The Wolves Are Everywhere

by Janie Marie

  Maura’s eyes filled with tears as they fearfully darted to Kylie.

  Kylie dropped her gaze to the Velcro straps restraining her to the chair. She tried to tug herself free once more, but she could only grunt in frustration.

  “I think my wrists are fine,” Maura whispered before crying.

  “Good. Let’s get you settled into your room, then.” The nurse took her hand, helping her stand. “There, there—it’s going to be all right.”

  Damon held a hand up, stopping the nurse from leading Maura away. Then he spoke in a deep but smooth tone, the kind of voice that your body physically felt as it passed through you. “Maura, even goddesses have nightmares. Unfortunately, queens can bleed in the arms of their kings, and little girls can find their paths blocked by the Big Bad Wolf.

  “Luckily there is always light in darkness. Luckily, bleeding and broken, this warrior queen always remembers she can roar through the darkest of nights. Luckily, for little girls who pay attention, this goddess has already fought Darkness’ biggest and baddest of wolves.

  “So fierce was she that the other Wolves promised to follow her into the dark from then on.

  “Oh, what tales they made together—what magic she created by simply dreaming of their adventures. What beauty there was when she closed her eyes and let darkness surround her. That is when she was at her loveliest. Her strongest. That is when she roared loudest. That is when the forgotten, the hopeless, the lost, opened their teary eyes. That is when little girls watched her stand with tears streaming down her face, roaring so loud Hell trembled beneath her feet.”

  He stopped, his face softening, taking away all the horror that Kylie didn’t doubt he could unleash. Then he continued once more. “It is up to all other little girls to decide what they will do when they meet the Big Bad Wolf. It is up to them if they choose to be afraid, and should they fall if they will rise again.

  “She was afraid. She hid once. She cried in the dark. After all, it was the Big Bad Wolves who hurt her most. Be afraid—but be brave, that is what she was once told. Be great. Live. So, now, begin. At the End. With her Big Bad Wolf.”

  Kylie’s breath hitched as Maura then received a doll, much like the one she’d burned so many years ago.

  “I knew the goddess in this story.” Damon touched the doll’s blond hair. “She left this in my care quite a long time ago. I believe she intended for me to present it to you today.”

  A tear splattered Kylie’s chest as she watched Maura slowly take the doll. It was old and appeared as though it had sustained years of abuse. Yet, Maura clutched it to her chest, crying as if it was something she’d always held dear to her, as though she truly believed Damon’s claim that a goddess left it to Damon for her.

  Damon King, Luc Godson’s intimidating right-hand man, smiled as he caressed Maura’s head. “She never meant for you to fall, but we all know you can get back up. Have faith.”

  “Thank you,” Maura whispered, leaving with the nurse.

  Kylie jerked her head away when Damon’s eyes slid to her.

  His footsteps were silent, but she felt his foreboding presence come nearer. “I have something for you as well.”

  She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. “That was one of your fairy tales, wasn’t it?”

  “Only The End,” he said. “It was something she needed to hear.”

  “It’s cruel to lie to her,” Kylie bit out. “How can she get better if you’re spouting stories about goddesses leaving her gifts?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Goddess—just one. And who said I was lying?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you really believe Janie is the Little Moon?”

  “I know the truth.” He held up a bundle of letters wrapped in gold ribbon.

  “I don’t want any nonsense your make-believe goddess wrote.” She stared at the letters. They too were a bit wrinkled, like they’d been kept somewhere for years.

  “Janie wrote them,” he said. “Her doctor instructed her to write letters during therapy.”

  Kylie frowned, hating that she was curious enough she wanted to read them. “Why give them to me?”

  A secretive smile touched his lips. “Read them while you’re in lockdown. Then you’ll understand more than I can ever tell you. I might also suggest reading from the collection in the library—particularly, the fairy tale section.”

  “Kylie,” said a different nurse as she entered. “My name is Wendy, and I’ll help you during your stay here with us.”

