“That’s the tool we’re looking for?” Krista asked.
“Precisely. Once we have them, you can use them to help you see into the future. Then we can finally figure out what’s been going on around here.”
“So…what exactly has been going on?” Krista stepped out of a row of headstones, nearly bumping into Ryland.
"Shifters are going missing. Most likely they're being sacrificed. My pack and I caught word of a powerful weapon being developed, though we're not sure what it is. When we investigated a potential lead, we were attacked and found a sacrificial room." He almost didn't want to tell her about the shadows. But if Krista really was the Oracle, any piece of information might help her figure out the mess they were in.
"Nobody in my pack saw this,” he added. “But I attacked a shifter. Tried to stop him from killing himself with a crystal dagger. But I was too late, and I saw…a strange shadow come out of him."
He looked over at Krista, who stared straight ahead as they walked past more mausoleums. She was deep in thought about something and seemed slightly disturbed. Maybe she thought he was crazy. But he continued on. "I think the shadow might have something to do with a curse," he said. "I used to think that was all bunk. But…things have been different lately since we left that place. Ah, here we are."
They stopped in front of an elegant vault made of stone. The roof stretched into a pointed top. Two doors waited for them, elegantly decorated with golden patterns. The large plaque above the doors read "IKER" in sharp letters. "My family has expensive taste," he said as he reached into his pocket, producing a key. As he turned it and opened the door, however, he was startled to find nothing but a wall of brick on the other side.
“What the hell?” Ryland said.
"Does your family have a sense of humor too?" Krista scoffed. Ryland paced, wondering how they could get inside. Moments passed before he even realized Krista was gone. "Ah, here's something," she said from the other side of the vault. Ryland wandered towards her, wondering what she could possibly be up to. Krista proudly pointed to the back of the structure, where a small section of bricks had been removed towards the top. "Give me a lift?" She asked. Ryland was skeptical, but she was serious.
Begrudgingly, he ducked down, letting Krista straddle her thighs over the back of his neck. He lifted her, feeling her weight on his shoulders and the sides of her jeans brushing against his cheek. Her slender fingers wove into his hair while she tried to find her balance. With his arms wrapped around her thighs, Ryland felt a brief shudder that he tried to shrug off. He was getting warmer now, his mind wandering to more intimate thoughts of Krista. But once her body left him, so did those thoughts, and Ryland could only watch with silent admiration as Krista shimmied inside.
Taking a risk, he peeked at her tight, round bottom before it squeezed its way past the bricks and disappeared onto the other side.
"Are you coming?" Krista's muffled voice called out.
"Not quite," Ryland muttered under his breath. He shifted, his paws scraping against the stone as he leaped up, clumsily trying to get through the wall. He realized he was stuck, and panicked, but felt Krista's hands grabbing his paws and tugging at them. His wolf, for some reason was angry and frustrated, and told him to bite at her, but he resisted.
He shifted back as he hit the bottom. Krista stared at him in surprise, with a flashlight in her hand. “What? He asked. You’ve seen people shift already.”
"Yeah," she said, impressed. "But not you. That was kind of awesome, actually."
This time, Ryland let her see his smile. He took the light from her, shining it over the rows of plaques. Eventually, it fell on a large stone coffin. Terrance S. Iker. "This is it," Ryland said as he and Krista struggled to push aside the lid.
"Hey Great-grandpa," he said to the dust-covered skeleton inside.
"Yikes. This is so disrespectful," Krista said with a wince.
"If we're saving the world, I'm sure he'd understand," Ryland said. He reached in, touching the old bones of his great-grandfather's arms and spreading them apart.
He stepped back in shock. They were gone. The velvet pouch with the oracle bones had already been taken, somehow. "Damn it!" He cursed as he turned to kick at a stone wall.
"Oh Ryland, look!" Krista took the flashlight and pointed it at a freshly laid brick wall, messily closing off the front doors. "Someone clearly didn't want us to come in here."
