Cursed by Desire

Chapter 1: Existential Circle of Hell

Leila’s POV:

Waking up from the nightmare takes effort, but I manage it. You’d think that after six years of the same recurring nightmare that I’d have gotten used to it - maybe even managed to block it from my mind. But no. No, I can’t forget the way I lost most of my family that night. Nor will the rest of the pack let me forget.

Rolling over onto my side, I groan when the luminous, neon, numbers on my clock’s display shine at me. 3 AM. Great. Just. f*****g. Great. After having to clean up downstairs yesterday, I hadn't even gotten to bed until about midnight, so I was functioning on a solid three hours of shitty sleep. Fantastic. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time, I slide out of bed and tiptoe across the exposed wooden floorboards towards the attic window where I’d been relegated to after that night in the woods. Not that I blame them, since I am now the lowest ranking member. The omega.

No one wanted to see me and, in the last six years, I’d become somewhat adept at vanishing into the walls to avoid being found. A necessity, given that if I was noticed, then it would certainly mean that I would be beaten. Not something I looked forward to. Ever. Pushing aside the small, thin curtain I’d somehow managed to string up, I can see nothing but the empty expanse of woodland marked by the rising moon. It wouldn't be full for a couple of days, but already I could feel the pulling of it in my blood. The pull to shift and be free to run, unencumbered by duty under the full moon. The way Lunae, our Moon Goddess, had proclaimed it to be when creating her first children.

But it was just a fantasy. A child’s deluded ideal that I knew I would never achieve because of my status. Sighing, I close the curtain to the star-speckled sky and pad back over towards the bed, wincing the one time I came into contact with a squeaky floorboard. Tensing, I wait, straining my preternatural hearing to see if I could hear a movement from one of the many floors underneath me. Being one of the largest packs in the surrounding areas, we had well over 1,000 members - meaning that a lot of space was needed. Most were born into the pack - the way me, Ascelin and Corbi were - but others joined when their packs became too thin or were decimated entirely by hunters.

Just thinking about the sheer number of people that I’m expected to ‘look after’ makes my head hurt and has me crawling under the threadbare duvet thrown across the bed. Mismatched candles burn merrily on every available surface and I can see piles of books in rickety structures around the cramped, damp room I am now forced to call home. Staring up at the ceiling, I sigh and pull the thin duvet over me, thankful for a Moonblood wolf’s natural imperviousness to the cold and bitter chill of winter that is fast approaching. I know without it, I would probably have died years ago during one of the many bitter frosts we’d encountered, but luckily I survived.

You’re lucky to have survived Miss Leila. That’s what both the mortician and the packhouse doctor had said when my sister had died of a large amount of silver poisoning found in her blood. Something that had caused her to develop a rare and fatal case of Silver Cancer. One which had no cure and killed her the same night I lost my parents. On analyzing mine, they found I had the same - if not more - in my blood, but somehow, I was still alive. A medical feat that still astounds many people I've met. But I don’t feel lucky. Not when my existence has been reduced to being nothing more than the runt for the pack to ridicule and torment when I step too far out of the barriers they'd erected in my life. So no, I don’t feel lucky.

As with every time I have that thought, I feel a hot rush of shame flooding through me. It’s difficult not to feel thankful for whatever saved me from suffering the same fate as the rest of my family that night - bar my two surviving brothers who weren’t there. Something I thank Lunae for every chance I get, since they are the only difference between what I believe to be either my death or expulsion from the pack. So no, as much as I may loathe the life I now lead, I can’t think I’d trade it for being torn apart by whatever had ambushed me and Amaris that fateful night when I was eleven.

Now being seventeen - nearly eighteen - I should be in my second year of college. Probably studying literature and creative writing. Either that or mythology - I know, odd major for someone who’s living it, but still, I’d love to hear about it from other cultures and see how they crossed with those of us in Loup Argent. How do humans view us supernaturals: the same? Different? I wish I knew but that, again, is nothing more than a fantasy. One that was, also, crushed that night when I lost most of my family. Upon hearing of my family’s deaths, the school gave me time to ‘grieve’ but during that time I didn’t know that the rest of the pack had arranged to pull me out, spouting some bullshit lie about ‘private education at home.’ Yea, well they did do that. Just not in academics but rather in how to serve them all as if I was no better than a slave.

