Wolf Song (Wolf Singer Prophecies Book 1)

by Elle Cross

  My dad.

  Everyone involved was so wrapped up in their own panic that they didn’t notice me standing there, questions screaming from my eyes.

  The rest of the townsfolk, though, they saw. They knew what I was silently screaming, but they had just as much information as I did, which was none, and they were equally as helpless.

  I followed after the men once my feet decided to obey my head.

  When I slipped inside the church and into the sanctuary, I saw that my dad had been laid out on the stage where the preacher’s podium traditionally stood overlooking the altar of sacrifice. I tried not to look too deeply at the symbolism that imagery sparked, and thought instead of what was practical.

  The stage made for an easy makeshift examination table big enough to support my dad. He was a big man, not fat, mind you, just big. Tall and weighty with substance that made you think that he could hitch up a plow and drag it across a field himself.

  I was surprised that four men were able to carry him so far from wherever he had been. The more hands that had helped carry from the town gates to the church at least helped the exhausted men who were now in a heap, sweating pools from their skin and gasping for air.

  I tried to care about them, flopping there like fish out of water gasping for breath, but I couldn't. My concern lay with my dad and him alone.

  Even now, my brain tried to reconcile the burly man he was with the one lying prone on an elevated dais. He didn't do that, didn’t lie down in the middle of the day when there was still so much work to be done.

  I tiptoed to him as if he were merely napping and needed quiet.

  His eyes were open, though. Dead open. And I was afraid to go closer and examine the fear etched onto his face.

  Mayor St. Clair strode through the sanctuary doors and down the main aisle toward the stage. He was lean, strong, and baled hay quicker than most farmhands. "Eli, talk." He was also terse, exactly opposite of how my dad described politicians from Before, which was likely why he was voted on as the leader of the town.

  Dad respected Gabriel for his demeanor and straight talking attitude, regardless of the fact that he was pale-skinned and reminded him of the Reapers.

  Eli stood to address Gabriel. "Mayor, it was lunacy! One minute we was out in the fields making sure the cattle was safe from them wolves, you know."

  Wolves? I tuned in to what they were saying. What wolves were they talking about?

  The mayor just waved his hand. "They already received their portion of tithes. The wolves don’t concern me."

  Tithes? I kept my gaze focused on my dad, but all this discussion of wolves and tithes…as if the wolves were talking. Could they possibly mean shifters? No, either option was impossible. Dad said that they were gone, animal and shifter alike, hunted down to extinction before the Hellfire that created the After…

  But if these men were talking about tithes and agreements with wolves, then either my dad was ignorant, exaggerating for effect, lying, or all of the above. None of those options sat well with me, especially since he was word mage. Words mattered to him more than most.

  Nobody noticed me crouched by my dad. I hoped that the men would continue to speak freely, even though I was present.

  "Yeah, but these were some other wolves, hadn’t seen them before. We was afraid they may not have known about the deal."

  Gabriel glowered a moment. "I'll message the pack and let them know. Maybe these wolves were part of their pack. If not, well, part of the agreement was that they would keep the borders clear of other riffraff."

  Eli just nodded. "It's all good since the wolves weren't doing much 'cept staring anyway." Then his eyes slid over to me, and I kept my head down, pretending I wasn’t hooked on every word they said.

  Eli’s gaze settled on my dad. "Anyway, we was just out making sure the cattle was safe, then we seen the preacher here running like his life depended on it. Then he come to a full stop. Like out, face planted like he’d hit a wall.” He clapped his hands together for effect. “There ain't nothing that we coulda seen that had done that, so we grabbed him up on the hitch there, and had the horses pull him as we hightailed it out. There ain't no way we was going to hold the ground when the preacher hisself be running out them woods."

  Gabriel looked at him closely. "So you mean to say, Eli, that you all left twenty head of cattle out to pasture without protection?"

  Eli squirmed at the notion that he might’ve done something wrong. "Well, you did say those wolves should have protected the borders."

