Chapter 31
When Callie returned, I was already sitting on my bright pink couch, cat in one hand, bottle of wine in the other. She’d given me a sliver of hope, but that didn’t mean I was giving up the alcohol.
Not yet, at least.
She walked gracefully through the living room, bringing with her the delicate scent of roses, and took a seat next to me. She gave a reproachful glance at my bottle of wine, and I gripped it tighter. I’d wrestle her for it if I had to.
She shook her head. “First, you need to understand that Abey didn’t keep this from you out of selfishness.” I rolled my eyes and took a large sip of wine. “He’s not like that. You haven’t known him very long, but I’ve known him all my life. Those things you accused him of are so far from the truth.”
My gut twisted uncomfortably, but I stayed silent. “He’d never keep something from you to benefit himself,” she continued. “It was only to protect you. We all knew how hard it must have been finding out werewolves were real, and that you were about to become one. Add onto that all the changes your body is going through, and we agreed it would be best to save this information for later.”
I sat up straighter. “When were you all planning to tell me? The night before my shift?” I scoffed.
Callie shrugged. “Possibly.”
“That’s great. The eleventh hour is a great time to tell a person they’re going to die.”
“What good would it have done to tell you sooner?” She waved a hand at my wine, and I clutched it tighter again, taking a spiteful sip while she watched. “Look at you, drinking just to cope. How are your next three weeks going to be, knowing you might not live through the shift? What good has it done you knowing this?”
“But, it wasn’t your decision!” I exploded, causing Callie to wince, and lean back. “I should have been told upfront, not have to hear Beatrice bragging about it to Abraham–”
“She wasn’t bragging, Elizabeth. She would never do something like that.”
I waved away her defense of her sister’s character. I didn’t want to hear it. Not now.
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have had to find out like that. He should have told me. Evey should have told me,” I added, my stupid nose burning with unshed tears again.
Callie leaned over and placed a hand on my arm. “She was ordered not to. We all were. She couldn’t have told you even if she wanted to.” Callie leaned back, pulling a sequined throw pillow onto her lap, and tucking a leg beneath her. “When an alpha gives a direct order, you don’t disobey it. That’s what he did. He ordered the whole pack to keep this from you. So don’t blame any of them, they had no choice.”
My chest loosened the slightest bit.
Evey hadn’t betrayed me.
My friend hadn’t lied to me.
As the load lifted, my stomach twisted with guilt. I’d treated her terribly. Accused her of lying when she’d had no choice. What kind of friend did that make me?
My nose burned worse.
“She knows, El. She knows you didn’t know. She’ll forgive you, don’t worry.” My watery eyes met her sympathetic ones. “We all love you. We’d forgive you anything. You’re pack now. Family.”
I sniffed back the emotion threatening to escape me. Instead, I took another big gulp of wine despite her disappointed scrutiny.
“But, what about Abraham? Why did he order you all to keep it a secret from me? Why didn’t he want me to know? Why did he lie to me?” I whined.
“I told you. He thought he was doing the right thing. He didn’t want to upset you. He’d do anything to make you happy, you have to know that.”
If I were being honest, I’d had an inkling that was the case. But, I wasn’t in the mood to be honest. I took another large sip of wine, the bottle now half-empty.
“He should have told me,” I muttered stubbornly.
Callie nodded. “I agree. Once the shock of becoming a werewolf wore off, he should have told you. You were bound to find out one way or another, and it would have been much better coming straight from him, and not from an overheard conversation.” She eyed me critically, and I shrunk in my seat.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” I whined again. “I’m still getting used to these things.” I tapped my ear.
She nodded and waved my words away. “I know, I know.” She sighed. “I wish that stubborn man had listened to us and told you sooner.” She shook her head. “He just couldn’t make himself upset you…” she trailed off, and my stomach twisted tighter.
Have I made a huge mistake?
The stubborn streak in me shook her head violently, and I drank some more wine instead.
“You said I might live?” I asked pathetically. I was afraid to hope, but Callie had planted the seed, and despite my best efforts, it had not only grown roots, but also sprouted.
She nodded seriously. “Some bitten wolves make it. There haven’t been many in recent years, but it happens.”
I swallowed harshly. “What are my odds?”
“The odds are about twenty-five percent in your favor.”
My hope deflated once more. “That's not very good odds,” I muttered, taking another long sip of wine.
