The Wrath of the Chosen

by K. C. Hamby

  I was passing through your neck of the woods,

  Glimpsed you out thundering, baby in the rain I could.

  Everywhere I move, there you’ll be.

  Everywhere I move, there you’ll be.

  ***

  After I walked Nathan to his dorm—where younger Lupi stay while they are going through school—I had decided to come back to my apartment.

  After being here for a few hours, I’m starting to regret the decision. I’m nearly bored to tears. This is why I don’t get more than one day off. I hate sitting still. I think there is a hole in my wall from me staring at it for so long and a rut in my floor from pacing.

  “Oh, to hell with this.” I run to the closet to pack a bag. After grabbing a few essentials, I fly out of my apartment with determination and run to my car. Once I have the car on, I turn my music on shuffle and head out of the Complex.

  I was as clear as a mirror,

  But now I know I’m enthralled.

  You gave a sickness to me

  And I was cured when you gave up.

  Hall of Z’s “Ghosting” flows through my speakers and longing fills my chest. It’s something I can’t allow myself to give in to, no matter what Mom said. I can’t feel this. It’s dangerous, but it’s not just dangerous for me. It’s dangerous for Nina.

  ‘Cause I’ve committed some sins your eyes can’t meet

  And I’ve wanted to burn you out but you refuse to leave.

  I push harder on the gas pedal. All I have to do is change the song. Why can’t I change the song? I need Nina out of my head. I need her out of my life. I need a distraction. All I can think about is leaving her on the sidewalk, hurt and alone. The regret and guilt plunge into my chest like a knife and it twists and turns, but it won’t give me the sweet release of death this kind of pain should promise.

  I let the song finish, leaving me with a gaping hole in my little black heart. This gets better with time, right? This is cruel. I don’t even know this girl.

  Another song begins to play, but I can’t pay attention to it. My mind is reeling.

  How is it fair that she can just come into my life and mess up all of my emotions like this? I would still be the stone-cold Fal I never had a problem with if she didn’t come barging in, screwing around with my feelings. I don’t even understand most of the things she makes me experience.

  I roll down the window and the blast of cool air on my face helps clear my head. I have to throw out all thoughts of Nina. Ash will help me. I know he will.

  I speed in the direction of his house with my brain turned off on everything except driving. I finally pull up in his driveway and see Invidia’s blood red, sporty mustang in the driveway. I groan.

  I have to be nice. She bought me this jacket and patched me up.

  Speaking of that, the stitches need to come out. Sigh.

  I walk up the steps with my bag in tow and knock a few times. I wait for a few seconds and the door flies open to a smiling Invidia.

  “Fal!” She pulls me into a hug and I awkwardly wrap my arms around her tiny, muscular waist. So much peppiness. She pulls back and looks me over. “You look so much better! I’m glad to see you. Come in!” She ushers me inside.

  What, does she live here now?

  “Ash! Fal is here!” she calls in the direction of the master bedroom. He comes trotting out, smiling in my direction.

  “Fal Pal, what’s up? How are you liking the car?” he prods with an amused smirk and punches me on the shoulder very hard. I don’t flinch. It’s an ongoing game of ‘who’s tougher’ we’ve been playing since we were kids. Last time, Ash was the one to flinch and I like to bring it up every chance I get.

  “I love it, Flinchy.” I sneer. He groans while Invidia raises her eyebrows.

  “I’ll explain later,” he assures her with a sigh. He brings his attention back to me. “So, what brings ya?”

  “They gave me a few days off and I’m going out of my mind with boredom.” I glance sheepishly at Invidia. “I should have called first. Sorry.”

  “No! You’re totally fine.” Invidia grins mischievously. “We were actually going to go out tonight if you want to come?”

  Wow, yeah. I need to stop being an ass to her.

  “Where are you going?” I ask curiously, attempting not to give away whether or not I want to tag along in the slightest.

  “The Paint Can,” Ash chimes in and waggles his brows.

  Where I first met Nina. But, I need this. I need to get out of my head. I didn’t even know bars and clubs were popular on Tuesdays. Whatever.

