by G. Bailey
Her eyes light up with anger, burning bright red, her wolf not liking the disrespectful comment. Two can play at this game.
She runs at me this time with more speed than I expect her to, and I barely manage to defend myself with my sword as she tries to hit me. She hits me again and again, harder and harder. Each time the sword clangs in my hand, the vibration shaking the bones in my arms. My feet scrape against the floor with each movement as I step back again and again. She hits and hits and hits until sweat is pouring down both our faces; I jump to her left and swing my leg out, kicking hard in the middle of her back. She stumbles a little, and I swing my sword round, hitting her on her side and cutting her just below her ribs. She cries out and moves out of the way, lifting her sword up again. Her eyes are burning with anger, glaring from her wolf.
But I know she can’t shift, and I know her wolf wants to. Her wolf wants to rip me to pieces.
“How does it feel being rejected? Because I was rejected by my intended, and I know exactly how it feels. But it’s worse for you, isn’t it? Because you weren’t asking him to mate with you. You’re just asking him to sleep with you, and they still didn’t want you. This is the only way to get their attention, and they still aren’t looking at you,” I tell her, knowing that I’ve acted like a total bitch, but I just can’t see any way out of this. I need her angry. I need her to attack me. Her eyes burn so hard with fury that I can almost feel it.
And for a second, a part of me just wants to say I’m sorry, to tell her that she can find her own fate and mate, she just needs to look for them somewhere else that is not with the alphas. But we both know that we’re far past that point. She will not stop, and I need to survive. And when it becomes a game of surviving, it’s no longer something that’s fair or nice. I have to do what I have to do. She attacks me once more, this time just as hard. But her movements are slower. She’s wearing herself out, her plan has backfired on her. And after all, it’s a very good plan. She attacks me again and again, and this time she nicks me a few times. Eleline cuts a few strands of my hair as she makes a sharp turn to her right, and then she has me almost backed into a corner. People move out of the way for us, and I see my move.
I see it before I even think about her. I get close to the wall, and as she swings, I duck so she hits the wall, her sword smacking hard enough to loosen her grip. And I move to the left, using up her weakness for her left side, and slam my sword straight through her stomach in the pause, the force of my move harder than I thought it would be.
Not just on my arm, but on my soul.
The world seems to go still in this second. I realise I’ve won, and I realise I’m killing someone. I’m actually taking a life. And it feels wrong, just wrong on so many levels.
I let go of the sword, with it still buried in her stomach as her eyes look up at me, and I catch her as she falls. I hold her head up on my lap and brush some of her hair out of her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I really am. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think it was ever you with the alphas. I think it’s them. I don’t think they know anything about commitment or how to love someone. They are lost, and neither of us is a bright enough light to guide them back. I don’t think anyone is, not even the gods.”
My words are gentle and true, because they certainly do not love me. I tell her this, knowing that that will make her feel better in her last moments, that’s all that matters right now. I want her to think she has won, to feel something good. Her eyes flicker shut, and that body goes still in my arms, and nothing moves for a long time. I know her soul has left her body, and I know that it was me who caused it. And there’s nothing I can do to take back that innocence, to take back what I’ve been forced to do. My life has changed. This pack has changed me, but I’m alive. Whatever it means to be now.
“You need to get up,” Silas coldly tells me, not an inch of comfort or understanding in his voice. He no doubt heard what I said to Eleline when she was dying, and he sounds pissed. I don’t stand up, even when it’s been too long that I’ve been on my knees, I don’t want to let go of her dead body in my arms, knowing that if I get up, it’s more real. The surrounding crowd are cheering my name, drowning out any of my senses. Silas’s hand rests on my shoulder, and I pull away from him.
I look up to them. “This is your fault. All of yours, and I was forced to do this. To be a killer.”
Henderson looks down at me. “She would have died one way or the other. Her obsession never would have stopped. Her wolf was obsessed, and our wolves are not easily swayed from what they think is theirs. Our primal side is hard to resist, even for us alphas.”
“Some people are meant for others, and some people are not. That is just the way it is,” Silas states. I’m surprised he knows anything about feelings and love, let alone mates.
Henderson leans down, and he picks Eleline’s body up out of my arms and carries her.
“Let’s go and bury her together,” he suggests. “She had no family as she was rejected from your pack as a teenager for sleeping with someone who wasn’t her mate. I don’t think she had many friends or anybody really she lived with to say goodbye in the pack, and no one has come forward. We could go together if you wanted and bury her at the place where we bury most of our pack.”
“I don’t think I should be the one who buries her,” I whisper.
“I believe it should be. Come with me, Mai,” Henderson replies, staring into my eyes, and eventually I nod.
Silas, Ragnar and Valentine don’t say anything, because I stand up and follow Henderson out. Phim reaches out and gently touches my arm. “I’m very proud of you, even if you’re not proud of yourself right now,” she says. “One day you will see that surviving is worth everything.”
Maybe for her.
