by Jayme Morse
Samara glanced at the time on her cell phone. “By three minutes! He said he would be here around six o’clock, even though I told him dinner was going to be served at six thirty. He has a half hour to get here before he’s technically late,” she blurted.
“I suppose,” her father mumbled unconvincingly.
“Dad! Seriously . . . stop being so close-minded. At least meet him before you pass judgment,” Samara snapped at him. She hated that her dad was already forming a negative opinion without even meeting Luke yet.
“First impressions are very important, Sam,” Mr. McKinley replied. “Whether a person is prompt or not says a lot about the type of person they are.”
Samara rolled her eyes. She wasn’t about to tell her dad that if Luke was late, it was probably for a good reason – like a werewolf battle was taking place out in the woods somewhere and people’s lives depended on him being there. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him that Luke felt the same way about first impressions, Samara noticed the bright headlights reflecting against the front window. “See, he’s here!”
Samara skipped over to the front door and swung it open before Luke had even reached out his hand to ring the doorbell. “Hi,” she said cheerfully.
“Hey,” he replied, carrying a bouquet of light pink roses. They were full and very pretty. Samara smiled. She had never gotten roses from a boy before, which wasn’t surprising since Luke was the first guy she had ever really dated (and even that was pretty subjective, since getting permission to date was the whole reason Luke was here tonight). Before Samara had a chance to ask if the roses were for her, Luke was handing them to her mom, who had emerged from the laundry room. Samara’s face fell, but she knew that it was probably for the best. Hopefully, bringing flowers would win him brownie points with at least one of her parents, if not both of them. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. McKinley. These are for you.”
Mrs. McKinley beamed a wide smile. “Why, thank you, Luke! That was very sweet of you.” Samara could tell that Luke had already won her mom over. Now, they were just going to need to work on her dad.
“So, Luke, what do you want to do with your life?” Mr. McKinley asked once they were seated at the round dining room table.
As Luke spritzed his spinach and tomato salad with Italian dressing, he said, “I’m not sure. There are a lot of fields I’ve considered, but I haven’t decided on just one yet.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mr. McKinley asked, crunching into a piece of garlic bread. “What fields are those?”
“Well, I’ve considered medicine, architecture, and engineering,” Luke replied, stabbing a black olive with his fork. He shrugged. “I have a few more years to make up my mind for sure.”
I didn’t know you were interested in architecture, Samara said.
Luke looked over at her and grinned. That’s the great thing about us. There’s still a lot that we have to learn about each other.
“Those are all very different fields,” Mr. McKinley said, spearing a piece of the meaty lasagna on his plate. “I’m surprised that you feel that you would be skilled enough for all three.”
Samara wanted to kick her dad under the table, but he was too far away. Instead, she gave him a look.
“Actually, sir, they’re very much the same. All of them require a specific science . . . a certain method,” Luke replied. “I like to do things that require a method. That way, the only way to mess up is by operator error.”
“That’s interesting, Luke,” Mrs. McKinley said cheerfully. “Samara and our son, Seth, are both creative types, so it’s always interesting to hear about someone who likes science.”
“Interesting indeed,” Mr. McKinley murmured, in a way that told Samara he wasn’t too impressed. “So, what do your parents do?”
“My mom is a professor at the community college,” Luke replied.
“And your dad?” Mr. McKinley prompted.
“My stepdad works in drug rehabilitation,” Luke answered. “My biological father passed away when I was thirteen years old.” Luke looked down at his hands.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Luke,” Mrs. McKinley said sympathetically.
“I’m sorry, too. May I ask what happened to him?” Mr. McKinley asked.
“Dad!” Samara intercepted. “That’s really rude.”
Luke waved a fork in the air. “That’s okay,” he said, smiling. “I don’t mind. People ask me all the time. My father died of lung cancer.”
Wow, Samara thought in her head. You’re a good liar. She knew that Luke’s father hadn’t really died of lung cancer. His father, who had also been a werewolf on the Ima pack, had been killed by the Vyka.
I’ve had to lie about his death for the past three years, Luke replied. You get used to it, I guess.
Samara understood. It felt like she had been lying to her own parents ever since she had turned into a werewolf. Well, technically, it wasn’t that she had been lying. She was simply withholding the truth from them. There was a difference. At least, telling herself that repeatedly was what made her feel less guilty about doing it.
Of course, there was also the possibility that she might not be lying at all and that her dad might already know that his own father had been a werewolf and had simply chosen not to tell Samara or Seth. Although he hadn’t done anything to make Samara think that he knew, her cousin Kyle had told her that her dad’s sister, Rae, had known about Grandpa Joe’s second life as a werewolf.
“This lasagna is really good, Mrs. McKinley,” Luke said, trying to change the subject.
“Why, thank you, Luke, but –” Samara’s mom began.
“I made it,” Mr. McKinley interrupted, scowling. Samara could just see the wheels spinning around in his head; he was about to make some sort of comment about Luke being sexist. Something along the lines of: do you expect my daughter to be the one who does all the cooking? Do you believe that women belong in the kitchen? Or, even worse, a comment about Luke lacking a father. Samara searched her head for a subject to change the conversation to, but luckily, Luke was ahead of her.
