my mother and my father, and in the beginning, I remember all was well. The laughter and memories resurface now and then to torment me.
After an attack on the pack’s land, they sent me away to live with my grandmother.
“It is for safety,” they told me, yet I have not seen them since.
My grandmother has taken care of me since then, raising me for over a decade, and for all these years, the only reason I have is that of an attack. Details were not given to me, even after asking Grandmother. She does not seem to know much either.
“Grandma? Can I go?”
She seems to be somewhere else.
She sighs and sets down her knitting needles, the only ones she has ever used. There are a few scratches in the wood, but they are not impaired enough to make her toss them.
“Fine, but be back before dark, or at least before the canopy matches the sky, dear.”
I slip on my coat, one that I usually wear when the weather is on the cooler side.
“I’ll be back,” I call to her before fleeing out the door and into the crisp autumn breeze.
I suck in a deep breath of the relaxing aroma. It smells like fallen leaves, damp dirt, and my freedom. If freedom has a scent, it will surely smell like this.
I am wandering through the trees, gazing up their mile-long trunks, and watching their burnt orange and burgundy leaves sway like the rocking chair I saw only moments ago. The air and everything around me is damp from the rainfall earlier today.
I watched the rain from my bedroom window before being called down for lunch. The raindrops streamed down the glass, and I tried to find meaning in the drawing. Part of me was always looking for answers in everything, waiting for the universe to give me clarity with the fogged aspects of my life. After trying to decipher the squiggly lines for far too long, I gave up and tried to remember that they were just raindrops on my window.
The cool temperature of the season keeps the forest and my skin fresh. The forest is quite crisp tonight, but even now, even in the snow, the rain, or sunshine, I always feel uneasy. Just like what I currently feel. In my human form, there is always a weird feeling in my stomach. The animals watch me, and I think it is because they believe me to be trespassing. In my more untamed form, they do not seem to mind me.
I hop over a fallen tree and come up to a small stream. Weeds and grass grow out of the clear, cold water and dance like they do not have a care in the world. My fingertips dip into the stream, and the water chills them to the bone. My skin turns blue and purple from the inside out.
I have never crossed the stream. I always save it for later, but then I always forget. Everything that is roaming and singing in the forest steals my attention, pulling me away as if I have transformed into a simple-minded child. Grandmother tells me not to cross the stream, so I do not. But I want to. I really do. The curiosity burns my soul, and you may think I am dramatic, which I am, but I walk here almost every day and wonder what is on the other side. Maybe a castle with a prince like in my childhood fairy-tale books, but that is unlikely. Still, I will continue to pretend that there is a prince.
“You wish,” my wolf mutters to me.
“Oh, don’t you lie to me. I know that you want to find out what’s over there too.” I grumble inwardly, giving into the conversation that no one else can hear.
The act brings a new concept to talking with yourself.
“No, I don’t. We need to go home before dark, remember?”
“Okay, we’re going back,” I mumble to her and spin on my heels, facing the direction of the house.
One day I will cross over, and I will find out what is on the other side.
I trudge back to the house just before dark. I would still be exploring if it were not for my wild, judgmental wolf.
I stomp up the porch steps and gently open the front door. The lights are off, so Grandma must have gone to bed. She tends to fall asleep early, which I expect. Slowly shutting the door behind me, making sure not to wake her up like several times before, and creeping up the wooden stairs, I slip into my bedroom. The w
alls are a light shade of blue, and the floors are medium wood, something natural and native looking. My bed sits in the middle of the room in between two windows that view the trees surrounding us like stone walls.
Moonlight shines through the glass and creates an eerie glow on the floor, almost lighting a path for me. I shrug off my coat and lay it on the back of my desk chair, which is another past work of my grandfather.
Too tired to change, I climb under the white duvet and shut my eyes. The only thing running through my mind is the stream. Its frigid, soft current flows through me as if something is telling me to venture on. This something is leaning down and whispering in my ear, “Go past. Go past.”