  “Hi,” Kylie said, trying to move again.

  Damon was the one to reach for her restraints. “Don’t hit me again. You actually left a mark earlier.”

  She darted her eyes to his neck. He did indeed have an angry red scratch on his dark bronze skin. She might’ve freaked out when he tried to get her out of the SUV.

  Her face burned remembering Maura’s, the staffs’, and the driver’s shock that she’d scratched him. They’d almost run from her, but Damon manhandled her until he could pin her into a wheelchair for the orderlies to strap her down.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled as he calmly undid the first strap.

  “No, you’re not.” He chuckled, reaching for the second. “Perhaps when you’re calmer, I will believe you when you say it again. Still, sorry is not for me—it is for you.”

  Kylie pressed her lips together. It was rude to tell her she didn’t mean her apology, but he was right—she wasn’t sorry. She would’ve scratched his mafia guy face off if he didn’t scare the crap out of her.

  He gave her an amused look as he kneeled to undo her leg restraints. “Saying sorry is an attempt to remove guilt from oneself, not necessarily to ask for forgiveness. You change your future actions, then you ask for forgiveness.” He leveled her with a stern stare. “If a man ever tries to force you anywhere like that again, don’t you dare stop just because he slams you down. You catch your breath, and you kick him in the nuts before he can knock you out.”

  Her eyes widened, and she yelped when he tossed the letters to her. She caught them, holding them to her chest as she watched him undo the rest of the restraints.

  Wendy, the nurse, chuckled while her eyes stayed on Damon. “I always wanted to meet her dragon.”

  Kylie regarded the nurse’s giddy smile. What the Hell did she mean, dragon?

  “Of course, Wendy, darling,” he said, his eyes flashing crimson. “If I recall correctly, you also had a fondness for wolves and fairies. Quite the pair you two made.”

  A serene smile touched Wendy’s lips, but she quickly blinked and turned to Kylie. “Damon knew an old friend of mine. He said she often talked about me before she passed away. Apparently, she shared our silly fascination with the supernatural with him.”

  “I doubt sweet Damon here thinks the supernatural is silly,” she muttered.

  He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Sometimes, the best supernatural truths are right before your eyes.” He stood, holding out his hand. “Are you ready to start your new journey? Think of it like this, this is the part of the story where you learn just how magical the world is, and you get to witness the heroes as they prepare to defeat the monsters.”

  She stared at his hand, her heart torn between wanting to rage and wanting to die slowly. It would be nice to believe this was all a silly story, but it wasn’t. Her hero saw her as the monster, and he sent her away. “He didn’t care about me,” she whispered. “He’s in love with her.”

  Damon lowered his hand. “I think Logan cares about you more than he wants to admit. I think he loves you, but he’s confused because that love didn’t blossom from truth. I think he feels guilty for loving you. At the same time, he’s acknowledging the truth of his feelings for her.

  “Don’t take that part too hard. Their relationship is more complex than you can understand. They are a fairy tale, after all. He was meant to be the hunter.”

  Kylie stared at him, shocked. “Logan is the hunter? And I’m the wolf?”

  “You were a
very clever but poorly trained wolf,” he said, chuckling. “A mistake because the true wolves found you before she could.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you saying I’m a part of your story?”

  He didn’t hesitate with his response, “We all are. This is the part where you can find out who you are meant to be in the story.”

  “The wolf.” She trembled, nearly collapsing.

  “Not in this story—not anymore.” He patted her head. “In time, you will see.”

  Kylie looked down at the letters. “It would be nice if you guys just spoke normally.”

  He chuckled, pulling her to her feet. “What’s the fun in having it all spelled out?”

  “That I don’t have to think,” she said, letting go of his hand when she stood firmly on her feet. “Everything would be easier and faster.”

  A teasing spark of fire swirled in his eyes. “If I were to tell you that even Janie, Ryder, and the Knights have to think because someone purposely placed them in the dark on matters, would that help?”

