by C. Larsen
She sounds convincing enough, but I'm not ready to give up that easily. "Why did she run away?" I ask, keeping my gaze locked on hers. I’m acutely aware of Vasily not three feet away.
"Your mom left so she could be with Jack. You already know this."
Deep inside my icy armor, disappointment blooms. She's lying. If she’s lying about this, she must be lying about other things too.
"I see." I pause a moment, thinking over my next move. I can't tell her what Gray said, not after what he told me about his father. I’ll just have to trip her up another way. "So how old was she when she met my dad—I mean, Jack."
"Why is that important?" Her eyes narrow, like she knows I'm leading her into a trap.
"Just trying to figure out the timeline," I say tonelessly.
"Elizabeth and Jack went to school together."
"They did?" This is news to me. My dad never mentioned growing up in Ashwood Creek.
"Yes. He lived in the neighboring town and was a couple of years older than your mom. Honestly, I never suspected they were anything other than good friends. Then he went away to college, and two years later she ran off to be with him."
"Two years? That's a long time to be apart from someone you supposedly love," I say, more to myself than her. Two years? Anything could have happened in that time.
"I guess that's when she got pregnant with you and ran away with Jack. I don't know if she convinced him the baby was his or if he knew the truth and decided to raise you as his own anyway. Either way, I was completely in the dark about your true parentage." Madelyn's face softens as if in sympathy, but I can see relief behind her eyes. She thinks she's out of the woods.
I eye her speculatively. "So, in the two years her and Jack were apart, you never saw my mom date anyone else? You never suspected she was involved with anyone from the pack?"
Vasily shifts ever so slightly.
"No, I didn't. I'm sorry, Emerson."
"What about Roman?"
Madelyn freezes, her eyes widening. "Where did you hear that name?" Her gaze flicks in Gray's direction, but he looks just as surprised as her. He never mentioned Roman to me. I doubt he even knew my mom was involved with him.
"I had a dream about it," I say, bringing her attention back to me.
"A dream?" she says, disbelief clear in her voice.
"Yeah. In it, I saw my mom, but she was younger. She was hiding in your hallway, listening to you and Nikolay talk. You told him Elizabeth wanted to mate Roman, but he said no. He said Roman was too weak; that she needed a stronger mate. Someone like Vasily or Peter, because of the prophecy." At the mention of Vasily, heat blooms in my cheeks, but I keep my eyes locked on Madelyn, who pales ever so slightly.
"It was the strangest thing, too,” I continue. “When Nikolay forbade the match with Roman, she put her hand over her stomach, almost as if protecting it, and thought 'what am I going to do?'" I look Madelyn square in the eyes. "She was pregnant with me. Roman had already gotten her pregnant, that's why she asked for the match." As soon as I say this, I know it's true.
Madelyn watches me, unblinking, only the slight lift to her brows giving anything away. “Do you have these types of dreams often?”
“Stop dodging the question,” I bite out.
“You didn’t ask a question.”
Her complete nonchalance infuriates me, but I grit my teeth and force myself to remain calm.
“Did you know she was pregnant? Did you know Roman was my father?”
"No, I didn’t. When she came asking for the mating, I didn't know she was pregnant."
"But you knew Jack wasn't my father."
She meets my gaze, her eyes sad. "I suspected. You were too strong to be half-human. I couldn't know for sure, not without talking to Jack." She settles back onto a sofa chair, leveling me with a questioning gaze. "Now it’s your turn. Do you have these sorts of dreams often?"
"Sometimes. I had a dream about my mom the night before my eighteenth birthday. She was warning me about something. Said I had to be ready. Why?"
"Hmm, it seems there's more Messenger in you than I originally thought. That, or your blood connection to Elizabeth somehow allows her to communicate with you, even through the veil."
"You—you think my mom is sending me messages?" Warmth spreads through my chest at the thought that my mom is still somehow connected to me, even if it is just through my dreams. "So, my dream was real? That actually happened?" Madelyn's expression is answer enough. "What prophecy was Nikolay taking about?"
