Episode 7: The First Blood
1480 Words
A Hudson University Werewolf Saga*
*Hudson University, Morningside Heights. Butler Library. Thursday, September 18th. 9:41 PM.*
The library was supposed to close at 9.
*Alex* picked the lock on the 6th floor archives. Again.
Baggy black hoodie up. Locs forward. Chain warm now, not cold. She’d worn it outside her shirt since 2 AM. Michelle’s ring, soldered into silver. _“M.W. — A.W. — Always.”_
She wasn’t hiding anymore.
Her table: spread with everything she could find. _Hyd Gazette_ clippings. _Appalachian Folklore_. _Missing Persons: Upstate NY_. The leather notebook Lucian left, full of sketches of her.
And a new book. _Council Law: The Treaty of 1987_.
She found it in the restricted section. No call number. No checkout card. Just sitting there. Like someone left it for her.
Page 12: _“Unclaimed alphas must present at the ancestral territory by their 19th year or be culled. The Council reserves the right to enforce bloodline purity.”_
Her 19th birthday: October 2nd.
Page 43: _“First shift must be witnessed by the mate or by Council authority. Unwitnessed shifts result in feral status. Ferals are terminated.”_
Sept 20th. Midnight. Quarry.
Two days.
“Stop reading.”
Alex didn’t jump. She’d heard him 30 seconds ago. Footsteps too light for human. No scent, but the air got heavy.
*Lucian Mark* stood in the archway. Black hoodie down. No mask. Ice-blue eyes reflecting green lamp light. Scar through his eyebrow.
“You broke in,” Alex said.
“You picked a lock,” Lucian said. “We’re even.”
He walked to her table. Looked at the Council Law book. Jaw ticked.
“They’re not taking me,” Alex said.
“They’re not taking you,” Lucian agreed.
“Because you’ll stop them?”
“Because you’ll stop them.”
Alex laughed. Harsh. “I don’t even know what I am. Thorne says wolf. You say mate. I say I’m still me.”
“You are you,” Lucian said. “But you’re also _more_.”
He reached across the table.
Alex flinched.
He stopped. Hand hovering over hers. Not touching.
“Your hands,” he said.
She looked down.
Her knuckles weren’t just scabbed. They were _healing_. 48 hours after 125th Street, and the skin was pink. New.
“You hear the train,” Lucian said. “Three blocks away. You smell blood before it’s spilled. You broke a 200-year-old lock with your foot.”
“I’m strong,” Alex said. “I trained—”
“You’re starving,” Lucian said. “And it’s getting worse.”
He was right.
She’d eaten three burgers at The Den and still felt hollow. Like her ribs were caving in. Like something was _clawing_ to get out.
“What happens on the 20th?” Alex said.
“You shift,” Lucian said. “First time. No control. Your body burns. Your bones break. You’ll want to run. Hunt. Kill.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You will.”
Silence.
Rain hit the stained glass.
“Why me?” Alex said. “Why did you _choose_ me?”
Lucian looked at her. Really looked. No mask, no walls.
“Because I saw you at 125th,” he said. “16 years old. 98 pounds. Fighting a 200-pound man for $20. You lost. Got your nose broken. Got up. Fought him again.”
Alex’s throat closed.
“You didn’t cry,” Lucian said. “You didn’t beg. You just kept getting up. Chain around your neck. Blood on your teeth.”
He stepped closer.
“I was 17,” Lucian said. “Already shifted. Already rogue. Already _done_. Then I saw you. And I thought—” He stopped.
“What?”
“That if anything that _human_ could fight like that… maybe I could too.”
The chain went hot.
Alex gasped. Grabbed it.
Lucian was there. Not touching. Just _there_.
“Breathe,” he said. “It’s the ring. Alpha blood. It’s responding to me.”
“To you?”
“Mates,” Lucian said. “Your wolf knows mine. Even if you don’t.”
He stepped back.
“The Council’s gonna be at the quarry,” Alex said. “Three suits. Plus whoever else.”
“Plus Jax Hollow,” Lucian said. “Feral. Rogue. He killed your brother.”
Alex’s vision went red. “I’m gonna—”
“No,” Lucian said. “You’re gonna _survive_. Then you kill him.”
He turned to leave.
“Lucian.”
He stopped.
