by Kody Boye
When it comes time for him to speak, it’s to say, “There is something we can do to possibly fix this.”
“What’re you—“ Jackson begins, then trails off, turning his head to face me. “Oaklynn,” he manages. “You’re not thinking—“
“I wish to invoke the spirit of the Mother Wolf,” I say, “and become a wolf just like you.”
“You’re sure you want this?” Zachariah Meadows asks.
All I can do is nod.
The man stands.
“Where are you going?” Jackson asks.
“To summon your grandmother,” he replies. “The full moon is tomorrow. We must prepare now before the sun rises.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I don’t expect Jackson to try to talk me out of this. But it’s all he’s been doing since I announced my plans no less than an hour ago.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asks.
“For the thousandth time, Jackson: yes. I do.”
“This isn’t just something you can choose to do on a whim,” he continues. “It’s not a get out of jail free card, and you can’t just revoke it once you’ve had enough. Once you become a wolf, you’re one for life.”
“I figured as much, Jackson.”
He sighs—long, hard, and breathy. Then he leans back against my bedroom wall and says, “There’s no way I can talk you out of this, is there?”
“Why do you want to?”
“I don’t want you to make a mistake.”
“Why would this be a mistake?” I ask. “Especially to you?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I don’t want you to end up like us!” he cries.
I falter. Pause. Frown. “What are you—“
“We’re cursed just as much as we are blessed. There’s… things we have to worry about, dangers that are more than present. I mean, God… they killed my mother when she was out on a run.”
“The Wells,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he says. “They shot her dead. And then… they… they—“
He lowers his eyes, obviously afraid to let me see him cry, to seen him so frustrated.
I step forward, unsure how or in what way I should respond. A part of me wants to reach out and touch him, because to me, that feels like that would be the most appropriate thing. But standing here, in front of him, not knowing what to do, I find myself trembling not with anger, but hate.
Hate—for everything that family has done.
Hate—for all the harm they have caused.
Hate—for taking away not only my mother’s shop, but possibly even my parents’ lives.
I know I can’t blame Easton entirely for what happened to my parents, because right now, I don’t know if he was the cause of it. But standing here, and seeing Jackson cry, I know I can at least blame his father for the harm he’s caused this town.
For the harm he’s caused us.
As I step forward—and as I take hold of Jackson’s hands—I find myself trembling just as he is.
“Jackson?” I say.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I lean forward and kiss him.
His arms stiffen, his hands tense. But as the moments pass by, and the feelings between us are bared, I find myself melting into his embrace, tears and all.
There’s little that can be said at this moment.
We need each other, now more than ever.
I feel it’s the only thing that’ll get us through these next few days.
I fall asleep that night curled around Belle, and awaken the following morning, only to find that things, as normal as they should seem, are anything but.
My home is gone.
My parents are dead.
Tonight is the full moon.
And soon, I will become the one thing I have learned to both love and fear my entire life.
The wolf.
The urge to simply remain in bed is strong, and the desire for me to sink into dream even stronger. But I know I can do neither. I have to wake up—both physically, and metaphorically—and face the day for what it really is.
The day of my true awakening.
Well, I think, stroking Belle’s first one last time before pushing myself upright. Here goes nothing.
After climbing out of bed, and gathering some of the fresh clothes Mister Meadows had specifically retrieved for my benefit from the local church, I slip into the attached bathroom, and try my hardest to wash my woes away.
Come time I emerge, I feel slightly more prepared to face the day.
A knock comes at the door.
“Oaklynn?” Jackson asks. “Are you decent?”
“I am,” I reply.
Jackson enters, then pauses a moment to wait for me to nod my approval before closing the door behind him. “I… thought I’d come in and see how you were doing. If you’d need anything.”
“I’m… fine,” I reply. “And no, I don’t need anything.”
“Okay. Good.” He straightens his posture before turning his head to look toward the window, whose curtains are drawn just far back enough to spill fine white afternoon light into the room. “Dad’s arranging for Grandma Meadows and Uncle Bernard to come over as we speak.”
“Jackson,” I say. “I have… a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did your Grandma Meadows offer me the chance to become a Wolf when your Uncle Bernard could’ve easily chosen someone to act in my place?”
“Uncle Bernard’s gay, for one,” Jackson replies. “So… the line is out of luck there.”
“Oh,” I reply.
“And for two: I think… well…” He pauses.
“What?” I frown. “Tell me.”
“I think Grandma Meadows knows more than she’s letting on when it comes to… well… us.”
“Do you mean—“
“I honestly don’t know what to think, Oaklynn. For all I know, Grandma Meadows’ visions of the future have been distorted by recent events. Maybe things were supposed to work out differently before… well—“
“The fire,” I say.
“Yeah,” Jackson says. “The fire.”
“Is that how the Sight, or whatever you call it, works?”
