by Alex Lux
"Isn't Olympus like Ancient Greek Heaven?" Ocean asked.
"No," Curtis said. "Elysium is Greek Heaven. Olympus is the place of their gods."
Drake shuffled in his seat. "Well, I still like Save-A-Kid."
Someone knocked on the door once, briskly, then walked in. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to see what's on the news right now." Desirai, a petite girl who could see into people's dreams—and cause some pretty hair-raising nightmares if the rumors were true—walked to the television console, opened it to find the remote, then turned it on.
A female newscaster with perfect hair and face, dressed in an appropriately professional suit, did the sad smile they do when reporting on bad news. "This is the third wild animal attack in Thurston County this week, and officials have no leads on the wolf responsible. The victim, 23-year-old Jared Barley, was mountain biking and had stopped to fix his tire when he was attacked. He had enough presence of mind to call 9-1-1 but by the time medics arrived he had died."
Desirai turned the volume down while we stared in shock at each other. An image of the young man, smiling and happy, flashed on the screen and Curtis' face went white.
Sam turned to him, her eyes sad. What did she hear in his mind? Was he thinking of Tyler?
Desirai looked at us expectantly. "Another wolf attack in the same week? This isn't how wolves behave."
I knew that better than anyone, and the thought sickened me. "What if it's not a wolf?" Maybe Mrs. Kirkly had been right. Maybe a paranormal had killed her son.
Rose turned her face to me, eyes wide. "A shifter?"
"It's possible," I said. "We're not the only ones. I'll look into it and see what I can find out." If it was a shifter, this could bring problems to my family, my clan.
Father Patrick creased his lips. "I'm sure it's nothing, but yes, best cover all our bases."
Curtis, his face still too pale, cleared his throat. "I know the last victim. Jared. He's my cousin. We used to go to school together, before I came here. We were on the football team together. I can't believe… "
I locked eyes with Curtis. He knew two of the three victims.
“There’s more,” Curtis said.
I knew what he was going to say, or at least suspected.
“My cousin was a paranormal. He didn’t want anyone knowing, not his family, not anyone. He refused to come here, refused to come out of the closet as it were.”
Rose reached across the table and laid a hand on his. Her eyes glowed golden, her new power filling the room with warmth. A tear fell down her cheek. "I'm so sorry.”
Curtis squeezed her hand and nodded. “The thing is, I just got a visit from Tyler’s mother, a kid I was recruiting for our school. He was a paranormal too, and his body was discovered this morning. His dad said it was an animal attack.”
The room went quiet as the ramifications of this news settled on us all.
Sam, who was likely reading everyone’s mind, broke the silence, looking at each of us. “You all think it’s deliberate? That someone is targeting paranormals? Killing paranormals?”
I didn’t have to read her mind to know her first thought was Ana, her child. And I knew we were all thinking about our school, a prime target for someone who was going after kids with paranormal abilities.
“We should call IPI,” Ocean said. IPI, or International Paranormal Investigations, was a top-secret agency that helped, and hunted, paranormals, depending on the circumstance. They were tasked with keeping law-abiding paranormals safe, and normals safe from more dangerous paranormals. Ocean had been recruited by them, but hadn’t left for her training yet.
Father Patrick shook his head. “Not yet. We know from past experience they won’t respond unless it’s pressing. And their idea of pressing and ours doesn’t always mesh. Plus, this is all circumstantial evidence.” He looked at Curtis. “I’m so sorry, son. Would you be willing to talk with your family and find out if they know anything? And maybe stop by the home of this other victim? Once we have more information, we can file a report.”
“If you'd like company, I could go with you to talk to both families,” Rose said. “Maybe I can help bring some healing, and we can see if they know more about what happened?"
Rose used to fear her power, a dark energy that sucked the life from others, sending souls to the equivalent of hell. My brother and I had experienced that fate, and she'd risked everything to come to a hideous demon dimension and save us. Now, in a twist of fate that finally got it right, and thanks to the sacrifice of a man I'll never like but can at least respect, she can use her powers for emotional healing.
