Alma

Chapter Nine: Alma

Alma:

Over the next couple of weeks, Dante and I fall into a routine after classes. Typically we go to the gym, where he and I both help out with the basic training class, and then compete for a couple of hours. Ms. Anxeki laughs when she sees us just about dying as we push ourselves as far as we can on the treadmills.

What has also been happening over these weeks is my wolf completely loses her s**t. Instead of getting angry, my wolf is growing fearful. She is going damned near feral over the slightest of things. Can't find my phone? Suddenly my wolf is freaking out about not being able to communicate with the five people I have bonds with. During history I forgot where I put my pencil and my wolf had such a horrible reaction it felt like I was waking up after Brent had tied me with silver again. I was a howling, pacing mess and Dante had stayed to help me calm down.

I want to tell Dante what is happening so horribly. I want to tell all of my friends. But I can't. When I think about telling them, my wolf goes ballistic, snarling and howling and pacing in my head, both in fear and in anger. Without enough bonds to stabilize my wolf, she is going feral. But when she, or I, think about taking the position as Luna in the school pack, the b***h in my head freaks out and just disappears for a few days, causing me to feel sick and worry. I need to tell someone what is going on, but it feels as though I can't.

Honestly, I have no idea what I would do without Dante. I don't know why he still hangs around me. With each passing day, I grow worse and I feel like I am using him. I don't know what he is getting from our friendship, but I wish I could give him more. He is probably the one person I feel like I would go crazy without. Honestly, when I'm not within eyeshot of him, my wolf is worse than when I'm with him, and that scares me to my core. I can feel my wolf's paranoia and panic all the time, and I don't know what to do with it. So I distract myself. I clean. I cook. I help other members of the school pack while my wolf howls relentlessly in my head, both wanting and rejecting the position of Luna. I feel like I am losing my mind, and I'm worried about what that is going to mean over the next couple of weeks, when Dante and the rest of my pack will return home.

The routine Dante and I have is quite helpful, I think. After classes, we go to the gym. After the gym, we typically went to dinner, mostly because Dante needed food and he wanted to make sure I ate. After dinner, we went to the library, a large four-story castle-looking building, and head to the “dungeon”, or the basement, where my friends and I “study”. Studying included watching movies, doing homework, prepping for exams, or just hanging out in amicable silence, or gossiping. It was like our pack HQ. Not only can we play as much music as we want down there, but no one bothers us because the weapons everywhere, all from some famous battle straight out of mythology and history alike, are only a little unnerving with the magic pulsing around them. But, it feels safe there, and away from prying eyes. Garv, a partial bear shifter, partial elf, half wolf shifter, gets along well with Dante, being the only one bigger than the Alpha. But, Garv is too sweet to be scary; he was a dominant, but hated it, rather being just a relaxed guy who kept to himself a lot. But, he was protective as hell, and as such, Heather and I have dubbed him the enforcer of our little group.

Jeff was Garv’s best friend, and I suspect he is also Garv's mate, but I could be wrong-- my wolf has come up with some pretty interesting theories as of recently, including the idea that Dante is plotting to execute me publicly. Jeff was a skinny guy, but lanky-- he was easily over six feet, and his arms and legs seem too long still. Other than being tall, Jeff was a quarter-warlock, quarter-human, coyote shifter. His hair and magic were both stark white, a huge contrast to Garv’s shadow black. Garv, the huge guy that he is, also happens to be melanistic, where Jeff is albino, a result from their mixed heritage; in most cases, the cross of wielder and shifter races, such as shifter and warlock or elf: the result was either melanism or albinism because the magic didn’t like mixing.

The three guys, four if you include Mark, get along fine, and provide plenty of entertainment for Heather and I, though Dante didn’t meet Heather, or Bet, because of their schedules. However, that will change after tonight. Heather and Mark, right up until a few days ago, have been planning a party with me to celebrate Bet finding her mate, and we have flyers up for the party to take place tonight at the amphitheater. Ms. Anxeki was chaperoning the party itself, but we were supposed to show up an hour early to set up, which meant I had an hour to eat, and then an hour to run. It’ll be fun, and we hope Bet will enjoy it. When Heather and I hang out, discussing mating celebrations, handling pack business, or just sitting around campus with me using her dominance as a crutch for my psycho of a wolf, I tell her about the “study” sessions in the dungeon. So far, the recounts haven’t failed to bring a smile to either of us. Aubrey had tried to spoil the party, setting up a fundraising event for her pack on the same night as Bet's party. Sadly, no one really wanted to raise money to buy Aubrey and her sister, and their pack enforcers new cars for the summer. Heather and Mark aren't currently speaking, and I don't know why-- I could have sworn they were mates with the way they were so taken with each other so quickly. But, as I've said, I'm not sure what I'm right about at the moment. I really need to stabilize my wolf.

