Chapter 8: Chapter Eight

I woke up sweating and shaking. As I blinked, the dream got further and further away from me until all I was left with was a deeply unsettled feeling and remnants of a night spent tossing and turning.

I pulled myself out of bed and slogged over to my dresser, pulling at my cheeks and assessing the dark rings under my eyes.

My skin was splotchy and sticky from my troubled sleep, my body not getting the rest it needed to fight off blemishes and blackheads.

I grumbled to myself and trudged to the bathroom, throwing my knuckles against the door a few times to make sure the way was clear before I slipped inside to shower and get ready.

Once I was clean and dressed and halfway decent, I put two slices of bread down in the toaster and poured a cup of tea.

I fiddled with my camera gear as I waited for my breakfast, adjusting the memory cards and making sure my battery was full.

I lifted the camera to my eye, adjusting the focus as I snapped a few pictures of my kitchen.

My toast popped, and I didn’t slow down long enough to grab butter or jam before jamming the bread into my mouth, slinging my equipment over my shoulder, and fleeing the house.

I left early, long before my mother would get up and far, far from when my aunt would finally arise.

I didn’t want to think about my mother today. Didn’t want to think of her getting up to find my bed empty or going down to open up her little shop alone.

I didn’t want to think about her wondering about me, wondering if I hated her, wondering if I was scared of her. Because I wasn’t. I wasn’t afraid of her, and I didn’t hate her.

In her own way, she had been trying to tell me from the start that she was…what she was. I had just refused to see it.

I brushed crumbs from the front of my shirt and wiped my hands on my jeans before reaching for my camera and popping off the lens cap.

I lifted my camera again, adjusting the white balance and making sure the exposure was just right for the morning sunlight.

I was walking down side suburban streets, each road bringing me to a new quota. I passed everything from rundown townhouses to elaborate detached homes with rolling gardens and security systems.

I cut through an alley and landed on the main street, hurrying past my mother’s shop toward the forest’s edge.

I took pictures as I walked, snapping up candid shots of morning birds and those heading home after pulling a night shift.

I took pictures of whatever animal that I crossed paths with, benches with engraved messages to loved ones passed, trees with branches that reached for both heaven and earth.

With a camera, I felt like the world was an open place. I felt like every inch of the planet was mine to explore so long as I had a lens to look through.

It was an interesting concept, to feel as though the ordinary had been transformed into breathtaking and that private spaces became public heartbreak in photos.

I swung my camera around, attempting to catch a pair of elderly ladies snacking on croissants and jam at the café and catching something very different.

Across the street stood the silver man from the day before. He was staring at me, his hands loose and confident at his sides.

I lowered my camera and turned away abruptly, my spine singing in alarm. I heard the conversation between my aunt and mother over again in my head and forced my feet to go faster. I had to get away.

I felt a hand on my arm and was yanked backward. It wasn’t a vicious tug, but it was jarring.

“You’re slow,” the silver man said, eyes flicking down at me for a brief moment before scanning the area again. He released me and took a step back. “I barely had to jog to catch your sprint.”

I bristled. “Well, we aren’t all huge and powerfully built.”

The man’s face remained stoic, giving me an opportunity to think about what I had just said. I felt a blush spread over my cheeks. “I don’t—I didn’t—”

“Where are you going?” the man asked, eyes pressing down on me like a physical weight.

I lifted my camera, hoping it wouldn’t shake. “I’m taking photos.”

“For what?”

“For fun?”

“Of what?”

“Of things.”

The man frowned. “You didn’t know your mother was a witch.”

I leaned back, raising an eyebrow as I crossed my arms. “You were never taught how to be subtle.”

The man continued. “I saw the surprise in your face, I could smell it.”

I tried not to shiver, having no doubt that he’d be able to ~smell~ that too.

“Yeah, well, I guess witches are private beings.” I glared. “A privacy that you breached when you stormed into my home demanding answers to questions that my mother didn’t want asked.”

“And you, witch, are you private?”

That answered my question.

The man smiled. “You didn’t know? Or had you only guessed?”

I opened my mouth, but it shut on its own accord. I had nothing to say, nothing to offer or contribute. “I have to go.”

The man grabbed my upper arm again, looking around before leaning in close to me.

He smelled great, clean and manly. I almost blushed when I realized my own observation. When had I started noting how guys smelled?

“And where are you going, witch?” His silver eyes picked through my mind. “To the wolf’s den?”

I yanked my arm away, and a small part of me felt smaller without his touch. “Where I go is none of your business or concern,” I said tartly.

“I don’t know why you’re so interested in my life or why you’ve ended up in my town, but I want you to stay the hell away from me or maybe I’ll use you to practice my magic on.”

The man grinned, and then it slipped from his face entirely, almost as if his smile had surprised him.

“I’m on a hunt,” he told me, “but the prey I’m after isn’t the regular sort. I thought maybe your mother could help me better equip myself.”