“Oh, well, it’s just delicious, Mr. McKinley,” Luke cut in. “So, do you watch football?”
Mr. McKinley’s eyes lit up.
Nice save, Samara told Luke. His favorite team is the New York Giants, just so you know.
Luke met her eyes and smiled. Well, I don’t have to pretend to like his team. They’re my favorite, too.
Chapter 2
****
Samara crawled under the comforter and thought about her night. Things hadn’t gone nearly bad as she had been expecting them to, but she wasn’t sure if her dad was completely on board with her and Luke dating just yet. She figured that could change if Luke spent more time around her parents. Mr. McKinley had agreed that it was okay for Luke to come over occasionally, as long as her parents were both home, and that it was okay for them to go out. In Samara’s mind, that was the biggest seal of approval he would ever give them. He just needed time.
Samara heard a loud clanking sound coming from outside. She sat up in bed and looked outside her bedroom window. Declan was standing outside, dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and dark jeans. She assumed that his attire was an attempt to remain inconspicuous – as though he parents wouldn’t notice that he were standing outside her bedroom, throwing rocks at her window.
Samara? Can you come outside? Declan asked.
Samara groaned. She had almost forgotten that she and Declan could mentally communicate with each other because he hadn’t attempted to speak to her since Lilly died, and he had been the least of her worries over the past three days.
Their situation was pretty complicated. Normally, a werewolf could only mentally communicate with one mate, but since Colby had changed the dynamics of her fate, allowing her to choose a spot on either of the packs, she had two potential mates. Luke was the mate she would be destined to be with if she chose to become an Ima, and Declan would have been her mate if she chose to become a Vyka. Her ability to menta
lly communicate with one of them would stop once she went through initiation with one of the two packs. Have you been listening to my thoughts?
Yeah, obviously, Declan said impatiently. Now, will you please come outside? I need to talk to you.
Pulling on a light pink hoodie, Samara opened her bedroom window and climbed out of it. Once she was far enough away from the house, she pressed her hands against her hips and gave Declan a dirty look, to let him know that she was angered by his visit. “What do you want?”
“Please don’t do this, Sam,” Declan said. There was a pleading look in his eyes and his voice was just dripping with desperation. Samara couldn't help but feel bad to watch her best friend stand there in front of her, begging her to choose him instead of Luke. “Jason doesn’t care about the stunt you pulled . . . just as long as you agree to be a Vyka still.”
“Wait, he knows about what I did?” Samara asked, thinking back to the night of Lilly’s death. The plan had been for Samara to pretend that she was going to go through initiation with the Vyka pack because the Ima wanted to find out why they had been getting stronger than other youth packs so quickly. Part of the initiation ceremony required her to throw a piece of her hair into the fire, but that would have really completed the process – so she and the Ima had come up with the idea to throw someone else’s hair into the fire instead. They figured that as long as she didn’t throw her own hair, she wouldn’t become a real Vyka member, but she might be able to convince them long enough to let her in on some secrets.
So, to participate in her fake initiation, Samara had gotten a human hair wig that was a perfect match for her own dark chocolate brown hair. That was the hair that Detective Scotts had found during his investigation – and it was also why the DNA evidence would show that the hair didn’t belong to Samara.
After Samara threw the hair from the wig into the fire, Jason went looking for Lilly . . . and when he found her, he killed her. Everything had happened in such a big blur that Samara hadn’t even realized that he knew that her whole entire initiation had been phony. Of course, the whole idea had been really stupid. Samara wasn’t sure why any of them really thought that she’d been able to get away with pretending to initiate. They should have seen the disaster that loomed in front of their faces.
“Yeah, Jason knows,” Declan replied solemnly. “It could get really ugly if you become an Ima. He’s pissed about what you did. But he’ll forgive you . . . if you become a Vyka now instead.”
Samara shook her head. With it, she shook away any sympathy that she felt, any second-guessing that Declan's pleading may have led her to do. As much as she wanted to choose to be on Declan's side through all of this, to not be his enemy, there was no way she could allow herself to the make the wrong decision. She wouldn’t do what she knew was wrong just to make her best friend happy. "No," she said firmly. “I don’t want to be a Vyka. Jason killed Lilly.”
“He had to kill her. He didn’t have a choice.”
“What do you mean he had to?”
Declan looked down at the ground. “Lilly was resisting him. She was trying to find a way . . . some sort of clause or something . . . that would allow her to join another pack.” He paused before meeting Samara’s eyes again. This time, his pleading look had been replaced by a defensive look. Samara realized that it was because Declan was defending Jason. “Jason wanted Lilly to be on our pack. She was still only just a pup, but her strength was obvious. If she had found a way to be on another pack, she would have made them more powerful than our pack.”
Samara’s face twisted in disgust at what Declan was saying. Did he really believe everything that he was saying, or had Jason just really brainwashed him to the point where he would defend anything that he would ever do? “Who are you?” Samara asked.
Declan stared back at her with a puzzled look on his face. “What do you mean? I’m Declan.”
