I’m the youngest daughter to the Breukelen alpha pack leader. No one is supposed to come after me. I’m protected by my standing in this pack. Coming from the leading pack family alone.
No one is supposed to have the guts to come after me, when I’m with my pack. Especially not any lycan. I thought my father had said he’d dealt with the lycans responsible for what they did to me.
“There’s always the possibility. Policing them is a constant vigil, that we do a damn good effort on, but can’t always be one hundred percent certain on.
The borough is too big for them not to find a way in and hide out somewhere. You said it yourself, we relay heavily on the human civilians to alert us to things in their communities. Things we can deal with. This is one of those things.”
“Look just because a civilian called it in out the kindness of their heart does not mean it’s anything we need actually address. Our pack is good, I’m sure of it. We owe them nothing. There is no need to go to the council with this. Nobody reports werewolf attacks anyway. You know this as well as I do. The police will suspect, but they won’t be able to say anything without being laughed out of their uniforms and jobs. So they’ll make something up.”
I’m sorry did my mind hear him correctly? Did that man just say, werewolf attack? As in a werewolf, not a lycan, attacked a human?
“Even if they did want to do something about the attack, they have no legal grounding to stand on and they wouldn’t even know where to begin to start their damn investigation.”
My father is being awfully quiet. He does that when he’s contemplating. Plotting. Strategically thinking.
“You honestly don’t believe any of the Breukelen are responsible for this attack?”
“I don’t.”
“Here’s what I think.” My father states pausing briefly. “We’ve changed the pack’s routine with the pups for taking them through the first shape shift. We’ve brought them all back to the city and into an environment, that they’re natural self is not used to. That would freak out a werewolf who’s never been here before and holds all the natural instinct of a wild wolf and no, wild, natural habitat.”
“Jesus Dolph, it’s been over four months, hasn’t it? I thought the Sheppard’s were you know, doing those psych type exercises with the pups to mentally prepare them for this change over.”
My breath catches in my throat and I lean my back against the wall. My legs are shaking. It all comes back to me. What they’re talking about.
It all comes back to messing up our pack’s until then, proven method for bringing werewolf’s into being, without incident or hassle. It was decided to scrap going country for a while. That other methods for helping pups go through the shape shift for the first time were need.
I remember someone saying it was good thing what had happened to me. Because it proved we were too routine like and predictable. That we needed to adaptable if we were going to produce proper and worthy werewolves of the Breukelen Pack’s name.
Of course this werewolf hadn’t been saying this to my direct face. No, when the elders saw me, hell when any pack werewolf see’s me now, they gave me pity face. Always, pity face. “Pity what happened to that young girl.” Like they knew anything!
“Do you watch a scotch?” My father asks his associate.
I had heard this previous trail of thought sprouting forth, because, just like now, I had been eavesdropping and spying around my father’s meeting with his pack associates. Those he relied on to help him control the pack and keep him informed of any issues with the pack. After all, you don’t get to be the third biggest werewolf pack in New York without a little help.
“Sure.”
The man that had said that to my father had then met my father’s temper. My father had in front of his associates and lieutenants, proceeded to pound the werewolf in questions, head into his desk top, till his face was bloody beyond recognition.
Nobody had gotten up to help the werewolf at my father’s mercy. He’d then made the werewolf, sit back down in his chair for the meeting and had him wrapped in silver chains to the chair, until the three hour meeting was over.
Ensuring, he had said at the time, that the werewolf male understand it was the alpha of the Breukelen pack’s daughter he was disrespecting that he would not stand for it.
Silver means pain. Even I know that. Even before the shape shift, silver affected me. Would be like the equivalent of an allergy attack. My eyes would water, my nose would twitch and sneeze, my throat would get scratchy from just breathing in the air around the metal. Touching it would bring instaneous pain.
By my father having his colleague wrapped up in silver chains, he meant to hurt the man further. To make him suffer for his insolence to his pack leader, about his leader’s family. It meant that the werewolf could not shape shift to heal himself or even perform a partial shape shift, to relieve any of the pain my father had inflict don him.
I’m kind of lost in this thought, and don’t realise my father’s offer for scotch for his colleague is a ruse for him to bust me loitering around the kitchen.
He takes one look at me all wide eyed and I freeze before him.
