"Tell you what," Louise said as she pocketed the money. She pointed to a paper sign taped to the door of the diner: ‘Help wanted.'
“You work for me a few days these next couple weeks and we can call the rest paid,” Louise proposed. Mia scanned the inside of the diner, filled with stubbly-chinned men who were eyeing her cautiously. She had never felt so much like an outsider before, but she didn’t have a choice.
“Sounds good,” Mia said, and soon she was following Louise up a set of crooked splintered stairs.
After Louise left, it was the first time Mia had truly been alone in a while. She could feel a strange air around her, a deafening silence that lingered in every corner of the loft. The place was just as bad as her old home, in terms of looks. There was a beat-up single mattress on an old frame against the back wall that squealed as soon as she sat on it. She studied the rest of the room. Paintings of deer and other wildlife covered the walls. There was an old fridge, a small camping stove, a tiny counter space, and a small bathroom area the size of a closet. It was almost like a hotel room, Mia thought, but an ugly and overpriced one.
She paced around, the floor creaking under her weight. It felt as though it could give up any second and she’d fall right through, into the diner below. She carefully unpacked her belongings, hoping to make the space more personal. Only the ornament rested on the bottom of the duffel bag, but Mia decided to leave it, and pushed the bag under the bed. There should have been more money in there too, but this secret deposit had squeezed her funds dry.
She instantly regretted living above a diner. The smells of the kitchen wafted up from the floorboards, filling up the attic-sized room. There was some classic country cooking being made right under her feet, potatoes and meatloaf, country-fried steak and gravy, and the mouth-watering oily scent of chicken being fried. Mia clutched at her aching stomach, growling at her in anger. She hadn’t eaten a single thing that day.
She wandered the streets. Everything was closing down right about now, except for the diner. Mia knew she couldn't expect a handout from Louise, not after agreeing to work for her and everything. She walked a little further up the street, where a convenience store was still open.
The glow of the light from the store lit up her face as she stepped inside. The bell rung as the door swung open. There was a little old lady perched at the counter, her face buried in a gossip magazine. Country music rambled on a creaky radio. The old woman smiled at Mia as she sauntered casually around the store, eyeing the colorful boxes of packaged snacks and fridges full of cold drinks that all promised her a full belly. The chips and candies were beckoning her, as were the packets of instant ramen noodles that she was so accustomed to.
Mia hated this act, and this wasn’t her first performance. First, she’d do a lap around the store, watching the woman at the front. She scoped out for cameras. Lucky for her, the only ones were pointed at the door and the counter. Without thinking, Mia’s hands grabbed for multiple snacks, whatever she could get her hands on. She was glad she doubled up on her sweater and jacket as she quietly tucked everything into them.
She got to the counter holding just a few candy bars. The old woman put down her magazine.
“Hungry, huh?” She joked.
Mia’s knees were shaking under the counter. She knew it was better to steal and get away with it than try to take things by force. Not that she was the type to hold someone up, but many people in Grey’s circle of friends weren’t strangers to putting guns in people’s faces. Mia’s finale consisted of her patting her pockets, frantically apologizing that she didn’t have her wallet, and making her swift getaway with her new treasures.
She hated living this way, it only reminded her of what it was like being in the city and of all the horrible things she had to learn just to survive. But she knew that tonight she didn't have a choice. As she lay in bed, her stomach sated, for now, she looked up at the dingy ceiling and wondered if maybe there would ever be a day where she didn't feel like she was running. After that horrible, horrible day, she would always find herself running…
CHAPTER 2: LONER
To anyone else, the woods would have seemed as dead as a crypt, with only the sound of the slight rustling of old leaves shaking from their branches. But to the large crouching wolf hiding behind the branches, the entire forest was a hive buzzing with activity. Scents of the blood, fur, and urine of other animals were in the air, flooding the wolf's nose. He was hungry he decided, his instincts roaming free out in his element. His wild-hazel eyes darted across the dark shadows of the trees, searching for something to sink his teeth into. It had been a while since he had hunted, and he was craving the visceral activity of chasing after another living creature.
