by Cheree Alsop
“Zev, what are you doing?” Alia asked in a loud whisper.
I limped past where she crouched beside Mitch. The smell of his blood lay thick in the air. Footsteps reached my ears. I kept my focus split between their sound and the angry shrieks of the jakhin.
“Dark magic brought you here,” I said, keeping up the rant. “You are a taint upon this place, a scourge. You must leave.”
“Zev, get back!” Virgo said.
I limped around Safira before he could stop me. One more step put me between the werewolves, the warlock, and the creature who wanted to devour them.
“Mine,” the jakhin said.
With reflexes faster than I expected, she grabbed me by the shoulders and put her forehead against mine. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from hers as her eyes changed. Instead of the shiny, pupil-less black void, swirls of white appeared. They whirled in mind-numbing patterns. I felt myself sink inside of them, become a part of them, embrace the nothingness through which they swirled.
“Zev!” Alia shouted.
“Let him go!” Virgo demanded.
“You are nothing,” a voice said in my head. “Give in to me. Become a part of the darkness.”
I felt the urge to do exactly as she said. Her voice promised an escape from pain, from helplessness, from the inability to find my place in this world. She could take me away from it all. She would end my life.
I forced myself to speak past the mind-numbing darkness. “There’s only one problem.”
The jakhin’s eyes narrowed. I wanted to laugh at the surprised question in them, but I didn’t dare lose my concentration for fear that she would have me entirely.
“Zev!” a voice shouted.
I jerked my gaze away from hers and turned my head. The sight of the knife in the professor’s blood-stained hands filled me with relief. It was clear by the pallor of his face that the scene in the college was as bad as I remembered. But there was no time for regrets, only time for action.
“Professor, now!” I shouted.
The sound of the knife flying through the air told me its trajectory was low. The shine of its silver blade caught the corner of my eye as it turned end over end. I twisted hard enough to tear through the stitches in my side and managed to snag the blade before it flew past us to the dirt wall.
I turned back to the jakhin with my prize gripped tightly in one hand. Her milky eyes widened and shifted to black again. A shriek of rage tore from her jagged-toothed mouth and her claws tightened in an effort to tear me apart before I could act, but she was too late.
A primal yell escaped my lips as I slammed the tiny blade into her chest. The moment the lavender-coated silver penetrated her skin, the jakhin’s muscles tightened and her shriek cut off. She stumbled against the wall and dropped me. Her claws locked open, her teeth stopped gnashing, and she toppled forward.
Hands and teeth grabbed my arms, pulling me free before the creature could crush me. She hit the dirt in a cloud of dust. My chest heaved as I stared at her still form. I almost believed she would rise again. It felt too surreal that the small knife could do so much harm.
“Lavender and silver,” Virgo said. He shook his head. “And to think I’ve hated the smell of lavender my entire life. Mom always said I would learn to appreciate it.”
The sad smile he gave me made me miss his mother’s eccentric ways all over again. She would have known how to find Ceren. She would have fixed everything.
“Zev?”
I turned my head at the quiet voice. It was almost too soft to be noticed, but I would have recognized it anywhere.
“Ceren?”
The ghost’s form was nearly too faint to be seen. She had her arms wrapped around herself as though she was cold, and she looked as if she had been crying.
“It’s almost too late, Zev,” she whispered.
I rose shakily to my feet. “I don’t know where you are. You have to help us. We’re trying to find you!”
“Is that her?” Alia asked.
“Get details,” Kristen encouraged. “What does she know of where her body is?”
They both looked in the same direction I did, but it was easy to tell by their searching expressions that neither saw the fading ghost.
“Ceren, where are you? What are you aware of?”
Her form faded even more when she said, “It’s wet here. The water helps, but I hurt. I can’t move.”
Her image flickered and then faded away.
Alarmed, I ran forward, but I stumbled on an outcropping of dirt. Professor Shipley caught my arm before I could fall.
“Take it easy,” he said. “We’ll find her.”
“But she’s almost gone,” I told them desperately. “We’re going to be too late.”
“Close your eyes,” Kristen said.
I stared at her, wondering if she had gone mad. Ceren didn’t have time for us to play games or wait until I was calm.
I shook my head. “I don’t have time.”
Kristen set a hand on my arm. “Zev, you can help her. Just close your eyes and listen to me.”
It took all of my self-control to do as she asked instead of running off to the last place I had seen Ceren. My instincts urged me to listen to the psychic. It was the last hope Ceren had.
“Alright,” I said. I closed my eyes. “Now what?”
“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Kristen instructed.
I grimaced at the uselessness of it, but did as she said.
“That’s it,” she continued quietly. “Let the breathing calm your thoughts and chase away any worries of Ceren you might have. If you focus on the negative, we might never find her. Instead, think only of her face as you breathe. Let it focus in your mind. Breathe in…breathe out.”
I willed Ceren’s face to come into view in my mind’s eye. When it did, Ceren looked sad and alone. The thought of her dying somewhere without us finding her was enough to make my breathing speed up again.