  Gabriel looked like he would set the man on fire with his glare. "Did you even see anything out there? Except for the wolves?"

  Eli blinked. He seemed to be kind of a slow man. "Well no, there warn't nothing out there after the preacher—"

  As if he had realized that his well of information was tapped dry, the mayor stood up abruptly. "Craig, take Lucky out with you to the pastures and see if you can't redirect our cattle back."

  The man named Craig nodded, and went out in search of Lucky.

  The mayor addressed me. "Soli, you know I don't mean any disrespect or nothing. I just wanted to make sure anything that can be salvaged is."

  I wasn’t as invisible as I thought. I nodded. "It’s all right, sir. I get it. Survival. That's my dad's number one rule." My voice wavered and I blinked, horrified that I might cry.

  I turned my face toward Dad. Whatever else Gabriel might have said, he kept it to himself as he moved away from me. A commotion like this one would keep the mayor busy for hours, at least.

  I scanned my dad’s features. Was he even in there? Was he alive? He had been recently, right? Eli had said he ran out of the woods. Ran. That indicated health of some kind.

  A hint of almonds and whipped cream wafted toward me a moment before Zorah, the mayor's wife, sat on my father’s other side. Ms. Zorah used to be Dr. Zorah St. Clair Before, so she looked him over and I held my breath as she put her fingers both to his wrist and his neck.

  "I found a pulse," she said, almost surprised. A wash of something poured through me and I let the tears fall. Other ladies of the church had been with Ms. Zorah, and they clutched my arms now in joined happiness.

  I moved to brush my tears away and one of the ladies withdrew a glass stopper and captured a few teardrops. I looked at her curiously.

  "Angel tears, darling. They will make for a great energizer in my spells." Then she scuttled off.

  "Okay?" I wiped the rest of my face dry, composing myself before speaking. "Ms. Zorah, how come Dad's like that? How come his eyes don't close?"

  To her credit, Ms. Zorah wasn’t the type of woman to be bothered by titles and the like. Whatever she was Before, she was fully a Mayor’s wife now, though she did get a lot of use out of her healing skills. But she did away with that “Dr. St. Clair” nonsense that she had once been. At any rate, she’d been Ms. Zorah or Ms. Mayor to me since I’d known her, to the point that I’d even forgotten she was a healer until she checked Dad’s pulse.

  Her hand rested over Dad's eyes, the smooth black of her skin glowing like polished obsidian. She made me and my dad look pale. Her brow was smooth, unmarred by age as it sloped high above intelligent walnut eyes that scanned her patient clinically. I could almost picture her in a proper hospital room from Before. The more I took in her movements, the sillier I felt thinking that she could be anything but a doctor and healer.

  It was with this stillness that she answered my question. "I'm not sure why your father’s like this, child. Maybe something he saw wasn't what he wanted to see?"

  She didn’t try for ominous and yet chills ran over my body. I tried to ignore them. “You mean, there was something out there he was afraid of? Scared him into a coma?” I worried at my lip.

  Ms. Zorah nodded pensively. “Perhaps.”

  I didn’t like how she said that. Didn’t like how she hmm’d and clucked as she worried over him. I might not be fluent in medical speak, but I recognized concern when I heard it.

  I neede
d to say something, anything, to drown out the one-sided conversation she was having with herself as she assessed my dad’s condition. "The men said that he’d been running and then just seemed to stop.” I nearly clapped my hands together like Eli had, but restrained myself. “Have you heard of that happening with...one of them?"

  Ms. Zorah swiveled her head in my direction in an owlish motion. Her long elegant fingers still pressed against Dad’s pulse. "You mean one of them Reapers, child?"

  I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I nodded at her fingers. "Yes, ma'am. Reapers."

  I could almost hear the clutter of words spewing forth from her intelligent mind and gathering behind her teeth. She sifted through them carefully, it seemed. None of them passed her lips.