  “I’m in.”

  “Yay! Okay, what are you going to wear?” Invidia asks with elation bringing her voice up a few octaves. It’s beginning to rub off on me. I peer down at my clothes.

  “Uh, this.” I gesture to my clothes.

  Suddenly, Ash hurries out of the room and I’m about to yell at him, asking where he’s running off to when Invidia grabs my attention.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She glares at me with this incredulous face that kind of gives me the creeps. Her eyebrows are turned down and a haughty frown twists her lips.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” I object, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she shoves me in the bathroom, takes my bag out of my hands, and closes the door behind me.

  “Take a shower!” she exclaims from the other side of the door. “I’m in charge of getting you ready tonight!”

  I did not sign up for this.

  My tongue sticks out at the door like an adult on its own accord and I get in the shower. I gently wash my wounds—which are turning into bright pink scars—and slowly pull the two stitches out of my side and the one from my shoulder. The sensation is like worms sliding under my skin and I squint my eyes while goosebumps roll up my spine, but I get the stitches out and let them wash down the drain.

  I think about Nina. And I think about not thinking about Nina. It’s an ongoing process sure to drive me to insanity. I’m already toeing the line.

  I finish showering and put on a fluffy robe hanging behind the door. It smells sickly sweet like Invidia, so I’m assuming it’s hers. I suppress a groan and push down the nausea her strong scent brings. I stare at the wet mop I call my hair through the condensation on the mirror. I may as well brush the knots out because I may end up punching Invidia if she tries to do it. That would definitely not help me form a good relationship with her.

  I manage to release my strands of hair from the tangles without yanking too much of it out and pad down the hall to my room where I hear Invidia bustling about. I walk in and she has thrown clothes everywhere. Some are mine I brought with me and some of them are hers; particularly the ones that are not all black and are eons more stylish.

  I open my mouth to say something to her, but she turns around and shoos me out of the room before I can get a word out.

  “Go dry your hair.”

  I close my mouth and hold my tongue. I hate being bossed around, especially by non-Alphas. I am a whole hell of a lot more powerful than Invidia and I can bring her to her knees with one snarl.

  Obviously, I’m not going to do that, but I don’t like her telling me what to do. I tolerate it from Cosma because I have to, but I don’t like anyone else doing it. I have too strong of an Alpha personality.

  I begrudgingly head back to the bathroom and grab a blow-dryer. I can probably count on one hand how many times I’ve used one in my life. Even so, I turn it on and begin the long process of drying the dark veil of hair.

  I finally manage to dry a majority of the thick locks when I can’t take it anymore and stop. I don’t have enough patience for the noisy, hand-held heat machine.

  I head back to my room and find Invidia already dressed with her makeup done. I didn’t think it took me that long to dry my hair. I glance at my watch. Goddess, it’s almost 9:00 P.M.

  “That’s what you’re going to wear. Now, put it on while I finish getting ready.” She points at some clothes sitting on the bed an
d brushes past me, twitching off to the bathroom. I watch her go in procrastination and quietly close the door behind me. I turn to the bed and scan the clothes, skeptical, but I shrug to myself and get dressed.

  When I’m clad in Invidia’s costume, I take a deep breath and turn to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall behind the door. Honestly, what Invidia gave me to wear isn’t very different from what I wear every day. I have on black washed jeans with cuts on and below the knees, my combat boots, a white, vintage style V-neck, and my leather jacket. The only differences are the white shirt—gasp—and I don’t ever have cuts in my jeans.

  Well, not on purpose.

  I chastise my reflection. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. At least she doesn’t have me wearing heels or, goddess forbid, pink.

  I open the bedroom door. Invidia spots me and pulls me into the bathroom. She’s done getting herself ready and looks like she’s dressed to dance. Or murder someone. I really can’t tell which. Her eyes are so sharp without makeup, but she somehow makes them sharper than razor blades with the makeup. Tight, black leather pants cover her muscular legs and fall into some black, high-heeled ankle boots she could probably impale someone with. An olive green, loose fitting blouse brings out the cognac irises of her eyes. Her hair is pin straight down to nearly her hips and her bangs swoop over her forehead as those eyes pierce straight through me. She pushes me down on the toilet seat and swipes my hair away from my face.

