When the Red Wolf Hunts (The Red Wolf Trilogy Book 2) Page 7

  “And had texted where they’d be,” I reply with a nod. “Yeah. That’s… that’s how I knew.”

  He sighs. “Oaklynn,” he says, and closes his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I know I shouldn’t have acted on it—that I should’ve just stayed here. But I was so consumed by anger, by… by rage that I… that I couldn’t help myself.”

  “He was guiding your anger. Using it to his advantage. To commit his atrocious desires.”

  I, reluctantly, nod.

  “Thankfully,” Zachariah then says, “as long as that talisman is around your neck, you won’t have to worry about succumbing to the wolf’s desires.”

  “Sir,” I say, unsure how to proceed now that the metaphorical cat has been let out of the bag. “Are you sure the ritual—or, whatever it is Alecia has to do to cast the Dark Wolf out—is going to work?”

  “My mother-in-law is a very powerful woman,” the man replies. “I would not doubt her abilities in any case, especially when it comes to something like this. Remember: she did stop your rampage after the wolf collapsed.”

  “I know. It’s just…” I pause.

  “You’re afraid,” he offers a short moment later.

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “I don’t believe you have anything to worry about,” he replies. “The wolf is still struggling to gain power over you. And besides—it’s been weakened. We’re at the perfect point in your development to remove it.”

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  “I can’t answer that,” he says, “because I do not know.”

  Though I know the truth will come out sooner rather than later, I can’t help but feel as though I am dangling precariously over the edge—

  And waiting, it would seem, to descend into the darkness below.

  Alecia, Jackson, and Bernard Meadows arrive later that afternoon. Looking lost and sad but determined all the same, Jackson approaches me with a small smile on his face and says, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I reply, easing myself off the couch to face him. “Did you find them?”

  “No,” Alecia replies. “This could be either be a very good thing, or a very bad thing.”

  “Because they might or might not be found by hunters?” I ask.

  Alecia nods. “Yes. That’s exactly right.”

  “My understanding of the matter,” Bernard begins, “is that the hunters have to apply for a license to hunt the wolf, regardless of what happened to any of the boys here in Red Wolf. It’s more likely that Fish and Game services will get involved before the hunters actually do.”

  “Legally get involved,” Alecia offers. “That is the problem, my son.”

  “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

  “Now comes the elephant in the room.” She turns her eyes to face me. “Oaklynn—are you ready to undergo the ritual and exorcise the spirit of Terence Matthews?”

  “Honestly?” I ask. “Not really. But Mister Meadows said that now might be the best time to do it, given everything that’s happened.”

  “Very true.” She turns to face Bernard. “Did you arrange everything?”

  “I did,” he replies. “Everything’s ready.”

  “Good. We should begin as soon as possible.”

  “Is our presence needed?” Zachariah asks as he comes to stand beside his son.

  “I don’t believe so,” Alecia replies, stepping into the living room. “Unless, of course, you would like to offer moral support?”

  “Jackson?” I ask, and a bit sheepishly at that. I know one thing’s for sure: I do not want to go through this by myself.

  “I won’t leave her to face this alone,” the young man says. “I’ll go with her.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Alecia presses a foot onto, then slides the rug covering the trap door aside. “Bernard—if you would?”

  The red-haired man steps forward and stoops to unlock the trap door.

  Jackson steps up beside me, sets a hand on my back, and asks, “Are you ready?”

  “Not in the slightest,” I reply.

  “It’s okay to be scared.”

  “I know.”

  The trap door is opened.

  Bernard descends, shortly followed by his mother.

  I, meanwhile, I am left to stare into the maw of darkness, which is enough to signify my existential sense of dread.

  “Go,” Zachariah says after a moment. “Time is of the essence.”

  “Yes sir,” I reply. “I understand.”

  I step forward, then—guided, it seems, not only by myself, but a greater force. With Jackson’s palm between my shoulders and my eyes set ahead, I take one small step for myself, but an even greater step for the Wolf inside, and find myself having to fight an ever-lingering sense of fear that I know is not my own.

  You, the Wolf says, can’t.

  I can, I reply, and I’m going to.

  A low growl follows, but I am quickly able to squash it down like the bug it is.

  Within moments, I am descending into the darkness.

  The stairs, creaking below me, sends shocks of fear through my system. Petrified beyond all doubt, but knowing that I must persevere, I make my way down them without so much as looking back. I know part of that is because Jackson is still guiding me, but I know another is because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.

  The big bad wolf has come to town, I think. And now I must face it down.

  I don’t want to do it. But I know that I have to, regardless of whatever pain it may cause, whatever discomfort it may bring. It is my fault that this all happened—that, with my slight of judgment and error of thought, I let a dark spirit in to wreak havoc upon my life and world.

  And now, because of me, four people are dead.

  And a fifth in critical condition, I think.

  In an attempt to swallow down my fear, I reach up to touch the talisman around my neck, and use it to ground myself to the reality I know I must now face.

  My mistake has been made.

  Now, it is time to correct it.

  With that in mind, I step forward—and begin to make my way down the short hall.

