by Ellis Marie
She smiles and I feel a warmth spread through my chest at her comforting gaze. She truly knows how to put me at ease, but then, she begins coughing. Her frail body shakes as she struggles to breathe. I quickly grab her drink for her and hold it to her lips, rubbing her back softly as I do.
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” I ask quietly, watching as she manages to get her body under control, but she just ignores my question and clears her throat, like she has done for so many years.
“You know, I think your friend Kristie might have some witch ancestors,” she admits, distracting me from my question. “She has the right aura, and she has a strength in her that only comes from a strong bloodline.”
I laugh at her theory, imagining my smiling best friend with a broomstick and a cauldron.
“There’s no way,” I reply but my confidence quickly falters. Cam is a werewolf. Why couldn’t Kristie be a witch? “At least . . . I don’t think—”
“Some people have the ability, but it’s never triggered. Don’t worry about it. Time will tell if she is or not,” Mrs. Grenway quickly interrupts my rambling and sinks into the sofa, lying back to rest her head. “I’m just going to have a nap, if that’s alright. Would you mind letting Obi out? Maybe go across to your house and get anything Cam missed?”
I don’t hesitate in agreeing and watch as her breathing evens out and she settles down. Her pale skin and the grey tone covering it worries me, but she refuses to ever admit to me that something is going on.
“Don’t be so afraid of the world, Annabelle,” she mumbles as she closes her eyes. “You have to believe there’s beauty to find it.”
I sigh and lean over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
I’ll let her rest for now, but eventually, I’m going to make her admit that something’s wrong.
What she’s told me is a lot to take in; I can’t believe that her soft and gentle hands are capable of killing someone or are capable of harnessing enough power to do it. She’s always so kind. Sure, a little snippy or sarcastic but never violent, and Ernie had to have been the sweetest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. How could he try to kill his own father?
I suppose love can do that to people, and this whole soulmate thing seems to just make it even more intense.
“Come on, Obi,” I whisper to the sleepy giant in the corner who’s watching me with half-closed eyes. “Time to go for a walk. Don’t be lazy.”
He begrudgingly gets himself up and plods over to me, the slowness of it all making me giggle as I hook on his lead and pat his head. My heart swells as he cuddles into my legs.
They’re my family. I don’t have anyone else left, and despite it all, they’re probably the best that I could have ever dreamed of.
There’s a faint knock at the door. I quickly shush Obi who goes to bark as I glance at Mrs. Grenway who’s sleeping peacefully through the noise. I rush to the door, the nerves in my body tingling as I reach it.
Come on, Elle, you can’t be afraid of everything.
I take a deep breath and carefully open the door, my heart hammering in my chest as I pull it wide enough to see who’s outside. When they smile at me, I sigh, swinging the door open.
“Hi Cole, what are you doing here?”
It’s strange being back in my home. Or I suppose, home isn’t really the word for it. It’s never felt like a home—not really.
A place that is meant to be filled with warmth and laughter, love, and acceptance, is instead a place which I fear to enter. A place where the most terrible things have happened to me. And by people who are meant to have cared.
“There are no pictures,” Cole comments, looking around the place. I shrug, my eyes drifting across the empty walls that are dulling with smoke.
“My father was never really one to put up family memories. He already said that I reminded him too much of my mother, he didn’t need to see me constantly,” I reply quietly, walking down the hall with my breath held; it’s habit really. My father hasn’t come back here since he ran from Cameron, Cole informs me of this as we enter. Apparently, their sense of smell is something that they use often. Nevertheless, my body tenses as though it could feel the punches he had thrown at me, and my skin itches with bruises that are dusted across it.
Obi knocks me out of the spiral I have begun to go into as he runs past my legs and towards the sofas, taking full advantage of being able to jump up on them. The shiver that passes over me eases a little by looking at his lolling tongue.
“Was he always . . .” Cole’s face scrunches up and he shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s probably too personal.”
I smile gently, shaking my head as we make our way through the house. “It’s alright. I suppose there was a time where he was a kind man. I don’t see how my mother could have married him if he wasn’t, but for as long as I can remember, there was never love in his heart. Not for me anyway.”
Memories of his fond and proud grin staring at Matt makes my stomach roll, and an awful taste makes its way into the back of my throat, my tongue becoming dry. How I had wished for him to look at me like that, for him to be proud of me in some way, shape, or form, but no matter what I did, it was never enough. He could never look at me like that. He would never wrap his arms around me or tell me he loved me. He wouldn’t so much as touch me unless it was to cause pain.
The feeling only worsens when we finally enter the kitchen and the remnants of our fight lie scattered, as if placed there to create a crime scene. I’m taken aback by the savagery of it. At the time, I hadn’t really thought of how it would look after, but this is worse than I could have imagined.
“Jesus,” Cole murmurs, taking in the smashed items and blood splattered floor. His eyes widen with every new detail. “Elle, I’m so sorry.”