“From what I understand, it’s like a row of dominoes: you can stand them up, and you can arrange them in whatever pattern you want, but you can never control when one goes down, or if one will fall the wrong way, or if someone will—“
“Knock them out of place?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
I frown as I consider his words, and find myself turning away from him a short moment later.
He sets a hand on my shoulder.
I stiffen.
“You still have a chance to get out of this,” he says. “You don’t have to do this.”
“No,” I say, and shake my head. “I need to do it. For me. My parents. For… your mother.”
Jackson blinks at me.
I lift my eyes to face him, then force myself to nod and say, “I’m ready for this, Jackson. If I can’t have the life that was offered to me, then, well… I’m damn sure I’m going to make the life I can.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, before turning his head toward the door as what sounds like a car pulling up the drive enters our ears. “That must be them.”
“How much do you all have to prepare for… you know.”
“I honestly don’t know.” He cracks the door open. “You can stay here, if you like.”
“I’ll go,” I reply.
Jackson opens the door.
And I, without hesitation, step out.
Grandma Meadows steps into the home no less than five minutes after she and Jackson’s uncle, Bernard, arrive. Dressed in a thick brown shawl to stave off the cold, and a fine winter dress accented with faux fur, she approaches kindly and offers me a brief hug before saying, “I’m sorry, honey.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I say. “It’s not your fa
ult.”
“I just wish I’d been given more clarity on the matter. At least then you wouldn’t be suffering so.”
Though I can appreciate her sentiment, and acknowledge the kindness of her words, I don’t know how exactly any foresight would’ve prevented this terrible tragedy from occurring. It isn’t as though I could’ve just told my parents that someone was going to set fire to our house. They’d’ve thought me insane.
And besides, I then think. How would I have explained it?
I shake the thoughts from my head as Uncle Bernard embraces his brother-in-law and watch as the red-headed man steps into the house. He offers me a short nod and gives Jackson a one-armed hug before turning and saying, “Mom.”
“Yeah?” she asks.
“Have you figured out where we’re going to do this tonight?”
Grandma Meadows nods and turns her attention to her son-in-law. “You know of a spot, I assume?”
“I do,” Zachariah says. “The thicket beyond the Smith home should offer us enough cover to perform the ritual in peace.”
“Can you walk all that way?”
“I’m disabled, not helpless.”
“Fair enough.” Grandma Meadows turns to face me. “I guess my question for you is: are you fully committed to what will soon happen?”
“I am,” I reply.
“Do you have any regrets? Any doubts? Any fears?”
“I’m concerned about how the ritual will take place,” I say, “but I don’t have any regrets, or doubts on the matter.”
“Good.” Grandma Meadows steps forward. “It’s imperative you go into this with a clean heart and an open mind. Your thoughts, judgments, and beliefs will ultimately affect what spirit will inhabit your body come time the Mother Wolf sends one of her own from the Heavens.”
“What do you mean?” I frown. “You mean… I just don’t... well…”
“Turn into a wolf?” the woman asks. She shakes her head soon after. “No. The bond, it could it be said, is spiritual. To not be born of the wolf means that we must call upon a spirit to share its powers with you. Energy attracts energy, and what you put out into the great beyond will ultimately come back to you.
“I have to ask you once more, before we go to the trouble of preparing for the ritual: Do you hold any grudge that will attract a spirit dark and foreboding?”
“I—“ I start to say. “I don’t—“
The woman narrows her eyes at me.
Swallowing, I shake my head, then close my eyes and say, “No. I don’t.”
“Good,” Grandma Meadows says. “Then it’s settled. We will begin preparing for the ritual, and set out at dusk to meet the moon’s full light.”
As Grandma Meadows and Uncle Bernard turn and make their way into the family living room, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Of all the things I could lie about, it had to be this.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You’re lying,” Jackson says.
We sit in my room while Zachariah, Bernard, and Grandma Meadows prepare to complete the ritual. Darkness is falling, and with it, the time for me to clear my mind is drawing to a close.
“No,” I say, and shake my head. “I’m not.”
“You told me and my dad that you wanted vengeance—that you wanted whoever did this to pay.”
“Just because I want them to pay does not mean that I’m the one who’s going to make them do it, Jackson.”
“It sure sounded like that at dinner the other night.”
I shake my head in an effort to dispel his belief and find myself crossing my arms over my chest in the process. “I’m not going into this with the intent to hurt anybody,” I say. “So… in theory: I should be fine. Right?”
“I—“
“In theory: I should be fine.”
“In theory,” Jackson says. “But Oaklynn… you have to realize something.”
I lift my eyes to face him.
“If you have even the slightest desire to cause harm to someone, that energy will go out into the world. Your body—your soul—will act as a conduit to whatever feels would serve you best.”
“I understand, Jackson.”
“Do you? Do you really?”
