A/N: Okay guys! We're nearing the end. Just a couple more chapters until it's over.
It's New Year's Eve. A weight that settles over me as I come to in that same room. My blindfold is gone now, though, but I'm still bound. Darkness streams in the skylight, so I know the ritual is soon. I'm just not sure how soon. My question is answered when the door bursts open and there stands Yara, flanked by four, bulky Mistletoe wolves. Their eyes glow differentlyâit's a full moon.
She commands them in her foreign language and they converge on me, untying my binds. I'm only free for a split second before they're pressing my back against the floor, each pinning a limb down. I fight them off as best as I can, but I'm no match for their strength. The powder she used to incapacitate me must have dulled my already weak defenses.
My eyes meet hers across the room. My mother. The woman who brought me into this world. The woman I once loved with all my heart. But all that love left when she did. All I feel for her now is pure hatred, bolstered by the smirk that rises across her countenance while she glides toward me.
She holds something behind her back, which she reveals beneath the dim light from the skylight. A ceremonial, silver knifeâlike the one used in inductions. It glints at me and bile rises in my throat at the threatening sight. There's no good reason for her to have it now.
"The ritual takes place at midnight. That's a couple hours from now. We have to prepare you." Her fingers slide over the sharpened edge before pricking the point with her thumb. "Which includes the carving of the runes."
Carving of the runes. Carving. Carving!
Mayday, mayday, mayday, My mind screams at me as warning bells go off. I start to fight harder against their grip, but I can't quite break free. She begins chantingâit's not Latin, it's something more guttural, more ancient, as she kneels down at the side of me. I'm still wearing the shorts and t-shirt I had on when they found me. She pauses, hums, lifts my sleeve up, and begins drawing the rune into my skin. The pressure of the knife is hard enough to draw gushes of blood, hard enough to scar.
She continues to chant as she draws and I scream in agony at the fire shooting through my veins. It's takes her about a minute to draw the first one, the puddle beneath my arm warm and sticky as stars sprawl over my eyes.
"Agliz," She murmurs. "Protection." My breath comes out in pants as I try to ground myself to something besides the pain spreading over my skin. Her face appears over mine, eyes glowing purple now as the chanting incited her powers. "Don't worry, darling. One down, thirteen more to go."
Thirteen?
"No," I cry desperately, shaking my head, "please, mommy, don't do this."
"Shh, shh," She hushes me, brushing her hand over the top of my hair. "This is for your benefit. They'll make you stronger, and they'll solidify your bond with Alpha Hayes."
"No!" I cry out as she retreats from me, posed to cut into me another time. "Please! Don't!"
My begging falls on deaf ears as she begins to slice into me again. I writhe against the wood floor as I scream, wet sounds reverberating through the room as my skin slaps the pools of blood beneath me. Blood. Too much blood. I'm dizzy. I'm dying.
By the time she reaches the seventh rune, I can barely see straight. I'm losing too much bloodâdoes she know that? I think she realizes, as she stops her butchering and moves to the other side of the room. There's a counter against the wall, lined with bowls and bottles of what look like herbs, liquids, and so on.
She takes one in particular from the top and approaches me again, digging her fingers into the thick, grainy substance and swiping it over the weeping cuts. It's like rubbing salt in an open wound. It hurts, it burns, I jerk away.
"Don't resist," She commands. "This will stop the bleeding." The paste instantly dries as she applies it and it clogs the bleeding, as promised. My head still swims due to the amount I've already lost. A hand brushes the sweat from my face, tries to bring a bottle to my lips. I resist and turn my head, the thick liquid inside running down my neck instead.
"Isabelle," She castigates, like she used to when I was seven and I wouldn't take my medicine. "Be a good girl now, drink up. It will help you feel better."
"You're not drugging me anymore," My words are slow and slurred, but at least I'm still conscious. I don't know what they'll do to me if I succumb.
"This will ease the pain, my young moon," She brushes my head again and I'm transported back to when I was a child and she'd call me thatâyoung moon. Even more pain explodes through me, the emotional manifesting into the physical.
"No," I grit my teeth and clench my jaw when she tries to pour it in again.
She sighs, finally, and places it down next to me. "So be it. You'll be begging for a reprieve in a moment," Her tone is harder now as she picks up the knife again, the edge scraping against the wooden floor as she does so.
