A Howl In The Night by Lorelei Sutton (life books to read .txt) 📕

thing I notice is that Griffin is there, sleeping on the side of the bed in his dog form. His personality as a human is so similar to his dog personality. He is earnest and persistent, passionate and loyal. My mind flashes back to the time when we were inseparable. That time seems so far in the past, but it was a time of incredible happiness.

Griffin lifts his head, and I find that in this form I can't call him anything but Scotty. "Scotty, could you bring me to the rest of the pack?" I ask him softly. He shakes his head. "Could.. you try to save them?" I beg him, growing desperate. Scotty looks at me, then meltingly nods in response.

We sit there for a minute, then Scotty travels over to my side. He places a paw right above my chest, staring with unblinking eyes. This moment of seriousness passes, and he pounces on me, licking my entire face. I begin to laugh.

"Stop... stop.... STOP!!!" I yell as he covers my face in sticky saliva. He backs off, running to the door. I smile as he somehow manages to paw the door open, walking outside into the hallway. The happiness in the room vanishes, however, when the door bangs to a shut. Suddenly my previously desolate state of being returns, and I feel the urge to cry.

Somehow, the thought that I may survive this whole ordeal at the cost of my pack's deaths makes me so depressed. I might as well just die with them, with the number of times Xavier has saved me from certain death. I don't deserve to live any more than he does.

And there is also the fact that he is convinced that I hate him. The way he apologized to me last night displayed that. I want to explain to him before it is too late that I am not mad at him. Even now, it makes me hurt so much. I really don't understand myself anymore.

I lay on the bed, drifting into nothingness within the next few minutes.

 

* * *

 

 During my time alone in my room, I try to create a spirit spear. Lying down on the floor, I close my eyes and try to imagine one. To imagine anything.

Although it has gotten easier to meditate, nothing happens even after hours of concentration. My eyes grow bloodshot and my body gets frenzied with anticipation. When is something finally going to happen? With every minute I am getting closer and closer to possible elimination by the council. No one has come to see me for two days, and the desperate nature of this whole situation is really starting to hit me. The horror of it at first was offset by the reappearance of Scotty, but now the fact that he's a freakin' man just adds more peculiarity to these circumstances. I have gotten sick of trying to figure this whole thing out. It's either I develop my skills, or I die. Unless I get a really good lawyer or something.

I haven't gotten any visions either, which is rather strange. I used to get them once every few days, but it has been almost a week since my last one. Only a few glimpses of this unknown world have skittered across my mind; most of dark forests, villages, and vast oceans. In all the scenes the same emotion appears—emptiness—which washes over the entire area like a flood. Not a single person is to be seen, not a sound to be heard. It leads me to wonder whether all of these glimpses and visions are just figments of my imagination, augmenting my deepest fears of becoming utterly alone.

    For it is now a legitimate fear of mine, creeping upon me until it is impossible to ignore or avoid, making its timeless mark upon my form. Having met such crazy people, and having my life impacted in such a way really has affected me for the better or worse, depending on how I look at it. On one hand, I am now more vulnerable than I would like to be; I can now be hurt in ways that I couldn't before. On the other hand, however, I have been introduced to this warm feeling that I almost didn't know existed. It feels now like I am alive, and before like I wasn't living a true life. It makes me laugh to think now that the werewolves have brought me to death, then back to life.

But obviously now I can't fit in anywhere, which is why it is so important that I learn to create a spirit spear. I'm not a werewolf, Spier, or human being. I can heal the possessed but lack the basic abilities of any supernatural creature. I look the part, but I can't assimilate into any of those societies at this point.

Taking a pen from the desk beside me, I sit down and stare at a blank piece of paper. Laughingly I remember an aphorism and modify it to describe my situation perfectly. "Jack of all races," I whisper as I write, "master of none." Honestly, the council could kill me just for the fact that I'm an oddity.

Once I think about it, that's really all I ever was, even as a human. A laughingstock, caged in fear and criticism. But does being an oddity really warrant such chains?

I realize that I have been straying from the point, and try to focus on the matter at hand, which seems to be saving my sorry butt. Flipping over the page, I try to brainstorm ways to prove that I am not a werewolf and therefore undeserving of the punishments they wish to give. Any tests of strength would not work because the council would think I was merely holding back on my power. Demonstrations of my Spier abilities would clearly be impossible unless a possessed man or woman popped out of nowhere, which would be...

Hey, that's not a half-bad idea. I write it down on my piece of paper and label it "Game Plan". That's really all the proof I have that's in my favor, and though it's a long-shot, its also a possibly redeeming move.

