by Cheree Alsop
I didn’t leave the room in wolf form anymore. It was too difficult to meet Raven’s eyes, knowing that my best friend could no longer fly and so no longer shifted. He had tried only once, up on the roof. I was woken one night by a scream. Waiting for the lift to come down was one of the longest moments of my life; I rode it back up again with my heart pounding.
I found Raven curled in a corner clutching his arm. Tears streaked down his cheeks. I had only to see the look of pain and loss in his eyes to know that he would never fly again. I helped Raven back down the lift and to his room. The sadness in my friend’s dark eyes haunted me. The air had been taken from him by a single bullet. I missed Raven’s grin and reckless attitude.
The fact that the Falconans had found another way to bring pain to those around me drove the dagger in deeper. I paced the room, pushing my endurance, my mind racing for ways to find the new labs, ways to stop Galbran and Shane from hurting more children. But I couldn’t face the night anymore.
I had traveled through the sewer tunnels half a dozen times with the intention of roaming the city like Phoenix, trying to find them, but every time the thought of empty streets lit by dull lamp lights, the shadow of a wing along a building, and the memory of a silenced bullet impacting its target sent me cowering below the grate sweating and shaking.
My ears multiplied every sound a hundred times while my nose smelled Falconans with each breath. I couldn’t bring myself to touch a gun without the reminder of the lives that had been changed by the heartless weapon. I couldn’t ride my motorcycle without checking over my shoulder a thousand times for dark wings trailing behind me.
Shane won even when he didn’t appear, because the strain beat me down until every shadow held a Falconan and every weapon was waiting to take the lives of those I held dear. I couldn’t find the labs with the fear the filled my chest, the same fear that I had seen echoed in Raven’s eyes when he found he could no longer fly. Shane had broken us both.
I slowed.
Kyla’s scent still lingered in my room as if loath to fade away. The thought of Shane and Galbran mixed with her scent, forced me to think of the tape I had tried so hard to forget. It was still in Kyla’s closet. Maybe there was a clue there, something I had overlooked. At least it was a lead, if a vague one. I looked back at the picture of my family where Kyla’s scent was the strongest. I would go there tonight. Any hope was better than no hope at all.
Chapter 41- Kyla
I fell exhausted into bed that night. I had spent all afternoon after school scrubbing the clinic until it shined. Dad teased that it was the cleanest clinic in the country, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He knew I was trying to escape from everything that had happened by throwing myself into working. I knew it myself, but couldn’t find a way to change anything.
I knew Marek would leave, but kept holding onto the faint hope that he would come back. His continued absence was always on my mind. I dove into my studies and work with a method close to madness, but only to prevent myself from thinking about him.
I pulled the covers up to my chin and willed sleep to take me quickly away. I never could fight the memories that came at the edge of dreams. I heard the gunshots again, felt the despair and fear. Tears left tracks down my cheeks, soaking my pillow. The tears were familiar, as was the ache in my heart when I thought of all that had happened, and everyone who had been hurt.
Then, in the quiet of the night, I was taken back to a different memory. I heard Marek’s voice and felt his arms around me like when he had rescued me from the men in the alley. For some reason, even though it was probably the least dangerous of the memories, it was the one that always surfaced just before I fell asleep.
“It’s okay to cry,” he whispered in my memories. I could still remember the feeling of the bandages on his hand as he smoothed my hair. I remembered the sound of his heartbeat. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he had said, his voice gentle and calm. The words echoed in my head, soothing me to sleep. You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.
Chapter 42- Marek
I left the motorcycle in the garage of an abandoned gas station not too far away and walked slowly through the familiar streets. The stars were hidden behind a blanket of thick clouds, casting more shadows than usual on the sparsely-lit streets. No one was supposed to be out after curfew anyway, so no one replaced the broken bulbs in the lamps. The few gangs who roamed the streets at night were grateful for the cover of darkness. I tried to tell myself that there was no reason for Falconans to roam this quiet part of the city, but I felt eyes on my back nonetheless.