“I’m confused. What’s pushing me to cross the stream?” I mumble into the air of my empty bedroom.
“You must discover for yourself.” The angelic voice fills my cold, red-tipped ears.
Right away, I know it is the Moon Goddess. I trust she is in the room, and I no longer need to search for her. I imagine her long, flowing white dress and endless, silky hair that seems to float around her, not touching her unearthly, porcelain skin. To me, she is more magical than a goddess.
“I knew you would say something like that.” I sigh and curl further into the covers.
***
There it is, flowing right in front of me. All I have to do is step on the surfacing stones and cross it. I already lied to my grandmother about what I am doing, and now I don’t even have the guts to carry out my plan.
“It’s not a big deal. Just see what’s on the other side.” My wolf pushes me.
“You’re right. It’s no big deal.” I lie to myself.
The taunting thoughts in my mind seem to believe that the quick action of hopping across is indeed a big deal. The Moon Goddess didn’t help me make my decision, as she decided to keep her opinion out of this. She tends to do that frequently. Most of the choices I make are based solely on my own ideas.
Reaching my foot out to the first stone, I shift my weight onto it, then the other, and I am now standing on the first rock. The first move is over with, but I still feel undecided. I was hoping the leap of faith would trigger something in my head. I back away and move off from the stone.
“Maybe we should do this another time.”
“It’s no big deal,” my wolf reminds me, sounding somewhat annoyed by my reluctance.
“Okay. Okay, I’m going.” I take a deep breath before stepping back onto the first stone.
Then onto the second, then the third.
“Now we’re going places,” my wolf comments, but I ignore her.
Now standing on the last rock, I begin to feel nervous. This is it. I am finally going to find out what is on the other side. Part of me believes that I am blowing this all out of proportion, but the other half is bothered by my bugging thoughts.
I carefully step off the stone and onto the brown, sponge-like dirt. I scan the area before taking another step. Seeming to be the only person out here, I shrug my shoulders before heading into the trees. I guess it is no big deal.
Birds sing up on branches, and forest animals scamper across the earth floor, not threatened by my presence today. I watch a squirrel dash towards a tree, flying up the bark like it does every day.
When I was younger, I begged Grandma to let me bring home a squirrel so I could keep it as a pet. Naturally, she said no, but it still broke my eight-year-old heart, as back then I was looking for anything to distract myself.
I do not remember a lot of my childhood, mostly just being with my grandmother. I do not remember my parents much, as I left them so young. All I know is they brought me to Grandma’s to keep me safe because of the attack and possibly my ability, but that is my own theory.
Grandmother is not part of a pack. She is very independent. She tells me that you do not need a pack. All you need is a mate. She said this when I was around ten years old, so I did not understand the need for a mate. Evidently, I barely knew what one was.
The thought of having a soul mate frightens me a little, but then Grandmother used to tell me stories about her mate, my grandfather. He died fighting in some attack back when Grandmother was not yet a grandmother. She told me about their dates, when they first met, and a heap of other romantic things.
Attacks seem to drive many of us apart. She was quiet after he died. She was quiet for a while.
“Hey, what are you doing on Tate land!” An authoritative voice tears me from my thoughts.
My gaze swiftly shoots up only to be greeted by a man’s intense one. He is tall and muscular, built like a warrior of another time. His light blonde hair gently moves with the cool breeze of the afternoon air. The man’s skin is lightly tanned like he has spent days working in the sun. The man is not old, and if I have to guess, I’ll say he is about twenty-three. Getting a powerful feeling from him, I believe him to be important.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” He hollers at me again, becoming irked.
“What do I say?”
“I don’t know. Who is this guy? Why does he think he is so much stronger than us?” My wolf growls.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a small laugh. My wolf is the complete opposite of me, yet the Moon Goddess paired us together, so I suppose opposites do attract. Why she thinks we’re so strong is beside me.
“Look, rogue. I don’t have time for this,” the guy says and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re coming with me.” This time when he speaks, it sounds much more aggravated.