Tonight, dinner is hectic, as usual, and I find Mark, the fox shifter, sitting by himself in the corner, and begin to march over in his direction, my plate of asparagus and alpaca steak balanced over my head so I don’t drop it on the front of anyone’s shirt. When I get to his table, I plop down in the chair loudly, and realize he is zoned out, his open bag on the floor beside him, notebook in front of him, and pen in his hand. With a smirk, I move his entire hand and pen over in front of me, but he is still staring at the notebook like it holds the secret to life. I draw a smiley face with a mustache on his hand, with curlicues spreading out behind it, small flowers tipping the curls. When I finish my doodle, I grab his shoulders and shake hard, snapping him back to reality. “Yes, hello. Here is your pen. What’s on your mind?”

I hadn’t seen Mark since the fight between him and Brent a week ago, but he still owes me a run that he promised to me a few days ago, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I also want to know how he and Heather are, because she won’t say anything about it, and the hurt that radiates from her about the topic of Mark makes me both pissed and curious about the fox. That, and he looks at such a loss that I feel bad for him.

Slowly, Mark takes the pen from me and sets it down beside the open notebook before scrubbing his face with a groan. “Nothing. That’s the problem. Nothing is on my mind.”

I hear Dante sit down beside me as Marks says this. “What do you need on your mind then?” I ask.

“An essay.”

“About…?”

“Anything. Literally. Professor Snipwitch has decided to give us an open prompt on discerning species and subspecies.”

Snipwitch is a name the student body calls the school’s hardest writing teacher, with his permission because his last name is Schwinipiwhitich, and no one says it right. “Any type of species/subspecies?”

Mark only nods, and I continue prompting. “Okay, so you don’t know anything that has subspecies?”

“Well, there are many families of plants, like grasses, and birds, like finches, but those won’t work.”

“Why not?” Dante asks.

“Because we aren’t supposed to use outside sources; the essay is supposed to take only forty minutes. We don’t need textual evidence, simply our own knowledge, and I know nothing on grasses and finches, except that there are a lot of different types.”

I sigh. “So, there is no overall species with a bunch of subspecies that you know anything about? I beg to differ,” I tell him slowly.

Mark continues to stare blankly, and I look to Dante, who also has a blank face. “Oi vey. Mark, what are you?”

“Male. Dominant. Shifter.” He checks the words off on his fingers.

“Stop there!” I tell him when he says shifter.

“Shifter?”

“Yes! Overall the species is shifter, but specifically, what type of shifter are you?”

Understanding hits Mark like a brick. “Oh! Shifter is the species and each type of shifter is the sub?”

I nod, and Mark smiles. “Do you think that will work?”

“Yes. I think Snipwitch would even enjoy it, being he is a quarter-coyote shifter himself.”

Dante coughs as he chokes on a sip of water. “He’s part coyote?”

“Yeah. quarter coyote, quarter human, and half warlock. His father was part shifter, like my mom. But his family was able to prove it before his parents were sentenced. His mom was half-coyote, half-human.”

I see a pang of pity in Dante’s eyes and feel annoyance spike in myself, but rather than snap, because overall I am in a good mood, I turn to Mark, who looks intrigued.

“Your mom was part shifter?”

“Uh, yeah. A quarter shifter-- her grandfather had been a wolf that her grandmother saw on and off for a few months. My grandmother, her mom, was half-wolf, but was mated to another Fae, who then had my mom. My great-grandmother met her mate, a Fae, before she knew she was pregnant from her wolf friend, and was unsure who the father was. She said she was going to wait to see if anyone had a wolf or other shifter as a mate before she came clean, because ‘reputation is the most important thing’.”

“That’s cool.”

“Not really; it cost my parents their lives. Now write your essay.”

Mark looks shocked at how easily I said my parents were dead, but I have had years to get over it. I only knew my mom and dad for three years of my life-- my uncle turned them in when he came to meet me on my third birthday-- so I don’t really remember them; just a couple of lullabies and flashes of memories long faded.