"Whoever they are, they've walked away with our prize," Ryland muttered. He clutched at his arm that was spreading a burn throughout his body. He coughed as he held his chest. Whispering flooded his ears, telling him violent and terrible things. He felt like exploding, to tear himself open just to be rid of them.
But then a hand touched his shoulder, and immediately silenced them. “You okay?” Krista asked. Ryland realized he was crouched on the floor, and recovered himself.
“Fine,” he said, clinging onto the feeling of peace that she brought him.
As they made their way towards the main gate, Ryland caught a scent. "They're here," he said. "The shifters." He grabbed Krista's hand, and then he saw them, nearly a whole pack lined up under the yellow lights on the cemetery path. They growled in warning, all of them dark blurs blending in with the night. Then they ran. "Shit!" Ryland pulled at Krista's hand, turning around to run deeper into the cemetery. Their breath melded in the dark, clouds rising from their mouths. Ryland's legs burned and his chest ached from the cold. There had to be another exit. A flash of teeth lunged out at them from a nearby headstone. Ryland rammed his shoulder into a wolf, feeling a bite sink into his flesh. He threw the wolf to the ground, as he cried out in pain.
With his back against Krista's, he gazed over the headstones, wondering where the next enemy would appear. A threatening chorus of growls surrounded them. There was no way out. "I can hold them off while you run," Ryland said. "You want us both to die?" Krista asked. "Because that's definitely what's going to happen." Ryland then felt a tug at his elbow.
"Oh! This way," Krista said. The wolves were getting closer, panting as Krista pulled open what looked like a large cellar door just off the path. "This is a better idea?" Ryland shouted, but Krista pushed him through and slammed the doors shut behind them, just as a barrage of claws tried to grab for them.
They could still hear them, their irritated growls as they clawed at the metal. They settled, running off as they tried to find another route. Then, Ryland felt Krista's breath on the back of his neck. "Close one," she said in the darkness. The flashlight clicked on, flooding them with white light. "Whoa, check this out," Krista said, shining the beam down a dark tunnel.
"I don't think we should…," he started to say.
"Could be another way out of here," she suggested and started into the nothingness.
Ryland followed her, the tunnel narrowing around them. Water dripped along the walls, spilling into small rivers near their feet. He could feel his body pressing against Krista's in the close quarters. "Oh my God!" Krista shouted with fright. Out of instinct, Ryland grabbed her and pressed her against a wood-covered wall. "What is it?" He swung his head from one side of the tunnel to the other. Krista put her hand on her heart and laughed.
"Just a rat," she said with a sigh. "What a relief. Thanks for saving me though." She winked as she gently pushed Ryland away and continued on.
"Geez, don't scare me like that," Ryland scoffed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed strange shapes painted along the walls. "Point the light here," he told Krista. Krista turned, her shoulder awkwardly digging into his chest. "Sorry," she said with an awkward smile. Ryland could smell the flowery scent of her hair as it brushed against his chin. It was so easy to wrap his arms around her here, though he knew he absolutely couldn't.
He regained his focus, concentrating instead on the sprawling artwork along the walls. "It's some kind of story," Krista said, using the light to follow along with the tunnel.
There were rough images of men. As they walked they became more and mo
re wolf-like until they were on all fours. Dark shadows floated in patterns along the wall, pouring out from the wolf-men. They reached the end and discovered a haunting image waiting for them there. There was a woman, made in blue, trapped in a box. Next to it, the shadows from the wolves blended into a massive wolf monster. Its jaws were agape, fire pouring from it.
“I’ve seen this before,” Krista whispered. “When I first touched you…”
“This was your vision?” Ryland asked. He followed her gaze towards the wolf monster. Inside it was the light shadow of a man. Ryland stared at it, clutching at his arm again. Was that supposed to be him?
