Authors: Claire Farrell
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #Romantic, #Teen & Young Adult, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Paranormal & Fantasy, #Juvenile Fiction
“Perdita? Nobody’s perfect. But she was perfect for me. She was always herself, never trying to show off or be anyone else. You get what you see, and with our life, that’s a great thing.”
“The curse hit you too young. If it had just waited a while, you could have avoided this whole mess.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, but I didn’t agree. Not at all.
“This looks like a good place.” He slowed down and came to a stop. “Time to eat.” He was out of the vehicle and sprinting toward the nearest copse of trees before I could open the door.
Shaking my head, I soon followed, desperate to be wolf. I stripped and changed into my wolf as quickly as possible. Wolf was reluctant, which was strange, considering the hunger. I ignored that fact as my entire body shifted into its animal form, cracking and twisting into the beast that was always inside me. I let out an inhuman sound and followed Jeremy further away from the truck, relishing the freedom paws gave me. I was only a tiny bit miffed that Jeremy had lied about the snow. We left a trail of prints in the patches of snow behind us, but there was mostly sodden grass ahead, so I couldn’t complain too much.
I felt better and worse as wolf. The need for the mate we had lost was overwhelming, but it was easier to soothe the wolf with the hunt and the simplicity of running free. I could forget for a little while and that was likely the real reason Jeremy had brought me out. To forget.
So I did.
At first, we ran for ages, ignoring the rest of the wildlife. I soon realised I was catching familiar scents as the snow grew deeper under our paws again. Jeremy was leading me back to the place we had been the day before.
He glanced back at me, his eyes wild with excitement, and I hurried to match his pace. He yelped a little and ducked under a low hanging branch. We weren’t hunting for food anymore, and every sense in my body thrilled with the adrenalin rush.
I couldn’t have said how much time passed, but we ended up close to the werewolf’s hut before sunset. I didn’t feel the cold anymore. I just felt anger, pain, and a desire to make somebody pay. I knew that Jeremy wanted the wolves to fear us, to decide we were the greater adversary, and for once, I didn’t care.
We approached the hut with care, but Jeremy howled a challenge. Less than five minutes later, a wolf ran from the back of the hut to greet us. He was the same wolf as before, light brown, no bigger than I was. He was no match for the both of us, but he came at us as if he had an entire pack behind him.
Jeremy lay down and jerked his head at me as if to say, “Go ahead. Take it all out on him.”
My heart jumping out of my chest, I approached the wolf. He circled me, snarling and baring his fangs. I wasn’t afraid, not at all. In fact, I was eager to fight, eager to tear his flesh apart with my teeth. The rage was all-consuming, fed by every slight, every event that had ever caused me anger. I imagined the young wolf to have killed my parents, to have attacked Perdita, her father, and my family. I saw Vin in him, and my sight turned red with anger.
I ran, barrelling into him until we were both rolling across the ground. He snapped aggressively, desperate to reach my throat, but I outmatched him with my anger. I heard shouting in the distance, and before I could react, the wolf was out from under me, racing back to the hut. I followed, confused, until I saw Jeremy racing toward humans.
Fire! The old man waved some kind of lit torch, and a young woman stood in Jeremy’s path. I realised the wolf had run to protect his own, his family, his
mate
.
Full of shame and disgust, I charged at Jeremy, even as the other wolf flung himself in front of his loved ones. I caught Jeremy’s flank as he launched, forcing him to slow. He was too wild. He whirled around to face me, eyes black with anger.
I let out a warning snarl, and he backed away a step, but he had wound up too close to the others, and the werewolf snapped at Jeremy. Surrounded by two of us, Jeremy thought twice and raced away from the hut.
Panting, I glanced at the three of them, werewolf and humans, more sorry than I could ever say. I bowed my head a little, hoping I looked apologetic, but the werewolf was understandably wary and angry. He bared his fangs until I moved off.
Perdita was right. I had become the exact kind of monster I was chasing. I ran, following Jeremy and hoping he didn’t drive off without me in his anger. I found him tearing into a large ibex, despite a stomach injury from the ibex’s long, curved horns. He snarled at me, livid with anger, so I left him there and headed back to the truck.
I couldn’t hunt after that. I sat in the truck and waited for him. When he finally returned, he was dressed and clean with no outward sign of injury, but he didn’t get into the truck straight away. He leaned against the door, gagging, before joining me.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped.
I didn’t say a word, but I knew I would never follow Jeremy. He could never lead me. I didn’t want to be that kind of werewolf, that kind of man. I was finally seeing clearly.
The drive back seemed to take forever, but that was partly because of the deathly silence in the truck. No music, no talking, and we both made a point of turning away from each other. Byron had been right about us. There would always be competition and tension between us because I knew I would never let Jeremy above me in the pack, and I could guarantee he thought the exact same thing.
We got back to the hotel to find a furious Opa struggling with
Willow
.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. “She’s been throwing herself against the wall for the last hour.”
Blood matted her hair, making it stick to her temples. Her skin was incredibly pale, but the blankness in her eyes was what stood out.
“I’ll deal with her,” Jeremy said.
“Sure that’s a good idea?” I couldn’t help asking.
Opa looked at us both with a great deal of curiosity.
“Think
you’d
be able for it?” Jeremy retorted.
“No more leaving without my permission,” Opa said. “This journey isn’t over, and I won’t have you wasting your energy. We could be attacked at any time.”
