AFTER BRYNNER LEFT, I DIDN'T GO HOME. Rather, I ran all night. In those moments, I grieved and self-loathed, and I cried until 5am near the shooting site. I then got up and headed home in time for my morning routine.
My family fell silent as I entered the kitchen for breakfast. I rushed to the coffee pot. Upon seeing me, my mother rushed over and grabbed my hands.
"My sweet flower, where have you been?" she asked, kissing my forehead.
"Running," I murmured. The tears all night had made my eyes bloodshot. "I was patrolling the territory."
"Carmela told me what happened to Peter," Mum whispered, pulling me into a hug. "That was horrible. It's a good thing you patrolled again afterward. Could you imagine what would happen if there had been more hunters about? Callias would be so proud of you."
My father, who had been lying underneath the kitchen table sat up when he heard his name being mentioned. The fact that my dad was alive and well did not prevent my mom from speaking about him in the past tense. Although it was irritating, I understood why my mom did it. A decade ago, my dad turned into a wolf and somehow lost the ability to shift back and communicate with us. No one knew why.
As time passed by, he became more like our dog than the head of our family, occasionally participating in the hunt, but mostly sleeping all day at home. My mom had basically become a widow.
I wrenched free. "It's my job as an Alpha. Right, dad?"
The interaction between my dad and me made my mother huff under her breath. The one-sided nature of discussions with dad always annoyed her. I imagined it must have hurt her to see her daughter talking with the shell of her former husband.
I pulled out a mug from the cupboard and poured some coffee into it. A figure suddenly crashed into me, spilling my coffee. Coffee juice scalded my hands.
"Ouch, Jude!"
Trying to hide his smirk, my little brother, Judas, tossed me an elk shank.
Catching the limb with one hand, I licked the flesh, relishing its taste. The pack ate raw food except when humans were present. We were forbidden from eating raw food in public or at school since humans would become suspicious and fearful if they saw us consuming it.
I sat down and thought to myself, "Not a bad piece of meat." Judas' eagerness in throwing the elk leg to me was a clear indication that this was his first kill. In my mind, I knew he was waiting expectantly for my response as I looked at him. "Good job, overachiever, you killed an elk on your first try!" I congratulated him. "Just like dad, you did it on your first try as well!"
As Judas blushed from the praise, he glowed above dad, who was watching him under the table. If he could, I knew dad would congratulate and praise him as well. Our father was Alpha when Judas was a child, but he had no memories of our dad back then. Dad's tragedy occurred when he was only two years old. My memories of dad in his human form were fuzzy as well since I was only seven. However, I vividly remember the pack constantly gushing about dad's feats.
Judas resembled dad's human form a great deal, according to mom. In comparison to our father, whose height was 6'1", his 5'8" frame looked just a few inches shorter. He also had the angular face, pointed nose, full lips, and neat eyebrows of our dad along with his almost snow-white hair, light baby-blue eyes, and a neat set of eyebrows. Like our father, he was slim with long arms, a weak torso, and a straight waist. Mom had pictures of Dad that she scattered throughout the house, showing that he had worn his hair short, whereas Judas wore it medium-length and never styled it. Other than that, their appearances were almost identical.
Compared to my father, I resembled my mother more. I had the same heart-shaped face, narrow nose, and thin lips as her. But that was about it. Compared to mom's deep, engulfing browns, my hazel eyes stood out sharply. Besides having lighter hair, mine was thicker and longer, making it hip-length golden biscuit-blonde. I inherited more of my dad's broad shoulders, long arms, and lean torso, but also inherited my mother's large breasts, narrow waistline, and curvy hips.
In comparison to Judas, I looked very plain. Average.
Socially acceptable.
As far as humans could tell, I didn't appear supernatural or alarming.
Mum stared absentmindedly at an old photo of her and dad on the kitchen counter as she said, "I knew we would have impressive pups." The photo showed the two of them posing near a bear dad had killed himself. Mom was pregnant with Judas in that picture, and I was five, playing with the bear's paw. "He was the greatest Alpha of our generation."