Her gaze flicks to Vasily, then back to me. "He was talking about a very old prophecy, one he was hoping Elizabeth and Vasily's child would fulfill, but right now I'm more concerned about what happened last night. I admit, when I heard that your powers didn't awaken until you were nearly eighteen, I had my suspicions that there might be some wolf blood in you, but as I said, I couldn’t be sure."
"What do you mean? What do my powers have to do with it?"
"Couplings between witches and werewolves are very rare. What Nikolay and I attempted to do, to unite the coven and pack, was a radical thing. The hatred between our kinds is so pervasive that most times, children of mixed blood are the result of assault rather than choice."
At my confused look, she clarifies. "Rape." My mouth drops open, but she continues. "Usually these unwanted pregnancies are terminated. I have only heard of a few cases in which these children were allowed to be born. In most cases, the werewolf blood is so weak that the children turn out entirely witch, but their powers are delayed, not awakening until they are in their late teens."
"And you think that might be what happened to me? That the were' blood delayed my powers."
"Yes, I do. Or I suspected as much."
"How could you not have told me?" My shield begins to crack, the hurt and anger pouring in. "How could you have just left me in the dark, let me shift without any idea about what was going on!?"
"Emerson, I had no idea that you would shift! Believe me when I say, if I had any idea that you could, I would have warned you. But even I couldn't have predicted this. Like I said, in most mixed bloods the werewolf half is severely diminished; much too weak to allow shifting."
"Have you ever heard of a case where the werewolf half was strong enough to force a shift?" I ask.
She hesitates before meeting my eyes. "I’ve seen one case like this, decades ago in a neighboring coven. A young boy."
“And? What happened?”
She looks away, her face hardening like stone. “Unfortunately, the child went feral.”
Gray's mouth drop opens and his gaze flies to mine. For a split second his face is overtaken with horror. Then his eyes harden and he steps in front of me, arms extended out from his sides protectively as he faces down Madelyn.
"No." His voice is barely more than a growl. "That is not going to happen to her."
Vasily straightens up from his position, hovering near Gray but not yet intervening.
"I don't understand." Panic beats in my chest, adrenaline hissing through my veins. Madelyn ignores Gray and Vasily, watching me with sad eyes. "What happened to the boy?"
Madelyn swallows before looking down into her lap. "The child appeared normal, and the mother's coven decided to raise him as a witch. They researched what happened in other cases and assumed he would be the same. But when he turned ten, the werewolf blood overtook him. No one was prepared... He shifted, completely alone. Went berserk. His parents were in the house at the time. He killed them, then began hunting in town. The coven was unprepared for it. They had no idea how to deal with this child who suddenly became a ravaging beast. He killed another three witches before they finally put him down.”
Silence hangs heavy in the room.
"He went crazy," I say, my chest tightening, making it difficult to breathe.
"He went feral," she corrects. She looks at Vasily to explain further.
His face is closed off, eyes studying mine as he explains in a low voice. "When a wolf doesn't have a
pack to rely on, they can go feral. Rabid. The wolf half overtakes the human half, and the werewolf becomes unhinged. Without a pack to anchor us, the human part deteriorates. Usually it takes years for a lone wolf's mind to unravel to the point where they're a danger to themselves and others, but in some werewolves, the wolf half is stronger and takes over sooner.”
“So, as long as a werewolf is in a pack, they’ll stay sane?”
“Usually, but not always,” Vasily says reluctantly. “Sometimes, even with a pack, the wolf is too powerful. Not everyone is strong enough to control the animal inside them."
Gray steps closer to me, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“I’m just telling her the truth,” Vasily says to Gray. “Would you rather me lie to her?”
"Is that what’s going to happen to me? Am I going to go feral?" I stare around the room in horror, remembering how completely I lost control, how I tore the whole room apart in a rage.
What if my dad had been home? What if Gray didn't get here when he did? My stomach drops out.