“We’ve got to find her,” I said, opening my eyes.
“Zev, focus,” Kristen told me. “Focus because her life depends on it.”
I let out a frustrated breath and sucked another one in through my nose, then let it out through my mouth. I closed my eyes again. I could hear Alia and Virgo tending to the werewolves. The smell of blood was thick in the air along with the jakhin’s heavy, sour odor. I shoved the analytical side of my thoughts away and willed Ceren’s face to appear in my mind once more.
“Do you see her?” Kristen asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Pull back. Let your focus shift to what is around her. What do you see?”
I stepped back in my mind as though she was in front of me. Doing so made the image of her shift. Her eyes turned away from mine and closed. She floated backwards until she was lying on the ground. Alarm filled me.
“There’s dirt,” I described. “And pipes.” Ripples brushed against her arm, making her hand move. “She’s in water. It’s close to her face.”
She looked so very pale. Blood had dried along her hairline. When I turned my attention to her legs, I could see the beam that held her down.
“She’s trapped,” I told them. “We need to get her out of there!”
Virgo’s voice broke the silence that followed my words. “What do you smell?”
I closed my eyes in my mind and concentrated on the air around Ceren. I took a deep breath and let the smells sift through my senses.
“Algae, moss, and something else, something strange.” My wolf mind sorted through the thousands of smells I had categorized in my lifetime. I had smelled it before when I was younger, of that I was sure, but I couldn’t put a finger on it until it hit me. “It’s fingernail polish.”
Frost gave a yip and my eyes flew open. The werewolf pushed away from where the professor had been cleaning his wounds. He bounced back and forth in front of me like an excited puppy.
I had never seen the werewolf act like that before. “Y
ou know where she is?” I asked.
He yipped again and took off running.
Kristen and I exchanged a glance.
“Let’s go!” she said.
We hurried after the werewolf.
Frost led us through the maze of construction to a series of tunnels at the end. It looked as though they had laid several connecting basements and then filled them partially in when the funding was recalled. The floor gave way to dirt which turned to mud the lower we climbed. Soon, my bare feet were soaked. Fresh air came from somewhere further down the tunnel, brushing back against us with scents of algae and moss. The familiar smells drove me forward until I was practically running behind Frost with a hand on my side.
“Slow down,” Virgo called from behind me. “You’re going to start bleeding again!”
“I can’t. She’s down here,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Frost is right. This is the place!”
The young werewolf turned around the last corner and gave a resounding bark. I stumbled and caught myself with a hand on the wall. When I looked around the corner, my heart skipped a beat.
Ceren lay there as pale and lifeless as she had been in my mind. The source of the nail polish odor became clear at the sight of several cans of paint thinner stacked near the wall. Graffiti, books, an old stereo system, and piles of garbage told of the number of students that used the place as a hangout.
Moss covered the cement from the moisture, coloring the air with its loamy green scent. Water trickled from one side of the unfinished cavern and lapped against Ceren’s clothes. Her head lolled to the side away from me. I fell to my knees next to her and tipped her head gently in my direction.
“Ceren,” I whispered.
She didn’t respond. I listened, pushing away every other sound including those of my companions hurrying to reach us. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I let out a breath and willed my heart to calm so that I could really listen. Frost stood at my side without making any noise as if he knew how important pure silence was.
The tiny percussion of a feeble heartbeat reached my ears. It stuttered when I focused on it, then gave another soft beat. We were nearly out of time.
Footsteps rushed up behind me.
“How is she?” Virgo asked breathlessly at the same time that Alia said, “Oh my goodness, you found her!”
“She’s still alive, but barely,” I told them.
Striker gave a worried snort.
I slid my arms beneath Ceren’s legs and shoulders.
“No you don’t,” Virgo said, reaching me. “We don’t need both of you in the hospital.”
He slid his arms under the opposite side, pushing me back easier than it should have been. I rose with a hand on my wound. The stickiness of blood touched my fingers, but I ignored it.
“Call an ambulance,” Virgo said as soon as Kristen and the professor reached us. “Tell them she’s critical.”
Chapter Fourteen
I watched helplessly as the warlock carried her from the tunnel. It felt as though he carried the world in his arms. If she stopped breathing, I didn’t know what I would do.
“They’re on their way,” Professor Shipley said when we reached the open construction zone. He glanced at his blood-stained hands and then gave me a searching look. “We’ll try to clean up what happened in the bathroom and my classroom, but if the police look in there, they’re going to have a lot of questions. You need to get out of here.”
The thought of leaving Ceren felt as though I was abandoning her.
“I can’t,” I began.
Virgo looked from the professor to me. “The professor’s right,” the warlock said. “You’re covered in blood that matches what happened in there. You’ll face too many questions.” He must have read my worried look because his tone softened and he said, “Don’t worry. I won’t leave her. I’ll call you as soon as we get to the hospital.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. I felt torn between running away and staying at Ceren’s side. It felt wrong to leave her.
Alia slipped her cellphone from her pocket and handed it to me.