9. DISTRACTIONS
They were startled to find that the tunnel brought them out near a grimy river flowing under an overpass. The city was just a short climb up a nearby hill. Krista was relieved that they had made it out alive. Those shifters were terrifying to run into. But what stuck with her the most were the paintings on the wall. They looked as if someone had made them recently. Who else could know about these shadows? Who was that woman, drawn in the box? Krista felt her heart beating. Something was coming together, though she wasn't quite sure what it was.
Meanwhile, Ryland was steaming with rage, throwing curses left and right. “We were so close!” He lamented. “Who the hell would have thought to break into that place anyway?” As he raged in his tantrum, Krista's eye caught something near the tunnel.
“What’s this?” she asked, holding up a scrap of fabric. It was a patch, the kind you’d sew onto a jacket.
The pattern was a wolf’s head, partly covered in shadow. Ryland raised it to his nose and grimaced. “Figures,” Ryland said. “This patch belongs to a rival pack, the Stalkers. I should have known Declan had something to do with this.”
“Declan? Is he your brother?”
Ryland turned quickly and eyed her with a wave of fierce anger that she'd never seen in him before. It was startling. "What do you know about my brother?" He growled. Krista could only think of the picture of the two boys. The boy in glasses with his arm around Ryland.
"Nothing at all! I just know that you have one," she said. "Geez, what's with you?"
Ryland took a breath. “Sorry,” he said as he started following the river towards the overpass. “It’s just…not my favorite thing to discuss.”
"Why not?" Krista prodded. She learned Ryland had this way of shrugging everything off. But she had a feeling that underneath, there was something else about him that she wanted to crack into. After all, what would a hot-headed, combat-driven guy like him be doing in a beautiful room full of books and cozy pillows?
She sat down beside him on the riverbank. It was cold, and they were tired from their fruitless journey to get the oracle bones. Without them, Krista wondered if she could be any more help to Ryland and his pack. If she couldn't, at least she wanted to help Ryland at this moment.
"Well?" She nudged at his side. He was firm as a rock and didn't budge. "His name was Christoph," Ryland said curtly. "We grew up together, but very different. He was more scholarly. My parent's pushed me to go into sports and pretty much everything else in my life. Christoph, not so much. We spent our entire childhoods competing with each other, but we were still best friends at the end of each day."
“What happened to him?” Krista asked. Ryland’s brow was furrowed. He rested his elbows on his knees. Krista eyed them, wanting to put her hand on one of them to comfort him.
“I got a baseball scholarship. He got his literature degree. We regrouped and formed the Rogues in Central City shortly after,” Ryland said as he ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the sky. “He said I should be alpha. He was my beta. That was already a mistake. I wanted to train the pack, to teach them to be the best they could be. He wanted to make it into more of a community. We couldn’t compromise. I kicked him out.”
“Seems a bit harsh.”
“That’s what I thought. But, I figured if you’re trying to lead the strongest pack in the city, some sacrifices have to be made.”
“You really care about your pack, don’t you?”
“It’s the only thing I have. And because of this curse, I fear it’s driving them away.” Krista watched as he stared down at his shoes.
“Are you even sure that it’s a curse?” She asked him.
“The rest of the pack doesn’t know it but…I’m positive that it is a curse of some kind,” Ryland said. His hand clasped absentmindedly around his arm.
The more Krysta studied him, the way his jaw clenched and how he shifted his weight made her feel that there was something else behind Ryland’s tough façade. “You have it, don’t you?” She found herself asking. Ryland’s eyes shifted sideways at her, and suddenly a tremor wavered through her body. “The curse. It’s why you didn’t let me see your right hand for the palm reading. It’s why you have those potions in your room. You’re trying to stop it.”
Without fear, she reached over, grabbing his right arm and drawing it towards her. She pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, turning his hand palm up under hers. She felt him pull away.
“Don’t,” he said, but she held tightly.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I want to help you.”
He relaxed under her touch. Krista carefully unraveled the gauze around his wound. There was a single black splotch, like a raised bruise, spreading out inky black tendrils along the rest of Ryland's arm. "Does it hurt?" She quietly asked. Ryland nodded. "It's been spreading," he said.
