"You are going to get the sheets wet if you continue like that," a melodic voice whispers, startling me in my silence, "would you like to let me in?"
I glance up at the window, spying the werewolf I thought had ditched me a while ago. He is sitting on the tree branch closest to my window, beckoning for me to open it. I crawl on the dull mattress to the wall, where the window is located, and flip the lock. With a little pain from the hand Nico had hurt, I forced it open, wondering how Nico can fit into such a tiny space.
Suddenly, a creamy white mass flings itself through the window, landing on the same bed I am in. He peers at me with his emerald eyes, the wolf part of Nico, and morphs into the handsome man that is coupled with the beautiful beast.
His eyes widen at my cheek, stained ruby red with blood, pain, and tears. "What happened?" he asks, somehow compelling me to betray the truth.
"Ms. Penn, uh, slapped me," I finish in a whisper, choked gasps escaping me as a fresh wave of pain enters my body. I can still feel them, the nails as they dug into my cheek. My hand throbs also, but it nothing against this blinding terror, coupled with the agony. If I don't finish cleaning the entire orphanage tomorrow, which I won't, then she will deprive me of food for the next week! And I only have about three or four dollars in my account at school.”
"That's all?" he asks suspiciously, and I gaze into his emerald eyes without a word. He nods, taking my hand in his, staring at the bruise that was starting to form. "I'll help you out of this, Ella," he determines, swirling his soothing fingers around the purple splotch, "very soon." With those words, he leans closer to my face, escalating my heartbeat, making me almost tremble. Why is he getting so close? I… haven't accepted him yet.
He cups my face with his strong hands, brushing his lips across my cheek. I look in wonder as the pain recedes, retreating back to where it came from. As he lets go, I put my own hand to my cheek, feeling a slight wetness where the blood used to be over the puckered skin. "This works better when I'm in wolf form," he says apologetically, "but I didn't want you to think I was going to eat your cheek off."
"What did you do?" I question, my voice filled with awe.
"Werewolves' saliva has light healing properties; it can soothe and mend small scratches," he explains. So this wetness...
"You spat on me?!" I exclaim in a loud whisper, shoving his arm away. He laughs as he wipes the saliva off my cheek, rubbing it on his shirt. For a minute, it seems utterly natural, us both laughing and smiling as we sit in a room with only one bed, an incredibly handsome man like him paired with a girl like me. None of the usual awkwardness surfaces—both of us like little children—I actually participating in his games.
I push him off the bed, and he thumps on the floor. His hair ruffled and messy, his white teeth shining, he seems now more human than ever. He stands up, a piece of white fluff sticking to his hair, and grins.
"Is this the real you, Ella?" he asks, using his all-knowing gaze to look into my soul. I stiffen a little at his words, a little perplexed.
"What do you mean? I've always been the real me."
"No," he argues, "you haven't. From the first minute I met you, you had shut me out. You had built a wall around you, an impregnable one that nobody could surpass. But now it is broken, isn't it, Ella? Don't you feel better this way?"
In a moment of reluctance, I lay down on the hard bed. Somehow, the orphanage's beds are harder than the floor, and has given me many sleepless nights. Patting the place beside me, I beckon for Nico to join me. There is shuffling, and then there is his breath as it mingles with mine, another presence evident.
I point to the stars out of the window, the millions of tiny dots scattered in the deep night. "Once, when I was tiny, I asked my parents what stars really were. I had just finished watching The Lion King, and the part about the ancestors were really confusing me. They told me that the stars weren't really lions like the movie suggested, but people. Every star up there is a person that cared about me. When they died, they would join the stars and watch over me. They told me I would never be alone, for I would always have the stars as my companion."
"And you believed that?" he sputters in laughter.
"Shut up, Nico. I was 4!" I reach and pinch his arm, then continue on. "…Ever since then, I have always wondered which star would be Mom, and which one would be Dad. I think that Mom would be a beautiful and bright star because of her boisterous personality, and that Dad would be a little bit more subdued. But most of all, I know that if they are up there, they would definitely be close together, almost touching. Every night, I look up into the sky and try to find them, but I haven't yet. I know it is silly to have faith in something like this, but it is the only way for me to feel like I am not alone."