“Maybe surviving isn’t something we should all just aim for. Maybe living with ourselves should be more important,” I reply, feeling the alphas’ eyes on me, taking in every one of my words. She doesn’t have an answer for me, and I don’t really expect one as I turn away. I head down the path with Henderson, and we go down the stairway, onto the steps and straight back to the house. Henderson never looks back or pauses, and he certainly never lets her body drop to the floor. I appreciate the level of respect he gives her as we go to the garage where he finds the keys on the side of the wall and unlocks the car. I help him open the boot of the car, a small, silky red car with quite gigantic wheels. It looks weird, but I guess it’s one of Ragnar’s inventions.
Henderson lies her body in the boot of the car gently, and then he goes and finds a white blanket, and I help cover her. When he covers her face, I can’t help but look, feeling the guilt hitting my chest hard. It’s impossible to know that I took her life. It’s just nothing I could forget. Her blood soaks the white blanket in seconds, and Henderson shuts the boot, jolting me out of my thoughts. We get into the car, and I sit in the passenger seat, wrapping my arms around my knees as he reverses and takes off down the path.
We head around the back of the house, through the forest, and we come out to an archway of gates hidden by the trees and built into the mountain, flooding in light from outside the small cavern in the mountain wall. Henderson gets out and opens the gates, and I see that there are two betas waiting by the gates on the other side. They bow and hold the gates open for Henderson as he comes back. We drive out and down a flat path, which goes all the way down the mountain, and my eyes take in the view over the sea and how beautiful it is here at night.
It’s really too beautiful for a night like this. Henderson leans over and puts his hand on my knee. And that’s all he does to comfort me, but it’s all that I need before I cry. Tears fall down my cheeks as I break into sobs, and I just can’t stop. At some point, I put my hand over his and just hold on. Just needing that connection to someone else, someone real, as I take in everything I’ve just done. I don’t stop crying until we get to the bottom of the mountain. We drive down the plain dirt road, which is lit up with tiny
lanterns, but with the headlights of the car, it is bright enough to see where we’re going.
Eventually, we come to a clearing, and I can see that it’s a graveyard filled with blue gravestones. Each one of them has a shining rock on top, making it eerie and pretty here. And silent. There isn’t a noise in the world after Henderson turns off the engine of the car.
We both look out, and Henderson hands me a tissue from a box in the back. “Thanks,” I mutter before wiping my eyes and blowing my nose.
“I killed a man when I was twelve, right after he murdered my uncle in front of me,” Henderson tells me. I go still and look up at him. “We were on the run and knew they were close. My uncle fought hard to save me, but he was outnumbered. He took down two of the others while I hid behind a tree, shaking from head to toe in my wolf form. When I saw my uncle die, I lost it, and my wolf ripped the man to pieces. I still, to this day, have never forgotten it, and I understand where you are right now.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“And for the record, you were right. We are too broken, and it was never Eleline’s fault,” he quietly tells me. “We’ve been broken since we were born, and there was only ever one person who could save us.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“She,” he corrects, meeting my eyes. “And in every sense, she is gone from us. Untouchable.”
“Did you love her?” I ask, feeling more than jealousy burning in my chest. I feel a need to know this answer.
“Why do you want to know that?” he asks. “I have a feeling the answer will do us both no good.”
“You’re right, it wouldn’t,” I quickly say, looking away. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You should have,” he counters. “But now isn’t the time for the answer. I will start digging a hole for Eleline, and could you walk to the beach for a nightstone? It’s just down that lit up pathway.”
He points to a path on the left through the forest, which has fire torches lighting up the way.
“Nightstone?” I furrow my brow.
“Oh shit.” He pauses. “We believe nightstones are made of pure magic and they guide souls in the afterlife. Every wolf should have a nightstone on their grave, chosen by someone close to them.”
“Shouldn’t you pick it then?” I ask. “I wasn’t close to her.”
“Neither was I,” he counters, his words ringing truthfully. “Get the stone. Call if you need me.”
“Okay,” I say, opening the door. I head into the forest, welcomed by the many noises of the forest and the cool breeze that leaves goose bumps on my skin. My breath is taken away when I step out onto the beach and see the nightstones littered everywhere. The nightstones stand out, bright glowing green against the blue waves and sand. I lean down and pick up the nearest one to me and brush the wet sand off it. A stone to mark the end of a life is so simple and special…and I have to bury my guilt. I did what I had to, to survive, and surviving is all I have now.
After climbing out of the shower, I braid my hair in a complicated way that Phim taught me before tying it in a hairband. She says it’s a fishtail braid that she learnt from humans, and it was easy to learn after a few tries. I find myself always wanting my hair put up in that way. After pulling on my clothes, I look at myself in the mirror. My hair seems to have gotten longer over the last few weeks, ever since the challenge that haunts me. Thankfully, no one else has come to challenge me, and it’s been quiet around the house, even with the looming threat of the Ravensword Pack sending someone after me. The alphas and betas never leave me alone, not for long. They are around a corner at all times. I have a feeling if the Ravensword alpha sent anyone after me again, he would be dead before he stepped close to the house. My green eyes stare back at me in the mirror, the colour looking duller than usual, a mixture of how I feel inside.