I climbed the lattice under Kyla’s window, gritting my teeth as the movements strained bruised muscles. I opened the window and stepped noiselessly to the floor. Scents that I associated with peace washed over me. I stood there with my eyes closed for a moment, remembering the care I had received under the Marchs’ hands. There had been no fear here, no danger, until I imposed in Kyla’s life.
Opening my eyes, I looked over to where she slept. The covers were rumpled around her legs as though she had recently kicked them off. She wore a soft blue nightgown and the bear that had sat beside me during my recovery now rested behind the pillow near her head. Her disheveled dark blonde hair framed her face. I found myself wishing that she would open her disarming green eyes and find me there. I wondered what she would say, what she would do.
I forced myself to turn away. I didn’t deserve her. With soundless steps, I made my way to the closet. A short search revealed the tape recorder in the corner. My teeth bared in distaste, I took it out. It still smelled of the sterile labs, of my blood, and of Galbran. I shoved it in my jacket pocket, feeling tainted by having it with me.
I closed the closet door without a sound and made my way back to the window. I pushed it open, but something kept me from leaving. Something deep inside yearned for me to stay here where I was safe and cared for, where I had found a temporary family and love. I turned back slowly. Kyla slept quietly, her expression one of tranquility and comfort.
I wanted to lie down beside her and not make a sound, to just watch her sleep, to see that she was safe and that I had not brought her the danger that destroyed those I cared about. I wanted her to feel secure and loved, to let her know how much I cared about her.
A slight gleam in the darkness caught my eye. I took a step forward and saw that she still wore the necklace I had given her. The small blue crystal in the middle of the four interlocking circles held the light with a tiny twinkle from where it rested at the hollow of her throat.
My heartbeat slowed and my muscles tingled. Mrs. March was right. Kyla did care about me. Funny how something like a necklace could confirm that when I wouldn’t allow Kyla’s own words to convince me. Was I afraid to believe it so much? Afraid even though believing made my heart race and stutter at the same time?
I lost track of time as I watched her sleep. I had affected her, as she had touched and changed me. I didn’t know where I stood. I didn’t know what to do. The sun was starting to climb above the horizon when I finally turned and stepped out onto the lattice. I closed the window tight, then made my way down to the ground. Nothing had changed, but I felt stronger. I would find them, somehow. I would stop Galbran and Shane. I would find a way to save the Lost.
Chapter 43- Kyla
School dragged by with each day I didn’t hear from Marek. I laughed with my friends and concentrated in my classes with a new zeal brought on by Marek’s value of school. I no longer took the information my teachers taught for granted, and I studied my options for college with a new dedication toward picking the right major that would enable me to make a difference the way he did.
I could tell my parents were pleased and worried at the same time. The glances they threw each other when I had my head buried in a book didn’t go unnoticed, but they didn’t bring it up because there was nothing substantial to mention. I spent more time at Dad’s clinic helping out with the animals, and found myself
lingering by Tank’s cage in the evenings.
The big white junkyard dog growled at anyone who came near. Dad had put him in the back room where he wouldn’t be bothered by other dogs and the staff. The big Pit bull/Rottweiler mix slept most of the day, but when anyone entered the room he growled and paced his cage like a lion behind bars. For some reason, seeing him in the cage brought back the memory of finding Marek locked away and left to die. I couldn’t leave Tank alone, and perhaps a part of me hoped that if I could befriend the dog, maybe I could save a piece of Marek.
On weekends I began to eat my lunches sitting on the floor next to his cage. Dad found me in there once and gave me a look I couldn’t read, but he didn’t say anything and left me to eat. The next day he joined me and we both pointedly ignored the pacing giant, hoping he would calm down and stop growling enough for us to talk. He didn’t, but that didn’t make us stop trying.
Dad seemed to enjoy the challenge as much as I did. He asked Mom to put more meat in our sandwiches, and we dropped slices of turkey and roast beef through Tank’s cage bars. At first, the big white dog snapped at us, then sat as far away from the offerings as he could; but eventually, his stomach won and he began to eat the meat as soon as we looked away.