There is silence as we both scan the deep black, hoping to see the two lights that I know I will instantly recognize. "Ella... could you tell me what happened to them?" he questions timidly, unintentionally releasing the pain and sorrow from within. I wince as they are all forced to the front of my memory; my mom, dad, and the haunting red eyes.
"I guess I do owe you an answer at least," I resignedly say, "you have saved my life many times."
"Just tell me if you want to," he urges, "only if you feel comfortable."
"I'm fine," I reassure him, though tears still brim on the edge of my eyes. There is silence as I form my words, and then I speak. "It was on a cold Friday morning when we were driving to the lake. We had rented a house there and were going to stay for a couple of weeks. It was a short drive, about thirty minutes, to reach the lake, so we just took Dad's truck. We were very excited, laughing and smiling, my mother sitting with me in the backseat. Everything was perfect, like a fairytale.
It was about fifteen minutes into the journey that the weirdness started.
First, the chills. Shivers suddenly started to race up and down my back, shocking me. Coldness seemed to seep into my skin, and even though I was tightly bundled in a huge jacket, that did nothing to stop it.
Then there was the fear. I had no idea why, but I was deathly frightened. Of what, I had no clue.
And lastly, the darkness. Everything seemed to go black at this moment, yet I could still see. It was strange, as if it wasn't an actual blackness, but only one inside my head. I thought I was going crazy.
Suddenly, a creepy white thing appeared… the same one as the creature you killed earlier. It had a body like white mist and truly horrific eyes that could inflict terror just on its own. I screamed, trying to alert Mom, but she couldn't see it. She couldn't see the disastrous monster before me. Right then, the thing seemed to look at me with its awful gaze, delving into my soul. Then it turned, and focused on the man driving the car. Dad.
It devoured him. I could see it. The evil white ghost had charged into Dad's chest, and he had suddenly gone rigid. Mom noticed his behavior, and called Dad's name, but he didn't turn, or lift his hands from the steering wheel. But he always pressed the gas. Never, even in his last moments of life, did he release the gas.
Mom reached forward and touched Dad's shoulder, and he finally turned. It was truly horrific, frightening us both. His face was expressionless, but his beautiful chocolate eyes had turned to a deep, fiery ruby. Mom and I both started to panic, and she began to reach for the doors, to try to open them so we could both escape. But this stranger with the same face as father had locked them, imprisoning us both inside.
We began to approach a cliff, the bottom of it piddled with rocks and bushes, upon which we had to pass to reach the lake. Dad pressed the gas even harder, ignoring the 25 mph speed limit. We were going almost 70 mph now, signaling certain devastation. When we reached the turn right at the cliff's beginning, Dad released the steering wheel. He leaned his head back, the spirit dwindling within him. I watched in fear as we drove off the edge of the cliff, suspended in the air for a few seconds before falling to our deaths.
I... don't know how I lived. Mom had jumped at me, shielding me with her body, but it was a ten to fifteen f
oot drop, full of bounces and rolls. Everyone called my survival a miracle, and that my life was saved by God," I whisper, "but w-why would God want to save me?" I burst into tears, the memories fresh and scything, hate brewing. Nico watches me, his tears matching my own.
"It's okay, Ella," he murmurs as I cry, holding me tightly, "you have me now. I'm here for you." I let the comfort surround me, feeling almost surprised at the fact that I wasn't pushing him away. But now, I needed him more than anyone.
"I hate them, Nico!" I cry, my voice of anguish, "I hate the Shifters." Everything becomes blurry, my voice more and more distant.
My eyes close, the droplets of sadness dripping down my cheeks, and I surrender myself into Nico's warm embrace, hoping he will soothe my wounded heart.
Was Being Kidnapped Ever a Good Thing?
The afternoon air is crisp and cold, dancing along a tiny girl's bare shoulders as she rolls down the windows. She shivers slightly as the air turns into a rushing wind, slapping at her cheeks. Angered by its sudden force, she rolls up the window quickly, lunging at her beautiful mother for comfort.