I stared at Jeremy in disgust. “Yeah. That’s the worst that could happen.”
I stayed in the room I shared with Jeremy for the rest of the evening, going to bed early to avoid seeing him.
My family wasn’t as perfect as Amelia once liked to make out. Opa and Jeremy were one and the same, capable of doing terrible things. I wasn’t that far from becoming exactly like them. Where did it end? Perdita’s words echoed in my head all night. I couldn’t stay with them for much longer. I needed back in the security of Byron’s protection, his roof, his rules. I needed to be around people who thought that violence and murder were last resorts, not first options.
I needed to go home.
Perdita
A trickle of red ran from my wrist and pooled in the crook of my inner elbow. I brushed the liquid away impatiently, staining most of my forearm in the process.
“Oh, my God!” Gran exclaimed from the doorway.
I rolled my eyes at her exaggerated excitement. “Yes?”
“That looks
amazing
. He’s going to be pleased, so pleased, when he sees it.”
That
was the welcome home banner Gran was making me paint, but I was so nervous about Dad’s return that I kept making a mess.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hang it up. I can only imagine how happy he’ll be when he comes home.”
I couldn’t take any more. “Gran, he’s dreading coming home. He hates everyone in the world right now, and we’re going to bear the brunt of it. A stupid homemade banner isn’t going to change that.”
Her face fell.
“We’ll be okay eventually, but I can’t pretend he likes me very much right now. He’s never been this pissed at me before.”
She walked behind my chair and rested her hands on my shoulders. “I know, but he’s not himself at the moment. That’s all. We’ll get through this together.” She released her grip with a breathy gasp.
I looked around to see her holding a sheet in her hand: a picture I hadn’t torn up yet.
“Perdy,” she said, her voice trembling, “This is just
wonderful
.”
“What?” That hadn’t been the reaction I was expecting.
She put down the page and flicked through a sketchpad, then her gaze fell upon the bin full of scrunched up pages. She glanced at me. “You didn’t.” She grabbed a handful of pages and made an attempt to straighten them out.
“Gran, that’s private.”
“Private?” Her face cleared of confusion. “Oh, because it’s Nathan. But they’re so beautiful.” She held one out, but I refused to look at the image. “How can you draw this and think you have any place in the world other than as an artist of some kind?”
“Stop it.” I hurried to the bathroom where I scrubbed at my hands. The red paint swirled around the basin, invoking bad memories, and I washed those away, too. Nathan was away fighting violent werewolves, while I stayed home to paint banners and hide sketches.
“Perdy,” Gran said from the doorway. “Why are you upset with me?”
“I’m not upset with you. I’m just… I can’t stop drawing him. Even when I’m not thinking about him, out he pops from the end of my pencil. It’s annoying, that’s all.”
“You care about him. It’s only natural to find it hard to get over your first love.”
I choked out a strangled laugh. “Haven’t you heard Dad? Teenagers don’t
love
.”
“Oh, don’t give me that.
He
did when he was a teen. That’s what his problem is.”
“Gran…”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You tell me he’s a good boy, and I believe you. You say he hasn’t done anything wrong, and I believe you. But when you tell me you don’t care, when you tell me you’re over it, those are the things I can’t believe. Not because there’s something wrong with you, but because you’re perfectly normal.”
“I miss him,” I whispered. “I miss… everything.”
“You could always talk to him.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to. I need to forget about this year, do whatever Dad wants, and when the time comes, go where I need to be.”
She hesitated. “I want you to be happy.”
I tried to smile. “I know, Gran. And I
am
happy. I’m just stressed about Dad right now.” I brushed past her, but I knew she didn’t buy it.
Dad was coming home the following afternoon, and I wished I knew how to fix the badness between us. I would do anything to make him better again.
Gran and I cleaned up the entire house, bought all of Dad’s favourite things to eat, and consulted with a tired-looking
Erin
on what we could do with him for the rest of the summer holidays to stop him from losing his mind completely. Of course, we didn’t vocalise it so bluntly, but I could totally tell we were all thinking the same thing.
“He’ll probably want a lot of rest,”
Erin
said doubtfully as she peered at Gran’s list of activities. “I mean, he’s still very weak.”
“Yeah, but sitting around doing nothing makes him grouchy.” I frowned, concerned by
Erin
’s wan complexion. “Are
you
getting enough rest?”
Dots of pink appeared on her cheekbones. “I’m fine.”
We spoke some more about the logistics of bringing Dad and his newly acquired mountain of hospital stuff home. He had pills to take, exercise routines to follow, all kinds of things designed to get him back to himself.
“Is he ever going to be the same again?” I asked.
“Of course,” Gran said.
But
Erin
wasn’t sure at all. “It’ll take time,” she said at last.
The guilt from that truth had been shadowing me for a while. The uncertainty and fear were derived from my actions. I had killed a werewolf, so his vengeful daughter had attacked my father. Although Jakob Evans had hinted that he knew how to fix Dad, the Evans family had kept their distance. No amount of hospital tests and pills could cure whatever was wrong with my father.
The next morning, Gran insisted on hovering around me until her nervousness had me wound just as tight, so I decided the banner was dry enough to hang up. When I finished, I climbed down from the stepladder and eyed the banner carefully. A little crooked, but maybe nobody would notice. I folded the ladder and prepared to go back inside.