  Each step is traitorous, each breath a persecution I know I should not have to suffer. Inside, the Dark Wolf stirs; and though I want nothing more than to submit myself to peace and caution, I can do nothing but hear its snarling laughter inside my head.

  Fool! it says. I pity you!

  You don’t need to pity me, I reply, because I’m getting rid of you.

  You can’t get rid of me! I am eternal! I sleep in your body, your mind, your soul. Just because you think you can free yourself from me doesn’t mean you can!

  Its words are cancerous—and betrayal incarnate. Knowing that this could not work, and understanding that I could be stuck with it, is nightmarish beyond any scope of my imagination, and makes me feel as though I am inking ever deeper into a dark pool.

  Diving, it would seem, into the depths of madness.

  At the door to the secret room, I pause, and slowly but surely inhale a deep breath.

  “Go,” Jackson says, then nods as I turn my head to acknowledge him. “Everything will be all right.”

  I pity the fool that believes that, the Dark Wolf says.

  I shake my head, then reach out and twist the doorknob open.

  Inside, there is a single wooden table, at either side of which stand Alecia and Bernard Meadows. What’s worst is that upon it there is are four straps, which I know will be used to secure me in place.

  I visibly tremble as I approach, and trail my eyes first from Bernard, who blinks, then to Alecia Meadows, who nods with a sad look in her eyes.

  “What’s going to happen?” I ask after a moment.

  “You need to get on the table,” she says.

  “Tell me,” I reply.

  “Just… get on the table, Oaklynn.”

  “I asked—“

  “The wolf is trying to scare you, honey. Please—just do as I ask.”

  I know part of the fear is th
e wolf’s. Yet, I know most of it is my own, because pain—it is indomitable: a force that I know no man or woman can ever truly overcome. That is why I am scared. That is why I wish to run away. That is why I’m afraid.

  Slowly, I push myself up, then roll onto my back.

  The Wolf growls and lashes out.

  My hand instinctively jerks.

  “Jackson,” Alecia Meadows says. “Hold her down.”

  “Please,” I beg as Jackson takes hold of my arms—as Alecia Meadows straps my ankles to the table, and Bernard my hands. “Jackson—“

  “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  But it isn’t, the Wolf says, because they have the knife.

  The knife? I think.

  Then I see it—the cold blade that Alecia Meadows used on the night of my invocation, with its wolf head on the hilt and the dark steel that will surely cut into my flesh.

  I try not to whimper—and try even harder not to falter—yet, I know that the first cut will be the worst, and as a result, begin to cry.

  “Grandma,” Jackson offers.

  “It’s the wolf,” Alecia replies. “It’s finally afraid to lose itself to the darkness.”

  Bully! the wolf inside me says. Stupid bitch! It should be her that kisses the blade, not you!

  Scream, it then offers, and release yourself.

  I sink my teeth into the insides of my cheeks to keep from crying out as Alecia rounds the table—as beside Bernard she comes to stand. “This might hurt,” she says, before pressing the blade to my arm.

  The moment the blade sinks in, I can’t help it.

  I scream.

  Bernard clamps a hand over my mouth as Alecia digs the blade in, spilling blood from my arm and mumbling something under her breath. I can barely hear her—can barely understand—and yet, I feel it: something happening, something turning, something stirring.

  “Release this creature from this body,” the old woman says. “By the virtue of the Mother Wolf—who commands and sees all—I beg you: release this creature from this body.”

  Tears spill down my eyes, my face, my neck; and while trying to weasel away, I turn my gaze to Jackson, who merely stares in awe, in horror, in fascination.

  My eyes dilate.

  My vision goes red.

  The old woman begins to speak in a language I do not understand.

  Then, the pain starts.

  It is like someone has taken a hammer and cracked my sternum open, and from my body there is pooling a miasma of blood. Wicked in its intent, and excruciatingly painful, it tears through my body as if I have just been cleaved open by the hook of a dull hammer and causes me to whimper uncontrollably.

  Alecia presses a hand to the amulet.

  I gasp beneath Bernard’s hand.

  Then, she rips it free.

  The Wolf howls within me as it attempts to shift, but this time, whatever magic the woman has used to summon the Mother Wolf is tearing me apart. My bones feel like they’re snapping, my muscles like they’re stretching, my organs rearranging, my skin morphing. Little hairs sprout everywhere beneath my skin, then pierce free as something, and I’m not sure what, comes out of my nose, my eyes, my mouth.

  I feel like I’m choking to death.

  And yet, at the same, time, I feel a release—a tangible disconnect as every part of me body burns in uncontrollable agony.

  I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to rant and rave and rip apart everything that I know is alive in this room.

  But then—I see her, in a desolate vision before my eyes, within my mind: the Mother Wolf, coming to save me. Beside her there is another wolf; but unlike the spirit of Terence Matthews, and the Dark Wolf who was once harbored within him, this wolf is pure white.

  I know, in but a moment, that this wolf is the one that was meant to come before.

  Hello, Oaklynn, the White Wolf says as she draws froward from the mist of the vision—as she presents herself in the vision before me. I assume you are ready to take on your true identity?

  Yes, I say, tears in my eyes and snot in my nose. Please… help me.