“Here. Now you can stay in touch. We’ll let you know what’s happening.”
“Thank you,” I told her, touched by the gesture.
Her hand lingered in the thick fur that covered Mitch’s neck. Blood streaked the werewolf’s side, but at least he was standing. She looked as reluctant to leave him as I felt about Ceren.
“Take care of each other,” she told us. “Get home and patched up.” She gave me a stern look. “More stitches this time so you don’t bleed out before the moon comes up.”
I nodded. “Will do.”
She gave me a worried look. “Now I know you’re bad.”
That brought the ghost of a smile to my lips. “How so?”
“You hate stitches.”
I shrugged. “They’re better than dying, I suppose.”
She nodded. “Yes, they are.”
The sirens drew closer.
“You’d better go,” Kristen urged. “Be safe.”
“We will,” I promised.
I led the way to the back of the site where a corner of the fence had been pulled up. Shoving it higher so it wouldn’t snag on the werewolves’ coats, I led the way beneath it and into the waiting trees beyond. The sound of the sirens stopped. The commotion of a bunch of voices faded as we made our way deeper into the forest. I couldn’t help feeling as though I had lost Ceren completely, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I glanced back at the werewolves who followed me in wolf form. Striker limped heavily on his back paw, Safira’s coat was stained red, Mitch’s head hung as though he could barely keep it up, and Frost had a claw mark down his muzzle that would no doubt scar.
“Look at us,” I said, forcing a half-smile. “Back from war. I’m not sure I would say that the jakhin got the worst of it.”
Mitch snorted in amusement.
My fingers found my wet side. I looked down to see fresh blood soaking my clothes.
“Hold on,” I told the others.
I pulled off my shirt and surveyed the mess. It was gruesome. The pink thread had torn through the skin completely. Whatever healing I had done in the moonlight had been undone by our battle with the creature.
My head swam and I leaned against a tree.
Safira gave a worried whine.
“I’m fine,” I told her. “It just needs some pressure.”
I attempted to tie the shirt around my waist, but my fingers had a hard time making the knot. By the time I got it, my legs felt numb. I slid down the trunk of the tree and sat with my head resting on my knees.
Striker nudged me with his nose.
“I just need to rest,” I told them. “It’s fine. Everyone can use a break.”
But Striker refused to give up. He pushed his snout beneath my arm and walked forward, forcing me to my knees.
“Easy,” I told the huge wolf. “We have time. They’re not going to be at the house for hours. Let’s rest.”
Mitch took up where the other werewolf stopped. He ducked under my other arm and shoved forward until I had to get my feet beneath me. I used the werewolves to push up to a standing position. They both felt solid and steady beneath my hands, not like my own unreliable legs.
“Fine,” I said, trying not to sound like a petulant child. “But I thought I was in charge here. Pushing around your alpha isn’t a great idea.”
Safira gave a little barking laugh and leaped forward. The sight of her feeling better cheered me immensely. I let go of the wolves and followed after them. Frost darted to the front of the group and then to the back so many times it made me dizzy. One time he passed, he licked my hand.
“That’s disgusting,” I told him, wiping it on my pants. My hand came back red. I sighed. “Do you see where my hands have been? That’s gross.”
He barked at me and ran faster until he looked like a greyhound darting between the trees. I had to admit that his energy kept the entire pack go
ing.
The Willard house came into view long after I had lost track of time. We made our way to the back door and I was sure a more raggedy bunch had never passed the threshold.
James and his mother entered the kitchen at the same time we did.
“I just think chicken makes a better sandwich than roast beef,” James was saying. He looked at me when we entered. “What do you think, Zev. If—” His mouth fell open. “What happened?”
“We found Ceren,” I told him. I collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. At that moment, I couldn’t imagine a more comfortable spot than sitting on the small colorful cushion that covered the wooden seat.
“You found her!” he said. “Where?”
“Is she alright?” Mrs. Willard asked. She looked from me to the werewolves and back. “Is she in a better condition than the five of you?”
I shook my head, then leaned it against the table. “No. She’s worse. Much worse.” I closed my eyes tightly. “She’s dying. They rushed her to the hospital.”
“Then she’s where she should be,” Mrs. Willard said.
She set a hand on my back. It told a lot about my condition that my muscles didn’t even twitch at the unaccustomed touch to my bare skin.
“We need to get you fixed up,” she said gently.
I shook my head again. “My pack first. They saved our lives.”
Mitch snorted in disagreement, but at my look, he finally allowed Mrs. Willard to check him over. She then turned her attention to Safira, Striker, and Frost. I closed my eyes again and listened to her and James work together.
“It’s too bad we can’t call the vet to help patch up the wolves. We could really use his help,” James said.
“These cuts are deep, but if we can clean them and get them bandaged, I think they’ll be fine,” Mrs. Willard replied. She clucked her tongue with a motherly sigh. “I’m glad you guys stayed in wolf form. Phasing would have made these much worse. You don’t need that kind of strain on your bodies.” I felt her attention shift to me. “Is that what you did, Zev?”