I force myself to nod despite the reservations I hold. “Yes. I do.”
He sighs, then, and runs a hand through his thick dark hair. He waits a moment to speak again, but when he finally does, it’s to say, “They’ll be calling us any minute.”
“I imagine so.”
“I don’t know a whole lot about what goes on during an invocation, but… I’ve heard that it’s very, very physically taxing. That’s not to mention the psychological or even spiritual exertion you’ll have to go through.”
“I’m ready for anything, Jackson.”
“I’m glad you are, because I’m not sure I am.”
“What do you mean?”
“I—“
A knock comes at the door, cutting him off before he can finish.
“Jackson?” Zachariah asks. “Oaklynn?”
“Yeah, Dad?” Jackson replies.
“We’re almost ready to head out.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then expel it a short moment later.
Well, I think. Here goes nothing.
I lean down, kiss Belle on the top of the head, then pull her into my arms and hug her tight before whispering, “I love you” in her ear.
“You’re coming back, Oaklynn,” Jackson says.
“I know,” I reply. “I just… needed to do it.”
With a nod, Jackson climbs off my bed, turns, then makes his way to the door.
Outside, Zachariah, Bernard, and Grandma Meadows stand waiting—the former with his cane held tight in one hand, the latter two with hands slack at their sides.
I swallow the lump in my throat and stand up as straight as possible. “We’re ready, then?” I ask.
Grandma Meadows nods. “Yes, dear. We are.”
I step forward.
The Meadows family turns toward the front door.
I wonder, for one brief moment, if I have made the right decision, or if, by some chance, I’ve even managed to make a mistake.
No, I then think. This isn’t a mistake.
I will claim what is rightfully mine, and in doing so, turn back the tide threatening to change the town of Red Wolf for good.
In the darkness outside the home, I inhale a deep breath of fresh air, then look beyond the home to find that darkness has consumed the land—and that, above, only a sliver of moon can be seen.
“Come,” Grandma Meadows says. “We must hurry.”
We steal into the night as if we are thieves intent on liberating the world of its greatest treasure. After crossing the road as quickly as we possibly can, we begin to maneuver around the remnants of my home—which, I was told, would be dealt with in the coming days. The fact that nothing except memories remain within is enough to give me pause, but Jackson’s hand at my back spurs me onward, toward the woods nearby.
The small field is the only thing that separates us from the woods that begin beyond my home.
Stay strong, my mother would have said.
You can do this, my father would have added. Have faith in yourself.
Faith? I think. In myself?
I almost laugh.
How can I have faith when everything has been taken from me—when I have been pushed down, beaten, and then robbed of my life?
I try not to think of these things as we approach the thicket, but find myself doing just that.
“Oaklynn?” Jackson asks. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I reply.
“You’re trembling.”
I step away from his hand and say, “I’m just nervous is all.”
“Don’t be,” Grandma Meadows says. “You are ready for this.”
A nod is all I can respond with.
Entering the thicket is like stepping into a passage to another time. The moon shines
brightly here, lighting the animal-trodden path. Owls hoot. Small rodents skitter about. A fox crosses our path, then pauses for a moment to acknowledge the greater beings—the apex predators—that are entering its midst.
“Go, little one,” Grandma Meadows offers.
The fox does as asked and disappears into the underbrush.
Come time we step into a clearing, within which the moon shines at its brightest, Grandma Meadows comes to a halt and says, “Take positions.”
“Positions?” I frown, watching as Zachariah Meadows limps to one side, while Bernard and Jackson go to two others. “What’re you—“
Grandma Meadows guides me between the three men, then takes a step back.
It is then that I realize what they have done.
They’ve formed a circle around me. But for what reason?
I try not to think about this as Grandma Meadows reaches into her pockets and withdraws a small dagger from its depths.
“You’re not—“ I swallow “—gonna cut me, are you?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
She then proceeds to cut her own palm, and tightens her hand into a fist until blood pools from between her fingers.
I watch the liquid drip at my feet.
“What do I do?” I ask.
“Close your eyes,” she replies, “and open your mind, your body, and your soul to what is to come.”
I close my eyes.
She takes my hand.
I feel her blood slick through my fingers, then grimace as she takes my other hand and presses my fingers together.
“Mother Wolf,” she then says, in a voice as clear as day, in a tone as hard as night, “hear my plea on this humble night: I call upon you, as one of your many Daughters, in this time of need, in this time of grief. Please, hear me; and please, give me clarity as I prepare to invoke a Wolf lost to the world.”
Around us stirs a wind, smelling sweetly of nature, sickly of pollen. The cool breeze stirs the hairs on the back of my neck and causes gooseflesh to rise along my arms.
“I invoke you,” Grandma Meadows then says, “Great Spirit of the Wolf, Lost Child of our Mother. Come to me, and bond to this child who seeks your guidance.”
A white light flashes over my vision.