  I am here to tell you that everything will be fine, the White Wolf says, so long as you believe.

  Believe.

  “Believe,” I mouth beneath Bernard’s hand.

  The wolf steps forward.

  She presses her snout to my hand.

  Then, in a moment, she is entering me.

  The stupendous vision of the impossible washes over my vision—of a world, of a land, of a galaxy, a universe combined.

  It’s almost too much to comprehend.

  But it doesn’t last long.

  It’s gone almost as soon as it begun.

  Then, I black out.

  Chapter Eleven

  “It worked?” I hear Jackson ask.

  “It worked,” his grandmother replies.

  It takes a moment for me to come to awareness, but by the time I do, I am opening my eyes to find that I am not in the underground room, nor in Jackson’s bed, but on the couch in the living room.

  Jackson is quick to come to my side. “Oaklynn,” he says.

  “How do you feel?” Zachariah asks.

  “I’m… fine,” I say, and blink, stunned. I’m just about to reach up and press a hand to my chest when I grimace, and realize that my arm has been bandaged. “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?” Alecia Meadows asks.

  “I… remember you… cutting… me? And then… pain.”

  “But you saw her?” she asks. “The Mother Wolf?”

  “Yes. And she… she brought another… a pure white wolf.”

  “Good,” Alecia replies. “It means that your intentions are pure of heart and spirit.”

  “I’m glad,” I say, and sigh as I lean back on the many pillows that have been arranged behind me.

  Jackson settles down on the bed beside me and smiles as he reaches out to brush a few of my long blonde hairs from my face.

  “Thank you for being there with me,” I offer.

  “I wouldn’t leave you to face that alone,” he replies, “especially not after all you’ve been through.”

  “What about the pack?” I ask, turning my head to look at Alecia and Bernard. “Have you figured out where they might be?”

  “No,” Alecia replies. “Not yet.”

  “Damn,” I whisper, and close my eyes.

  “The events taking place from here on out will be purely damage control,” the old woman says. “But, we do have time—because as Bernard said: they have to register permits, and that could take a few weeks.”

  “Which means that we can do what we need to do to make sure that we don’t draw suspicion to ourselves,” Jackson replies.

  “Which is?” I ask.

  He sighs, then, and responds by saying: “Dropping out of school.”

  “Wait. What?”

  He lifts his eyes to face me. “I’ve already talked about it with Dad, and he thinks getting our GEDs might be better.”

  “Why?”

  “I know it sounds outrageous,” Zachariah says, “but we have to take every precaution necessary to ensure that you’re not targeted by anyone or anything. Five people were attacked—and four of them killed—by the Dark Wolf. We don’t want anyone to connect any dots.”

  “Or even begin to speculate as to why the wolves came back so soon after our arrival,” Jackson adds.

  “I—“ I start, then stop before saying, “I don’t—“

  Jackson offers a sad sigh and says, “I get it. I’m scared, to…”

  “But—college—“

  “We’ll figure something out,” the young man says. “Don’t worry. I have faith in us.”

  “If you think it’s for the best,” I say, and close my eyes. “What do we do? Do we just… stop going, or…”

  “I’ll let them know that, because of extenuating circumstances, that you and Jackson have decided to pursue GEDs instead of going back to Red Wolf,
” Zachariah states. “You have no need to worry.”

  “So… I guess that leads to my next question: what do we do now?”

  “Now?” Jackson says. “We wait, and try and act as normal as we possibly can.”

  “Okay,” I say. “I guess that makes sense.”

  Though a part of me is saddened by the events that will now have to occur, I know, deep down, that I can’t belittle or demean myself as a result of them.

  In a way, Jackson and his father are right. Going to school after everything that’s happened will draw attention to myself—and if that’s the wrong attention, then surely it will only lead to more complications.

  Besides, I then think. This will give you some time to recover.

  A sigh escapes me, but I somehow manage to restrain any further emotion.

  While I know that I have to consider this from every angle, a part of me can’t help but consider what the future might—or might not—hold.

  In the end, only one thing matters: and that’s the preservation of the red wolf pack of East Texas.

  I’m not sure what all to expect in the coming days. A part of me feels as though something will happen, though what I’m not exactly sure. News coverage of the attack on Easton Wells continues well into the week, as does talk on the Social app.

  Can you believe it? one person asks. The wolves are back in Texas.

  Four people died and one is in critical condition, another person responds. Can you not be so careless?

  The in-fighting between our classmates is outrageous—to the point where friendships are broken, cliques are dismantled, and people who were once acquaintances become enemies.

  “You see all this fighting on the app?” Jackson asks as he considers the smartphone in his hand.

  “Yeah,” I reply, and frown. “Makes me glad that we’re not there to see it.”

  “You’d probably be center-stage in a lot of this drama,” the young man offers a short moment later.

  I nod, but only because I know it’s true.

  The sound of the men fixing the window I’d broken during my transformation has caused Belle to hide under Jackson’s bed. I can just barely see her big, green, bug-eyed expression as she peers out from under the bed at me.

  “It’s okay,” I say, extending a hand toward her. “We’ll be back in our room soon.”