Clarity (3 page)

“Wait a sec. Are you having dinner with us?” Dad asked.

“Not hungry. Better do some homework.” I trudged up the stairs, imaginary weights on my ankles. It was so easy to take a life, yet so hard to live with the act. What I really wanted to do was tell my dad and let him fix everything. Childish dream. Nobody could fix everything. And Dad could never know, so I avoided him as much as possible.

It wasn’t long ago that some of my biggest worries had been if my dad would allow me to go to a party, or if my best friend was still my best friend. I would have given anything for those kinds of problems again.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my schoolbag. Unwanted images kept popping into my head—dead wolves, dead people. It felt as though I could reach out and touch them. When my bedroom door unexpectedly opened, I jumped and shrieked with fright, clutching my bag as if it would protect me from the past and present.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Erin
held up her hands. “I knocked, so I thought...”

I tried not to sigh. “It’s okay. I don’t want dinner.”

“Yeah, I heard.
Perdy
, are you okay?”

I looked up at my father’s girlfriend and saw concern etched all over her face. I had to put on a mask everywhere. I smiled, aiming for cheerful. “Of course. I better get some homework done.”

“Hmm. You said that, what, twenty minutes ago? You’ve been sitting in here—”

“Trying to remember the homework is all. Maybe I will have dinner. Could you tell Dad?” I gave her another beaming smile, hoping she would get lost.

She raised an eyebrow, then sat on the bed next to me. “Come on,
Perdy
. You’ve been moping around for ages. Is there something at school? Bullies maybe? Or did somebody do something to you outside of school? Touch you inappropriately or something?”

My giggle was genuine and strange to hear. I hadn’t been given a good touch/bad touch talk in quite a while. I hadn’t laughed in a while either. “No, Erin. I told you, I’m fine.”

“I know what you’re telling me. Problem is, I can’t believe you when you’ve a face on you like a scalded cat the whole time. Something’s wrong; that much is obvious. Has Nathan done something? Something to hurt your feelings maybe?”

I choked out a laugh that sounded more akin to a sob. “He couldn’t. I… no. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

I could tell by her sceptical expression that she didn’t believe me, but then her face dropped. “Is it…?” She bit her lip and hesitated. “Is it to do with me being around?”

“Of course not! You make my dad happy. I like that.” That was true. I thought
Erin
was good for him. The idea that someone in my life was actually happy was a beacon of hope for me.

She twisted a ring around her finger. “Your dad told me you hate when he and your
gran
fight. And well, it seems like me being around has kick-started a little aggro again. I would understand if that made you upset, if you needed some space from me because of it. I wouldn’t be offended if you needed me and your dad to back off, at least around here.”

I patted her arm, not knowing what else to do. “I’m not upset because of you. I promise.”

“Then what is it? I hate to see you like this. Your dad doesn’t know what to do. I don’t think you realise how worried he is.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll try to do better.”

She leaned back as though I had hit her or something. “
Perdy
...” She shook her head. “Listen to me. This isn’t about you doing better. It’s about finding out what’s bothering you so we can deal with it.”

Exhaling heavily, I gave up on the idea of peace. How on Earth could I tell her I felt depressed because I’d killed the bad werewolf who killed my werewolf boyfriend’s werewolf grandmother? It didn’t make any sense, even in my head. She would probably have me committed, and that still wouldn’t solve any of my problems.

Erin
wrapped her arm around me and laid her head against mine for a few seconds. “I know I’m not family, but I remember what it was like to be your age. Everything was a huge deal, and sometimes the only way to feel better was to talk about it to someone who wasn’t your parent. What I’m trying to say is that I hope you know I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk, okay? No judgements, I promise.”

“Thank you.” The more time I spent with
Erin
, the more I liked her. She didn’t act nice to impress Dad; she seemed genuinely interested in me. It would be easier for me if she didn’t care at all. Sometimes I felt like blurting out the whole crazy story to her.

But I remembered what I had been told.
Nobody
could know.

Nathan

“We need to hunt soon,” I reminded Byron.

He waved me away. “I have work to do. Maybe on the weekend.” He bowed his head and concentrated on his stupid laptop. His fingers moved deftly over the clicking keys, majorly annoying.

I’d been trying to talk to my uncle for weeks. He never listened, and I’d had enough. Grabbing his laptop, I slammed it shut before he had a chance to react. That got his attention—indignantly outraged attention, but still.

I pre-empted his lecture with one of my own. “The memorial’s this weekend, and you haven’t hunted since
Opa
left. You can’t keep avoiding it until you’re ready to chew someone’s head off.”

He glared at me. I felt his rage, and I didn’t really blame him, but I still couldn’t back down. He wasn’t even our alpha anymore. My grandfather had taken that before he left. For the first time, I realised we really did need a clear leader because my inner wolf had been trying to break its cage ever since my grandfather had run out on us. I was slowly losing my grip on control, and that terrified me. Someone needed to take charge before the entire family fell apart.

After a couple of seconds of shaking, wordless rage, Byron’s shoulders drooped. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes distractedly. I highly doubted he even needed reading glasses and secretly suspected he had some kind of Clark
Kent
complex when what we really needed was Superman.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed in a tired voice. “We’ll go out tomorrow evening if
Perdy
can stay with Amelia for a couple of hours.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Byron refused to leave Amelia in the house alone anymore. I couldn’t see the point, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I needed to hunt, too, anything that might cool down my hormones or help me sleep.

I wandered outside, wondering what to do. I wanted to go to
Perdita
, but I sensed her pulling away from me. She said all the right things, but I felt the distance, and I didn’t have a clue how to bridge it. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. The curse was meant to keep us close, but I couldn’t deny the way it had ripped us apart at the very core the day my grandmother died.