  She laughed sadly. “Not really. I don’t want to live in a fairy tale. I don’t think I even want to live at all.”

  “You do,” he said with conviction. “Because I’ll tell you a secret—much of this fairy tale was created just for you.”

  Her head snapped up. “What?”

  “You are never alone. Never forgotten. They just failed to see in time, and some have still yet to see.” He inclined his head toward the nurse as his words settled in. “Sometimes, you just have to close your eyes and embrace the dream. Stop trying to control things you were never meant to and focus on what is being given to you.”

  Wendy gestured for Kylie to follow her. “Damon has to go now. Let’s get you settled.”

  Kylie followed, but she turned her head to Damon again. “The moon, it started glowing the day she was born, didn’t it? That’s why Logan looked up at the moon and knew she’d been born.”

  He merely smiled.

  “They like to be cryptic because it’s more powerful when we realize things on our own,” Wendy said.

  Damon laughed lightly. “Keep in mind, Kylie, Janie wrote those letters when she first started treatment, up until just recently.”

  Kylie hurried after Wendy, leaving Damon King behind her.

  Wendy walked at a steady pace, which Kylie figured was her attempt to make her feel in control. They’d already said she couldn’t leave; they were only letting her think she had a choice.

  She sighed, deciding it wouldn’t help matters to make a break for it. The center was in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn’t last an hour before falling and crying.

  No, you wouldn’t fall. You’d keep walking. But only further into darkness. This place is light.

  Damn voice. Okay, so she was a bit crazy.

  You have every reason to be. But I once heard all the best people are.

  Kylie sighed, resigning herself to take in her prison. There were paintings hung every few feet, some good, others not so much. There were quite a few that looked like kids had done them.

  “I thought the walls would be all white,” Kylie said, catching sight of a red riding hood painting. It shockingly had Red Riding Hood holding a sword with what appeared to be a dead wolf at her feet.

  “Oh,” Wendy said, “Miss Mortaime insists we show the journeys of those within our care. Patients or their families did these. Everyone has their own story, and she felt it important for others beginning their journey with us to see just how dark, how hopeless it has been for others who once walked these halls. You know, so they know they’re not alone.”

  “Oh.” Kylie kept staring at the paintings. There were stick figures of kids cowering below monsters with the words “Daddy” and sometimes “Mommy or Brother” written above the monster’s head. Some showed doorways with shadows watching crying girls as they lay in bed with demons hovering over them.

  Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, making her hold the letters tighter.

  “Don’t worry,” Wendy said, “the girls and women who hang these, they hang them when they leave. They also make ones of their dreams or goals, or they write letters, and we post those throughout meditation rooms, and on the way to the exit.”

  Kylie’s hands trembled. There was a white door coming into view, and there was a male orderly standing beside it.

  “I hear you are quite the artist,” Wendy commented. “I think we’re all eager to see what you come up with.” Wendy greeted the orderly, then introduced them. “Kylie, this is Stephen, one of our orderlies. It’s standard for one orderly to accompany patients during their initial intake.”

  The guy looked to be in his late twenties. He had dark brown hair, light skin—and stunning hazel eyes, which were eerily similar to—

  She gasped. “Are you related to Janie?”

  He grinned, nodding. “We only found out through blood tests recently. Our mothers were half-sisters who weren’t raised together. So, she’s my cousin. We met here when she was coming for therapy.”

  Wendy touched Stephen’s shoulder. “Stephen came here with another relative when he was a young boy. He moved on once his guardian could, but he’s pursuing the path of a counselor.”

  “I promise you’re in excellent hands,” he said. “And you can always request a new orderly. Janie and Luc thought having someone they trust without question watching over you would put you at ease.”

  “He’s very good,” Wendy said, “but you can ask for a new orderly or nurse.” She gestured for Kylie to enter the room. “This will be your room until your privileges allow you to either room with another patient, or enter the family suites we have. I believe they plan to transfer your stepmother here as soon as she’s discharged from the hospital.”