As others offered Curtis condolences, Father Patrick ended our meeting with promises to resume the search for a name after these issues had been investigated.
Everyone shuffled into the hallway as students ran to their classes and teachers shouted to slow down. If not for the power each student here carried inside of them, it would look like a normal private school.
Rose was deep in conversation with Curtis as they walked out, but I stayed back to talk to Father Patrick. Once we were alone, I turned to face the old priest. "What's troubling you, Father?" Something had instigated this meeting and his nervous twitching.
He looked about to brush me off, but then sighed and gestured for me to sit with him.
I pulled out the chair and sat, waiting for him to speak.
"I received a letter," he said, "from the Vatican. They're sending a Bishop here."
This was not what I was expecting. "Why?" Father Patrick may have been a priest, but we didn't run anything close to a Catholic School.
He shrugged. "I don't know. But I worry. This school was set up to save these kids from an evil organization bent on genetically modifying them and renting them out as spies to the wealthy."
I'd heard the stories and still couldn't believe it. Sam's biological father had genetically modified babies on a global scale, collecting them and keeping them prisoner at their school. It was only when Sam, Drake and their friends discovered the truth that they destroyed the organization and gained their freedom. But Sam had already been impregnated with Ana against her knowledge and will. They'd still found a way to get their happily ever after, but had suffered so much to get here.
"What do the Catholic Church and the Vatican have to do with it?" I asked.
"They have quite a lot to do with it, my boy." He wiped at his eyes with a white handkerchief. "If they don't like what they see, they have the power to take this place away from us. And in light of recent events, if it is a shifter or paranormal creature killing these kids, they may take away much more."
TWO
That It Should Come
ROSE
That it should come to this!
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Dear Diary,
The dreams are becoming more intense, more real every night. Animals growing inside of me, taking me over as I become not just wolf, but deer. The hunter and the hunted. Last night, though, was the first time I flew. My body shrunk, stretched, morphed into that of a great eagle, and I took to the sky. The wind sang to me, guiding me as my wings pumped hard, each feather attuned to every current of air surrounding me.
It was heady, exciting, intoxicating. I didn’t want it to end.
Then panic hit. I couldn’t land, couldn’t find anything solid to gain a foothold. The world had turned to air, and I was forever forced to flap my wings, soaring until I could do it no longer. Then.
Then I spent forever falling into nothing.
I NEVER TIRED of running through the woods with my husband—never tired of calling Derek O'Conner my husband for that matter. He'd told me about the visit from the Vatican, about what it could mean for us, and so we ran. To release frustration and fear, to feel the power of the hunt coursing through us, to forget human worries and embrace the instincts of our wolf natures.
Derek had grown up with this, had spent his youth shifting into a wolf, running through the wild. I'd only embraced th
is life the night of our wedding, and it still amazed me.
All my senses were heightened in wolf form. Although as a human I was stronger, faster, more attuned to the world around me than the average person, it was nothing compared to being a wolf, to feeling my padded paws digging into the fresh earth, the sun on my back warming my fur, the world changing around me, coming alive with a new vibrancy humans could never begin to understand.
Between this and my new witch powers, I'd had a lot to adapt to, a lot to learn. No wonder I'd been having dreams and nightmares.
When the world had disappeared and we were no longer in danger of being stumbled upon by curious students, we halted in a clearing by a lake, shifting back into human form as we basked in the sun.
Derek rolled to his side and ran his hand down the length of my naked body, his rough palms grazing my hard nipples and dipping between my legs, teasing my center.
My mind was still turned inward, still part wolf as my body responded to his. My legs spread, the summer sun warming my most intimate parts as he positioned himself over me.
"Rose, you have no idea how beautiful you are." His voice was low and gravelly. His blue eyes brightly contrasted against his tan skin and dark hair.
I stroked his chest, the muscles hard and flexed, tracing lines over his black tribal tattoos. "You're not so bad yourself."
My body ached for him, as it always did. For too long we couldn't touch for fear of my power, but now we were free to explore each other and we never missed an opportunity to do so.