I made a beeline for my sister when I saw her on the swings. She wasn’t swinging, just sitting there, my grandmother’s dog by her side in place of King. The old dog was mourning more than the rest of us, and Amelia had only allowed herself one day to cry over King. She claimed it wouldn’t be right to cry over a dog, not even one as amazing as King, when our Mémère had just died.

The dog licked my hand in greeting, but Amelia didn’t move or make a sound.

“We’re hunting tomorrow.” I hoped she would react. It might stop me from feeling so completely alone in the world, as though everyone had locked themselves in their own heads.

She nodded, still staring into space.

“Want to read my fortune?”

“Nah.”

“What’s wrong?”

She gazed at me, seeming truly amazed by the question.

“I meant right now, specifically,” I amended.

She tried to twirl around, but her movements were jerky and went against the natural rhythm of the swing. “It feels like we should be doing something about the memorial. It doesn’t feel right that strangers are organising everything.”

I agreed with her, but it wasn’t up to us. Unsurprisingly, Byron had paid people to take over before locking himself in his office. “We could do something in private. Visit her grave together. Leave her something, maybe.”

Her feet scuffed the ground, halting the swing’s movements. “I like that. We could bring
Perdita
.”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure she would be into that. Not after everything.”

“She’ll be okay, Nathan. I mean, it’s
Perdita
.” She hesitated when she caught the look on my face. “Well, if it’s only us, let’s go now.”

“Oh, um… I mean, I don’t have anything to give her right now.”

“Give her something you own,” she said excitedly. “I’m going to get ready.”

Seeing a bit of life in my little sister was probably worth the hassle. She had taken the loss of our grandparents pretty badly, mostly because she had been so spoiled by them. Sometimes I wished they hadn’t treated her like a baby for so long; maybe she would have dealt with everything better.

I paused outside Byron’s door on the way to my room, but didn’t knock. Even though he made a big deal about never leaving Amelia alone, he rarely noticed if she left the house. He had no real interest in us. He never had. We were the burden he had inherited first from his brother and then from his mother.

By the time Amelia was ready, I was itching to go. I persuaded her to walk so I could feel the wind against my skin. My wolf was dying to hunt and run and be free. I couldn’t wait.

Amelia acted as though everything was fine, but there was something off about her. Her mind was elsewhere. Then again, we were all still learning to deal with life without our grandparents.

At the cemetery, we knelt at our grandmother’s grave and cleared away twigs and debris decorating the surface. The graveyard was eerily tranquil, the only sounds distant traffic and rustling leaves.

Amelia dug a little hole and buried her charm bracelet and a silk bag of tarot cards. “They were hers,” she said fiercely. “That bracelet was the first gift
Opa
ever gave her. I took the cards from her room. She should have them with her.”

I bit my lip, not knowing quite what to say to that. “You’re right,” I said at last.

Amelia glanced up at me, tears in her eyes. “Good.” She bowed her head reverently. “Mémère, I miss you so much. I need you now. I…”

I moved away so I wouldn’t hear anymore. Not to give her privacy, but to stop whatever it was inside me that kept breaking whenever I heard the catch in my sister’s voice as she said
Mémère
. Her hurt and pain were so overwhelmingly obvious that it shamed me not to be there for her. I had been thinking about how everything affected me and
Perdita
. I hadn’t really given enough thought to Amelia. She wasn’t coping, and I had to claim some of the blame.

“Your turn,” she called out after a couple of minutes. I tried not to think about what she might have been saying. Her cheeks had flushed red, and her eyes shone with tears, but she seemed better, more at peace. Maybe speaking to Mémère really did help.

“Do you think you could give me a minute?” I asked. “Alone, I mean?”

She shrugged and got to her feet.

“Stay where I can see you,” I called after her. I took a card out of my pocket. I’d gotten it for Mémère’s birthday, but hadn’t had the chance to give it to her. I set it down behind the flowers on her grave. It felt lame and impersonal, but I had no idea what else I could have brought. It seemed stupid, but I had never felt a part of our family, and the fact I didn’t have all of those great memories that Amelia had was hard to deal with. But I did love her, and that had to count.

Sitting beside the headstone, I cleared my throat, unsure of where to begin. The events after her death had been confusing—the fake death certificate, the removal in the middle of the night, the brief, secret funeral
Opa
had somehow organised without consulting anyone. There was no closure, no real sense of peace. I wasn’t sure what happened to people when they died, but we hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye, so maybe that meant she was still around. I decided to go with that thought.

“Um, hi, Mémère. Hope you’re okay. I... I want you to know that I’ll take care of Amelia. Byron isn’t doing so well, and I’ve no idea where
Opa
or Jeremy could be.”

It made me so angry to think they were out there, doing something, and leaving the rest of us behind. What we really needed was for someone to help us be more like those other wolves, ferocious and aggressive, able to win a fight. The werewolves had to come back for us. Whatever it was they wanted, they hadn’t gotten it yet, and it seemed as though I was the only one willing and able to protect Amelia and
Perdita
when the scum returned for more.

I realised I was squeezing a flower and let go. Crushed petals flew, and I wiped my hand on my jeans, embarrassed to have brought my anger to Mémère’s grave. It felt wrong, but it had been all too easy for me to lose my temper lately.
Perdita
was the only one able to keep me grounded, and she had no clue how close I was to the edge. Nobody knew the turmoil in my mind, how easily self-control could slip out of my hands. It wouldn’t take much for me to snap. I only hoped the other werewolves were around when it happened.