At long last, the branches in the distance parted, the rustling leaves echoing in the wolf’s ears. He could sense everything out here, even the pounding heart of the young doe stepping quietly into the clearing. The smell of its flesh was driving the wolf wild. Soon, the forest would provide him with a bountiful feast. He inched closer, keeping his sights on the peaceful deer. It was blissfully unaware of his presence, mindlessly chewing on a blade of grass.
The wolf stepped closer, dreaming of the taste of the deer's sinuous flesh against his tongue. Its blood would be sweet, and still warm from the kill. He could already feel his mouth watering. He was ready to leap from his hiding place, ready to chase his prey all the way down the mountain if he had to. He took a chance with a great leap as he soared off the ground. But just before his paws could touch down on the leaves again, he froze. The deer did the same, and for one second their instincts were matched. Danger was near. Wolves’ howls filled the forest. The wolf shrunk back from his prey. Not here, he thought. Not again.
He let it get away. The white rear of the deer bounced back into the trees, never to be seen again. It would soon find a place to hide unless another wolf got lucky and made it its meal. The wolf knew he should hide as well, but not here in the middle of the forest.
He sprinted towards home, still hearing the chorus of wolf howls in the distance. He could tell the pack was far enough away not to catch onto his scent, but he was still worried. In all of his time living out here, he had never encountered other wolves before, and he didn't want to stay and find out who they were, even though he might have a clue.
The wolf's feet bounded towards a soft glow peeking out through a cluster of trees. Leaves swept up from under his feet as he ran, faster and faster, trying to escape the rallying cry of the wolves behind him. They must be hunting or marking their territory. This wolf hadn't quite done that yet, though he was itching to keep tabs on what was rightfully his. This was his forest, and he hated the idea of intruders encroaching on it, but if they knew he was here, they could capture him as they once did long ago.
The glow grew brighter, and soon he could see light seeping from the windows of a small cabin. The wolf stopped at the door, pacing back and forth. Now would be the hardest part of his night. His entire body shook as he felt a swollen shadow pulsing through his intestines. He hunched up, jaws agape as he gagged as if trying to vomit out the curse that was plaguing him. Muscles contracted, tearing from bone as his veins stretched into grotesque shapes inside of him. The wolf whined in agony as he rolled into the dirt, furiously convulsing as his legs spread out behind him. The bones began to shift into place, rearranging themselves until they were straightened. This change inched up the rest of his body, straightening his spine, twisting his neck, and finally his arms.
With a sharp gasp that filled his lungs, he was alive again. Human again. The man, naked and shivering in the dirt, stood up on his wobbling legs. He braced himself against a pile of wood, coughing violently. It was always strange to shift back, and even after years of being a shifter, he still wasn't quite used to it. There was a strange feeling whenever he turned, as if his very soul was also split in two.
To him it was a curse, living as both man and animal. Sometimes the soul would remain as one, a human’s tainted with th
e dark desires that the wolf constantly barraged him with. It wasn’t a voice that spoke to him, or for which he was grateful. But it was always there, this shadowy urge that was hard to fight. It almost consumed him sometimes, the constant demand to run and to hunt. And then there was the most frustrating urge of all, one that often kept him up at night for hours. He needed a mate. He’d ignored this want for so long, but it was unbearably painful to live a life of solitude.
The cabin was cozy, and warm as always. It was a safe place, the man thought; the perfect place to spend the rest of your life, even though he was only twenty-nine. He walked through the entryway and straight for the bathroom. He needed a shower, bad. The stench of an entire days’ worth of running through the forest was radiating from him. He stepped into the shower, letting everything wash off him. The water steamed over him, relaxing his aching muscles as it dripped over his firm chest. Whatever the wolf did, he would have to pay for it later as a human.