The first seven are split between my arms and legs, and when she begins to carve at my sternum, I know this round is going to be much worse.
My throat is raw from screaming, so much so that it eventually gives out and all that comes out is hoarse, noiseless sounds as sweat pools down my entire body. Blood puddles form on the floor, but also in the hollow of my neck and down my shoulders. Tears streak down my face continuously as the pain radiates more fully with each slice.
I partially go numb in the places she works over multiple times, but when she circles back to them after cutting elsewhere it stings fifty times more. I've lost count of how many she's done. She only said fourteen, but this feels more like hundreds with each slice of that silver knife. Even though I haven't shifted, the silver still exacerbates the pain.
After what feels like hours, she stops. "Finished," She announces as she begins to grind that poultice into the fresh wounds. My whole body is limp and on fire. I can't even twitch my finger without regretting it. She tries to get me to drink again, but I refuse.
"You're stronger than I thought," She smirks at that, seemingly proud. "But not stronger than me, or Hayes. You should just give up nowâ"
"Jaxon...is...going...to...kill...you..." My voice comes out in hoarse whisper, forced through dry lips.
She lets out a boisterous laugh at the sentiment and tsks, "Still relying on Jaxon to fight your battles? Maybe you are as weak as I believed."
"Bitch..." I force out, which she frowns at.
"We're going to be a family now. Me, you, and Hayes. Together. Forever. Bound by blood and magic. Nothing will be able to stop us. When you see how amazing that is, you'll come around."
"Kill...you...fucking...bitch..."
"That is no way to speak to your mother," She chides, as if I'm still her daughter and this is a normal situation. "Faigh i a-steach don chathair," She directs the four men, but I don't know what she's saying. It's Gaelic, maybe?
They carry my heavy limbs over to the wooden chair in front of the vanity in the corner. She then dismisses them with a wave of her hand. As soon as they've gone, though, four women enter the room, dressed in the same medieval type of clothing as Yara is.
I can barely move, which they take advantage of, fixing me up like a broken doll. Makeup, hair pins, mistletoe flowers twisted into a crown. It doesn't seem to burn them like it burns other wolves. I'm afraid it will sear my scalp when it touches it, but surprisingly it doesn't. Maybe it's because I'm a lupus mystici.
The last thing they force on me is a paper-thin gown. It's basically sleeveless and falls down into a v-neck and waist cinched by appliques. My wedding gown, I realize. Bile rises in the back of my throat, ready to spew all over their pretty handiwork.
Yara notices and gathers a bundle of lavender from the desk, lighting it afire, and chanting as she swirls it over me, "Tranquillitas mentis, tranquillitas spiritus, tranquillitas corpus, tranquillitas animae."
A strange calm settles across my mind and body, and I know she spelled me to relax. What can I do, though? Nothing. I can do nothing, especially while I'm this weak and still human.
"It's time," Yara says after glancing through the skylight for the moon's position. She orders something in Gaelic again and two men come back in, pulling me up by my arms and helping me walk.
Technically, they drag me, as my feet are numb and lifeless at this point. We go down the stairs, through the house, and out the back door. Besides a roaring fire, there's the induction stone, an arbor of mistletoe, and Hayes.
I struggle against the men when I see him. No. But another set of people come into sightâJon and the man holding a knife to his throat.
"Jon," I weakly call, trying to reach out for him, but Yara stops me.
"Remember, if you behave, we'll spare him."
"Don't do it, Belle! They're lying!" Jon shouts to me and the man presses the silver into his neck with more gumption.
"I can't risk it," I'm crying again, "I can't risk losing youâ"
"Tha a 'ghealach cha mhòr ann an suidheachadh. Gu sgiobalta, chun a 'chlach inntrigidh," Yara urges the men and they hurry toward the stone, toward Hayes. When they place me on the ground, I immediately collapse, only to be supported by Hayes at the last second.
He doesn't have on a shirt, as usual, and his blonde locks hang loosely down his back. When my fingers make contact with his skin, I cringe at the scarring of the runes, knowing I'll soon have the same. "Beautiful," He whispers, tipping my chin up so I have to look into his crystal green eyes. "You were made for me."
"Because you rigged the system," I fire back, my strength slowly coming back.