“Your odds are considerably better than that.”
I perked up. “Why’s that?” My words were beginning to slur.
She bit her lips and averted her gaze. I frowned, confused until it dawned on me. “You’re not allowed to tell me that either, are you?”
She shook her head sadly.
“Is that the other thing Abraham isn’t telling me?”
She paused for a short moment before nodding, brown curls bouncing around her small face.
I growled and drank some more wine.
“This is bullshit,” I said, taking both Callie, and myself by surprise.
I never cursed, but if I was going to start, this was a great time.
“Why don’t bitten wolves make it through their first shift?” I asked.
“It didn’t always used to be that way. Years ago the odds were better, but it seems as though the magic is disintegrating, and making it that much harder to transfer to humans.”
I sat up quickly. “Magic?”
Callie nodded. “Didn’t Abey tell you where werewolves come from?”
I squinted at the wall above her head, trying to get my wine-soaked brain to think straight. With a snap of my fingers, I grinned. “He mentioned magic once. And, witches I think. Or, was it psychics? I’m not really sure…”
Callie sighed dramatically. “I bet a little less wine would jog your memory.”
“Leave my wine alone.”
She sighed again. “Would you like to hear our origin story? Or, will you not remember it in the morning?”
I frowned at her. “I’ll remember it. I’m not–” a hiccup interrupted my sentence and completely discredited me, “drunk.” Another hiccup, and a sigh from Callie. “Please, I want to know.”
She nodded. “Well it was a long long time ago, back near what we now call Germany. There was a poor shepherd who wanted nothing more than to live a simple life with his wife, a woman he’d loved since childhood. She was the most beautiful woman in their village, and before long, she caught the eye of one of the most revered warriors. This man was a hero in their village and soon took the shepherd’s wife as his own.”
“That’s terrible! Who just takes someone’s wife?” I asked, swallowing another mouthful of wine.
“Back then, warriors were aristocracy. They could pretty much have whatever they wanted as long as there was no one to stop them. As for the shepherd, all he could do was watch helplessly as the warrior took his distraught bride from him. Mad with grief, the shepherd sought the most powerful person he knew of; an old witch that lived in the surrounding forest.
“He begged for her intervention. ‘Witch, I promise you all the gold I have, and more, if you would get my wife back for me.’
“The witch replied, ‘Shepherd, no one can retrieve your wife, but you.’
“The man knew he was no match for the warrior. So, he begged the witch, ‘Please, I’ll do anything.’
“The witch thought it through and made the shepherd an offer. ‘I can make you strong enough to kill the warrior.’
“The shepherd’s eyes blazed with the fire of revenge as he paced the old wooden floor. ‘Yes, Witch. Make me strong. And stealthy! And cunning!’ He turned to the witch and smiled a smile which held no happiness. ‘And deadly,’ he added.
“The witch nodded and stood. ‘I must warn you, Shepherd, all magic comes with a price. Are you willing to pay it? Whatever it is?’
“The man nodded vigorously, ‘I will do anything,’ he vowed.
“The witch closed her eyes and began to sway back and forth. She reached her arms out, palms held flat, and chanted softly under her breath. He started to feel a tingling sensation all over his skin from head to toe. His eyes widened as he watched thick gray strands of fur shoot out of his skin.”
I gasped. “She made him a werewolf?”
Callie nodded. “He opened his mouth to yell to the witch, but as his nose, and mouth elongated, his voice caught in his throat. Bones cracked, and shifted, muscles bunched, and reformed. His skin tingled and stretched until he stood on all fours a couple heads shorter than the witch.
“‘There. I’ve made you into the fiercest hunter in the world; the wolf. No man can contend with your strength and speed. You’ll be unstoppable.’
“The shepherd-turned-wolf examined his new body before spearing the witch with a glare and cocking his head to the side.
“‘Oh, you can turn back into a man anytime you like. Just imagine who you used to be, and so you shall appear.’
“The wolf closed his eyes, and moments later, the shepherd stood once again, although this time he was bare. The witch chortled as the man tried to cover as much of himself as he could.
“‘So, that’s it? I can go now?’ the shepherd asked.
“‘Yes you may go, but remember my warning: all magic comes with a price. I hope you’re prepared to pay whatever it costs.’