Although the house hasn’t had any happy memories in a long time, there are still some from a time that feels like another life. A time where my grandmother had laughed with me and painted ornaments, or even the first couple months that I was with Matt and he actually seemed to love me. They are like ghosts to this house; now, it’s only haunted by them.
The tears that form in my eyes are self-pitying. I hate them, so I quickly turn away from the kind boy and kneel down, picking up the remains of the beautiful vase that had once sat proudly on our table.
“There’s no need for that. What’s done is done.”
There’s silence as I finish picking up the large pieces and carefully collect them in my hands, comforted by the familiar pattern that I’d grown up with.
But now, it’s been shattered to pieces. It will no longer be there as a steady constant. Everything is changing.
“What exactly are you doing here, Cole?” I finally ask, emptying my hands into the bin. He sighs as I turn to face him, the tense expression on his face worrying me.
He made idle chitchat at the front of Mrs. Grenway’s for a couple of minutes before becoming fidgety. I suggested that we go somewhere else to chat. I didn’t want to wake her, and Obi needed out. I just wanted to stop in here for a minute to see, to sit, and take in what really happened.
And to check if there is anything Cam missed.
“I know that this is all new to you, and probably more terrifying than I can even begin to imagine, but please don’t listen to Lou. He has a lot of bitterness in him. Sometimes, he gets in these moods where he can’t help but lash out. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that we’re all so used to it that he probably just wanted a reaction.”
I sit down next to Cole and rub my arms as I think about the previous scene. “It’s not really Lou that I was worried about. It’s just that when I saw the way Trent was with him, it reminded me of . . .”
I glance towards the devastation around us before I even realise. Cole grimaces, his hand reaching out and taking mine as my body shudders.
“I know, and seeing this, I now realise how much you really went through. Not that I didn’t think that before with your bruises and everything,
but I didn’t realise how bad it really was. How violent . . .” he trails off, clearly not knowing what to say.
I give him a small smile and squeeze his hand in return.
“Anyway,” he restarts, clearing his throat. “I know that Trent looked scary, and I’m not saying that you have no reason to be upset by his anger, or that he should have excuses made for him, I’m just letting you know that you are the safest person in the world around Trent. No matter what happens, it goes against everything in his nature to even upset you. You may or may not say that his wolf is a little whipped by you.”
His wolf.
I know he means well, and I know somewhere in my heart that what he’s saying is true, but I’m just not ready to blindly accept that yet.
I just can’t. Not yet.
“So there’s an animal in your head?” I ask, changing the subject. Cole leans back with a laugh, scratching his neck.
“I mean, yeah, in short, but it’s not like they’re constantly there and we go crazy listening to them all the time. He just kind of pops up and chimes in in certain situations or when we feel certain things.” He frowns. “Sometimes, even when he is not necessarily wanted.”
“Is it hard?” I ask. “To not listen?”
Cole sighs. “Incredibly.” His shoulders tense as he thinks for a second, his hands intertwining themselves. “It’s like when people say they have an angel and a devil on their shoulder, and they choose who to listen to, but in this case, there’s only one and it depends what mood they’re in on whether they’re the angel or the devil. Your mood changes, your thoughts become a bit incoherent if the feelings are too strong, and a lot of the time you black out or give over to the ‘beast’ as it’s so fondly called. Usually, you turn when your anger gets too high, but there’s cases where the pure fury prevents it and you black out as a human.”.
“That sounds . . .” I catch my breath. “Scary.”
Cole quickly waves his hand and lets out a quick laugh, standing up as he scolds himself. “I’m really not helping this fear thing, am I?” he asks and I wince. “Okay, it does sound pretty bad, and it can be, but a wolf is also one of the most annoyingly caring creatures that there is. They do anything for their pack, and when it comes to mates, it’s definitely worse. It never shuts up. It’s like it needs to be with them constantly and craves their approval and affection every waking moment. The phrase ‘sad puppy’ definitely applies.”
“What? So if I tell Trent off for peeing on the carpet, he’ll take it to heart?”
Cole bursts out laughing as I giggle at the image of Trent as a puppy being scolded. I begin to feel the tenseness rise off me as my body relaxes and ferocious beasts turn into fluffy dogs in my head. I need to make my own judgement on them; I need to see for myself how they are and how they could be. I know these boys. I know Cole. I know Trent.
But one sad dog sticks with me.
“Cole, what happened to Lou?”
His expression darkens, and he looks away from me. His jaw is tight as he looks out the window, memories clearly playing in his head. By the clenched fists, they are ones that he would rather not have.
“He was attacked by rogues,” he answers bluntly, the anger behind the words clear as day. “Rogues are wolves that don’t have a pack, don’t have a family. Either they were born out of one or were kicked out for something, whether it be their fault or their parents. Usually, they’re feral, vicious, and angry at packs. They let their wolf take over more than they should and give in to the animal instincts that being in a pack keeps at bay. They don’t really know happiness. They give in to anger and sadness. To us, a pack is more than company; it’s a link to your humanity, to those you care about and the things you love. Rogues don’t have that.”