"No," Gray says adamantly. "You aren't going feral."
Madelyn continues looking at me with a mixture of fear and sympathy. She doesn't believe Gray any more than I do. She thinks I'll become like that boy. Wild. Out of control. Rabid. Gray was here this time, but what will happen next time? Will I hurt my dad? Go on a killing spree thorough town?
My chest begins vibrating, spreading shudders outward to my limbs.
Gray’s hands settle heavily on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "Em, you aren't going to go feral."
I stare ahead with sightless eyes and shake my head.
"You aren't," he says again, more forcefully. "When I got to the house, you were calm. You were cowering in the corner, but you were completely in control."
"How can you say that?" I gasp out. "You saw what I did to the house! How can you say I was in control?"
I'm dangerous. I'm a monster. I can't trust myself around anyone ever again. I could shift at any moment and kill everyone around me. And I thought my witch powers were dangerous? I can only imagine the damage I'd cause with claws and fangs.
Glancing around the living room, I don't have to imagine. I'd slice through skin and bone as easily as I did the couch and curtains.
The trembling in my limbs gets stronger. I stare at my shaking hands as if they belong to someone else. A sense of otherness falls over me, pulling my skin tight, every muscle straining.
"Em, listen to me," Gray says urgently.
The shaking in my limbs is getting worse, spreading to the rest of my body. The wildness I felt last night pulses in my blood.
Oh my god, oh my god. It's happening again. How do I stop it? I have to stop it!
“She’s losing control, Gray. She trusts you. Calm her, now, before she shifts,” Vasily says, stepping closer to me. He subtly positions himself between me and Madelyn.
Madelyn gasps and jumps to her feet, hiding herself behind Vasily.
I scramble backwards, terrified of what I'll do, but Gray follows, holding tight to my shoulders.
"Emerson!" His voice cracks out like a whip, effectively drawing my gaze to his. Silver eyes suck me in, and the animal deep inside me flexes its claws, but doesn't lunge, content to watch and wait.
Vasily moves even closer, so he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with Gray, but I keep my gaze trained on Gray. He knows what to do. He can help me.
"Breathe with me, Em. That's it," he says as I suck air into my lungs. "Again, keep breathing. Good girl, luna, just like that." The endearment glides off his tongue, his voice deepening with a husky Russian accent. His words have a hypnotizing effect on me, calming the wild beast inside. I can still feel it there, pacing its cage, but it stops fighting to get out, Gray's words keeping it on its leash.
"That's it, Em," Gray croons, his thumb stroking my jawline, eyes still locked on mine. "See, nothing to worry about."
I blink several times, like coming out of a trance. "What did you do?"
"Just helped you calm your wolf. She felt your fear and thought you were being threatened. She was just trying to protect you. You don't have to fear her."
"You make it sound like there's someone else inside of me." I step away, breaking his hold. I rub my hands over my arms, trying to chase away the goose bumps.
"There is," he says, taking a reluctant step back. "All werewolves are born with a wolf spirit inside them. In a sense, it's a separate entity sharing the same body, with its own separate instincts and desires. Your wolf has been dormant until now, but it looks like your shift finally woke her up. Don't worry, she'll settle down as you become more familiar with each other. Eventually, she'll stop fighting you for control."
“ ‘Don't worry'? You just told me that there's something inside me, trying to break free and take control, and you tell me not to worry?"
He smiles a little at my incredulous tone. "It's fine, Em. Completely normal."
"On what planet could this be considered normal? Every werewolf has a wolf inside them, fighting for control, all the time? Even you?" He must be making this up, trying to make me feel better.
Gray fights another smile. "Yes, all werewolves. Even me. As we get older, the wolf-spirit becomes more integrated and doesn't fight the human part as much, but they’re always there, inside us. You'll come to rely on her instincts, especially when in your wolf form. It won't be as scary once you accept her and stop battling each other. You'll see."
Madelyn is over near the sofa, alert eyes studying me like a ticking bomb. "You can't be sure that's all this is," she says to Gray, eyes still on mine as if waiting for me to lunge.