I moaned as Derek spread me further, scooting down to slide his tongue inside me.
Pleasure pulsed in me, winding tight in my belly as he licked and sucked, his fingers pushing in and out, until I screamed like an animal, coming so hard I kicked at him.
He held my legs down, drawing out the orgasm, then slamming his cock into me as my pussy squeezed him with each thrust.
Nails digging into his back, I begged for more. Faster. Harder. I still liked it rough, even if I didn't need it to control my power. I enjoyed walking that edge between pleasure and pain.
My body, lost in our wild passion, bucked and then froze.
Panic seized me.
Derek withdrew, holding me in his arms, his eyes wide with fear. "Rose. What's wrong? Rose?"
I couldn't speak.
Couldn't answer.
It felt like I was shifting into wolf, but that shouldn't be happening. Sweating, hot and cold, shivering and dying inside, I latched on to my humanity.
Images of other animals danced through my mind as my body tried to morph into them.
"No!" I screamed, clinging to my husband, until my muscles relaxed, the panic releasing me.
I slumped into his arms, crying as he stroked my hair.
"What happened, Rose? What was that?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm still learning to control my shifting."
We lay together, all lustful thoughts gone, with my head on his chest, his heartbeat soothing me.
"Derek?"
"Hmm?"
"Why can we only shift into wolf? Why not other animals, if we're shifters?"
Derek's body tensed under me. "We just don't. It's dangerous to try. Dangerous to even think about."
"But it's possible?" My dreams haunted me, and I had to know where they came from.
"It's not done. Let's just drop it, okay?"
"Okay."
The mood broken, Derek sat up. "We should get back. You've got a class to teach soon."
He felt distant, moody, but I didn't understand what I'd done to piss him off.
We shifted back to wolves, the process simple for me—nothing like what I'd just gone through—and ran back to the mansion with little joy this time.
"Who has a template ready to show me?" I asked the small class. Seven students sat in overstuffed chairs and couches with their laptops perched on their knees. "Remember, we're focusing on the basics of web design. We'll get to the fancy stuff later, but first get the structure of your page done. If your core coding is solid, the bells and whistles are much easier to add."
Sally raised her hand and turned her screen so I could see the site on world peace she'd created. It was a clever idea, a way to unite paranormals and regulars. I wasn't sure the world was ready to be that accepting, but I still encouraged her. "Looks good." I point to one section of coding. "You've got an open tag here that you need to close, but otherwise it's looking great."
Outside our door, a young male voiced yelled. My students fidgeted in their seats, but I held up my hand. "I'll see what's going on. Keep working on your websites."
I pushed open the door and walked down the hallway where three men stood, a senior graduating this year, and Curtis and his boyfriend Paul, two recent graduates who had stayed on to help and continue with their own paranormal training. Harry, the senior, sneered at Curtis. "Get a room, fag."
"Don't you kiss your girlfriend in the hallways?" Curtis asked.
"My girlfriend," Harry said. "But neither of you are girls."
"No." Curtis held Paul's hand. "And is there anything wrong with that?"
Harry scowled at them. "It's fucking weird."
Curtis gestured around him, his hand moving so fast it blurred. "Aren't we all weird?"
Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
Curtis kept his voice level, disarming. "Don't we all do things that people would consider weird—unnatural even? I have super speed. You can heat up whatever you touch. Is there anything wrong with that?"
Harry grabbed Curtis by the collar. "There's nothing wrong with me."
Paul raised a fist.
"No," Curtis said. "Leave him be. There's nothing wrong with you, Harry. There's nothing wrong with any of us."
Harry let Curtis go and walked away. "Just leave me alone, fags."
"Are you okay?" I asked, getting to them too late to help.
Curtis straightened his shirt and smiled. "Of course."
Paul didn't look as calm, his handsome face hard with anger. "You should have let me punch him."
"No." Curtis shook his head. "I'm no better than Harry. I've been a bully before, making someone feel bad for being different."
My eyes widened in surprise. "You? Why?"
