by Eden Beck
Maybe it’s because as far as he’s concerned, I’m just a tiny blip in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it’s because he wants to scare me off. Either way, I’m not about to complain about getting a glimpse, for once, into this secret part of the Grays’ lives.
It isn’t until after school, when we are all sitting around in the mansion’s living room, that Romulus tells the boys it wasn’t the full pack, but merely a vanguard, that he spotted. I sit up in my seat, ears pricked as if I’m a wolf myself.
“Good,” Marlowe says, perking up a bit too. “That’s good to hear.”
I want to know more about it, but Romulus doesn’t really get into any of the details. I’d be disappointed if that tiny bit of news wasn’t already more than I’ve been given in months.
Especially when I can’t help but notice the effect it has on the boys. It’s more than just relief, it’s excitement.
It grows, along with their whispered conversation whenever I leave the room, until I can’t wait any longer. I make it all of forty-five minutes.
“So …” I start as soon as Romulus steps outside to take a phone call. I stab a straw in the glass of chocolate milk in front of me on the counter in the most non-aggressive way I can muster. “What’s this so-called ‘vanguard’ doing in North Port? The eclipse is still a couple of months away.” I glance up at them. “Isn’t it?”
“Who knows,” Rory says, casually. But he seems a bit too casual, as if he’s trying to brush off my question. As usual. “You should probably head home soon though.” He shares a secret look with his brothers. “Now that they’re here, we need to prepare things and make sure it’s all safe for you.”
“Safe for me? Like what, the ceremony? I was starting to think I won’t be allowed to come to that.”
I feel my pace quicken, only for my excitement to be forced to a screeching halt.
“Safe, in general,” Marlowe says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had wolves from other packs on our land. We normally don’t allow it, and well … last time it didn’t go so well.”
I remember that encounter well, and Marlowe isn’t exaggerating.
It ended with a wolf-girl that nearly bit my arm into two pieces.
I get the feeling that things have been a bit tense between the packs in the alliance ever since. The boys haven’t really wanted to talk about it with me—as they never do with this subject—but it’s pretty obvious that incident stirred up some ill feelings between Romulus’ pack and the others.
“We just need to make sure that the other packs are familiar with the situation we have here,” Rory adds. “Before we add in any more factors.”
“And by situation, I assume you mean me?” I’d feel bad if I wasn’t already too frustrated.
Romulus announces he’s returned by making a small huffing sound that answers my question.
He’s not happy with the situation at all, I can tell. That’s not news, though. He seems really uncomfortable with the whole idea of me being anywhere near the ritual, and even more uncomfortable with the idea of informing the other packs about me in an attempt to make sure I don’t get nearly eaten again.
Funny to think that it wasn’t too long ago that he was the one I needed to be most worried about. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was a night he almost killed me just to keep their secret safe.
The boys stand up as they ready to usher me out the door and Marlowe offers to walk me home.
He tries to make it sound like he is just doing it to get a few more moments of time with me, but I know him well enough now to know that he’s doing it to protect me. The last time they left me wandering alone through the woods on a full moon I ended up getting kidnapped.
Just as we reach the front door to leave, however, there’s a loud knock from the other side. Immediately, Romulus, Rory, and Kaleb are all standing beside us—moving with that supernatural speed that allows them to move so quickly they almost appear to teleport.
So much for getting me out of here before the other shifters arrive.
They’re already here.
Romulus gently pushes Marlowe aside and stands in front of us to answer the door. I peek over his shoulder as the wooden slab opens to reveal two people standing on the doorstep.
The first is a tall and lanky looking man with dark eyes and disheveled hair. He has the hairiest arms I think I’ve ever seen—so hairy that even if I didn’t know wolf shifters existed, I might have gotten suspicious.
The other person on the stoop is a beautiful Native American girl with short, black hair and a gold stud in her right nostril. Before I can ask who these people are, the girl spots Marlowe behind me and pushes right past Romulus and throws her arms around his neck, practically knocking me back a step.
“Marlowe, you dog!” she says as she squeezes him and kisses his cheek. Then she spots Rory and Kaleb and throws her arms around each one of them in turn. “I’ve missed you guys something fierce! Why in the hell haven’t you been writing to me?” The boys all smile and launch into explanations of how they’ve been busy with school, and preparations for the eclipse ritual, and “other things”.
I imagine that the last part is supposed to refer to me.
I’m the “other thing”.
If the cheek kiss didn’t already make my temper rise, this makes me see red. It’s everything I can do to keep my heartbeat steady. The last thing I want is this new shifter hearing the way she’s made my pulse race.
The girl locks arms with both Kaleb and Rory and turns on her heels to walk into the house with them without a single glance back. So much for Romulus’ concern.
She didn’t even seem to notice that I exist.
As Romulus invites the other man in, Marlowe pulls me along out the door.
“What’s the rush?” I ask. “Who are they?”