"Alpha Griffin said that he was a jackass," Jude muttered under his breath.
"Judas!" I cried, mortified at his swearing.
Mom's expression showed her mortification as well. Judas coughed and blinked several times. He looked at our mom, then at me, and then back at our father. "Sorry, but it was what he said. But why would Griffin say that about our dad? Everyone I talked to thought he was awesome."
Mum glared at him. As if the conversation had prompted him to leave, Dad crawled out of under the table and made his way out of the room in silence.
Judas began to apologize, guilt flashing across his face. "I'm sorry, dad, I didn't mean--"
"Jude, don't," Mom pleaded empathically, holding my brother's hand. "It's okay, he's okay."
"B-but I-" Judas stumbled, flustered. "I didn't mean to upset him."
"Jude, you didn't upset him," I whispered. In my hand, the coffee mug shook, and I put what remained of the elk leg down on the kitchen table. "It's not you, I promise."
Mother looked at me questioningly, as if asking me what I knew. Probably wondering what I knew. But really, I didn't understand anything. I just had a nagging suspicion that what caused dad to leave the room was also what made me uneasy last night.
Alpheus Griffin.
"Are you sure?" Jude asked skeptically. His gaze was focused on the direction dad had gone.
"Yes," I assured him, nodding. "I'm sure of it."
With his face set in a frown, Judas grabbed for a glass of milk. I could tell he wasn't convinced.
The way mom stared at me, as if she was suspicious of me, was quite unnerving. All I could muster was a knowing look before I lowered my gaze and continued eating. I didn't really know why Dad had suddenly left the room after Jude mentioned Griffin's insult, but I could guess.
The rest of breakfast was spent in awkward silence. The initial excitement Judas experienced over his first kill had been crushed, and he avoided eye contact with me or our mother. Mom kept glancing in my direction, which I nudged away with cold stares. Judas ignored us as he ate his breakfast, gloomily. I threw back the last of my coffee as my phone vibrated in my pocket.
"Let's go, Jude. Phoebe is here."
Judas bounced from his chair, grabbing his shoes on his way to the front door.
"Have a great day at school," my mother called as I followed my little brother to the door.
I didn't reply. Normally, I look forward to school, but today I dreaded it. It would be my first time attending school without Peter.
"Callias." I heard Mom's voice rise as I walked out the door and slammed it behind me.
Jude's eyes were hopeful as he asked, "Is Brynner here, too?"
Inwardly, I flinched. I forgot Phoebe and Brynner rode to school together. Under normal circumstances, Judas and I would ride with Peter, and Phoebe would ride with Brynner. It brought back memories of last night when he told a lie for me. Perhaps things would be different now. Perhaps I could tolerate carpooling with him.
I lost all hope of a decent carpool with Brynner as soon as I got into Phoebe's Civic. "I won't turn on the radio," he snapped at me in an unnecessarily enraged voice. "Don't ask."
As I glared at Brynner, I wondered what in the word of God could have caused him to be so miserable this early in the morning. He couldn't still be angry about last night's Griffin incident... Could he? My eye caught Phoebe's apologetic gaze in the rear-view mirror as she stared at me.
"Don't mind him," she pleaded, "he's not feeling well."
Now that she mentioned it, Brynner didn't look so hot either. His pale face was dotted with sweat as he grimaced in pain. He was huddled against the car door, as if bracing himself against it would ease his agony somehow. I knew Brynner to be a high-pain-tolerance individual who normally concealed his pain with anger; but whatever pain he was dealing with at this time could not be covered up by rage alone.
A heavy breath came out of his nose as he wrapped his arms around his stomach and hunched over. "Fuck, dude, I'm fine."
Taking a breath, I leaned forward in between the front seats and responded, "No, you're not."