I still can’t get the image of Eleline dying in my arms out of my nightmares. Sleep has definitely not been my friend over the last couple of weeks. I rest my forehead against the cold mirror for just a second before I straighten up and head down the stairs to find some lunch to occupy my swirling thoughts. I spent the morning training with Silas, who says I’m getting better, which is a big compliment from him because he spends most of the lesson now being grouchy for reasons I’m yet to understand. A very strange but usual routine has fallen over the house, and it’s so normal I don’t know what to think of it. The alphas seem happy, the betas are kind, and I can see why the alphas chose each one of them. The betas are always around circling the house, always listening, and they join us for dinner in the evenings while two of them stay outside. It’s been a good way to get to know them and understand why they became betas. For most of them, it wasn’t a choice based on simply being a strong wolf. It was their acts as a strong wolf that got them chosen. They are each good people and loyal to the alphas down to the bone.
It’s how a pack should be run, in my opinion, from seeing two completely different packs. Trey walks past, waving at me with a big grin before heading into the living room. He reminds me so much of Jesper in his own special way. He’s different from Jesper though, who was always so serious, and Trey is funny. I get along with him more than I thought I would. I walk into the kitchen, smiling when I see a new riddle on the fridge.
I am beautiful, up where the gods can only reach.
I am seen by all, wished for by few, yet I cannot appear on a wish alone.
To wolves, I bring light, to some gold.
I am eternal, and there is no end to my existence...
What am I?
I get myself a bowl of rice with chicken with some sauce before I sit on the stool and stare at the riddle as I eat my food. I struggle to figure it out for a second until I focus on the line about wolves and light, then it clicks. Wolves see everything in the dark, but in the day, there is one thing that looks like pure light, and it fits with the rest.
When I’m finished, I wash my plate and grab a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before I stop to write the answer on the note with the pen I found on the side. I leave the kitchen and listen for any sounds in the silent house, wondering what I should do. I could go and watch something on Netflix with Trey, but when I peep into the room, he isn’t there. Eventually I decide to wander around on the top floors of the house and see if I can find something to do. I go up to the attic and look to see if there’s any more washing that needs to go into the machines that wash clothes. For some strange reason, the guys have been doing their washing in the night and beating me to it. I think they have done more washing than ever before in the last few weeks, judging by how there used to be piles of washing and now there is nothing. Everything seems washed before I get to it, seems like they are only interested in me drying and folding the clothes at this point. It could be something to do with how some of the clothes had been coming out in strange colours, but I’m not quite sure how to stop that.
I wander back down the stairs to the first floor and look towards the open study doors at the end, knowing that I really shouldn’t sneak around in there. But still, I walk towards them and peek inside the room, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is around. The study is empty, which is rare because the alphas each spend a lot of time in here with the doors closed.
I sneak in, leaving the door open behind me, and see there is a single book on the large desk. All the messy papers that were once here are gone. I walk around the desk, running my fingers over the hardwood of the desk before sitting in the chair. The massive chair makes me feel much tinier than I am as I rest back on the leather, smelling the alphas’ scents in here on everything. They smell too good, too addictive. I shake my head and try not to focus on them for a second. The book in front of me is made of some maroon leather that feels old as I place my hand on it. Suddenly something like a shock zaps my hand, and I jolt away, feeling the tips of my finger pads are a little burnt.
“What the hell?” Whispering to myself, I look at the old book and around the table, finding a p
encil on the edge. I pick it up and move back to the book once more. I damn well know I’m too curious for my own good as I use the pencil to open the book to the first page.
The book seems to be a record of some kind, all of it done by hand. There’s a painting that looks like a dark-haired human, but strange bat-like wings come out of its back and stretch out at its sides. The wings look white, almost glimmering with a silver undertone. The human is bare from the waist up, and markings line the middle of the man’s chest. The markings look like the outline of pomegranate fruit in red, and four red stars go down in a line underneath it. Whoever painted and wrote this book has incredible skill, and I feel spelled to read what is written below:
Once, a long time ago, before wolves hid on earth, before humans ruled the earth, there were creatures that did not have a name. These creatures had human bodies with wings made from pure nightlight. Wondrous creatures with a heavy temper and powerful instincts, they watched the fall and rise of every being on earth. They have extraordinary powers, powers unlike anything that the world will ever see born again. Eventually, these creatures became known as angels. They twisted human stories to the point where humans worshipped these angels without knowing what they worshipped. They were made to believe angels came to save them all.
But they never were.
The only way the angels survived was from drinking animal blood. The angels soon realised human blood was the most desired and fulfilling of all the animals on this earth. Nature itself came up with a natural enemy to ensure the survival of humans. It came up with the shifter wolves. These new creatures, connected deeply to the moon and given powers, were created with a mixture of angel blood and human.
The shifter is the only creature in this world that is poisonous to angels’ existence. One bite and—