“I uh,” I reach a hand out blindly for the fridge door handle. “Uh,” I am so busted it’s pathetic.
“You shouldn’t be back here.” Is all he says softly.
I open the fridge and pull out whatever my hand lands on first. It’s a can a beer. He looks at me questioningly. I glanced at the can and back at him, tossing it over to him making a hasty retreat out of there.
8
The Sai is a weapon that works in pairs. You have two individual weapons, one for both hands. So you are fully armed so to speak.
It’s a lot harder to pick up the ability to fight with two weapons at once than perfecting one weapon and using both hands. It is for this reason alone that my father has chosen this discipline for me to learn and use to my advantage.
By learning to use the sai, I am strengthening both sides of my body. So there is less of a dominate and weak side and more of an all over balance in my strength, co-ordination and awareness.
So the person wielding the sai, is less off balance, more aware and prepared. Has the ability to double their chance to strike out at their opponent. Learning to work all over as a fighting form, rather than having to use one dominate side or tactic to achieve is hard work. But is achievable. You just have to be prepared to go the distance. Which I am.
Makes me think this is why my father decided to get me to do this. Because long term, he wants me to be equipped and ready. For everyone and anything. He wants me to regain my centre and feel whole again. To be balanced, like I was before that night four months ago. Even if right now, I’m not. At least, not fully.
I’m still wrapping my head around werewolf stuff, daily. After the shape shift happened I can tell, I am aware of the difference in me. In how I was before. But I’m wondering how much is from the actual shape shift and how much is because of the attack.
You’d think freeing yourself of feeling would be easy. Let it go I get told. But how do you let something go when it’s locked inside you and you have no physical way of making it get out of you?
My shape shifts since then are few and far between. Because honestly, they’re rough and they’re unpredictable. I almost always come out of a shift into my tribal form, frothing at the mouth. Which isn’t it good. Especially when I then proceed to tear up everything in my confined sight.
The problem with trying to work through the whole “letting it go” theory is I’m a werewolf. We don’t let shit go.
The nature of the beast that runs in my blood literally will not let enemies of prey, go. It will not let the instinct to avenge through blood and hunting of flesh go.
Because it’s probably a bit like the lycan that hunted me down in that sense. It wants to do damage.
I’m told by my father that the difference between this feeling I continue to carry and the lycan is, I have control. A great werewolf
strength. I can choose when and how to unleash the werewolf inside. How to indulge in the feelings it feels through me.
And yet I can’t find the balance that my siblings seem to have, when it comes to being a werewolf and themself. Their very human self.
Mother thinks I’m sullen and withdrawn. My father is in over protection mode. Aksel and Bodil attempt to be normal around me and treat me that way as such. Markus accepts me however I present myself to him. He refuses to shut down around me or close off or allow negativity to hit me from him.
“....in a medically induced coma.” I stop walking as I hear Aksel’s voice talking. This isn’t all that typical conversation that flies around the Sommers household on a regular basis. Especially coming from Aksel.
“.... chance of surviving are good now.” Bodil replies to Aksel as I looked down at the cloth covered Sai in my hands. I’m in the process of putting them away and of eavesdropping, yet again.
“It’s messed up.”
“Yeah.”
“Makes me think of Bg and what she must’ve gone through...I mean, they were left for dead. They weren’t conscious when the paramedics got to them. Probably went into shock that saved them long into it. But she was aware, man. Markus says...she was running...flying through those woods...completely pumping.” Aksel says sadly. “Makes me wonder if she went through the whole thing consciously....”
“Yeah I know. Then she probably remembers everything about it. Damn werewolf brain for details.” Bodil replies. “Not fair.”
I frown and put the sai away in the cupboard not caring anymore that I’m making noise. Of course it’s to get their attention. To stop the talk about me behind my back. The pity associated with my name. Both Bodil and Aksel stick their head around the corner and look down the hall at me.
I look back up at them.
“We can talk about her, but not to her, right?” I state angrily at them. How long is this going to hang over me because of them?
“Hey!” Aksel says defensively.
“Actually we were talking about something else entirely.” Bodil replies haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I heard my name so don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you.” I mutter annoyed with them both, walking up to Bodil. I’m still shorter than her. She’s a head taller than me and her physique is lean and strong. She looks imposing when she crosses her arms. Bodil shoots an arm straight out, her hand flat to the nearest wall. Blocking my path in the hallway from passing her.