As Phoebe squealed out of the driveway, Brynner pulled away from me and grasped the dashboard. The smell of burned rubber filled the cab, and Brynner raised his arm over his face as if trying to cover his nose. "I can see something is wrong with you. What is it?"
"Yeah, Dianthe's right," said Judas, struggling to buckle his seat-belt. "You look terrible, bro."
Phoebe said, "He's been like this since we finished breakfast. I told him he should stay home and rest. The tragedy last night must be affecting him."
"I'm fine," Brynner growled through gritted teeth. He jerked away from me as I reached out to touch his forehead, almost hitting his head against the window. "Don't touch me."
My concern quickly turned into irritation. "Stop," I snapped as I thumped the top of his head instead of caressing it, "if you want respect from me."
Brynner scowled at me, his face averted into a look of pain and anger. My eyes narrowed as I regarded him. After a few seconds of staring at each other, he backed down and started gazing out the window. I sighed as I leaned back in my seat. I guess I was foolish to think our relationship would change based on last night.
"I... I think I just ate something bad. I'm fine."
Brynner was clearly torn as I glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. His attempt to justify himself surprised me. Brynner typically dismissed his jerkiness and continued about his business. I looked at him worriedly. ''What'd you have for breakfast?''
"Elk," Phoebe answered as she swerved around a car.
Jude raised an eyebrow. "The one I killed?"
"That's what I think. It was really fresh," Phoebe said as she looked into the mirror.
We had eaten the same elk meat. Senior members handed out our meals as part of the pack's service efforts. A single animal served and fed everyone in the pack on a daily basis. Since I ate the same elk they talked about for breakfast, the meat couldn't have been the culprit. Maybe the culprit really was his nerves.
I knew that depression and anxiety could make you ill. I squeezed Brynner's shoulder, pretending not to hear the growl inside his chest. "Tell me if you get worse," I said.
I watched him glare at me, but he brushed his forehead against the window, seemingly incapable of protesting. By the time we reached Silvermill School's parking lot, he was ghost white.
"Bryn, will you be OK?" I asked.
"Stop asking," Brynner snapped, slamming the car door behind him.
"Well, that's rude," I replied, annoyed. I watched Brynner stalk across the parking lot toward the school's entryway. "It's hard to believe you're related to him. He's such a jerk."
Watching me, Phoebe laughed softly. "I know. Sometimes I can't believe it either."
We got out of the car and I said jokingly to Jude, "don't ever grow up to be like him."
Judas laughed, "What do you mean? Tall, dark, and handsome?"
Imagining Brynner ever being perceived as handsome made me sneeze, and my cheeks turned red. "Definitely not handsome! Tall and dark, maybe. But definitely not handsome!"
"Whatever you say, sis," Judas said with an smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
I groaned inwardly and tried to shake the thought of Brynner being handsome from my mind. I didn't believe Brynner was bad-looking. I just didn't find him as attractive as the hunter. Just thinking about the hunter made my heart race. It was probably because of the imprint that I thought the hunter was hotter than Brynner. Maybe my senses were misaligned from the imprinting or I just had a weird preference.
Shuddering, I hoped it was just a misalignment. I would feel uncontrollable guilt if I actually enjoyed and preferred the appearance of the murderer. My subconscious wanted me to believe I was this way due to imprinting, not because I was born messy. Imprinting caused me to be shallow, I thought. I might have been attracted to Brynner if he was an Alpha and if I hadn't imprinted on the Hunter.
Emma and Cora, my generation's last two pack members, stopped us halfway across the parking lot. A total of seven of us made up our group: Peter, Phoebe, Judas, Brynner, Cora, Emma, and myself. I was greeted with
"Alpha! We heard about Pete. Will he be okay?" Cora asked.
Emma exclaimed, "I heard it was a human who shot Pete with a shotgun!"
"Shush," Cora hissed. "The subject is off limits at school. We can't discuss this here."