“Why feathers?” Alex said.
He almost smiled. “Crows follow wolves. Always have. They eat what we leave.”
He was gone.
On the table:
A new feather.
And under it, a folded note:
_“Train at 11 PM. Riverside. Come alone. —L”_
*Training Spot #2: Riverside Park. 11:03 PM.*
Under the highway. Hudson River black. Rats in the trash.
*Lucian* stood on the concrete. No hoodie. Black tank top. Arms bare. Scars everywhere. Bullet. Knife. Claw.
He wasn’t human. Hadn’t been for a long time.
Alex walked up. Baggy black hoodie off. Tank top. Chain out. Glowing faint in the dark.
“You’re gonna teach me to shift?” she said.
“No,” Lucian said. “Can’t teach that. Happens or it doesn’t.”
“Then why—”
“I’m gonna teach you to _fight_ it,” Lucian said. “So when it happens, you don’t kill Maya. Or your mom.”
He moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One second 20 feet away. Next he was _there_.
Hand around her throat. Not squeezing. Just _holding_.
Alex kneed him.
He didn’t budge.
She headbutted him.
He bled. Smiled.
“Good,” he said. “Again.”
For two hours, he let her hit him.
Punch. Kick. Elbow. Knee.
She didn’t leave a mark.
He didn’t hit back.
“You’re holding back,” Alex panted, sweat dripping, locs sticking to her face.
“I’m not,” Lucian said.
“Liar.”
He stepped in.
Moved faster than she could see.
Swept her legs.
She hit concrete. Hard.
He was over her. One knee beside her head. One hand pinning her wrists.
Not hurting. Just _immovable_.
“_This_ is holding back,” Lucian said, voice low.
Alex bucked. Couldn’t move him.
Her vision blurred. Not from pain.
From _rage_.
From _hunger_.
The chain burned.
Her gums _ached_.
“Stop,” Lucian said. “Breathe. Feel it. Don’t _be_ it.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
She _felt_ it.
Something under her skin. Hot. Moving. _Alive_.
Her fingernails lengthened. Half an inch. Black. Sharp.
Lucian saw it.
His eyes went wide. Not fear. _Awe_.
“Alex.”
She ripped one hand free.
Slashed.
Four lines across his chest.
_Blood_.
First blood.
Lucian didn’t flinch.
He looked down at the cuts. Then at her.
And he smiled.
“There you are,” he said.
The claws retracted.
Alex stared at her hand. Human. Shaking.
At his chest. Bleeding.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” Lucian said. “That’s your wolf. She’s _pissed_. She’s _yours_.”
He stood. Offered a hand.
She took it.
His palm was rough. Calloused. Warm.
“Sept 20th,” he said. “Midnight. Quarry. You won’t be alone.”
“You’ll be there?”
“I’ll be there.”
He walked away.
Alex looked at her hand.
No blood.
But she could still smell his.
And God, she wanted _more_.
*West Hall Basement. School Lounge. 3:17 AM. Friday, September 19th.*
Alex couldn’t sleep.
*Maya* was gone. Went home to Brooklyn for the weekend. _“Mom’s birthday. Be back Sunday. Don’t do anything stupid.”_
Alex sat on the floor. Chain hot against her chest.
She looked at her hands.
Human.
For now.
On the steel door:
_Knock. Knock. Knock._
3:17 AM.
Alex stood. Opened it.
*Dez Knight* stood there.
Hoodie up. Dreads tied back. Notebook in hand.
But his eyes—
Amber.
Glowing in the dark.
“Don’t go to the quarry,” Dez said. Voice different. Deeper.
“Get out,” Alex said.
“Lucian can’t save you,” Dez said. “He’s rogue. Council will kill him first.”
“How do you—”
“I’ve been watching too,” Dez said. “Since freshman year. Since before Hudson.”
He stepped closer.
“I can save you,” he said. “From him. From them. From _it_.”
He reached for her chain.
Alex stepped back.
“Don’t touch me.”
Dez smiled.
His teeth were _sharp_.
“Last chance, Alpha,” he said. “Come with me. Or bleed with him.”
He was gone.
No footsteps. Just _gone_.
On the concrete:
A black feather.
But this one was _torn_.
And it smelled like ash.
Sept 20th was tomorrow.
---
- Writer