"Now, now, sweet child, calm down," the goddess says, the words melting like butter through her lips. Her hair was a deep ruby red, her eyes as green as a meadow on a bright summer day. Her daughter has the same features, sharing almost no likeness with her dad. However, the girl is blessed with her father's enchanting, hearty laugh and quiet personality.
The girl is sniffling in the woman's embrace, reveling in the warmth the lady gives. Now she is not crying because of the ferocious wind, but because of the foreboding laced through the air, the foreboding only she can sense. It brings with it great cold, its deathly claws sinking into the girl's tiny body.
The foreboding morphs in an instant to a bone-crushing fear, amplifying the chills that are resounding throughout her body, making her heart ache. It is like spikes of ice are being driven through her chest, even the air freezing from cold and raw terror.
Everything around the little girl suddenly turns black, although she can still see the green of her mother's eyes, the back of her father's head as he maneuvers them down the winding road. It seems to be in the girls mind, although her vision is still perfect. The girl starts screaming now, the whole world going dark before her eyes. Her mother's arms do nothing to calm her, for she has lost all traces of sanity.
Or maybe not.
Suddenly, all these strange symptoms begin to come together as out of the darkness, a creature emerges. With a body like a cloud, and truly horrendous fiery eyes, it is a thing like no other. A spirit. A ghoul.
She screams, "MONSTER!" but her mother does not see. The expression of horror on the girl's face is not gracing her mother's fair complexion. She is just looking at her daughter in bafflement, not at the true cause of it all. Why can't she detect the supernatural beast?
Then, the living fear stares at the girl, terrorizing her with a single look. The eyes burn like lasers through her skin, reaching deep into her soul.
Through those eyes, she sees hell.
Then it vanishes, and the world slightly brightens. But the cold is still there. The fear is vibrant, thriving in the tiny truck. Where did it go? She can sense its presence, its disgusting scent hanging below her nostrils.
Suddenly, her father's body becomes as stiff as a board, and she knows.
It is then that the little girl realizes that nothing is ever going to be the same again.
My eyes fly open, not willing to experience the nightmare once more. The cold claws of fear are gripping at my chest, just like it had years and years ago, the memories striking fury in my chest. It is endless, preserved in my scarred mind, raining upon me like millions of death blows. Poison, making me rot from the inside. Why am I suffering like this? What have I done to deserve such a terrible demolition of my chances at a normal life?
I stare out the window, watching the orange and blinding yellow ripple across the sky as the majestic golden globe rises, wondering just where the stars go when faced with such magnificent light. They just seem to fade into the background as the main attraction emerges, as if they don't matter. As if the sun is more important than the twinkling jewels in the horizon.
There is a rustle beside me on the hard bed, alerting my senses. I turn, my mind still foggy with confusion...
An extremely handsome man lays beside me, bent in slumber. His eyelashes are long and enviable, peace befalling his flawless features. His face is unobstructed by silly facial expressions, in its purest form.
I blink, confused on why exactly this man is here. Do I know him? Why is he in my bed?
And why is his hand wrapped around my waist?
In a flash, different memories begin to fill my thoughts like a flood, everything from the night before rushing back to me. My embarrassing moment of vulnerability. My uncharacteristic kindness. The dastardly werewolf that took advantage of my stupidity.
With all my might, I push his form off the mattress, smiling in satisfaction when he collides with the floor.
"What did I do?" Nico moans, his sparkling emerald eyes squinting in pain. His blue hair catches the sunlight, making it shimmer like a rainbow. I glance, awestruck, at the pure opulence before me, then quickly look away. I can't be distracted by his deathly charm.
"What did you do to me? Why are you in my bed?!" I roar, causing him to jump up and zoom to my side. He slaps a giant hand over my mouth, his movement so fast that it is blurry.
"What are you thinking?" he scolds in a scathing whisper, "do you want me to get discovered? Do you want to get in even more trouble? Idiot." His eyes are fierce, demanding respect and authority.
I rip his hands away from my mouth, anger like fiery hot sparks pumping through my blood. "Answer my question, wolfboy," I snarl.