“I think he’s really a big old softie who hasn’t been given a chance,” I said the next weekend when Dad and I shared our usual meal on the cold cement floor. Dad had brought a blanket this time and as we sat on it I pretended that we were having a fancy picnic, complete with plastic forks and ham sandwiches with little boxes of Dad’s favorite white grape juice.
Dad glanced at Tank and the big dog lifted his lips to show long teeth cleaned white by the nylon rope that lay shredded on his also shredded bed. “I think we might be stretching that theory,” Dad commented.
I gave him a challenging look and on a split-second impulse, I put my hand through the bars and willed my palm to hold the slice of ham on top steady.
“Kyla, what are you doing?” Dad asked.
“Shhh,” I cautioned, looking away from my hand. “I’m testing my theory.”
“This is ridiculous,” Dad said, but he looked away, too. His hand squeezed the juice box until he realized what he was doing and set it down before he sprayed us both with grape juice.
I closed my eyes at the sound of Tank’s claws on the plastic cage floor. His breath felt hot against my palm as he took a long, deep sniff, then let it out in a huff. I worried for a minute that he would take my whole hand with the ham, but no growl sounded. I willed the small shard of fear I felt away, then a tongue tickled my palm. He gulped down the ham, then retreated to the back of his kennel.
I pulled out my hand and showed Dad the slobbery mess Tank had left there. “See!” I said triumphantly.
He gave me a searching look as I wiped my fingers on a napkin.
“How did you know he wouldn’t bite you?”
I avoided his eyes. “I didn’t,” I admitted.
He fell silent for a moment, then I looked over to see him offering Tank another slice. The big dog hesitated, then grabbed the meat out of Dad’s hand with a quick, slobbery snap. Dad pulled his fingers out, his nose crinkled in disgust at the drool, but a gleam of excitement touched his eyes. “You might be right about that brute,” he said. He rose and brushed the crumbs off his pants, then tossed a milk bone into the kennel.
Tank snuffed it up from the ground and downed it without chewing. “On the other hand,” Dad said. “Maybe he just eats anything.”
I laughed. “He did come from a junkyard. Maybe the pickings were slim.”
I slid the rest of my sandwich through the bars and grinned when Tank shuffled over and ate it without growling at my nearness. I touched his shoulder through the bars. He paused in wolfing down the food, glanced at me with his brown eyes, then continued eating. I ran my fingers up and down his fur and knew I didn’t imagine him pressing closer so I could get a better reach.
Chapter 44- Marek
Each turn was a dead end, even the tape I listened to over and over again though the words destroyed a part of me each time I heard Galbran’s voice. The drive I felt dissipated as the last of the Lost children were returned safely home. Flint, Shadow, and Phoenix worked on the pieces of a discarded motorcycle I had found in a junkyard to keep them occupied. Raven still searched the computers, though we all knew we had checked every possibility. It was as though Galbran had vanished off the face of the earth.
I poured Whisper a bowl of cereal, her third that morning. I put the milk away, then shut the refrigerator door harder than I intended to.
“Whatcha do that for?” Shadow asked from where he cleaned a spark plug near the sink.
Annoyed at myself, I walked out the kitchen door without answering. I thrust aside the blanket and ducked into my room where I had been spending more and more of my time as our efforts proved futile. I picked up my gloves and laced them on.
A brush of cloth, then footsteps coming up behind me announced that Raven had come into my room unbidden, something he never did. The bird Shifter was always the first to respect someone else’s space. I hit the bag with a frustration I couldn’t explain.
“What’s going on with you?” Raven asked quietly.
I hit the bag again, unable to give an answer I didn’t know myself. I jabbed, ducked, then spun and kicked the bag with enough force to make it jump a foot.
“They look to you for guidance, you know,” Raven continued. “This mood you’re in is bringing everyone down.”