But, what they didn’t know, is that behind their backs Ascelin had re-enrolled me into school, outraged at what the pack had tried to do, he’d done it so that I could get a better education than the one I had been getting, but my high school attendance was spotty, and I barely had the credits needed to graduate at the end. But somehow, unknown to me, I managed it and secretly enrolled in studying creative writing with mythology and religion on the side. Yea, I know this seems contradictory to what I just said about not receiving a ‘proper education’, but you’ve got to understand that it hasn’t been easy for me and my teachers are just about done with my tardiness - despite them knowing about my unusual home background. In fact, part of me is sure that the only reason I haven’t been kicked out is that my brother is Alpha in training, now that Astrophel.. Well, if you’ve been following the tragic story that is my life, then you know what happened to him.

Rolling over from where I’d been contemplating the high, drafty ceiling of the attic room I was in, I could see the numbers had moved forward significantly whilst I’d been wallowing in self-pity. That and journaling this. I’ve written it in a small notebook I’d gotten from my brothers before starting college, and it’s my favorite possession– well, one of them. Covered in deep black silk, its cover is patterned with a single moonflower - our sacred symbol. Also, among my favorite possessions includes the silver heart locket given to me by my parents the first time I shifted successfully, the silver crescent moon that had belonged to Amaris, my mother’s jade pendant, Amaris’s childish ring of thorns and a single blue flower and last, but by no means least, the charm bracelet I wore around my wrist. Always.

It was a plain silver Pandora design that held on it seventeen charms. One for each year of my age. According to Ascelin, I had been given it by our mother who had previously had a witch put a spell on it so that it would always fit my wrist and grow as I did. From there she and our father had given me one for each birthday- supposedly chosen by the whole family- and I know they had- have- many others hidden away. That bracelet, my silver heart locket and Amaris’s black thorn ring with the blue flower always remain on me. But I also keep my mother’s jade pendant close and always carry - on a longer chain underneath my gift - Amaris’s silver crescent moon embedded with diamonds. In memory of her.

I don’t know where Astrophel’s, Griffin’s and Dad’s stuff went after they died. I assumed that Ascelin and Corbin split it or just carried it between them, but whatever happened to it, I know they kept it safe. The way they would have wanted it. Just like they try to keep me safe. But that’s a task easier said than done, since after the night my parents died, the pack all turned against me - except for my two brothers and best friend Lux, whose name stood for light in Latin - an ideal she certainly brings into my life without fail. But although it was a hard task, I thank them for it every day because without them, I don’t know if life would be worth living.

Turning over more fully, I see the clock numbers had changed to say 6:45 and a feeling of dread washes over me. “s**t,” I mumble, throwing off the duvet and running around the room as quietly as possible. Stopping with an armful of clothes, I breathe an uneasy sigh of relief when I realize that no sounds were coming from down below, but that doesn’t mean I go any slower. The last thing I needed was to get beaten before the day had even properly begun, and I knew that sometimes a few of them were early, so I rushed even faster.

Creeping down the stairs, and feeling distinctly like an intruder in my own home, I creep into one of the bathrooms and thank Lunae that there was no one around to witness how late I was. Washing quickly, and with what little dregs I could recover from shampoo, conditioner and shower gel bottles, I made a note of which ones were empty and resolved to buy some more before I was beaten again. Turning off the water - which had been cold - I step out, shivering faintly, and am relieved to hear that the surrounding area is still quiet. Rubbing my hair with the poor excuse of a towel given to me, I dress hurriedly in a dark tank and leggings, throwing a cardigan around my shoulders and rushing up the stairs as quietly as I dared to drop off the towel and hang it on the one poorly working radiator that I knew wouldn’t dry it properly until tomorrow morning.

But I don’t have time to reminisce about how easy life used to be - even with the threat of failing subjects like chemistry - since I knew the punishment that awaited me if I failed to deliver breakfast. My brothers tried to talk me out of it, but they only saw the superficial cuts and bruises. The worst I kept hidden even from them, though to what end I don’t know. Instead, I creep down many flights of stairs, pausing at each landing to see which of the hall’s occupants were awake. Blessedly none stirred, and I made my way, undetected, down the stairs and across the stone floors towards the large kitchen.