He shrugs, obviously amused by my accusation. "Remember last night? When you told me to get on the bed beside you?" his voice is teasing, like chiding a child, "When you fell asleep crying into my arms?"
"Shut up," I almost choke, "I don't remember."
"Yes, you do," he murmurs with a chuckle, "I can see it in your face. You are a terrible liar, you know."
He is right. If I think back, I can still feel the tingle of warmth that had encompassed me, friendship in the air. I was an absolute wreck last night, and ashamed of it.
"But you didn't have to stay in my bed!" I protest angrily, my words ripping through the air towards his ears. He laughs genially, confusing me greatly.
"You should think of me for one freaking minute," he demands, his voice persuasive and angered, "I was the one that endured your stupidity. I was the one that had to lay beside my mate for seven to eight hours, trying to resist you. You know when mates usually bond?"
Bond? What? "When?" I ask.
"The minute they are mated," he points out, "desire is incredibly strong between two mates until bonding occurs. Then, after that, they are somewhat subdued. My pull towards you is so great... it takes every ounce of my strength to hold back." He looks pained as he speaks, not looking at my face.
I wish he would have clarified what he meant by bond. I'm not sure I understand.
I feel a twinge of sorrow as I emit these next words. "Well, I'm not a savage wolf, so you will probably have to wait much longer," I snap, rather bitterly.
"You could have just said thanks," he looks at the ground. "It's not a big deal, anyway. It's only a kiss. I... I just couldn't do it to you. Not in your sleep."
A kiss? On the lips? No way! Never! A blush appears on my cheeks.
"What are you thinking about?" He asks, winking at me. I scowl in indignation.
"I have no idea what was up yesterday," I think with pain towards last night, bafflement in my features, "why I was acting that way."
"Remember?" he prods, "the Shifter?"
In a flash, everything returns as his words trigger remembrance. The ghost from my dream, the pack of players. The fact that I am a... Seer.
And that I can take revenge on the murderers of my pa
rents.
"Oh yeah," I murmur, thinking of the fiery eyes that haunt my mind, encompassing all of my thoughts.
Nico halts, his form perfectly still. "Someone's coming," he expresses in a frustrated whisper, "because of your big mouth." I open my mouth to protest, but he just shakes his head. There is a blur of motion, the sound of a hand turning the knob, and...
Ms. Penn sends the door flying open, a crash resounding as it collides with the wall. "Why are you disturbing the other orphans' sleep? You selfish, ungrateful girl," she snaps, walking close to my form. She sticks an accusing finger in my face, her claws too close for comfort. "Who were you talking to?" she demands. I shake my head, and she snorts. "I know you were talking to somebody."
She scans the window, peering in hope that she will find some sort of incriminating evidence. "I know I heard you say something," she murmurs menacingly, "just where is the thing?" Ms. Penn turns, and the answer to her question wags his tail. She gasps, noting the size of the wolf, the creamy, flawless fur he is blessed with.
But even she is not distracted for long. Holding her nose, she begins to cough erratically, trying to squeeze words through her fit. "Why... do... you h-have.... a WOLF in the bedroom?! I'm... a-allergic to... dogs!" she chokes.
"He jumped through the window!" I protest, but it is no use.
"You should have the window shut at all times!" The coughs growing worse, Ms. Penn grabs me by the arm, tugging me down the stairs. Nico, in his beautiful wolf form, follows me with his head bent towards the floor. You better feel guilty, wolfboy, I think angrily, it's all your fault.
I have always known, ever since the very first day I came here, that dogs are not allowed. It was the first phrase uttered when I arrived at the misshapen orphanage. I can still remember Ms. Penn all those years ago, with light brown hair instead of a faded gray, telling me I can't bring my gorgeous little German Shepard puppy into the orphanage. He was my best friend, with silky smooth chocolate fur, who I had named Spotty because of the huge splotch of caramel color around his eyes. Because of Ms. Penn, Spotty ran away from the orphanage on that fated day, never to return. And what hurt most was the fact that nobody with me cared enough to chase after him, Ms. Penn even holding me so I couldn't go myself.
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