"Oh, give me a break," Emma growled, flashing her teeth at her twin. "I don't care whether humans hear me or not. Fuck humans."
I felt the same way yesterday about mankind. That changed with the imprint. Now, every time I hear the word humans, I automatically think of my imprint, the hunter.
Keeping my voice low, I interjected, "Cora is right, Emmy. It is one of Alpha Griffin's rules. Humanity cannot ever learn the truth of our identities. It would threaten the pack."
When I mentioned Griffin's name to the sun-bleached caramel-skinned sisters, they shuddered.
I came to the conclusion that everyone except the Elders and the senior council didn't like Griffin. I only had a problem with him after our conversation last night. Although I had never had any issues with him before, I think it was probably because he chose me to be the leader of my generation's pack. So, I had some significance for him. Griffin didn't treat Brynner and the twins in the same way as me, as far as I knew.
"Peter is in critical condition," I grumbled as I continued on my way to our school. "Carmela doesn't think his chances of surviving are high."
Emma's amber eyes widened in alarm as she trotted alongside Phoebe, Judas, and me. "We don't die from bullet wounds, so why didn't he regenerate?"
Jude muttered, "Unless they're silver," and in that moment, I recognized the possibility. It might have been a silver bullet. A heavy sense of guilt overtook me and I huffed loudly. Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? I understand now. Peter would have healed almost immediately if he had been shot with a regular bullet, no matter where he had been hit. Instead, given the silver bullet...
Almost a century had passed since we had to worry about silver weaponry since the government had established the reservation. The dangers of silver had largely been forgotten by many of us, and an even wider number of us were not even aware of them.
I wondered if Carmela knew the bullet was made out of silver, and if so, why didn't she share that information with me?
"You're so clever, Judas," I said. "Like Dad."
As we all walked through the high school entrance, Jude chuckled, "I don't know about all that. Being smart didn't stop me from saying something stupid to him."
He was still thinking about how dad got upset at breakfast, so I came over and squeezed his shoulder. Despite Dad's inability to say it, deep down I knew he wasn't upset with my brother. But Jude was unaware that another thing had been bothering our father.
"You got into a fight with your dad, Judderbutter?" Cora asked.
"How does someone who doesn't talk get into a fight with you?" Emma muttered.
"Emmy!" Phoebe shrieked, horrified.
Emma scowled at her. "What? Callias isn't a talker. It's true."
Several students, bleary-eyed, stumbled past us as we walked through the classrooms. "That doesn't mean you can just put it like that. That's their dad!" chided Phoebe.
"It's okay," I responded. There was a filter I knew Emma lacked, which made her sometimes seem insensitive. "It's okay, I get what she's trying to say."
"All I'm saying is, a person who cannot speak for himself is hard to argue with," Emma shrugged as she stuck her nose up in the air. "It's like fighting with a brick."
"Thanks for reaffirming how much of a douche-bag I am." Judas groaned.
We then walked in silence through the entrance and down the long hall to the row of senior lockers. I noticed that the smell of the school had changed. There was something different in the air, even though lockers, floor polish on the floor, and cedar beams on the ceiling all had the same smell as before. Something softer and more wintry. The scents of the humans that surrounded me enveloped me as I breathed in through my nose. Nothing was different about their scents. Odd.
As I squeezed my way through the students crowded in the narrow hallway, I whispered, "Do you guys smell that?" Despite my best efforts, I was unable to identify the location or source of the aromatic phenomenon. This made me uneasy.
"What does it smell like?" Cora asked.
Emma said, "I do not smell anything."
Judas shook his head and raised an eyebrow.
"What is it?" Phoebe whispered back.
Upon realizing I was the only one that noticed the unidentifiable scent, I wondered if I was going insane. "If you can't smell it, then I must be imagining it." I said, trying not to sound nervous.
I picked up the books I needed for first and second period from my locker. Emma, Cora, and Judas waved goodbye as they left for their class, and the hallway cleared out. Phoebe remained behind as I stuffed my books into my book bag.