He leaned his head back, letting the showerhead pour over his face. He closed his eyes, nearly drowning, although he didn't care. He'd been tempted in the beginning, and often since. He used to wonder if a life like this was worth living. But he found himself holding on for something he wasn't quite sure of yet. He knew that there was something waiting for him, it was a strange feeling. Incomplete.
He watched the black dirt swirl down the drain. He tried not to think about that day again. Not now. He turned off the water and dried himself off in the steamy mirror. Wiping away the grey fog, he looked at himself, as he had already done, dozens of times in this lonely cabin. He brushed his wet tousled hair back with his fingers. His dark-chestnut hair sat just below his ears.
Still Rowan, he reassured himself.
Rowan said this often. It was his reminder that there was still a piece of him inside of this monster that he always carried with him. Somehow, it made him feel more human; a form he wished he could have taken for life. Rowan knew there were others like him. After all, he had seen them for himself, albeit briefly. He looked at his rippling stomach in the mirror. His muscles were incredibly toned, from years of running and hunting in the woods. His eyes trailed over his body, inspecting himself.
He was covered in scars, thick webs of ruined tissue that stretched from his stomach to his throat. They were a reminder of the other monsters that had given them to him, along with this curse, all from that same horrible day. He hadn’t seen her since. He pulled on his knit sweater and once again pushed it from his mind.
A warm stew simmered on the stove in the tiny glowing kitchen. The smell of earthy spices filled the room. Rowan stirred the pot of root vegetables. Soft potatoes, carrots, and parsnips from his weekly grocery run, plus the fresh herbs he had found out in the woods himself. Absolutely no meat. He'd lost the taste for it after he had become a shifter. But the wolf craved flesh blood, almost every day; another urge he'd have to stifle later.
Rowan ladled his dinner into a bowl and sat in his usual corner at the table. He looked across at the empty chair in front of him. It was almost like a joke to him that he should even have two chairs. It wasn’t as if he was expecting anyone to come here, was he? He shrugged, eyeing the layer of dust gathered on the empty chair, wondering.
The second worst part of his night would always be sleep. He hated to sleep, even though he could only procure so much of it, because it meant nightmares. He relived that horrible day over and over again, feeling the teeth of those monsters ripping him apart. He saw her there too, but in every dream, she could never save him and only watched with horror. Rowan tossed and turned on his bed, which was too big and empty for one person. Before drifting into his nightmare state, he was startled to hear an incessant howling nearby. They wouldn't find his cabin tonight, they were still too far away. For a moment he wondered if they had finally found him and were on their way to try to bring him back into the wild.
Rowan buried his face in his pillow, listening to the sound of his steady breathing. If he started on this train of thought again he would never sleep. It was the usual lineup: the worst day of his life, the first time he’d shifted, and the frightened young face of Mia as she looked over her shoulder at him, the last time he had seen her.
And there was a fourth fear which shook Rowan to his core. The big accident, the one that had caused him to disappear in the first place. The sight of that girl’s eyes as he lunged for her. He was a monster, he thought, and he truly believed it…
CHAPTER 3: FAMILIAR FACE
Louise hadn’t said anything about being a busgirl in the job description. Dishes were Mia’s least favorite thing to deal with, and there she was piling up the greasy plates and silverware into a grey bin. She hated the idea that she was doing this just so she could stay in that run-down loft. Her first night had been hard for her, especially when she tried to sleep. There were so many fears running through her head, most of them about Grey.
Throughout the morning, she had scanned the tired faces of the diner’s patrons. She hoped that one of Grey’s friends wasn’t lurking around anywhere. She had only met a handful of them, but she knew Grey had a lot of connections. After all, he was a smart drug dealer and was bound to have his thick fingers dipped in other towns near the city.
Mia focused on the plates piling up in the bin, blocking out the harsh memories that were trying to flood back into her mind. She had never gotten into drugs, but she wondered that if she had stayed with Grey long enough they would have been the glue that kept her from running.