  The image Logan had sent of Lorelei popped in her head, and she stumbled back. Lorelei had hurt her, but she’d protected her from her father.

  Kylie covered her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her father. He. . .

  “No, give her a moment,” Wendy whispered.

  “He was bad,” Kylie cried, seeing her dad over Maura—Maura sobbing as he raped her. Oh, God, why couldn’t she stop seeing it? She needed to stop. “I . . . I saw. I saw him. And he was going to do it to me.” Kylie collapsed, breathing frantically but not getting enough air in. “I saw him.”

  “He’ll hurt no one else,” Wendy whispered, kneeling before her.

  Kylie covered her ears so his voice couldn’t get to her.

  “Kylie?” It was Lorelei’s voice.

  She gasped, opening her eyes to see Stephen had his phone in front of her face. A video call with Lorelei was on the screen.

  “Kylie, you’re safe,” Lorelei said, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I didn’t let him touch you, and we will make sure Maura’s never touched again.”

  “He used the wolf, Mama,” Kylie sobbed, not sure why she was calling Lorelei ‘Mama’, but it was what kept falling out of her mouth.

  “I know.” Lorelei smiled sadly. “He hurt you, darling. Let these people teach you how to destroy the monster he put in your mind. You’re not the monster he was making you into.”

  Kylie cried. She was a monster. She’d made everyone else monsters because she couldn’t face what she was. “I’m evil.”

  “No,” Lorelei choked. “You’re making the choice to get better. You’re feeling remorseful, and you’re protecting Maura. Just like she’s trying to protect you.” She smiled sadly. “Just breathe . . . it will pass. When you’re ready, you’ll be something great. I know it. And I’ll be there soon. I’ll learn how to be a good mother. I promise.”

  Kylie didn’t understand why she just wanted Lorelei to hold her while still wanting to scream it was all Lorelei’s fault. Lorelei probably had her father killed; she was certain of it, but after the memories of her father exposing her breasts.

  She gagged, dry heaving. “Mama,” she cried. He’d sniffed her hair. Lorelei was hiding her from monsters.

  Lorelei’s cry
sounded, but it was Lance’s voice that came through the phone. “Kylie, it’s going to be all right. We’re not abandoning you in there. We’ll come for you.”

  She looked up, seeing Logan’s face before it became clear he was Lance. “He broke up with me.”

  He nodded, his expression sad. “He needed to. He knew you would use him to hide, and he wanted you to have a chance at being free. He cares for you.” He grinned. “And don’t worry about him and Janie. She adores him, but she’s with the one who brings her soul peace. Logan is her chaos. She’s merely trying to steady him so they can see each other happy.”

  Kylie hiccupped, wiping her tears. She wanted someone to hold her. She wanted Logan to take her back. She wanted someone to tell her she wasn’t a mean girl, but she couldn’t remember ever being a nice child. “Did you love me when you met me?” she asked Lorelei.

  Lance turned the phone, revealing Lorelei crying silently against his shoulder. She looked at the phone. “Darling, I looked at you and saw that God had given me a gift after losing Angelica. I vowed to protect you as I did not protect her. I tried.”

  Janie’s cousin handed a tissue to her, and she groaned because it had to be him.

  Kylie wiped her face, then stared at Lance. “Kevin said my dad killed his baby.”

  Lance frowned, glancing at Lorelei, who looked just as confused.

  She needed them to know this before they caught him. “His wife killed herself after their two-year-old daughter died in my dad’s care. He said Lorelei and Maura were his second chance. He wanted to kill me to get even, but he couldn’t when he saw them. He just said he was evil, and blood must be paid.”

  Lance nodded. “Well, that gives him a motive for going after your father, but it doesn’t excuse what he’s done. Everyone will answer to those who deliver justice.”