I swallow hard, slowly turning my head toward my mom but keeping my eyes trained on the trees. “It’s the wolf, isn’t it?” I say through gritted teeth. I’m afraid to move, couldn’t move if I wanted to. Terror has me frozen in place. “Mom?” She doesn’t respond, so I squeeze her hand. “Mom, is it the wolf?”
“No.” Her voice is barely audible as she slowly shakes her head.
“It’s not?” My gaze darts from the tree line to her face and back again. I can’t read her expression, but every fiber of my being is telling me it is.
She sucks in a sharp breath like she’s coming out of a trance. Her wide eyes lock with mine, her lips trembling as she tries to speak. “It is the wolf,” she says slowly, stretching out the words as if she doesn’t believe them. “But a full moon shouldn’t give it enough power to be out in the morning. Unless . . .”
“Blood moon,” I whisper.
“How could I have forgotten?” She shakes her head. “Stay absolutely still, little bird. Our stones will protect us. If we don’t move, it won’t even know we’re here.”
My heart pounds in my chest, the sound of my pulse filling my ears as a huge gray mass appears in the tree line. It takes a step into the clearing and comes into full view. He’s massive—at least five feet tall from paws to shoulder and as big around as a tree trunk. Foamy white saliva drips from knifelike fangs as he surveys the scene. His blood-red eyes fixate on mine, and a low growl reverberates through the meadow. His nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath and blows it out hard.
He sees me.
I’m deathly still, but the energy inside me boils. My legs shake. My short, rapid breaths threaten to make me pass out. I need to move. We have to run. We can’t stand here like cows waiting for the slaughter. The wolf lowers his head and prowls toward us, his massive muscles flexing and rippling with each step.
“It can’t see us,” my mom mutters. “It’s not supposed to know were here. The stones. I enchanted the stones.”
“Mom?”
The wolf slinks closer, baring his fangs.
“I left my amulet at home.”
“What?” Her voice is frantic.
I repeat my sentence slowly, trying not to draw any more attention. “I. Left. My. Amulet. At. Home.”
“Oh,” she says softly, sounding way calmer than she should. “Well then, I guess there’s only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?”
“Run!”
We turn and sprint toward the park, my boots flattening the sacred flowers as I run for my life. Adrenaline courses through my veins. The wolf closes in behind us. If we can make it to the trees, maybe we can lose him. My mom matches my pace, and we break through the thicket together. The trail is bumpy, though, littered with rocks, holes, and random tree roots. I lose my footing and slam into the ground, sending searing pain shooting through my left shoulder. I try to stand, but the agony causes a wave of nausea to wash over me. Gripping my injured shoulder, I stumble into a tree and slide down to the ground.
The wolf bursts through the trees, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want his grizzly maw to be the last thing I see, but it’s all I can imagine as I brace myself for the attack. My entire body is tense in anticipation of the bite that will surely end my life, but it doesn’t come. The wolf growls and snarls, but doesn’t attack. He’s taking his time, toying with me.
An eternity passes before I open my eyes to peek at the monster, and I see why he’s stopped. My mom stands between the demon and me, her enchanted cloak temporarily blocking me from the wolf’s view. But it’s only a matter of time. The stones encircle my mom, not me, so as soon as the beast takes a step right or left, he will see me again, and I’ll be toast. My mom must realize this, because she turns toward me and unclasps her cape.
“No, Mom. Don’t!” I plead, but she doesn’t listen.
She kisses her fingertips and holds her hand palm up toward me. “I love you, Wren,” she whispers, and tosses her cloak onto my head.
I yank the cover down in time to see her racing up the path, her hair flowing like a black comet’s tail behind her. The wolf howls and takes off after her. Her speed is no match for the beast’s. Scrambling to my feet, I throw the cloak over my shoulders and tear off after them. A fresh flush of adrenaline dulls the pain in my shoulder, turning my flight response into pure fight. I won’t let that thing get my mom.
Chapter Three
Wren
But I’m too late. I make it to the park in time to see my mom on the ground, the wolf stalking her, growling low, enjoying the play before the kill.