Keeping my activities as quiet as I could, I began hunting around for the bowls, pots and pans needed to cook the pack breakfast in the hope that I could have something done by the time the first few came down. Eggs, bacon and sausage were all easily done, but the pancakes took a little more effort - though I eventually managed to get them done too. And in record time, considering how late I was up. I was just finishing putting out the fruit and cutlery, sparing a glance at the luscious strawberries in a clear crystal bowl, before grabbing an apple and chugging down a glass of water. All I was apparently allowed given my status.

Onto that before you all get confused. Now, by blood, I was the daughter of an Alpha and so should be treated with respect in accordance to the role my father played. That means that I should have gotten a stellar education and gone on to colleges like Harvard or something elite like that. However, after my parents died, I became the lowest ranking member because of how others viewed me. The omega. That meant I was given the crappiest education possible and teachers didn’t take much notice of me. Knowing my unofficial status all too well - and frankly too afraid of others in the pack to stand up for what, by birth, should have been mine. That meant that whilst my brothers were put in good classes with the bright kids, I was relegated to the bottom sets and with crappy teachers who didn't give a s**t about who failed and who passed. Being somewhat bright, I managed to scrape good enough grades in subjects I found difficult but easily outshone the rest of the class in subjects such as English, where I excelled. Teachers who complained about me being in too low a set usually ended up fired or subdued, and I stayed where I was, despite longing for a better life than the one offered to me. So now you know. What I should be and what I am. But that’s just a small part of my sad story and the only one I can afford to shed light on now, since I am already late.

Finishing breakfast-making in record time, I raced up the stairs, apple in hand, and shut the attic door silently as I heard the first few people moving around. Luckily, I missed people going down to breakfast, but I know that by climbing out the window of my attic room I’ll have to face them on the way out to school. And probably get beaten as well. The candles still burn merrily on every surface of my room. Some on piles of books, some on tables, whilst others are set onto walls and some hang in freefall from the ceiling, shrouding the whole room in a faery like glow. But I know none will spill onto the floor due to the magic instilled in the candles, since I only buy them from reputed witch sellers.

Casting a forlorn look in the direction of the small window afforded to me in the attic room I call home. I hear my wolf, Luna, howl miserably inside my head. I know you want to do that, Lei, but that’s a bad idea. She shows me the long, dizzying fall to the ground and I wince when I hear my bones snap. Even with my protection, you still wouldn’t survive. Even with your unique gift. I snort at her when she says this, the mention of my ‘gift’ is an eternally sore spot with me. I can’t help you with this Lei, I’m sorry. Luna sounds genuinely upset, and I find myself wanting to reassure my wolf, at least, so she knows I’m not suicidal. Yet.

It’s okay, Lu, I think to her, hearing her low whine in response. I knew you couldn't. I just don't want to have to go back and face that again. I know Luna can hear the others downstairs, all talking loudly in a competition to be heard. Luna whines at me, a low and mournful sound that I echo in a sigh. They all blame me and they should. I think to myself, not letting myself listen to Luna’s response, since I already know what it will be.

But she tells me anyway. It wasn't your fault. It's our fault. You didn't know what was out there, so you can’t be blamed for something out of your control. Don’t blame yourself, you know your parents wouldn’t. Astrophel wouldn’t. Amaris and Griffin wouldn’t. Usually, her words soothe my spirit, but today they just don’t seem to have the same power as before, and I find myself sighing in response before replying to her, my voice heavy.

How can you know that? I think to her and Luna falls silent, clearly done for today in trying to change my rigidly fixed mindset. Instead, she just gives a last mournful howl and I see her curl up in some dark place inside of me and I stop trying to communicate with her. At least for now. I can still feel her hurt, and it wounds me but I can’t afford to indulge in this particular train of thought, since it will just slow me down. That and make my life a living hell again if I get caught where I shouldn’t be.

Following that idea, I give a last sigh and stoop down to pull my faded black leather backpack out from under my bed. It’s old and the zipper’s partially broken on one side, but it was a gift when I started school from my parents, so I refused to part with it. Even when it began to break. Jamming in my binder, notepad and mythology textbook, I cast a forlorn glance at my black writer’s notebook but decided against taking it with me, lest it should get lost or stolen during the day.