“Just some friends,” he says. His pace down the hill is much quicker than usual. I was hoping that we could have a slow walk together, a chance to discuss what’s really going on this weekend, but Marlowe seems to be in a big hurry to get back to the house.
I got that they wanted to get me away before these trespassers arrived … but now that they’ve undoubtedly seen me, smelled me, recognized me for what I am—despite the girl’s insistently ignoring me—I don’t understand the rush.
When we get to my cabin door, he gives me a quick peck on the cheek and tells me that he’ll see me soon. And just like that, he leaves me alone on the porch, the only sign left of him the swaying branches in his wake.
What the hell was that all about?
I don’t like the way that girl seemed so comfortable with them … way too comfortable to be just an acquaintance from another pack.
For what feels like the first time in months, I find myself alone at the cabin with my mother in the middle of the day. As much as I want to put off the inevitable, that’s the thing.
It’s inevitable.
I might as well face it head on.
“Hi, honey.” My mother’s voice is dry and stiff, as if she’s practiced for this moment. She’s sitting at the little kitchen table with an almost empty bottle of wine in front of her when I walk through the door.
That’s new.
“Hey,” I say, eyeing the bottle warily for a moment.
“We should talk about some things since you’re home now,” she says. I can hear her words slurring slightly at the end of her sentence. “You haven’t been home much lately.”
“Yeah, I know,” I answer. I eye the bottle a second time. “Not tonight Mom, okay? I’m tired.”
Not to mention she sounds drunk.
I climb up the ladder into my loft and plop down on my mattress to look up at the fake moon and stars painted on my ceiling. Rory helped me with that one night when she was gone. It was a surprising moment of quiet tenderness, nothing like the ugly temper that likes to rear its head at me at every opportunity.
Down below, I hear the swish of wine being poured as my mom refills her glass. Between her and
everything else going on, I have the feeling that things are coming apart. I try to chalk it up to jealousy and exhaustion, but part of me knows that I’m playing the fool.
Things will have to fall apart eventually.
They always do.
It takes me a while to fall asleep that night. At first, I stare at my phone waiting for the boys to text like they always do but when no messages come through, I start to get worried. I text them, starting with Kaleb and ending with Marlowe, but none of them answer.
They’re ignoring me.
I try not to feel desperate and needy as I wait for them to answer. But then I start to get angry.
What if I were in some real sort of trouble and they were ignoring my texts simply because a pretty dark-eyed girl showed up at their door?
Even as I think it, I feel like even more of a fool.
That isn’t the case. They love me, I know that. Promises were made and they wouldn’t break their promise to me; at least, I don’t think they would. Not like this. Not with something they can actually control.
I have to stop obsessing over this. I won’t be one of those girls—the kind that grow jealous and paranoid at the first sign of competition.
Just thinking it makes that lead in my stomach sink. Competition.
As if a human girl, destined to die centuries before them, is any competition to a shifter.
A shifter with full lips and almond eyes.
A shifter with history.
I have no reason to believe the boys would lie to me, I know I’m just being jealous and paranoid, but that doesn’t make the unravelling feeling go away.
I have other, more deserving things to be paranoid about, like where my father is now and my mother’s downward spiral. Being jealous about whether or not the boys are fawning over some wolf-shifter girl is not something I need to be worrying about.
I count the painted stars on my ceiling in an attempt to stop myself from thinking about what could be happening at the mansion tonight. Without me.
The outsider.
When I finally fall asleep, I dream that I hear noises coming from the mansion, sounds that blow into my loft window on a steady breeze.
At first the sounds are of laughter and conversation. It sounds like the reunion of old friends, and I can hear Kaleb and Rory and Marlowe, all eagerly talking with the new girl, and the sound of her laughter chiming above them all. But then the sounds change. They become more heady and deep. The sounds grow louder and seem to penetrate my ear drums while I sleep.
I can hear panting and moaning, and the sensual sounds of primal pleasure. I hear Kaleb let out a groan that sounds like he’s begging for more. I hear Marlowe’s heavy breath being carried on the wind and the sound of the girl’s soft voice calling his name. And I hear Rory, as he calls out into the night with the sound of a carnal howl.
When I wake up in the morning and realize it was just a dream, I am sweating so much that my sheets are soaked.
It doesn’t matter that it was just a dream.
To me, it feels real.
5
Sabrina
I try not to think about my dreams from the night before as I get ready for school.
My mother has already left for work so at least I don’t need to deal with trying to play the role of parent this morning. Even when we’re not talking, she somehow finds a way to shift responsibility onto me.
Now that we’re no longer exactly in hiding, at least that doesn’t include having to pour over every letter and email to make sure we haven’t accidentally left a trail leading straight to us.
That doesn’t matter anymore. At least, as long as the boys are here to protect me. I don’t know what they said to my father, but whatever it was, I’d be willing to put money on a bet that he won’t be around any time soon.