I settle on the floor, having put my piece of paper aside. Casting my eyes to the ceiling, I attempt to calm down and enter relaxation mode. As I predicted, it is pretty much impossible.

In spite of my nerves I eventually close my eyes, laying on the cold stone floor with my stomach to the ceiling. I take deep breaths, breathing in and out...

My heart jumps a million miles in the air as a key clicks in the lock. Oh crap. They're here.

Please not now!

The door swings open to reveal two armed guards, both staring at my strange position on the floor. Blushing, I scramble to my feet.

"The council has summoned you," the tall guard says, his brown hair covered by a strange hat made of metal. The other guard is short and stocky, with bright orange hair that lights up the entire room.

"I suppose I can't refuse to go," I laugh shakily, which reveals my inner nervousness as it escalates at a mile a minute. They shake their head in unison. I check my appearance in the mirror. I'm not dressed up or anything, but I feel that my clothes look half-way decent. And its not like I need makeup... which always makes me feel weird because I never looked at myself with satisfaction before my conversion.

I follow the tall guard out of the room, while the short one trails behind. With each step my heart thumps faster, getting louder and louder until it is the only thing I hear. The short guard, though remaining silent, touches my back once. Through that touch I can feel his laughter. I didn't know my heart was that loud.

Oh well.

The tall guard leads me to these double doors that stretch almost twenty feet in height, inscribed with designs along the sides. Both of the guards stand on either side of me, swinging the doors open slowly. They look heavy; I wonder how they do it. Probably with their super strength that I lack.

The room is not as grandiose as I thought it was going to be, but it is impressive in an entirely different manner. Instead of shining with overindulgence and lavish sculptures and paintings, it reminds me somewhat of a fairy wonderland. Somewhat difficult to describe, the ceiling is made of leaves and vines and gigantic trees are all over the place. Small fountains are at the corners of the room, spilling into tiny ponds in which koi fish swim. Flowers are placed sporadically throughout the room and on top of a marble platform in the center is a pure white table and several elaborate chairs. There is no other furniture in the room.

Not like I imagined at all.

Seated at these chairs are stunningly handsome men and women, five in total. The only one I recognize is Ferrars, who is staring at me then looking away with a strange expression. As I approach them, I bow slightly, which causes them to stand in a display of respect. I don't know what I did to deserve even this, considering that they were probably going to kill me.

"Good morning, Mona," a deep voice erupts from the man closest to me. He has light chocolate skin and bright green eyes, dressed in a toga-like robe. "I am Markus."

He lifts a hand to touch the regal woman beside him. "This is Gizelda, and next to her is Cyrus, Ulysses, and Ferrars." Gizelda has olive skin and black hair, while Cyrus is exceptionally tall with pale skin and silver hair. Ulysses is slightly tanned with a long black ponytail, which contrasts with Ferrars's light hair and skin.

"Good morning," I reply, not knowing quite what to do. The short guard elbows me, and as I turn to look at him he makes a gesture with his hands. I mirror the gesture, which I realize was the one Markus made to me on my way in.

"Your conversion went splendidly well," Gizelda comments, scanning my face and body, "you are quite beautiful." Her statement feels almost like a cold assessment.

"Thank you... High One," I choke as the guard elbows me again, whispering the words.

"Sit down," Markus smiles, gesturing to a chair about ten feet from the white table. Cautiously, I travel over to it, checking for bombs or something like that before sitting in the chair.

"Her smell is simply magnificent," Ulysses comments with a smile. Ferrars says nothing, almost squirming in his seat. The other four launch into a conversation about my looks and smell. Soon the whole conversation shifted to how I would be a good asset to headquarters, mostly as a female spy.

"She would be a good mate or servant to one of the nobles," Markus notes, marking in a notepad in front of him. Ferrars looked at Markus urgently after he says this, all of the sudden invested in the conversation.

"Markus, she's mated already," he says, then suddenly stops and looks like he wants to cough what he said back into his throat. The other four completely stop and stare at him.

"And how would you know that?" Gizelda asks, raising an eyebrow. Ferrars says nothing in response.

"Mona, please show us your marking," Ulysses requests, and they all turn to stare at me. Hesitantly I show them the mark near my neck. I had covered it with facial makeup earlier, so I rub it off quickly.

"Well, that eliminates those options," Cyrus looks at the others, "we don't really have much of a choice now. I'm guessing she is mated to someone from her pack. If we exile the pack like we originally planned, she will be torn apart due to her bond."

Silence reigns in the room for a few seconds. Ulysses and Gizelda are nodding their heads in agreement. Pure dread enters me, shocking my entire body. They are going to terminate me.

"Show them your other marking,