"I know more about this than you do," Gray snaps, eyes flashing. "I was with her last night. What Emerson's going through is a normal transition, and she doesn't need you trying to scare her by telling her otherwise."
Madelyn's eyes widen in surprise. I've never heard him speak so harshly to anyone before, especially to the High Priestess of the Ashwood Coven.
"Gray," Vasily warns. “That’s enough.”
Gray’s eyes blaze with fury, but he holds his tongue.
Vasily’s hard eyes study my face. This is it. He’s going to agree with Madelyn. He’s going to tell me I’m feral…
“I think Gray is right,” he says, surprising me. I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Though it’s rare for a werewolf to begin shifting at so late an age, there doesn’t appear to be any cause for concern. For the time being, we’ll wait and see.”
At Vasily’s command, Gray relaxes marginally, but Madelyn pulls herself up to her full height, giving both Gray and Vasily fulminating glares. "I don't want it to be true anymore than you do. She is my granddaughter, I'll have you remember. But no one knows what the effects of her mixed blood will have on her wolf and ignoring the risks isn't helping anyone.”
“No one is ignoring the risks,” Vasily says, a hard note to his voice. “Emerson will come back to Ashwood Creek with us. The pack bonds should be enough to keep her stable until her wolf integrates.”
“And if not?” I ask.
Vasily and Gray share a look, but it’s Madelyn who answers.
"If not, then at least the pack will be there to put you down."
Chapter 12
After Madelyn and Vasily leave, I sit in my living room, on the newly-fixed sofa for what feels like hours, unable to rid myself of the image of that little feral boy attacking his parents. Killing them. That could have been me. If my dad wasn't out of town last night, I could have killed him. I have to leave. It's not safe for anyone to be around me.
Gray tries to reassure me, but even he agrees that I'm too dangerous to stay here anymore. He doesn't use those words of course—he doesn't want to scare me—but he does think that the Silver Ridge Pack is my best shot at learning to control my wolf.
I pack my bags in a stupor, wondering if I'll ever be back, if the pack will be able to help me.
I lock down tight on these thoughts. I can't al
low myself to lose control right now. Using Caiden's trick, I build up my defenses, flipping the switch. I can get through this as long as I don't think too much about it. Gray looks alarmed again at my vacant gaze, but doesn’t say anything.
By the time my dad pulls up into the driveway, I'm sitting in the foyer at the bottom of the steps, my favorite set of Coach suitcases already loaded into Gray's Hummer, which is waiting for me out front. I can't put him in danger another night by staying in this house. But, before I go, I need to know the truth. I need to know if he's been lying to me for my entire life.
He walks through the front door, exhaustion written all over his face despite his impeccably combed hair and crisp collared shirt and tie. His jacket hangs over one shoulder, a small travel suitcase in the other hand.
"Oh, Emerson, you're home. Whose truck is parked out front? One of your friends?"
I look at him, not trusting my voice quite yet. Anger and fear churn inside my chest, pushing to break free. There's so much I want to ask him, so much he's possibly been keeping from me. But I keep my face blank, emotions locked up tight.
My subdued mood seems to puzzle him, and he gives me a strange look. "Is everything alright? Did something happen while I was gone?" He turns to hang his suit jacket on the hook behind him.
"Yes," I answer. "I met Madelyn."
He seems to freeze in place, one hand extended toward the hook on the wall. He turns away and hangs the jacket up slowly, as if giving himself time to formulate a response. When he faces me again, his expression is carefully controlled.
"How did that happen?"
"I went looking for her. Turns out she still lives in Ashwood Creek." I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stands there, at a loss.
"Why didn't you tell me that you grew up around there too? Why didn't you tell me that you knew where Madelyn was this whole time?" Anger leaks into my voice and I immediately clamp down on it. I can't let myself get upset. Gray is just out front in case my wolf tries to rise again, but I don't want it to get that far. I need to stay in control.