“Mia, another table,” Louise said for about the tenth time that morning. Mia seated customers, filled their coffee, the usual tasks that went along with waitressing. She was used to jobs like these. They helped her get to this town in the first place.
She poured fresh coffee into the mugs of a line of police officers filling up the seats at the counter. They watched her carefully, which made her uneasy. They were a bunch of burly men, their uniforms appearing almost too tight on them. Mia caught one of them staring at her over the rim of his mug. He had black hair and a thick mustache that was bound to be soaked with coffee. Mia felt a small shudder run down her back.
There was something about him that made her feel unsafe, despite the sight of the police uniform he wore. They stood up and left without another word, and barely a tip. Mia cursed under her breath as she tucked the few bills into her apron. Maybe they were just acting strangely because she was new in town. Just by being here, she was disrupting their daily rhythm of life. That seemed to be the theme of the day, as the customers gave her curious glances, looking up from their menus. Mia knew she was out of place here, but she reminded herself of just how temporary everything could be.
As she finished rolling up napkins and silverware during her break, she noticed a lone customer sitting in a torn-up booth near the window. He wore a ball cap over his dark, messy hair. His canvas jacket made Mia think he could be one of the local farmers or one of the many men that worked in the nearby steel mill. He was handsome, Mia thought. He had a firm jawline and a trace of stubble on his face. He seemed deep in thought about something, or deeply troubled. Mia wondered what he could be thinking about, but she knew that maybe she'd be thinking about him after he'd left.
Mia picked up her bin and bussed the table behind the man. He seemed to stand out from the other people that she had seen throughout the morning. She glanced at the back of his coat. For some reason, her mind took her to a darker place and a sadder time. She remembered her face pressed up against a young Rowan's coat a final time on that terrifying day that she had lost him. From the back, this man almost gave her the same feeling, the same image. She felt drawn to him.
She knew she couldn't linger around him forever and took her bin back towards the kitchen. As she passed by the man's booth, she was almost startled at the faintest voice saying
"Excuse me?" It was deep and soothing, the kind of voice that belonged to someone that didn't like to speak much.
Mia turned to face him, almost dropping the dirty
dishes on the checkered floor as she felt time slowing around her. She was staring right into a pair of beautiful hazel eyes. They locked onto hers, and for a second Mia could swear that they widened just a little at the sight of her. Mia’s heartbeat quickened as she pieced together the rest of him. Shaggy chestnut hair, just barely over his ears.
Rowan?
She could sense him studying her as well, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. It had been such a long time, and Mia had always wondered what he would look like, now that they were twenty-nine. She worried that he wouldn't be able to recognize her.
"I'd like to pay," the man said as he held out a card. Mia nodded, reaching for it, their fingers nearly brushing against each other. She steadied her breath, trying not to think about holding Rowan's hand that day in the woods, her fingers slipping from his as she ran from him. She could have held onto that card forever if it meant keeping this man here in front of her.
But she couldn't and instead took the card to the register. She didn't like being nosy, but she had to know for sure that it was Rowan. After his father had found him out in the woods, he had been rushed to the hospital. Mia wasn't even allowed to visit him. Only family members could see a patient that was in critical condition. And after those countless weeks of waiting for him to recover, Mia waited even longer for Rowan to come back to the neighborhood. He never did.
Weeks turned into months, with no sign of her best friend. She took it upon herself one weekend to ride her bike to where his new house would have been, only to find that there was a for sale sign still staked into the dirt, swinging in the lonely breeze. With no number left behind to call, and no word from the school of his whereabouts, Rowan soon became a ghost to Mia. The more time passed, the more he felt like an imaginary friend in Mia's memories. For years she wondered what had happened to that boy in the blue coat. Mia couldn't believe that he could possibly be the one sitting in the booth just a few feet from her.
Wolf Pack Chronicles Box Set Page 2