“No, you’re not my best friend, Declan. You’re a new Declan,” Samara said, shaking her head. “You’re not the person I used to know. He would have known that it was wrong for Jason to kill Lilly, no matter what. He would have hated Jason for killing Lilly because it’s sick and disgusting and wrong . . . and here you are defending his actions. You’re a complete stranger to me right now. If all you came here to do was convince me not to become an Ima, you should just go. I’m already an Ima. I’ll never be a Vyka. I don’t want to be like Jason . . . or you.”
“Samara, please stop. I . . . I love you. I’ve always loved you,” Declan said quietly, looking down at his sneakers. Her eyes were filled with the look of desperation again, but this time, it wasn’t going to work on Samara. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m afraid you already have,” Samara replied coldly, turning around to walk back towards the house. Just as she was about to climb back in the window, she turned around. “And, Declan?”
“What?” Declan asked with a hopeful look in his eyes, which shimmered in the moonlight. Samara had no doubt in her mind that he had been honest with her, that he really had feelings for her. Those feelings were obvious in his voice and in his body language. It made Samara feel bad to know that what she was about to say next was going to crush him, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what they felt for each other now. They were to be enemies from this day forward.
“Thank you . . . for proving to me that I made the right decision,” Samara said before turning away from him and climbing back into her bedroom. As she shut her bedroom window, she knew that she was shutting Declan out of her life forever.
*
“I can’t believe that Declan had the nerve to visit you last night,” Luke said, shaking his head as he pulled into the parking lot of Johnson’s Funeral Home.
Samara had told Luke about everything that had happened last night, but she wasn’t sure how much of it he had already known. After Declan left, their conversation was the only thing she could think about; it swirled through her mind all night long, replaying itself like a movie. She felt helpless knowing that it was going to have the same ending each time and that, even though she wished it could be different, Samara knew she had done the right thing.
“Me either,” Samara replied. “I didn’t expect it at all.” Even though she had known Declan for years, it was like he was a completely different person now. Maybe it was because he wasn’t a person at all anymore. He was a werewolf now . . . a werewolf who she would no longer be allowed to communicate with once she officially became an Ima tonight.
“Not all werewolves are bad, Sam. Look at us. Declan is just a perfect example of what happens to werewolves when they have someone like Jason as their Alpha. The good news is that after tonight, he’ll no longer be able to communicate with you mentally,” Luke said, looking at her as he turned off the ignition.
Samara smiled. “That’s always a plus.” Glancing around the parking lot, she realized that they weren’t the first ones here. Samara spotted several kids from school.
Grandview High School students were given the day off to attend Lilly’s funeral if they wanted. Samara was glad that the school was allowing everyone time to grieve and mourn. Not that it was going to help her. In a way, she was beginning to feel responsible for Lilly’s death. Would she still be alive if Samara hadn’t pretended that she was going to go through with the Vyka initiation? If Samara hadn’t gone through with that plan, Jason wouldn’t have gone off looking for Lilly.
Shaking the thought away because there wasn’t even anything that she could do about it now, Samara buttoned her black pea coat and climbed out of the car. Luke followed close behind, grabbing her hand and giving it a tiny squeeze as they walked into the funeral home together.
When she stepped inside, Samara glanced around at all of the people who crowded the room. It was a bit surprising. As far as she knew, Lilly had been somewhat of a loner who kept mostly to herself. Then again, people always seemed to become more popular when they died. Girls at school who hadn’t been friends with Lilly were teary-eyed, their
eyes running with mascara. They were probably acting like she had been their best friend.
In the front of the room, a woman was sobbing. Samara realized that it must have been Lilly’s mother. A man, who she assumed was Lilly’s father, sat next to the woman, a protective arm wrapped around her small shoulders. Walking to the front of the room to place the white flowers that she and Luke had brought with them, Samara tried to not look at either of them. Knowing that they were going through this, without knowing what had happened to their daughter, made her feel guilty again. It made her feel relieved that they had decided on a closed casket for Lilly because she didn’t want to have to face her – dead or alive.
Have you ever been to one of these things before? Luke asked. Are we supposed to pray?
I don’t know, Samara hesitated. I’ve never really been to one.
When her Grandpa Joe McKinley had died, Samara hadn’t been allowed to go to the funeral. Her mom had said that she was too young to understand what was going on. Afterwards, her mom explained to Samara that Grandpa Joe had gone to heaven – but his death hadn’t bothered her this much because Samara hadn’t known her grandfather that well.
After standing in front of the memorial for a few moments, Samara and Luke both turned around and scanned the crowd.
Samara noticed Josh Masterson sitting alone in the back row. She began walking towards him.
What are you doing? Luke asked her. She could feel that he was panicked for some reason, but she wasn’t sure why.
Comforting him. He just lost his girlfriend, you know.
Sam, this isn’t a good idea, Luke replied. He started to say something else, but Samara turned around and looked him in the eyes. I’ve known him forever, Luke. I can’t just say nothing.
She slid into the aisle and sat down on the bench next to him, smoothing out her skirt. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Samara said softly.
Josh turned to look at her and, for a short moment, she was sure that she saw a look of appreciation in his eyes. It quickly flashed away to something else – something that looked more like anger. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it before getting up and walking out of the funeral home.