“The shepherd nodded at the witch and transformed back into the wolf before bounding out of her cottage. He sprinted to the warrior’s house and broke through the front door. He was shocked to find the warrior in bed with his wife. Rage consumed him as he lept for the warrior and sunk his teeth into the man’s thigh. The warrior fought back admirably, but was no match for the enraged wolf. Fury blinded him as the shepherd struck over, and over again.
“Only the sound of a high-pitched scream was enough to pierce the bloodthirsty haze clouding his mind. He turned to find his beautiful bride cradling her arm, a bright red bite mark marring her light brown skin. The wolf tipped his head back as a howl of anguish ripped through him. In moments, the shepherd stood where the wolf once was.”
I gasped again. “Oh, no. He bit her?”
Callie nodded. “He picked his wife up and ran home. Her wound was treated, and only days later, completely healed. The shepherd was so happy to have his wife back, and well, that he forgot all about the price he still owed for the magic of the wolf.
“It wasn’t until the next full moon that the shepherd learned what that price was, for as soon as the last rays of light disappeared, his body forcefully transformed back into the wolf. He tried, and tried, but could not get his body to shift into that of a man again. He panicked when he heard that same high-pitched scream he’d heard from his wife weeks ago.
“She was shifting wasn’t she?” I asked, my voice low, and scared, as if I were living through this tale myself.
Callie nodded again, her face solemn, eyes wide. “When he got back to their cottage, he found his wife writhing on the floor, somewhere in the middle of the transformation from woman to wolf. Brown fur covered her arms and legs, legs that were bent at odd angles, and uneven. Her screams turned to howls, and back into screams as the wolf stood there, helpless once again.
“As the sun rose the next morning, the wolf involuntarily shifted back into the form of a man, and his wife took her last breath.”
“Oh no,” I whispered again.
This was what awaited me.
This was my future.
“The shepherd’s grief overwhelmed him, and his body once again shifted without his consent. The wolf took one last look at his beautiful, dead wife before he ran out of the cottage, and into the village.
“There he savagely attacked anyone he came upon until he made it into the woods. The shepherd was never seen again.”
“Never? What happened to him? What happened to the villagers?” I asked.
“Half of the villagers who were bitten died just like the woman, halfway between the shift. The other half became as the shepherd; half man, half wolf. They later found that the wolf magic passed down to their children. As times changed, so did the magic. It transformed over the millennia to make the wolves bigger, and stronger as well as allow mental communication while in their wolf forms. The price they pay for the wolf magic has always remained the same. Every full moon, they must become the wolf again until daybreak. Like I told you earlier, the magic has deteriorated over time. It’s not as strong as it once was. Now, instead of half of all bitten wolves living through the shift, it’s closer to a quarter of them.”
I sat there quietly digesting the story as I finished the last of my wine. Placing the empty bottle on the table, I sat back on the couch, and ran my hands through my hair.
“Is that a true story?” I asked.
Callie shrugged. “No one knows for sure. I’ve done a lot of research, and as far as I can tell it’s true.”
My wine-filled brain struggled to make the connections because something wasn’t adding up. “But, wait, how do you know how the shepherd became a wolf if he was never seen again?”
Callie smiled. “It’s hypothesized that he reemerged at some point and told his story without revealing his identity. There are even some who believe he’s still out there somewhere.”
“Alive?!” She only nodded “How is that possible? He’d be thousands of years old.”
“He holds the origin of the wolf magic. There’s no telling how strong that is, considering how strong it still is thousands of years later. A force like that could very well keep a person alive for a sustained period of time. Look at how fast we heal, now imagine that our magic is many, many times over diluted, and really, anything’s possible.”
I sat there stunned silent, which was a really uncommon thing for me. The shepherd’s sad story played over, and over in my head. What he must have felt to ask the witch for something so costly. How anguished he must have been after causing the death of his wife. And, all he’d wanted was her. In the end, she was the first thing he lost.
Knowing what I do of heartbreak, even as infinitesimal as mine is compared to his, I hoped he wasn’t still alive. I could barely stand the idea of living these next three weeks without Abraham, I couldn’t imagine a thousand lifetimes without him.
Callie stood abruptly and snagged my empty wine bottle off the table. She eyed it before shooting me a reproachful glare. “Have you got this out of your system?”
“I drank everything I had in the house, is that the same thing?”
She shook her head exasperatedly, but a small smile curved her pink lips. “No, it’s not. And it’s late, you should get to bed. I have a feeling things will look better in the morning.”