"Because the moon goddess is gracious," He corrects me in a gentle tone. I want so badly to push him away, bite him, hurt himâbut I can't. Not as long as Jon is in danger.
Yara takes her place behind the stone, conjuring a long mortar and pestle from nothing. She begins to add ingredients, chanting as she goes. Finally, she switches to English again, "Oh, gracious moon goddess. Come to us in our hour of need. Bless this union and your faithful servant Alpha Hayes of Mistletoe. Gift him with the power you ordained from the beginning of time."
She continues to blather on about the moon goddess as shivers erupt over my skin. It's freezing out here, despite it being the South. The goosebumps that erupt cause my wounds to sting and I wince. Hayes pretends not to notice the pain I'm in, too focused on greed and power. My eyes lock with Jon's, silently conveying to him that I love him. I see the same reflected in his.
The feeling is slowly coming back to my legs where I can stand on my own, so I assert my independence. He doesn't let me go far from him, though, keeping me grounded by a grip on my bicep.
"Hands," Yara finally says after her supplications to the moon goddess. He extends his quickly and when I don't, he forces mine out. She slices both our palms and I whimper at the sting. Interlocking our fingers, she directs them over the bowl, a mingling of our blood dripping in.
"O Luna dea alligant animas. Miscere voluntátes ejus. Merge ad potestates. Omnes ad unitatem." This is different from other inductions. Jaxon and I had placed our hands on the rock and kissed with bloody lips. This part of the ritual must be so that he can gain the power of the prophecy.
She grinds the mixture together as she chants over and over until the liquid is smooth. She dips her thumb in and runs it down his forehead, chanting, "Vires et potentia. Et lupus lupi. Alpha of Eliphaz. Omnis Magia." She places the mixture onto me as well, but doesn't chant the same words.
Our hands are still together, sticky and warm from the blood gushing down. With the other hand, he cuts our bottom lips with the silver dagger. He goes to kiss me, but I stop him. Annoyed, he glares me down, moments from gaining the true power he desires. "Promise you won't hurt him?" A final plea on Jon's behalf. He looks to his brother, then back to me, before cupping my face in his hand.
"I promise, my love," He's gentle again, rubbing his skin across mine. But I know he's not doing it because he cares for me. He's doing it to keep me calm, docile, obedient. But if he won't hurt Jon, then I'll do anything.
I nod slightly and he forces a kiss on me. I instantly want to vomit at the mixture of blood, sweat, and spit that floods my mouth. When he pulls away, blood smears his chin and upper lip, still dripping from his own mouth.
I didn't realize Yara was chanting, "Simul nos sunt," during our kiss until I hear her say the end terms, "Terminatum est." I notice the pain wasn't nearly as bad as it was when I was inducted into Moonlightâdoes that mean it didn't work? I don't feelhundreds of souls being unbound to mine, nor do I feel the new souls either.
Hayes' smile fades as he seems to realize the same thing. He glances up at the moon, down to me, then over to Yara. "Nothing's happening, Yara," His tone takes on an edge as he inevitably blames her for something going wrong.
True fear locks in her eyes as she scrambles to come up with a reason why nothing has happened, why his power hasn't manifested. "I-I did the spells correctly, just as you saidâ"
"You obviously didn't, or I'd have my full power," He finally releases me and I stumble away into a nearby tree, relying on it to keep me up. "It didn't workâ"
"Hold on, Alpha, let me tryâ"
"No!" I've never heard him so animalistic as his eyes glow a brighter green until morphing to black as his wolf takes over in his anger. "You did this!"
"A-Alphaâ" She squeaks out in fear, trying to defend herself. She doesn't get the chance, though, as he backhands her with such force it throws her across the woods. The telltale crack! that resounds when he hits her tells me that he broke her neck. It won't kill her, but she won't wake up for a while.
"Alpha," The man who's holding Jon calls. "What should I do with your brother?"
"Kill him," He orders without hesitation. And without hesitation, the man stabs a silver dagger through the heart of my best friend. The only one to ever stay.
I'm screaming and I don't even realize it, sprinting to where Jon is now slumped over the ground, dead. "No!" I shout as I skid to a stop, falling over and cupping his face. Those bright blue eyes are lifeless now as they stare, forever open.