“Mom! Run!” I scream as I shove my way through the crowd that’s gathered around them. Fear forces them to keep their distance, but curiosity draws them in.
“Get up, Mom!” I skid to a stop ten feet away, and I see why she can’t. Blood pours down her injured leg, creating a pool of sticky blackness in the dirt. A chunk of flesh is missing from her upper calf, and as she drags herself across the ground, the wound rips open even more.
When her gaze lands on me, she stops, her pained expression turning to resolve. She locks eyes with the wolf as it lunges for her, and its teeth sink into her skin, tearing flesh from bone.
Her scream pierces the morning, ripping my life apart.
“Somebody do something!” I yell at the enforcers standing by, watching my mom’s life slip away. No one moves. How can they all just stand there? They have guns. Why aren’t they shooting? “Are you people crazy? Help her!” They look at me with pity. My mom is dying, and no one with a weapon will lift a finger to help.
Energy pools in my core, tightening my stomach as rage clenches my heart. Electric heat flows through my limbs. My hands vibrate with power. I reach toward the closest enforcer and focus my energy on his gun. Closing my eyes, I push a wave of force toward him. The gun rips from its holster and flies into my hand. Without another thought, I swing the barrel toward the wolf and fire three rounds. The first shot barely grazes his shoulder. The wolf seems merely annoyed. The second pierces his chest, and the third tunnels straight into his head.
The coppery smell of blood mixes with gunpowder in the air, and everyone in the park stands frozen in shock. Everyone except for me. I let the gun fall from my shaking hand, and on weak knees, I stumble to my mom lying in the dirt. The wolf, a mass of blood and matted fur, lies on his side next to her.
I drop to my knees and lift my mom’s shoulders, cradling her in my arms. Her skin is pale as milk, and thick red blood oozes from an enormous gash on her neck. She’s deathly cold, her breaths coming in sporadic, shallow bursts as she clings to life. I unclasp the cloak and cover her with it, trying to hold the life inside her body.
“Mom! Mom, you can’t leave me!” I wail as I rock her in my arms.
Her eyes flutter open, and she manages a weak smile. “I’m still here, little bird.” Her voice is a raspy whisper, and she winces as she turns her gaze toward the demon animal. A hazy mist gathers around its form, shimmering as the beast transforms. The fur slowly disappears as the canine shape turns human. It’s definitely a man. A very dead man.
“Todd Mason,” she mutters.
“Who’s Todd Mason?” I ask, choking on a sob.
“An old friend . . .” Before she can finish her sentence, the man’s body crumbles to ash, leaving nothing but a mound of black powder as the dull gray light of his soul walks on.
My mom gasps, and a hacking cough causes blood to spew from her wound. She turns to me and grabs my shirt. “What have you done, Wren? You killed him?” Her frantic eyes search mine.
“I . . . I had to. He was attacking you.” I can feel the life slipping from her body, so I hold her tighter.
She sucks in a shaky breath. “The spirit of the wolf can never die.”
I open my mouth to speak, but dread grips my voice, choking the sound, as the gravity of her words sinks in. The spirit of the wolf can never die. Of course, the reason no one would help her. The reason everyone just stood there watchin
g . . . Whoever kills the wolf becomes the wolf. No one wanted to kill it because the wolf spirit would enter their body, fusing with their soul.
A shimmering gold mist rises from the ash and swirls toward me, enveloping me in dark energy. It presses in, squeezing me, and I scream as the sensation of a thousand needles penetrates my pores. It’s over within seconds, but I’m left drenched in sweat, trembling, and breathless.
“What’s happening?” A wave of nausea washes over me. My mom’s eyes have closed, so I shake her. “Mom! Don’t go! What do I do?”
Her eyes are slits, the pupils barely visible through her matted lashes. “Your father,” she whispers. “Perhaps . . .” Her head starts to roll to the side, but she manages to hold it steady. “A cure.”
“Wait . . . my father has a cure? Is that what you mean, Mom? Mom?” I pat her cheek to try and keep her conscious. “I don’t even know his name!”