I take my time with my dinner, waiting for Mark to finish his essay. Dante and I occupy the time going over pack matters, namely my place in it.

“Aubrey stays Alpha b***h. I really don’t want the title, Dante. I really don’t.”

This discussion has taken place nearly every day for a week.

“But you defeated her in front of an audience; the other females won’t listen to her now.”

I snort. “They didn't listen to her before. Not even the other half-wolves.”

“But they’ll listen to you.”

“But they won’t and I don’t want to try and boss them around— there would be too much unrest and anger because of my heritage. Besides, we’re working fine with Aubrey being the figurehead, and Heather, Bet and I working behind the scenes, smoothing things out.”

“Who are Heather and Bet?”

“How are you alpha?!” I exclaim with a groan.

We hadn’t ever mentioned their names in front of Dante, I realize, and I feel guilty about it. “Heather is the second strongest female wolf here. She is about six feet tall, always wearing four inch heels of some crazy color, likes to wear her hair in pigtails. Can be spotted looking like a highlighter at any given moment, wearing all neon colors. Is literally the twin sister to your Beta. Over there.” I point to Heather across the room, who decided the color was neon pink today, causing her to look like her dark skin is blushing faintly. I notice Mark winces a little. I was definitely going to figure out what happened. It’s obviously hurting both of them.

“And Bet?”

I smile even hearing Beatrice, or Bet’s, name. “Bet is also known as Beatrice. But, she is very competitive, and will live up to any dare proposed. You would probably remember her last year at the bonfire-- she ran through it, catching herself on fire?”

“Her? She makes very rash decisions, Alma.” Dante looks shocked as he stares me down.

“Duh, hence the nickname. That bet alone won her about three hundred dollars, so she was able to replace her outfit and get stuff for her skin.”

“So you three are the top?”

“Well, Bet’s Omega. Crazy, but Omega.”

Omegas are the tension settlers in a pack. They are normally very calm and rational, but also very charismatic, and friendly; you’re born Omega, and others can sense it, if they are dominant, like Heather and myself. Bet isn’t the calmest, or the most rational, but she is an Omega, and draws the more dominant females to her like bees to honey.

Dante doesn’t look convinced, so I sigh and pull out my phone, sending Bet a text. It doesn’t take long for her to arrive at the table. “Dante, Bet. Bet, Dante. That’s Mark, but he’s doing homework, so ignore him for now.”

Mark chuckles quietly but doesn’t object.

Bet is more heavily set than most shifter females, probably because she is only one-quarter wolf, and the rest human. Her hair is curly and almost always braided, and an off-black color. Her skin is flawless, as required, and a really pretty gold color that matches with almost any outfit, and her personality is just the greatest, but it is nothing compared to her wicked cool eyes; one is a bright blue, but the other is onyx black, and I love them to bits.

“This is who you were talking about? Ma, you gotta start telling me more about people, especially when they happen to be our temp Alpha.”

I smile as she turns to Dante. “Hi! I’m Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bet, coined by Ma here, and I’m the female Omega here! It’s so great to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you from Aubrey and her cronies-- they all adore you, so you must be doing something right.”

Dante seems overwhelmed, but smiles. “It’s good to meet you too, Bet.”

Bet looks at me out of the corner of her eye and I smile. She flashes a huge smile at the table. “I have to get going now. I have homework for Snipwitch, and Bethel. See ya later, Ma!” Without another word, she spins around and runs off.

“Omega?”

“Omega.” Dante confirms.

“Told you.” I look at Mark. “It’s been thirty-five minutes since you started writing. Is there a time limit?”

Mark nods, but continues writing a sentence. “Yeah. We have forty minutes maximum, but I’m finished now. Will you proofread it?”

“Yeah, but you owe me a run, so I’m making it quick.”

I see Dante pinch his eyebrows together as I begin to read the essay. I get about three lines in when I grab Mark’s pencil and correct spelling and grammar mistakes, which are everywhere. When I finish I hand it back. “It’s really good. I fixed spelling and grammar because shifter is not spelled S-C-H-I-F-T-E-R, or S-H-E-E-F-T-E-R.” I smile at Mark as he chuckles.

“Now let’s go. I’m dying of boredom here, and you owe me.”