Curtis shrugged. "I was scared of who I was, of being different, so I took it out on others. I don't think that deserves to be punished."
I checked my watched. Class would be ending soon. "I'll have to tell Father Patrick about this. He can't treat you this way." I laid a hand on his arm. "But I'm proud of you for handling it the way you did. I'm glad you and Paul chose to stay after graduation. These kids need more people like you."
"Thank you." Curtis picked up his backpack. "Are we still going tonight?"
"Yes." I said. "I'll meet you out front after classes."
Paul turned to him, still frowning. "But, we still have to decide—"
"Do what you must," Curtis said, not unkindly. "I know what I want, Paul. I love you." He kissed Paul and walked down the hall with me.
"Is everything okay between you two?" I asked him.
"Yes, thanks." He sighed. "Paul just… Paul needs to decide if he's ready."
"Ready?"
"To let the world know about us."
THREE
Nothing Either Good or Bad
DRAKE
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
SOME KNOWLEDGE, SOME truths, were best left hidden. Which is why our school had a general library for any student or staff who wanted to read or study, and a private library that only a few of us had access to.
We even had a secret entrance, right out of a movie. One of the books on the top shelf in the general library wasn’t really a book. If you pulled it, that bookshelf swung out, revealing a secret room where the rarest books were kept—books that held dangerous knowledge.
That’s where I was when Father Patrick found me. I
had books spread out before me and a notebook filled with quotes, page numbers and references. The books in this room weren’t allowed to be checked out. If you wanted to study them, you had to suffer the cramped space with no windows. Just walls of old, musty books.
An oak table sat in the middle of the room with four chairs. To the right, in front of the section on ancient magicks and rituals, sat a love seat that had seen better days, and on the opposite side of the room an overstuffed chair squatted like an unwelcome relative who refused to leave.
Father Patrick pulled up a chair across the table from me and sat down, his emotions pouring into me—worry, fear, anxiety. “Drake, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He looked at the books I’d been studying and frowned, his energy shifting—not to anger, but something close. Frustration, maybe. I was still learning to master my new gifts as an empath and seer, and still adjusting to the loss of my other gifts of mind control and super strength. “Still trying to find out information about your father?” Father Patrick asked.
I sighed, unwilling to get into yet another argument with the old priest about this subject. “Beleth can’t be just a genetic experiment. He unlocked powers in me I never knew I had. It doesn’t make sense." I'd googled Beleth and gotten a bunch of crap on demons, and that didn't make sense either. "And now, with what I’ve seen, I know there’s more in the world than just humans modified with paranormal powers. There are witches and druid shifters and probably a lot more I haven’t even heard of. So, what is he? What is Beleth, and what am I? A demon?"
Father Patrick turned away, ignoring my question. When I thought our conversation was over, he chuckled. "My father was a technician, you know, for a time. Whenever our cat chewed through a wire, he'd always fix it himself, and I watched. I loved watching my dad work. Eventually, he got a job as a policeman, long hours, barely home. I couldn't watch my dad work anymore. He couldn't fix our wires anymore. Didn't have the time." He smiled, as if remembering an old joke. "One day, the cat chewed through the TV cord again. 'I can fix it, Mom,' I said. 'Don't worry about it,' she said, 'I'll call a technician.' But we didn't need a technician. I'd seen my dad fix wires a hundred times. Cut away the damaged area. Remove the insulation. Connect the wires by twisting. While my mom took a bath, I spliced the wires together. They were hard to reach behind the TV, so I pulled them closer, and a numbness bit my arm. I jumped back, clutching my shocked hand. 'Are you okay?' yelled my mother, who had just come down stairs. She hugged me as I cried. 'I just wanted to fix it like Papa,' I said. 'You? What do you know of fixing wires?' she asked. 'I've seen Papa do it a hundred times,' I said through tears. 'So?' she said. 'You don't know enough.' She unplugged the broken wire. 'If this had a higher voltage, you could have died.' I cried harder at that, and my mother took me to bed. And that day I learned that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing."