“Michael Crane,” she croaks, and then looks up toward something in the distance. “There is light in the mountains. Go find it.” Her eyes flutter shut as she takes a final breath and goes limp in my arms.
“Mom?” My voice cracks with tears. She can’t be gone. She can’t. “No, Mom! Please don’t go! I need you!”
The light in her goes out, and a dull gray mist rises from her body. As it floats overhead, I look up to her face, smiling sadly at me. “Mom?” I reach for her, but she floats higher and higher until she vanishes from sight.
I’m only partially aware of the crowd closing in around me as I look at her body and stroke her hair, wiping away the blood that has matted it to her face.
She’s really gone.
A group of enforcers marches toward me from one direction, while a circle of civilians forms on the other side. One enforcer sneers, lifting a corner of his mouth, and says, “We’ve finally caught our wolf, boys.” His slithery voice is full of excitement and pride. What’s he talking about? The wolf is dead; they haven’t caught it.
“Get her!” I hear someone shriek, and chaos breaks loose. People are yelling and shoving into each other, trying to get to me.
Me.
I’m the wolf now.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.” I kiss her forehead and jump to my feet. Racing through a break in the crowd, I head for the woods. I’m too fast for them to catch me, so I zigzag my way through the trees, hopefully making it impossible for them to follow my trail. If I can get far enough away, I’ll have time to think. It’s all happening so fast. My mind is racing, but I can’t hold on to any thoughts. I need to get away.
Instinctively, I end up on the trail I usually run with Seth. My muscles scream with fatigue, but I have to keep going. In minutes, I arrive at the lake and stop on the rocky shore. My stomach wrenches, and I double over, spilling its contents at my feet. What’s happening?
Drenched in blood and vomit, I drag myself to the water and wade in. Waist-deep in the lake, I scrub my face and hands, and a brilliant crimson stain spreads on the water around me. Miraculously, none of the blood is mine.
It’s all my mom’s—who’s now lying dead in the park because of me. I did this. My shoulder aches, but I’m otherwise unscathed. Where’s the fairness in that? It should be me dead on the ground right now. Not her.
Before I have time to think about it more, footsteps crunch the gravel on the shore. Seth stomps toward me, his expression grave. He lifts his hand and calls to me. “Wren? I knew you’d come here.”
Pushing my way through the water, I reach the shore and run to him. I throw my arms around him, and he catches me in a tight embrace. “Oh, Seth.” I sob into his shirt. “My mom. It killed my mom.”
“Shh . . .” He strokes my hair. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
“It . . . I . . . I didn’t know what to do, so I killed it.” I pull away and pound my fists against his chest. “I killed the damn thing!” I keep pounding his chest like a drum, as if hitting something will make this all go away.
He catches my wrists in his hands and holds my gaze. Blinking at him through my tears, I whimper. “You have to help me. She said my dad is Michael Crane, and he has a cure. I have to find him. Please, Seth. They’re after me!”
“I know.” He presses his lips together in a thin line and shakes his head. Then, forcing my arms behind my back, he holds both wrists in one hand and pulls out a thick plastic zip tie with the other.
My eyes grow wide. “What are you doing?” I’ve barely gotten the question out before he cuffs me and grabs me by the arms. I try to wiggle away, but his grip is too strong. I stomp on his foot, but he’s wearing steel-toed boots.
“Settle down, Red. This is for your own good.” He scoops me up and throws me onto his shoulder, the impact on my stomach knocking the wind out of me. I groan in protest, but the pain in my abdomen is nothing compared to the agony ripping through my chest. Seth is my boyfriend. How can he be doing this to me when my mom has just died?
He mutters, “Sorry,” and carries me like I weigh nothing back toward the city.
I flail and kick my legs, and I manage to knee him in the chest hard enough to make him stop. He grunts, leaning forward, and he drops me on the ground. The force sends a stabbing pain shooting through my shoulder, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I can’t believe he’s acting this way.
“What do you mean it’s for my own good? What are you going to do? Are you going to lock me up? Send me away?” I scramble to get my legs underneath me, but my coordination is shot. “I thought you cared for me, Seth! What are you doing?”