Krista could hear the pain in his voice, and her heart softened for him. Sure, he had been harsh towards her when they had met, but at this moment she felt like another Ryland was next to her. Maybe this one was gentler, kinder. She traced the dark markings with her fingertips.
"I need to find the cure," he said. "I can't lead my pack like this, and I don't know how much time I have until…"
“Until what?” It was like an ominous blanket of darkness was suddenly draped over them.
“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. But I have a feeling it’s not going to be good.”
“Do you think it’s the same thing we saw in the tunnel?”
“Maybe…”
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the rush of the nearby river and the whooshing of cars on the overpass. Neither of them knew what time it was, but it was getting late. It was a moment before Krista realized she was still holding Ryland's hand. Something inside of her told her not to let go. Despite her wishes, though, he slipped his hand from hers and wrapped up the black wound.
"I meant to tell you during your reading," Krista said, trying to conjure up something to say. She liked this softer side of Ryland and wanted him to stay as long as possible. "I noticed you don't have a heart-line."
“A what?” Ryland asked.
“Look,” Krista turned her hand over to show him, tracing her fingers along her palm. “In palmistry, your heart-line gives you insight to your love life,” she explained.
“But I don’t have one. Does that mean I’m doomed to a loveless life, fortune teller?” Ryland smirked. It was charming and sweet.
Krista knew she was walking down a path she never wanted to go too far on. "Well, it means a lot of other things too," she said with a laugh. "Palmistry was never my strong suit, though. That was more of mom's specialty. She basically taught me everything I know. Of course, it was all against my will."
"Sounds like my parents," Ryland scoffed. "They pushed me every day, from school to baseball, to piano lessons, my life has been one booked schedule."
“That’s rough. But at least you got to go to school. I spent all my time locked up in the shop learning tarot and everything else under the psychic sun.”
“But you’re very talented because of it.”
"I don't know. Mom used to tell me this was all going to help me in the future. I guess if she's a powerful psychic I should trust her. But sometimes, I'm not even sure if I'm doing any of this the right way. I tell people their fo
rtunes, help them shape their futures, but how can I even be sure that any of my work is good? I mean, these are other people's lives I'm dealing with."
“Well, if I’ve learned anything from being an alpha, it’s that at the end of the day, you’ve given it your best. The best thing to do is be even better tomorrow.”
“Hmm, I like that.”
Ryland turned to her, and while he looked into her eyes, Krista felt her hand being turned over in his. "You're so keen on telling me about my love life," he said. "But what can we learn about yours?"
Krista felt a flutter in her chest. She felt embarrassed even mentioning her love life in front of him, if she could even call it that. "Funnily enough," she said. "I have a strong heart-line, but it hasn't quite, uh, shown itself these days."
“What do you mean?” Ryland asked.
“Well, I feel like psychics get a bad rep. People automatically think I’m a con artist or something, or that I’m going to trick people out of their money. There’s also the whole clairvoyance thing. Sometimes when I’m, uh, on a date or anything, I can see a glimpse of the future with that person.”
“I bet a lot of people wished they had that.”
“It’s almost like my own curse, all jokes aside. It kind of scares me to be with someone if I can peek at what’s going to happen next.”
“Isn’t that the point? What’s love without some risk?”
He was still holding onto her hand. Krista wondered where this was going...if it was going anywhere. Her mind was buzzing, and already she was wondering if she was going to have a vision right there. She only hoped it would be something good.
"Can I take a risk?" Krista said quietly. The world seemed to silence around them.
"Will it put your life in danger?" Ryland asked.
"Possibly," Krista said. She turned her hand over, holding onto his as she leaned in. She could feel Ryland's anticipation on his lips even before she pressed hers onto them. At first, it was soft, two people trying to figure out where the other stood. But then, Krista placed her hand on Ryland's warm cheek, her fingers brushing his stubble.
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