Swiftly, he reaches for my arm, but thankfully, I have time to jump back. My heart starts beating a little faster, and from panic and anxiety, my legs turn to jelly.
“What’s happening? Why does this man want to take us? Why did he call us rogue?” I panic.
“Well, apparently we did cross on his land.”
“His land. Why does he have his own land?” I question dumbly.
“Evangeline, it’s a pack’s land, and to be specific, he said Tate pack land,” my wolf explains in a rush.
Before I know it, I am being snatched at again, but this time, I don’t get away in time.
“I’m s-sorry! I don’t understand! Please just let go of me!” I cry out, completely confused, but he does not let go of my arm.
Instead, he continues to drag me through the trees, further from home. I try hitting him, begging him, and I even start crying from fear of the unknown.
“Evangeline, calm down, or he’s going to kill us,” my wolf yells at me.
“Kill me! But I didn’t mean to cross on his land!”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the alpha.” His voice is firm and emotionless as if he knows this is not going to end well for me, and I believe him.
The man continues to drag me, and I happen to notice a small building through the trees. Behind it, I can almost make out other buildings, almost like houses. As I come closer towards the dreary, dim place, I notice two people standing outside by the door. Maybe they are guarding it.
“Found a rogue while checking the perimeters?” one of the men guarding the doorway asks, not very amused. “Why bring it back?”
The man dragging me nods. “It was giving me a hard time.”
“It! We are not an ‘it!’” My wolf riles up within me.
“I was going to keep it in a cell until I get orders from the alpha, you know, what he wants to do about it.” The man’s tone is bored as if he deals with this kind of nonsense every day.
Locking innocent people in cages, how barbaric.
“Go on in.” The guard motions to the doorway.
The man abruptly yanks me into the brick building. The inside is dark with a horrid smell, possibly rotting flesh, reeking throughout the room. There are rows of cells with black bars caging in whatever they hide.
We halt in front of one cell, and with a thin strip of light cutting into the cold space, I see the rest to be empty. Suddenly, his large hands push me inside. Before I can comprehend what is happening, the door is slid shut w
ith a clicking sound. My eyes grow full, and I rush to the black bars. As soon as my bare hands touch the metal, a stinging, burning sensation sears me. Hissing in pain, I peer down at my singed palms.
“Oh, I wouldn’t touch the bars. They’re made of silver. Don’t let the color trick you!” the man calls from where we came, on his way out.
“We have to get out of here!” My wolf frantically panics.
“Oh really? You think we should?” I seethe at her sarcastically. I take a deep breath to calm down. “Sorry, I’m just scared.”
I am torn from my thoughts by a sudden movement in the far corner of the cell. It is too shadowy and dark to tell if anyone is there, so I stand up straight, trying to find an ounce of courage I may have.
“Hello?”
“Help…me.” The voice is feminine and weak as if she has been sitting in here for decades.
Immediately, I rush into the darkness and try to feel around for anything. Then a hand lightly touches mine, and I grab it.
“I’m going to pull you where it has more light, okay?”
I warn the person, but I get no answer. What if she is dying? I do not think twice before pulling her where the light shines through the small window in the hallway.
When I look down, I see a girl maybe a few years older than me. I gasp when my eyes reach her leg. There is an enormous gash on it, and it is most likely infected. Dirt from the floor covers her face, and there are small cuts and bruises all over her body. The clothes she is wearing are all tattered and stained with blood.
“Oh gosh! What happened to you?”
Her head slowly turns towards me, and her dull eyes stare into mine. “I-I was trying to get home, bu-but I accidentally c-crossed on a territory.” She breathes out.
Her voice is dry and hoarse, and I know she must be dying for a drink.
“But your leg?”
“They attacked m-me.” Her head moves back onto its side, and the girl takes in a small breath.
I peer back down at her leg, and it looks to be bleeding.
The Devil's Daughter: A Paranormal Romance Page 20