He sighs and kneels in front of me. “I do care for you.” He tries to put his hand on my leg, but I kick him in the knee. He drops his arms dejectedly and reaches for something in his belt. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” Grabbing me by the ankles, he pulls my body toward him and wraps my legs in another zip tie.
“No! Stop it!” I try to scoot away but end up flopping on the ground like a fish. He snags another zip tie just above my knees—tightening his noose of betrayal—and lifts me onto his shoulder, a little more carefully this time. I’m folded in half, my stomach pressing into his shoulder, my face against his back, while he holds my tethered legs.
“Do you want to end up like Todd Mason? Losing control of yourself and killing people? Is that what you want?”
A defeated sigh escapes my lips. “No.” I’ve lost the will to fight. “I don’t want to kill anyone, but I don’t want to be locked up in prison for the rest of my life either.”
We break through the tree line, and the crowd cheers. People high-five each other and shake their fists at me. So much hatred fills their eyes when they look at me. No, not at me. At the wolf I will become.
“Well,” Seth says, “we don’t have many choices, do we? Letting you go is like turning loose a murderous demon on the city, and I can’t do that.”
“You could help me escape. Take me out to one of the old suburbs or reservations, somewhere no one lives. Just . . . please don’t lock me up. I can’t live in a cage.” My lungs tighten as if the cell walls are already closing around me.
“Sorry, Red.” He lifts me off his shoulder and places me in the back of an enforcer vehicle. “It has to be this way.”
I try to make eye contact with him as he steps away from the car, but he slams the door in my face and turns his back to me, leaving me utterly and completely alone.
Another enforcer climbs into the front seat and nervously checks the lock on the separation grate as if I might actually try to break through and attack him. My mind hasn’t even caught up with everything that’s happened. All I can do is stare out the window as the city celebrates and this stranger takes me to my fate.
We pass row after row of high-rise apartment buildings, their façades weathered and crumbling and in desperate need of repair. The government owns everything: buildings, roads, the food supply. And now they own me. I shiver and swallow the bile in the back of my throat.
The enforcer blares the horn to part the crowd that’s gathered in th
e street to watch me—the wolf—be taken away. He plows through a pothole, and I’m jostled in the back seat, my head thudding against the window, adding to my pain.
The drive is shorter than I expect, and we arrive at the old jailhouse on the outskirts of the city before I’m even aware of where we’re going. My muscles tense, ice coursing through my veins, as the memories come rushing back.
I’ve been here before.
As a six-year-old, I spent three days here, locked in a cage like an animal as punishment for using the Sense. A boy in my class, Liam Stevens, had lit a notebook on fire in the first-grade room, so I used the Sense to pick up the teacher’s water bottle and pour it on the flames. It wasn’t my fault the bottle contained vodka instead of water, but everyone blamed me for scorching the classroom. No one even questioned how Liam had started the fire, never mind that he didn’t have any matches or lighters on him. His dad’s an enforcer, high up in the ranks, so he barely got a slap on the wrist.
Had I been an adult, or even a teenager, I would have been shot on the spot. But I was only a child, so they went easy on me—three days in a cage, a lot of drugs to rid me of my demons, and a lifetime of claustrophobia. I haven’t used the Sense on purpose since. Bad things always happen.
The car door opens, and an enforcer drags me to my feet. My knees start to buckle, but he forces me upright, steadying me until I can stand. He pulls out a knife and gestures to my bound legs.
“You’re not going to try to run away are you?” He stares at my forehead as if he’s afraid to make eye contact.
I shake my head, and he cuts the ties on my legs, leaving my wrists bound. The plastic has been cutting into my skin since Seth tied me up, and blood runs down my hand. Maybe it’s just sweat, I don’t know.
With a firm grip on my arm, the soldier guides me into the building. Beige paint peels from bare walls, exposing the cinderblocks beneath. Our footsteps echo the sound of loneliness on the dirty concrete floor. Yellow fluorescent light casts a sickly glow in the hallway, and the sour smell of mold mixes with Pine-Sol in the air. This place is only used for one thing—holding those with the Sense until justice can be served. It doesn’t get many visitors anymore.
Soul Catchers Page 3