  “I’m going to put makeup on you now.” Her smile turn venomous.

  “No. No, Invidia. Absolutely not,” I command sternly. I’m about to roll my Alpha power over her to make her submit when she blinks at me and pouts; sticking her bottom lip out so far that it may change the airflow of the room.

  “Fal, please,” she begs. “Please please please.” She clasps her hands together and shakes them.

  “Goddess, fine!” I relent. “Just…nothing crazy.” I glare at her pointedly and she smirks. I’ve never worn makeup before. I’ve worn nothing even remotely close to makeup on my face other than the black assassin paint. I never thought I would have to. I don’t even know what anything—other than lipstick—is called.

  Invidia makes a roaring sound of victory and I pull out my own pout while she grabs her arsenal of makeup. She produces things from a way-too-big makeup bag I’ve never seen before.

  She hops right in and starts patting creamy stuff on my face. Every brush known to man for things I can’t keep up with sweep across my face. I’m sure I’ll look like a clown when she’s done.

  Invidia dives at my eyebrows with tweezers and I hold my breath. I don’t have much of an eyebrow on my right eye because of my scar, but it doesn’t mean her plucking at it hurts any less. How can hair so small cause so much pain? I want to punch her.

  She quickly moves on to dark colored powder she calls eyeshadow and rubs it over my eyes. Then, she draws a line across my eyelid with a pen of some sort. It gets way too close to my eyeball for comfort. After nearly poking my eye out—which may be a bit of an exaggeration—she uses some mascara stuff to swipe at my eyelashes. It’s basically tar on a stick.

  I think the torture is over, but she brings out a wand with blood-red goop on it I can only assume is lipstick. I didn’t know they came with wands. Maybe to signify the disguising magic of makeup? She rubs it all over my lips and it does not feel magical.

  She finally announces she’s done; words I never thought I would hear. I brace to stand up and Invidia pushes me back down.

  “And now, to your hair.” I groan as she brushes it through a thousand times and curls it with a circular hot rod she calls a curling iron.

  After what feels like years, she finally lets me stand. She gives me a once-over and grabs a long, black necklace from the sink. She ropes it around my throat once and then a second time, leaving one layer long and one layer close to my neck. It feels like it’s going to choke me out any second.

  She steps back and rakes her eyes over her handy work. She seems pleased.

  “Go have a look.”

  She rushes me out of the bathroom with a big smile and I walk past her, ignoring my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I walk to my room and close the door so I can have some semblance of privacy. I lean against the door and breath a few times. Swallowing the uncomfortable lump of regret with a deep breath, I grow the courage to look in the mirror.

  I almost don’t recognize myself. My eyes are so smokey and sharp, they could combat my knives. The amber of my left iris gleams like a wolf’s. My lips are pouty and dark, blood-red and my hair flows down to my belly, wavy and voluminous. She even filled in my right eyebrow, so it looks like I have a full one. I gasp at my sudden realization. My scar is nearly gone under the mask.

  I don’t know how to feel about it. I’ve come to love my scar. It’s become a part of me and it’s strange it’s concealed this way.

  What’s one night? I fix my jacket. I still look intimidating. It’ll be fine.

  I open the door and saunter to the living room. Invidia is waiting at the end of the hall.

  “Well?” she asks quietly like I may tell her it’s the worst thing in the entire world.

  “It’s definitely different,” I start, “but, I like it.” I add in the lie before she can deflate, only slightly flinching. She doesn’t seem to be aware that I can’t wait to take off this shit.

  We walk to the living room where Ash is waiting on the couch. His face pales when I walk in the room like he’s seen a ghost. Invidia skips over to him and gives him a side hug so she can look at me.

  All this attention is making me uncomfortable.