Even if he does show, I’m not afraid of him anymore. I know he can’t take me again. I’d rather die—a fact I proved to both of us the last time he tried.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and aside from the lingering anxiety caused by my restless sleep, I’m actually feeling pretty good. Much better than I was last night. Something about the light of day melting away the shadows and all that.
I’m not enough of a morning person to bother remembering the right metaphor. All I know is that I’m sure I was overreacting last night. The boys have never given me any reason to be jealous. There’s nothing to make me believe this time is any different.
Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.
The image of the dark-haired girl from last night flashes in and out of my mind unbidden. With it comes a pang of jealousy that I try to quickly stuff deep down.
I’ll get to see the boys at school and I’m sure they’ll be able to explain why they never answered my texts last night. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.
If I know the Grays at all, it probably has something to do with Romulus. It usually does.
But when I get to school, the boys aren’t there. Every time a classroom door opens throughout the day, I turn expecting to see them walk in late, but every time it ends up being someone else.
That jealous pang in my stomach returns, but it’s turned into something heavier.
I’m reminded of the time they disappeared before, and I don’t like it.
I thought we were through with playing games. Through with leaving me in the dark.
I guess not.
The more the day progresses, the more frustrated and lonely I start to feel. By lunchtime, I’m at a loss about how to get through the rest of my day.
I stand in front of the empty table that the boys and I usually sit at, and then look over to the old table where Jess, Aimee, and Tom are sitting and chatting. Even from where I am across the cafeteria, I can overhear Tom trying to convince them that he does, in fact, know how to hotwire a car … only for them to loudly call him out on his bullshit. The sound of it—Tom’s attempted peacocking and Jess and Aimee immediately calling him out—it almost feels nostalgic.
It’s been ages since I joined them. Not since last school year.
Jess catches me looking in her direction, and I expect her to quickly look away as she usually does. Instead, her gaze travels to the empty seats behind me and then, to my surprise, she waves me over.
I have half a mind to walk out of the cafeteria and never come back, but I think better of it.
If I really am going to stay here in North Port, I need to start acting like it. I can’t let Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb be my entire world … especially when they won’t share half of that world with me.
I expect an awkward silence to fall over the three of them as I settle down into the cheap plastic seats … but instead, Aimee takes one look at me, shoves a French fry in Tom’s face, and demands he make me an apology.
“See what you did?” she hisses, her lips pursing as he dodges a second french fry, this one thrown directly at his head. “This is what happens when you shove girls in the river. They don’t talk to us for six months.”
Tom ducks his head, his gaze shifting over to me for half a second before flitting away.
“Sorry, Sabrina …” he starts, but I just lift one hand and shake my head.
“If the three of you can forgive me for ditching you, then I think I can forgive you for trying to drown me.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Shut. Up.” Aimee waves another fry threateningly in front of her face, and Tom does as she says. She’s all sunshine and smiles when she beams over at me. “Done. That’s what I call a deal.”
And just like that, it’s as if nothing has changed at all.
In a way, nothing has. Nothing much happens in a tiny town like North Port.
True to Aimee’s pronouncement, none of them seem determined to hold a grudge. Instead of being mad at me, they mostly just poke fun at me about my relationship with the “strange, hot boys” … until I admit I have no idea why they’re not in school.
That’s when the three of them finally quiet.
“You don’t think …” Jess starts, but lets herself trail off.
I know what she means.
You don’t think they’ve disappeared again.
I try to force a smile, but it feels fake. “No way. They’re probably just busy.”
Tom snorts, then looks like he instantly regrets it.
“I just mean,” he says, backtracking quickly, “what could they be so busy with that you couldn’t bother to tell you?”
It’s like a slap in the face. I suppose I should just be grateful that they let me sit with them at all after how much I have blown them off, but the prodding and teasing still somehow has a sting.
It stings because it’s exactly what I’ve been thinking, but hearing someone else say it makes it somehow more real. Like it’s not all just made up in my head.
Aimee wastes no time filling the awkward silence with a rant about how you can’t ever trust attractive boys because they’ll always “use you and lose you”. Tom overly exaggerates taking offence at her comments until she ends up rolling her eyes and apologizing to him. But not until he’s gotten red in the face and started sounding like he’s going to choke on his own spit.
Or cry. Which would be a thousand times worse.
It’s what Jess says next that cuts the deepest, however. I know she doesn’t mean to, but all the prodding has started to really raise a mountain of doubt in my mind.
“I mean,” she starts to say casually, but she can’t hide the undertone of cynicism in her voice. “It was one thing when those boys disappeared before you got involved with them. But now, to just vanish without telling you what’s up? That’s just not cool. How long does it take to send a text? Maybe like three seconds. The only time I would expect someone not to be able to reply to a text is if they were either having sex or dead.”
“Jess!” Aimee’s voice comes out so shrill it causes heads to turn our way.
I duck my head, half to hide the shame, and half to hide the fear.
Neither of those options are things that I want to think about. I’m guessing that Jess picks up on whatever look is resting on my face, because she suddenly becomes overly interested in picking apart her tater tots.