  Instead, a look came over her and she put a finger to her chin in thought. "Maybe there's something in the scriptures, maybe something your dad tracked. You have his book?"

  Something hung in the air between us. A tension that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was the gleam in her eye, and how it reminded me of a beetle’s shell.

  It was because of that gleam that I told my first conscious lie in a long while.

  I shook my head. "I have his scriptures, though."

  Her face fell in disappointment, but from one blink to the next, the gleam was gone.

  I didn’t doubt that the lie had somehow saved my life, or my dad’s, or both.

  Survive.

  Ms. Zorah shrugged into a sigh, the sound like a smothering blanket. "Well, that’s good that you have the scriptures at least. They’re more important, anyway. I'm not skilled with the word like your dad or even as you are, but your talent with it could be useful.” She grew still and pensive once more before lighting up. I braced for what idea might be in her head now.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea to stay here, Soli. The sun is setting, after all." She gestured to the windows. Through the opaque film of dust that lay as thick as any curtain, the sun shone a brilliant red that signaled the coming sunset.

  Gooseflesh rippled over my skin at the thought of being here. It felt too much like a cage.

  Besides, Dad always always always told me that the house was the safest place on Earth and I should always use that as the sanctuary. The only place I should rest.

  Though he had clearly ventured outside defenseless and at complete odds to what he’d always taught me, there was still no reason for me to doubt that statement.

  I swallowed. The sun was pretty high still. But Dad was here. Was I supposed to drag him home?

  I didn't want to leave him, and Ms. Zorah was looking at me with all the sympathy in the world.

  Had I imagined what I’d felt coming from her just a few moments before?

  And then something like memory and spirit clutched at my heart, pressing words into my skin.

  Survive. That's it. Listen to my words.

  If that was my dad trying to reach me, speak to me, I had to heed his words. "Thank you, ma'am,” I said, my words clear despite my shaking hand. “But if it's all right with you, I'll make my way home. I got provisions there anyway. 'Sides, I'd like to be able to get a head start on looking up what might have happened to my dad. Maybe he and my ma took record of something that could be vital and I don't want to wait until morning."

  Ms. Zorah nodded her head, as if she expected my answer. "Okay. You’re grown now, so I won't stop you."

  She took a step back, a show of privacy when I went to kiss Dad on the forehead. He was more approachable now that his eyelids were closed and I didn’t have to see him frozen with fear. I kissed his forehead and slipped my hand in his.

  His hands were so large, it was like I was gripping a bear paw. Memories of my little hand lost in his rose to mind. I smiled at the warmth, and kept my features locked in memory when I felt something in his hand. It felt like the same piece of soft paper that was part of the notebook that he and Ma used. I remembered the torn pieces of paper and I couldn't help put two and two together.

  Was this part of the notebook? No one was paying attention to me now and I didn't want to make my discovery obvious. So I just slid the pages out of his grip and put my hand in my pocket. "I love you, Dad. I'll be back in the morning."

  On my way out of the town, Craig and Lucky nodded at me and I was happy to see that the cattle had been herded back. "Not one head of cattle missing, Mayor. And I seen them wolves hovering the border too. I don't think it was anything for Eli to worry about. Probably our wolves anyway since the cattle did nothing but graze."

  Mayor Gabriel nodded. Good.

  I made it home without incident and with enough time to spare to speak words to the borders. I even had enough hope in my heart to sing a little like my momma used to before going inside.

  Only in the security of my living room, with the wards around the threshold activated, did I feel safe enough to pull out the wad of paper in my pocket and look at it.

  My dad didn't raise a fool, but I swear I couldn't read this.

  It was gibberish.

  I went to the old dining table, something that my grandfather had carved out of oak as one piece. Shellacked and sealed, it had a sense of magic to it all its own.

  Dad’s leather-bound book of scriptures was already spread open atop the table, of course, as if my dad could’ve been reading there just now. His personal notebook, the one that I ended up outrunning an Alpha Skoll to retrieve, was set beside it.