“Leave her out of this,” I snapped. “You scared her enough.”

The man shrugged, massive muscles tensing, but said nothing. I stared up at his face, at his silver eyes and white hair. He was like nothing I had ever seen before, like no one I had ever met.

Everything about him exuded this aura of cool confidence and power and control. It was nearly intoxicating.

Without any sort of word, the man turned and started walking away from me, hands tucked into his pockets as he swaggered toward the other end of the street.

I should have left it alone, but I couldn’t leave anything alone. So I asked him. “What’s your name?”

The man paused, looking at me over his shoulder, a ghost of a smile hovering over his lips. “Grant.”

And then he was gone.

***

The heat was nearly unbearable as I hiked through the woods, trying my best not to trip over logs or walk in circles.

I blew my bangs out of my face and twisted my heavy hair off the back of my neck, cursing myself for not slipping a hair tie around my wrist before leaving the house.

My camera was beginning to grow heavy around my neck, the constant bumping against my ribs more aggravating than comforting in the summer heat.

I swatted away branches and tall grass, grumbling to myself as I came upon Ben’s property.

I looked up at the house in relief, praising the old building for the water and shade it could provide.

My eyes slipped to the side yard, and my smile dipped a little, my body remembering the feeling of the wolf’s heavy paw on my back, the grass against my cheek, the ground digging into the top of my hips.

“Morda?” Ben stood on the porch clad in jeans and a crisp white T-shirt. He was barefoot and tousled-looking, and the combination stirred something in me.

I forced myself forward, swallowing whatever nerves that tried to surface. I lifted my hand in greeting, then let it fall, embarrassed. “I hope it’s okay that I—”

“Of course,” Ben said, a small smile in place as he sidestepped for me to enter the house.

“I smelled you when you stepped in the yard… That didn’t sound good… I’m happy to see you… I wasn’t sure… after Oak…if… Are you thirsty?”

I blinked and nodded, tucking my hands into my back pocket as I followed him to the kitchen. I poked my head around as we walked, looking for Will and Fitz.

Before I could ask, Ben had a glass of water in my hand and had pulled out my seat at the kitchen table.

“Will and Fitz are out looking for Oak,” Ben told me.

I chugged the whole glass. “Where is he?” As subtly as I could, I lifted the collar of my shirt and wiped at the water that had dribbled down my chin. Thankfully, Ben was gazing out at the trees.

“We’re not sure,” he admitted, “haven’t seen him since…”

I looked down and took my camera off my neck, rubbing where the strap had been sitting on my skin.

“I came because I wanted to talk to you about…things.” I felt myself freezing up and cursed myself silently. Ben would understand.

Ben didn’t answer. He was staring out at the woods still, eyes scanning every rock, bush, and tree as he searched for his friends. He stood abruptly, pacing by the windows and pulling at his hair.

It was odd to see him worked up. I had only ever met the collected side of him.

“They’ve been gone since last night,” he muttered, eyes almost feverish.

I frowned. “Hopefully they’re okay.”

Ben was silent as he paced.

I leaned forward. “I was sitting with my mother as we did a reading last night, and we met a man—well, he wasn’t really—”

Ben rushed the glass, going completely rigid as he tilted his head and listened. I held my breath, trying not to interfere with whatever it was he was doing.

Ben didn’t move at all, every line of him was straight and stiff, his senses reaching out when his muscles could not.

Then all at once he was pacing again.

I fidgeted in my seat. “Maybe this isn’t a good time.”

Ben sighed and scrubbed at his face, another gesture I had never seen. “There are never good times.”

I stood and gave him a wobbly smile. I wasn’t sure what it was I had expected from Ben, I wasn’t sure why I thought my problems would take precedence over his friends, but I had hoped.

I just wasn’t sure what I was hoping for.

“I’ll go,” I said, trying to brush off the awkwardness I was feeling.

Ben turned his tawny eyes to me. “I’ve made you upset.”

“No,” I said, “you’re worried and now isn’t the time to unload on you.”

Ben’s fingers tapped rapidly against his legs, eyes darting from me to the forest and then back again. “Do you want to go into the woods? It might calm me if I’m out there, we can talk.”

I held my breath for a moment, knowing that if I didn’t take a second, then I would blurt out an automatic decline. Ben watched me without any sort of pressure or sway, waiting patiently for my answer.

Reluctantly, I nodded and smiled. Ben returned the gesture and put his feet into boots before leading me out the back door.

We fell into stride together, crossing the backyard and entering the woods silently.

I watched Ben navigate the forest with ease. He hardly made any sound as he moved through the woods, knowing exactly where to plant his feet and how to move to avoid any obstacle.

Watching him was like watching an animal tread through the underbrush, and I started to understand him a little better.

“What do you look like when you’re a wolf?” I asked, the words ringing in my own ears from the sheer strangeness of them.