  “What do you think, babe?” she cheerily asks. He kisses the side of her head.

  “Looks great, babe. You did a great job,” he states with his eyes still wide. She claps and skips to the master bedroom to grab her things.

  As soon as she’s out of the room, Ash mouths I’m sorry.

  I point at him and run my thumb across my throat like a knife.

  He smirks in return and mouths Bring it on. I roll my eyes and head back to my room to grab a few weapons. I slide my knife into my boot and my amber-stoned dagger into a holster in my jacket I’m assuming Invidia sewed in herself.

  Walking back into the living room, I find both her and Ash stashing weapons in their clothes. Ash is sporting dark jeans, a dark gray shirt, and his own leather jacket. His hair is purposefully messy, a few rogue strands falling over his forehead. Anyone can tell we’re related.

  We head out of the front door and I grab Invidia’s arm. “Hey.” She glances at me with her razor eyes. “Thanks for the jacket.” She smiles and winks at me.

  “No problem.” She catches up with Ash and hops in the passenger seat. I take my place in the backseat, prepare myself for some PennyForward, and hope I can actually have something resembling fun tonight.

  Chapter 17

  Ash somehow finds parking in downtown Seattle and we make our way to The Paint Can in the chilly, March air. Even for a Tuesday night, the place is packed with a huge line to get in. I inwardly groan. We’re going to be waiting forever.

  Invidia walks straight up to the bouncer and whispers in his ear. He gives her a pervy smile and a once-over, finally moving the rope to let us through. I raise my brow at her and she grins, waving us in. Ash chuckles under his breath as we make our way past all the complaining people still waiting in line. Invidia prances to the bar and we follow like pups. People move out of the way when we come near. I don’t blame them. We probably look like we could take the whole place and win if we had to.

  Ash orders something I’ve never heard of and Invidia asks for a fruity drink I’m going to pretend I’ve never had. I just go for my old reliable and order Jack and Coke. I usually get it when I come to bars to find targets. The bars aren’t usually this lively, though.

  Or, hell, maybe they are and I just never cared to notice. I pan my eyes around at all the people at the bar. The bartender who got extremely annoyed with my presence
the last time I was here is flirting at the other end of the bar again. He doesn’t seem to care that customers are crowding around, wanting some of his elixir to makes them forget their problems for the night. The other bartenders are picking up his slack and side-eyeing him with annoyance.

  The music flows through me as I follow Ash and Invidia to a table they manage to snag in the midst of the crowd. We sit down and people watch. It’s amusing to see all the humans having such a good time with their friends or even by themselves. The funniest people are the ones that have obviously had way too much to drink. I gaze at my watch. It’s only eleven. These people are flopping around doing things that kind of look like dancing. They look like zombies trying to live it up.

  Ha.

  We rapidly down our first round of drinks and the music grabs on to me, trying to pull me to the dance floor. Of course, I don’t go. I don’t dance, but the music is so electric, it makes me want to rethink the choice.

  “I’m going to get the next round,” I announce to Ash and Invidia over the music. Invidia smiles through the different color lights the ceiling is shining down on us.

  “Don’t pick up anyone in the meantime!” she exclaims and winks at me. I roll my eyes so hard, I nearly fall over in the booth.

  I slide out and head to the bar. People get one glance at me and move out of the way, but they also give a lot of stares. I don’t mean stares in the usual way like when people see my eye for the first time, either. I mean, people are actually looking at me like I’m a piece of meat. Hormones flow around in the air, making it hard for me to concentrate on what I’m doing. They hit me like wrecking balls and I have to pinch myself to focus on my path to the bar. The scent is almost revolting, but somehow pleasurable. I don’t know. It’s weird that I’m making people feel this way. I’ve never thought about if I’m attractive or not. I know my genes make me alluring. It’s a Lupi thing to lure in prey. Maybe I haven’t been paying attention, but I’ve never gotten looks like this before.

  I hurry to the bar and purchase our drinks. The flirty bartender seems to recognize me, but his eyebrows raise at my appearance.