  It was more unsettling to see these books here without Dad being present. He always had one book or the other with him at all times.

  I spread them both out on the table and dimmed the lights. I used every kind of light to see by: witch light, lamp light, candle light. Sometimes some lights fare better than others at exposing secret things.

  From what I’d heard today in the church, there were some secrets that remained hidden within my dad.

  I uncrumpled that paper, comparing it to his notebook. It had been such a tiny ball in my dad's hand, but it turned into most of the page. I could match up the torn edges really well, so I knew that this was where it came from. But.

  It was nothing like the rest of the page.

  The pages before and after were just sketches of various plants and other types of herbology. I assumed Ma had something to do with that. She was an herb witch, after all.

  But this page. It was scratched. Like it wasn't that there was writing or whatever. It was like pen scratches.

  I held it up to the light to see if there was any rhyme or reason to the pen marks. There were no watermarks or hidden glyphs or sigils. It was just a series of dashes and dots.

  Maybe that was a new language.

  I sat down hard. I was at my wit's end.

  Dad was lying on the church altar, and there was this piece of paper that he took the time to tear out of his notebook before leaving me with the book, leaving me with the house, leaving me with the scriptures.

  Leaving me with everything.

  He had never intended on coming back. He had fully expected it to be a one-way trip. He knew or thought he knew that he was going to die. He was going to leave me alone.

  I didn't realize I was crying until my vision blurred.

  What the hell was so important that he thought it would be better for him to run away in the middle of the night? Not only that, but he also ran at night when he swore, swore, that we would never open the door at night.

  And why did he risk himself by dropping off his notebook? Nothing added up.

  How could he think that it would be better for me to be alone?

  He broke so many promises and left me with nothing but secrets and questions and tears and monsters.

  Night fell and my brain couldn’t stop wondering if I’d have any visitors this time. ‘Course the more I told myself to stop thinking about it, the more the idea consumed me.

  It was stupid to be carried away. After all, I knew the lengths the Reapers would go to capture their prey. They would use the likenesses of children in peril; they would use
a pretty male to lower my guard.

  It was the second night of the full moon and the light streamed in again. I hadn't bothered to try to sleep. I just sat at my window, blankets wrapped around me to serve as both a cushion and comfort as I stared off into the forest.

  There it was again. A shadow. Was this a trick of the light under the moon?

  But no, there it was. The same lope and build as the people from the night before. The same as Perfect Cheekbones. And maybe, just maybe, he was the one whose presence startled me enough that I didn't leave the safety of the gated sanctuary when I saw that boy.

  He didn't leave the edge of the tree line. But I could see the press of shadows behind him. He was there.

  A flutter escaped the trees and I startled back from my window seat. What I thought could have been a weapon or bomb or some other projectile hurled at my window was actually a bird. A raven. It was huge and could barely fit on the sill. It kept hopping about until it got a footing.

  It peered inside with its glassy eyes. They didn't look quite normal and I couldn't figure out why.

  Its eyes swiveled and locked onto me. How was it able to see me through the blessed glass? I snuggled down deeper in my blanket.

  It opened its mouth and when I thought it would lose its charm, a bit of mist flowed out of its beak.

  That was different.

  An eerie voice, like a rasping from the beyond. "Greetings, ramina. I hope you are well. You seemed upset earlier."

  Upset? How in the hell could he have known that? And what’s up with that name? Did I look like this person?

  "We weren't spying, if you wondered. You were…talking to yourself.”

  Oh. The raven wasn’t talking about the crying jag I had right before I got ready for bed. At least that was a relief.

  Now I just needed to figure out how a raven was talking to me. And why it wanted to reassure me that it hadn't been spying. And who exactly belonged to this we he kept talking about?

  "We will protect your borders, ramina. You need not worry that the Reapers will return. They know better than to come here now." And with that the raven hopped again and flew away.