Ben slowed slightly, eyes finding mine. “I’m not as pretty as Fitz.”

I knocked my shoulder against his. “Really, what do you look like?”

“Nothing special, I guess. Brown fur, four paws, a tail.”

I twisted my lips to the side and picked a leaf off a tree. “It must be amazing to have that other side, to have that connection to nature.”

Ben shrugged but didn’t say much.

I peered over at him, catching again the puckered scar on his upper bicep. The angry red lines were just peeking out underneath the cuff of his T-shirt.

I bit my lip and flashed my eyes up to his face, wondering how he would react if I asked—

“I was branded,” Ben answered my thought, making me jump.

“Branded?”

He nodded. “As an omega.” He rolled up the cuff of his T-shirt to reveal the symbol. It was a sort of upside-down U with feet.

The mark was brutal-looking, lines overlapping as though it had been pressed into his skin several times.

“How did they do that to you?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the horror out of my voice.

Part of me wanted to look away, but part of me wanted to look closer, to graze my fingers over the puckered lines.

“They made a mold out of Celestial Silver, the only silver that really does any lasting damage on...my kind.” Ben’s fingers grazed the edge of the mark, his eyes distant and focused far ahead of us.

“They heated up the end over a fire and brought it to my skin. The first time wasn’t hot enough, and it started to heal, so they did it again and again until they got it right, until it stuck.”

I swallowed thickly, my body revolting against these invisible enemies. “~Why?~”

Ben’s eyes cut down to mine. “To remind me of what I was.”

I frowned. “Omega?”

“Lowest ranking member of the pack,” he told me.

I was horrified. “That’s what they do to omegas?”

“That’s what my pack did to me,” Ben clarified. “In most packs, omegas are just as important as alphas. Packs work on respect, on the idea of community and relationships.

“The death of an omega has sent whole packs into mourning before. My pack celebrated the day I left.”

“What about your parents?” I asked, looking at the ground as tears began to collect in my eyes. I didn’t want Ben to see me cry, I didn’t want him to feel like I was pitying him.

“Didn’t they do anything?”

“My mother died shortly after I was born,” Ben told me, his voice gritty.

“And my father was in and out of my life until I was around seven. He usually only breezed in when he was high or drunk or depressed. So no, they didn’t do anything.”

I reached out and grabbed Ben’s arm, bringing him to a halt and looking up at him, ~really~ looking at him.

He wore a cool expression but buried somewhere deep, perhaps too deep for me to see yet, had to lie the deep sorrow that his voice revealed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, squeezing his arm. “I’m sorry that happened.”

Ben nodded and pulled away, pushing forward on the deer trail. I hurried after him and took his hand in mine, waiting for him to pull away, but he didn’t.

I couldn’t find any other conversation topic in my head but wanted to stay away from talk of his pack and his parents.

I felt like we were dragging the weight of his past behind us, slowing both of our movements as we combated both the forest and the unrelenting heat.

Ben was still vigilant, still searching for his lost companions. I wondered for a moment, what he would do if Will and Fitz never returned.

I wondered if he would stay in Roseburg or spend the rest of his life searching for them.

“My mother’s name was Sonia,” Ben said softly, leading us to a ledge. Just a few feet away, the ground fell away to a fifty-foot drop, and the forest spread out below us.

“She had postpartum depression after I was born. She took her own life before I was a month old.”

I sucked in a quick breath, stomach panging. To grow up thinking that you were unwanted, unwanted by even your mother, was unbearable.

I brought my other hand over and covered his, trying to communicate my sympathy through touch rather than words that would just fall flat.

“My dad tried raising me for a while, but he was a mess, so my grandparents took me in until I was two, but they died, a few weeks apart. After that, there was no one.

“My father had a sister, but she had four kids and no need for a nephew she barely knew. So my dad cleaned up his act for three months, but then he relapsed, and I was claimed by the state.

“And then… I found the pack, and that was it.”

“Have you seen your father since?” I asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

Ben swallowed and looked down. “I heard that he died a few years back, but I never found out if that was true. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, not sure if I’d want to.”

“So you’ve never had a family,” I said, sorrow carrying through my tone.

People had always asked me if I felt like I was missing something because I didn’t know my father, and my answer had always been no.

I hadn’t missed out on anything because my mother and my aunt had made me feel more love than five fathers could ever. But to be like Ben, to grow up without that love… I couldn’t imagine.

“Will, Fitz, and Oak are the only people who have ever come close.”

I understood his agitation better then, knowing that although he wasn’t close with the boys, they cared about each other’s well-being, and that was the only kindness he had felt for a very long time.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him, “we’ll find them—”

We spun at the sound of a moan, putting our backs to the valley as we faced the tree line.

Out of the woods stumbled Will and Fitz, lugging an unconscious Oak. All three of the boys were panting, and all three were covered in blood.