“The new moon,” Thomas whispered in my ear. “It’s dumb, if you think about it hard enough.”
I laughed until Abel cleared his throat pointedly.
Maybe I was a little scared of him.
“She was lonely,” the Alpha said again. “And because of it, she made the wolves, creatures who would sing to her every time she appeared. And when she was at her fullest, they would worship her with four paws upon the ground, heads tilted back toward the night sky. The wolves were equal and without hierarchy.”
Thomas winked at me, then rolled his eyes.
I liked him very much.
Abel said, “It wasn’t the sun, but it was enough for her. She would shine down upon the wolves, and they would call to her. But the sun could hear their songs while he tried to sleep, and became jealous. He sought to burn the wolves from the world. But before he could, she rose in front of him, covering him completely, leaving only a ring of red fire. The wolves changed because of it. They became Alphas and Betas and Omegas. And with this change came magic, scorched into the earth. The wolves became men with eyes red and orange and violet. As the moon weakened, she saw the horror they had become, beasts with bloodlust that could not be sated. With the last of her strength, she shaped the magic and pushed it into a human. He became a witch, and the wolves were calmed.”
I was enchanted. “Witches have always been with wolves?”
“Always,” Abel said, fingers brushing against the bark of an old tree. “They are important to a pack. Like a tether. A witch helps keep the beast at bay.”
My father hadn’t spoken a word since we’d left the Bennett house. He looked distant. Lost. I wondered if he even heard what Abel was saying. Or if he’d heard it countless times before.
“You hear that, runt?” Thomas said, running a hand through my hair. “You keep me from eating everyone in town. No pressure.” And then he flashed his orange eyes and snapped his teeth at me. I laughed and ran ahead, hearing him chasing after me. I was like the sun and he was the moon, always chasing.
LATER MY father would say, “We don’t need the wolves. They need us, yes, but we have never needed them. They use our magic. As a tether. It binds a pack together. Yes, there are packs without witches. More than have them. But the ones that do have witches are the ones in power. There’s a reason for that. You need to remember that, Gordo. They will always need you more than you could ever need them.”
I didn’t question him.
How could I?
He was my father.
I SAID, “I promise that I’ll try my best. I’ll learn all that I can, and I’ll do a good job for you. You’ll see. I’m going to be the best there ever was.” My eyes widened. “But don’t tell my father I said that.”
The white wolf sneezed.
I laughed.
Eventually I reached out and pressed my hand against Thomas’s snout, and for a moment I thought I heard a whisper in my head.
packpackpack
And then he ran with the moon.
My father came to me after. I didn’t ask where my mother was. It didn’t seem important. Not then.
“Who is that?” I asked him. I pointed at a brown wolf prowling near Thomas. His paws were large and his eyes narrowed. But Thomas didn’t see him, instead focusing only on his mate, snuffling in her ear. The brown wolf pounced, teeth bared. But Thomas was an Alpha-in-waiting. He had the other wolf by the throat even before he hit the ground. He twisted his head to the right and the brown wolf was knocked to the side, hitting the ground with a jarring crash.
I wondered if Thomas would hurt him.
He didn’t, though. He went and pressed his snout against the brown wolf’s head. He yipped, and the brown wolf pushed himself up. They chased each other. Thomas’s mate sat and watched them with knowing eyes.
“Ah,” my father said. “He will be Thomas’s second when Thomas becomes the Alpha. He is Thomas’s brother in all but blood. His name is Richard Collins, and I expect great things from him.”
the first year/know the words
THE FIRST year, we headed north. The trail was cold, but it wasn’t frozen.
There were days when I wanted to strangle the three Bennett wolves, listening to Carter and Kelly snap at each other in their grief. They were callous and mean, and on more than one occasion their claws popped out and blood was shed.
Sometimes we slept in the SUV, parked in a field, rusted farm equipment buried in overgrown vines sitting off in the distance like hulking monoliths.
The wolves would shift on those nights, and they’d run, burning off the almost manic energy from having been trapped in a car all day.
I would sit in the field, legs crossed, eyes closed, and breathe in and out and in and out.
If we were far enough away from a town, they would howl. It wasn’t like it’d been in Green Creek. These were the songs of sorrow and heartache, of anger and rage.
Sometimes they were blue.
But most times, they burned.
OTHER TIMES we’d be in a shoddy hotel off the beaten path, sharing too-small beds. Carter snored. Kelly kicked in his sleep.
Joe often sat with his back against the headboard, staring down at his phone.
One night a couple weeks after we’d left, I couldn’t sleep. It was the middle of the night and I was exhausted, but my mind was racing, my head pounding. I sighed and turned over on my back. Kelly was next to me in the bed, curled and facing away, hugging a pillow.
“I didn’t think it’d be like this.”
I turned my head. On the other bed, Carter huffed in his sleep. Joe’s eyes glittered in the dark as he looked at me.
I sighed as I looked back at the ceiling. “What?”
“This,” Joe said. “Here. Like we are. I didn’t think it’d be like this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you think….”
“Spit it out, Joe.”
Christ, he was so fucking young. “I did this because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Sure, kid.”
“I’m the Alpha.”
“Yeah.”
“He needs to pay.”
“Who are you trying to convince here? You or me?”
“I did what I had to. They—they don’t understand.”
“Do you?”
He didn’t like that very much. There was a low growl in his voice when he said, “He killed my father.”
I pitied him. This shouldn’t have happened. Thomas and I weren’t exactly the best of friends—we couldn’t be, not after everything—but that didn’t mean I wished for any of this. These boys should never have had to witness their Alpha fall under the weight of feral Omegas. It wasn’t fair. “I know.”
“Ox, he… he doesn’t understand.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He’s angry with me.”
Jesus. “Joe, his mother is dead. His Alpha is dead. His ma—you dropped a bomb on him and then left. You’re goddamn right he’s angry. And if it’s at you, it’s because he doesn’t know where else to direct it.”