“I’m not lying.”
Our eyes meet. Her brown eyes are dark like coffee now. She’s actually pissed at me for saying that. Good. I much prefer the anger displayed at me to the pity in her voice.
“And I’m not deaf.” I state, making a point of looking at her arm and back at her face. Bodil keeps her arm where it is. Like an Alpha will give into a beta wolf! Ha!
“We mentioned your name in reference to something that’s happened, that’s all. We weren’t discussing you as such.” She says dropping the arm finally.
“What’s happened?” I ask out of curiosity and get the strangest answer. They both look at one another silently and hesitate to look me back in the face when they turn to me. My heart races instantly. It’s a sure sign of bad things and I wonder if now I’m one of them and that’s why they can’t met my eyes. “What?”
“It’s a pack matter.” Aksel mumbles at me looking away over my shoulder and down the hall.
“I’m pack. I matter.” The words are out of my mouth before I’m even aware they’ve formed on my lips.
This snaps both the two alpha werewolves before me attention back onto me, sharply. They meet my gaze and hold the look.
Some part of me knows this statement, honestly believes those words that came from me. But the girl who’s standing around with her siblings, she doesn’t really know it yet.
“Altijd.” Aksel replies solemnly back at me. His strength comes through in that one word. Makes me feel stronger for hearing him say that at me. Knowing he means it not only because he is my brother but because we do not throw that word around without meaning.
Our pack credo is Altijd. It means always. One little world of ultimate affirmation and power. Always. It’s usually used in the context of re affirming your werewolf status and worth in the Breukelen.
“Altijd.” Bodil smirks at me.
God, I can literally feel the warmth coming from her with that look at me. Pure love, nothing but love. For me her sister.
I kind of want to burst into tears now. But I bite my bottom lip instead and look down at my feet. Nobody’s said this to me since before four months ago. Didn’t realise how much it means to me to hear it, to need to hear it. Especially from those closest to me.
I press down the urge to start crying in front of them.
My voice is shaky when I ask them “So what’s happened?”
9
There was an attack. An unprovoked as far as anyone can ascertain, attack. In Brooklyn. A random, attack.
Could’ve been lycans, might have been werewolves. Nobody’s really certain. Because the victims were cleaned up before any Breukelen could get to check on them.
Two males savagely mauled and left to die in the street like unwanted trash. My chest tightens when I hear this. In Brooklyn. In my home city. In the place I’m supposed to safe in. The place that’s supposed to be as far away from what happened to me four months ago as Michigan is from New York.
An attack in Breukelen territory. This is what my father was discussing with his associate the other day. This is what my father, mother, and oldest two siblings have been hiding from me. Trying to shelter me from.
“So no one knows who did this to the two guys?” I ask as we sit around our living room. Feet up on chairs.
“No, but we’re looking into it.” Aksel states picking up a coffee mug with steam coming off it.
“Who’s we?”
“Father’s associates, Bo and me.”
I look over at my sister. She’s a good tracker, better than me. Not that it would be hard to be better than me at tracking, considering her advantage of Alpha abilities. But I don’t think she can work off a cleaned up body.
If the doctors cleaned up the two victims, washed all the blood and other things on them after the attack, then that makes it hard to work out.
Scents are like finger prints. No two are exactly alike. They’re a great identifier for werewolves to work with. We can pick them up through the artificial smells of deodorant, soap, clothing and yes, blood, but given time and strong enough chemicals, they fade.
“When did it happen?”
“Two nights ago.” Bodil replied, still watching me cautiously. I’m not sure what she was expecting to see in me.
My brain automatically calculates what night on the calendar it would have been. “Night before full moon.” I murmur under my breath as if swearing.
When I was attacked, it was also during a lunar week and on the night before the full moon. Werewolves and lycans are affected by the moon it’s not a myth. It’s the way it’s always been. Every werewolf feels the pull of the moon in lunar week. Even during the day time. It’s just we tend to feel it more at night.
Lunar week is different for me now. Before the shape shift, I was always wondering when I’d experience the shape shift, and what it would be like. But that was it. Harmless curiosity and a want to know. Now it’s very different. I feel things. I mean, we all feel things, based on emotions and senses right? Well whatever my normal level of sensory perception is, it’s tripled on lunar week.
Perception Page 3