"No," I'm sobbing, cradling his head against my chest. "Jon, no," I rock back and forth, unsure of what to do now, unsure of why this is happening. "Please, don't die. You can't be dead," I whisper against his brown hair as I hold him, my blood transferring to his still-warm skin.
Behind me, Hayes is still raging, chanting, trying to figure out why it didn't work. It takes a full five minutes for it to settle in that Jon is dead, never coming back. Lost forever.
"You promised," Escapes my lips, soft and barely audible. I place Jon's head on the ground with tenderness before slowly rising to my feet and turning to face Hayes. "You promised and you lied."
He stops his tantrum, blonde hair whipping as he looks at me. God, he looks insane. He is insane. The blood that runs down his chest paints a terrible sight, but I can barely notice it. I can only focus on one thing. He promised. He lied.
"So what if I did?" He sneers. "I was always going to kill him. Are you really that stupid, that weak that you believed my little 'promise'?"
"Call me weak again," I don't know what possesses me to say the words. I'm numb, driven by an outside force.
"What?"
"Call me weak again," I challenge him once more, louder this time.
"You're weak," He meets my challenge.
"Again."
"Weak."
"Again."
"You're weakâ"
Before he can articulate the last sound of the word, I'm screaming. The ground starts to shake, as do the trees around us. The bowl rattles off the stone, the arbor falls over. The stone even cracks in half as I scream. Darkness covers the moon and the area, twisting around us like velvet curtains interspersed with purple shimmers. I'm chanting now, but I understand it, this time. It's a drawing of power, not just from the elements, but from him?
My body is not my own, I quickly realize that at the sudden pain that shoots through my fingers, jaws, feet, bones. My nails and teeth are elongating, bones contorting in weird positions, hair growing out in a thick coat of white.
A white wolf? They're legendary, to say the least. Only mysticum lupi have been white, and that's the odd few out of thousands of years. Powerful wolves, more powerful than any other being. I don't know what's happening, but when I know the transition is complete when I'm staring through the eyes of a wolf larger than any one I'd ever seen.
Larger than Jaxon's, even. Hayes is surprised too. Eyes wide, terror over his face. He stumbles back, falling amidst the twirling darkness as I round on him, teeth drawn, ready for the kill.
The swirling ceases, suddenly, and I realize it's due to the chanting. Not from me, but from the circle of people moving in through the trees around us. They're all dressed in that medieval garb, but they're not Mistletoe. I spot Sarah among them, smirking mischievously as she chants. The Foundersâthey actually came.
My wolf doesn't step back from Hayes, still desiring to rip his head off, but I hold her off for the moment. Hayes looks shocked that they're here, calling out to Sarah in particular, "I-It didn't work! Y-You said, you said at 427 years to take the cast-off mate, who doesn't belong to me but will bring about the true wealth and power I seekâ"
Sarah? I look to her and she's still smirking. "I did say that," She shrugs, coming forward while the others continue to chant. "But I never said I told you the entire prophecy."
She smiles, looking to me, then back to him, "At 427, you'll take the cast-off mate, who doesn't belong to you, but will bring about the true wealth and power you seek. Not to yourself, but to the predestined daughter, the most powerful lupus mystici of the age. Upon your 427th year, your ritual and murder of someone she loves would unleash her true power, and her white wolf. When bound together, your power transferred to her, as did all the ancient magic tied in with Mistletoe. You can't even do a simple conjuring spell, even if you tried." She scoffs, yet remains triumphant as she watches him realize his weakness.
"Who's weak now?" She taunts him and he shakes his head violently, scrambling to make some sort of action.
"No, this can't beâ"
"Fatum circulo facit. Your greed brought you here. The circle is complete."
"No," He shakes his head as he begins to tremble, realizing the implications of his circle being drawn. "No, please. Founders, elders, pleaseâ"
"Terminatum est," She hisses as my wolf finally rounds on him, ripping his weak body into chunks and pieces until they lie scattered about the yard. My fur is soaked through with red, which she smiles at. "Red is the blood of her enemies, black is the night of her power, and white is the purity of her soul."
OOH PLOT TWIST.
1) What did you think of that twist?
2) What's going to happen with Jaxon now?
3) Where do you think Isabelle's circle will take her now that she has her wolf and her full power?
xoxo,
IC Judah