“Every rogue?”
“Every rogue I’ve ever met eventually goes pretty bad, yeah. Most of them are brought up to hate us.” He almost sounds apologetic as he answers. I frown, not wanting to believe it for a second.
Cam is good. He would never be full of hate and anger. He would never harm someone purposely. I’m sure of that, but I saw the way he was at the house . . . how he changed.
I can’t begin to even imagine the ginger-haired little boy that has been by my side for so many years murdering someone or being driven by revenge or bloodlust. He’s just not capable of it, I know that.
But I don’t know werewolves.
“Can someone join a pack?” I ask eventually. Cole shrugs.
“Usually, they have to have a reason to be there—a soulmate or family they didn’t know they had. Rogues don’t usually get accepted by other packs because they could still be unstable, and usually, by the time they try to join one, they’re too old to learn pack ways anyway. They’re real lone wolves. Plus, usually, someone is a rogue because of something they’ve done wrong, or their ancestors. In that case, their bloodline is banned.”
“So people are punished for the crimes of their parents?” I question with a frown, not liking the sound of it one bit. “Is that not a bit unfair?”
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world for us, you can’t be too careful,” Cole defends, brushing some glass off the counter. “Some people just have bad blood.”
Bad blood.
Before I can retort or even question his thinking ,Obi barks from the living room and comes running through to us, his teeth bared in the direction of the front window while his bark echoes down the hall.
“Obi?” I ask, caution lining my voice. Cole is up in a second, his body seeming to expand in size as he carefully walks around the corner of the kitchen units, his sight following the dog. “What is it?”
Cole raises a hand and stops me from talking as I stand beside him, the two of us silently moving towards the front of the house. I quickly grab Obi’s collar, calming him down. He stops barking, only silence now surrounding us. The hairs on my body rise and a shiver goes down my spine.
I can’t see anything through the window; the blinds are pretty much closed. The only bit of the outside that I can see is obscured by plants, making it impossible to make out anything further.
The house feels eerie, as if we are standing in a lung that’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen and it’s slowly suffocating. My eyes dart around, looking for a sign of something, but there is only a ticking noise coming from a clock at the top of the stairs.
“Cole—” He covers my mouth and closes his eyes, his face scrunching up as if he’s straining. I realise he’s listening to what’s outside. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the abilities that they have or the way they have managed to hide it for so long, but right now, it’s the only thing giving me any comfort.
That is until his frown deepens, and his face pales a little.
My heartbeat quickens, and I clutch onto my necklace on instinct, begging for Trent to be here and feel the safety of his arms around me.
What is happening?
Cole’s eyes suddenly snap open. He grabs me in his arms, clutching onto me as panic floods his face.
“Elle, we have to go . . . now.”
His words are cut off by the sound of something behind us smashing. I scream at the noise and spin around, preparing to see a creature with snarling teeth waiting for us.
Are we under attack? Is this it? Am I going to die?
As I frantically try to spot the intruder, I see nothing except a broken window and something large and metal lying on the ground. Has someone thrown something at us? What is it meant to do?
“Cole, what’s—”
“Elle! Get back!”
Before I can blink, he’s grabbing me in his arms and spinning me away from the object, his body now between us as he shoves me away with panic and fear clear on his face.
I stumble a few steps before reaching for him.
Cole.
Just as my fingers touch him, the world explodes around me, and the floor disappears from under my feet.
Everything turns white.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There’s a ringing in my ears that won’t let up. I wince at the feeling of it, as though it’s echoing through my head.
What is going on?
Something is heavy across my legs and won’t budge, a warmth spreading where it touches me. I slowly sit up, rubbing my hands across my eyes, brushing off whatever is coating them.
My eyes blink open, and it takes a moment for me to understand what I’m seeing. My brain struggles to comprehend my eyes as I take it in.
If I had thought the house looked like a war zone before, then I don’t exactly know what I would call this.
Debris lay on everything; every surface no longer remains intact, pieces of roof or wall or something are crossed above me, and some light is breaking through a hole at the top. I look around at the surface that I’m lying on and realise that I’m lower than ground level. An almost perfect circle is around me and the walls seem to stop at the outline of it.
What happened?
Something moves beside me. I almost scream, but the brush of fur and a whine in my ear calms me. I reach out, touching the dog’s fur as he comes into the little bit of light.
“Obi.” I sigh with relief as he leans his head into me and my eyes tear up. “You’re okay, good boy.”
I can only believe that it’s a miracle that he’s okay. God knows how he isn’t trapped under something.
But my legs are, and whatever it is, it’s groaning.
Cole.
Realisation floods through me as I gasp and shuffle forward, gently pulling myself up and towards the figure at my feet. A sob leaves my chest as I touch his, carefully moving him off me.
“Cole,” I whisper as I try to make out his features, but there’s no response and my chest tightens. “Help!” I try to scream but the debris fly into my throat and cut me off as I cough, my haggard breathing shaking me. “Cole, please,” I cry, shaking him a little in desperation.