As I swung my backpack over my shoulder, I told her, "You don't have to wait for me. It's not like we go to the same class anyway."
Phoebe replied, "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."
I raised an eyebrow at that.
"Do you think Brynner could have gotten sick from eating the hunter?" Phoebe asked suddenly, her eyes tense with concern.
In confusion, I stared at her face. What was she talking about? The Hunter wasn't eaten by Brynner. Suddenly, I remembered that Brynner had lied about eating the hunter so that no one would ask me any more questions about the human. I had no idea that he had even told his sister that lie. To create this tale for me, how far had he gone?
My response was a stammer of uncertainty. "Uh, perhaps. The silver he wore, um, makes it possible."
A few moments later, Phoebe nodded her head as she stared down at her shoes. Her mind probably couldn't picture her brother scarfing down a human to begin with, let alone envisioning him becoming ill from silver poisoning.
Knowing that he did not consume the human made the origin of his pain today all the more mysterious to me. What made Brynner sick I didn't know.
When Phoebe lifted her gaze to meet mine, she mumbled, "I just don't want to lose my brother to that monster, too. I have only him left. We cannot lose him, too."
Bringing her in for a hug, I smiled softly at her. A couple of years before my dad's incident, Phoebe's father had died, and her mother had mysteriously disappeared. Bryna Valene Shorrock's whereabouts were unknown. That affected Phoebe a great deal, and although Brynner never acknowledged it, I'm certain that it affected him as well.
"I know," I whispered to her. "Your big brother will be alright; contaminated meat won't kill him."
Phoebe laughed in a low voice. "I know, I know," she said. "He's built different..., thank you, Alpha."
I gave her another hug before waving goodbye to her as she left for her class.
The only other pack member with whom I shared classes was Brynner. At the age of seventeen, we were the oldest of the group and also the only seniors, whereas Peter and Phoebe were Juniors, and the twins were Sophomores. Jude was a middle school student, so he attended classes at the opposite end of the school.
Since Peter was absent, I knew I had to go alone to class when he normally walks me to my first period class and gives me a hug goodbye. Sighing, I closed my locker and made my way to class. The classroom was quite small. People in front of me hung up their coats on a long row of hooks just inside the door. I did the same. The girls were both blondes, one petite, the other plump. One of them looked over her shoulder at me nervously. I smiled tightly at her.
Despite my awkwardness, I shuffled up to the teacher, a tall, balding person whose nameplate identified him as Mr. Bones. He raised an eyebrow at my approach. I told him as I caught a glimpse of Brynner's giant form lurking in the back of the class room, "I couldn't complete my homework last night. There was an emergency at home."
My teacher gestured towards Brynner, saying, "That's what your cousin told me."
Because of the misunderstanding, I flushed a bright red. "He's not my cousin," I blurted out.
Mr. Bones and half the students in the class stared at me. Brynner and I have the same last name, so they must have thought I was pulling their leg. We had no way of explaining to them that even though we weren't biologically related, we belonged to the same tribe, or family, or organization. The story Griffin told us to tell in public was that we were cousins. It would keep people from prying.
I stammered, trying to correct my mistake: "I guess we're cousins through marriage," I explained.
Brynner glared at me as I embarrassed myself in front of the entire class. I felt so flustered that I wished I could burrow myself into a hole and hide.
It was a relief when Mr. Bones didn't say anything else after I spoke and sent me to an empty desk at the back without pushing further. For this class, Brynner and I sat next to each other, and I pulled out the book that we were to read for our literary assignment. Brynner didn't bring his books, I noticed from the corner of my eye. Throughout the class, he failed to even pay attention, instead keeping his head on the desk.
His lack of participation in class suggested that his pain had not lessened since the car ride to school.
As I chewed on my pen, my mind drifted, wondering what could have caused him to be sick. The feeling that I may have overlooked something of crucial importance kept niggling at the back of my mind.