Anger filled me. I hit the bag once more, then turned and threw my gloves down at Raven’s feet. “You think I like feeling like this?” I replied hotly, my chest heaving. “I feel like I’m going to explode if we don’t find anything. I’ve got to do something to stop them. They can’t be allowed to hurt anyone else!”
Instead of backing down like he usually would, Raven’s dark eyes flashed. He picked up one of the gloves and gripped it tightly in both hands until his knuckles turned white. “You think you’re the only one who suffers?” He shouted back with a ferocity that surprised me. “You think you’re the only one that feels the pain of losing May? Of the Lost we haven’t been able to save?”
He threw the glove down and clenched his fists. “I gave up my wings for her. I gave up everything to try and get her home.” He glared at me as though he was fighting not to punch me. “Yet, you sit in here sulking like a spanked puppy. Well, fearless leader, why don’t you actually lead? Why don’t you tell us what to do next so we’re not sitting here doing nothing while pretending to do something just so we can tell ourselves there’s a point to our existence?”
Raven pointed at the door to where we both knew everyone listened. “Those kids need a life, and by bringing them here, we promised to give it to them. Shifters or not, we all need something to live for. Or will you just drop us like you did Kyla?”
I stared at Raven in disbelief. The bird Shifter looked immediately sorry for the bluntness of his words, but I didn’t care. I pushed past Raven out the door, walked down the hall without a glance at the rest of the pack who stared after me, and ran up the steps to the warehouse door. I shifted the second the trapdoor slid closed behind me.
Raven’s words burned in my ears as I loped down a random street. I didn’t know where I was going, and didn’t care. Raven’s words confirmed the fact that I had truly failed everyone, had led them all nowhere. Why did I have to be the leader in the first place? Because there was no one else, I reminded myself grimly. I forced the thought aside and gave myself up to the run. The pounding of my paws against the pavement settled into a steady, mind-numbing rhythm. My leg and shoulder burned, but I didn’t feel it. I felt nothing.
At the end of the run, I found myself on a tall, windswept barren hill overlooking the city. The sun had set, and crickets began their peaceful song of praise to the moon. A coyote called behind me, but only silence answered its cry. The night breeze brought with it the dry, empty corners of alleys and the faint whisper of trees that st
ood bravely in the midst of the cement jungle.
I thought of the forest in Kyla’s backyard. My heart ached to think of her. Raven was right. I had abandoned her. But I had done it to protect her, not to hurt her. Funny how those seemed to follow hand in hand when I was involved.
I hated myself. I hated my failure with the pack, with Kyla, with Shane, with May. I hated my fear of the Falconans and the never silent darkness. I hated that I couldn’t find Galbran’s labs or the Lost he stole. The life I had given my pack was worthless now.
But they were alive, a voice inside reminded me. I growled under my breath against the rational thought, but it was true. We were all alive, still; we had managed to survive this far. Since we had escaped the labs, my main driving force was to stop others from a similar fate. Now that had been taken from me, and I felt lost and without a purpose.
But Raven was right. The pack looked up to me and I owed it to them to see that their sacrifices had been worth it, that May hadn’t died in vain. I wouldn’t give up my search for Galbran, but I was responsible for so much more. I rose and shook myself. I had run far, and it would take a while to get back. I didn’t want them to think I had abandoned them. If they needed a leader, well, I would lead.
***
I bought books and computer programs to supplement the schooling Shadow and Flint missed, and gave them a schedule to follow so they got the most out of their study time. I bought coloring books, paints, and art sets for Whisper, and Raven and I made use of our poor artistic skills decorating her room and watching her best us with her drawings. I took the children out and we used some of the money I had set aside to buy nice clothes so we could go to movies and eat out.
They thrived in being social and experiencing the little things in life my worry of the Falconans had kept us from doing. We went to a different park every day, we fed ducks, we went to the library and each filled out a card with a fake address I had them memorize. We pretended Raven and I were the older brothers, and if anyone challenged us, Phoenix wasn’t far behind to act as the doting parent, a task he seemed to enjoy, but which also made him withdraw further into himself afterward.