Heaving the bag over my shoulder, I swap my cardigan for a jean jacket dyed a deep sapphire blue and pull my long brown hair back over my shoulder. Zipping it shut as best I could, I walk quickly over to the low rickety nightstand by my bed and pick up my ancient iPhone 6. Being about six years old, and a really old model, its screen is a mess of cracks from when I drop it and the battery’s on its last legs. Something that isn’t helpful given its tendency to spontaneously die on me when I need it most. But it’s one of the last few items I have that my parents gave me and still works enough that I can’t bring myself to ditch it. Especially since I know I wouldn’t get a new one if I did.

Tracing its faded case, I follow the pattern of the single moonflower that stands out from the deep purple background of the rest of the case. A brief and overwhelming longing for my parents washes over me and I stand still, lost in the feeling until something snaps me out of my daze. A loud thud echoes up from down on one of the lower floors and my heart jumps with fear at the sound. I need to leave. Now, before someone sees me and.. well, nothing good comes from that.

Tiptoeing across the room, I press one ear to the thick wooden door that separates me and listen intently. No sound comes through the door, but I’m not naive enough to believe that the lack of noise means that I’ve been left alone. Tense and alert for danger, I can feel my shift in emotion has brought Luna out of her sulking to check what was happening around me. Reckon it’s safe? I think to her but all I get in response is a low howl that has me worried that she’s seen something, that.. well, let’s just say something unpleasant. Luna? I use my wolf’s full name to attempt to get her attention and she howls again.

I don’t know. She sounds miserable, but I know I can’t do anything to help. I can’t sense or smell anyone near the door, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. She whines at me and I take a deep breath. I have a bad feeling about this Leila. She also uses my full name, something out of character for her. That means something bad is out there. Like, really bad. Deciding to listen to my gut instinct, I drop the backpack silently onto my bed and hunt on one of the low standing rickety tables for a hairband. Finding a matching pair, I sit on a low cushion in front of a faded, age-spotted, silver mirror with sapphire blue and deep purple gilding around the edge. Squinting to see my reflection, I pull my knee-length chestnut hair into two tight french braids that end up between my hips and knees. Listening all the while to see if someone is outside the door.

Taking as long as I dare to finish up, I’m eventually tying the second braid with a hairband and standing with a low sigh. Grabbing the backpack off my bed, I sling it over my shoulder and check one last time that I hadn’t missed anything. Then, silent as a mouse, I crack open the door and peer anxiously down the corridor. Black and dark, the lack of light makes it difficult to see, but I can’t detect anyone else nearby. Sighing with uneasy relief, I slip through the crack afforded to me by the door and start to walk down as quickly and quietly as possible - hoping that I wouldn’t be found before I could slip past.

I manage to make it mostly down the many flights of stairs with no interruption, but as I come to the floor housing the higher ranking members I see someone come out a door. Panic sets in and I stop, foolishly stalling. Can you see who it is? I ask Luna, hoping she’ll be able to shed light on the figure around the corner. Is it one of my brothers?

Not brother. Luna whines, her howl laced with anguish and fear. Not brother. Enemy. What enemy did she mean? Running through the endless list of the wolves living here - most of whom were pissed off with me for reasons I can (and can’t) explain, but I can’t think straight. Who could it be? Enemy. Luna repeats and I can see she’s afraid. Corleone. Dread slams into me and I stumble back, knocking against the wall.

“Hello?” Axal Corleone’s voice carries easily, and I feel myself shrink back in fear. Please, Lunae, I think desperately. Please don’t let him find me. I keep thinking that same mantra over and over again, hoping that he wouldn’t spot me since he was one of my cruelest tormentors. “Who’s there?” I can hear footsteps and shrink back into the shadows, hoping that I’ve become enough of a wallflower not to merit his attention. Holding my breath, I try to calm my racing heart enough that he’ll go past me, and it almost works. Almost.

As he’s almost past me, I hear my phone’s text noise chime in my backpack under all the jumpers, writing materials and books and my heart drops when the footsteps cease. Panic flutters inside my chest, a bad feeling of trepidation lodged underneath my breastbone when they resume but in the opposite direction. Praying that whoever wanted to find me is done with trying to reach me, I cling to the silence like a shield until the noise sounds again, only this time as my ringtone. Axal comes back into view and I can tell when he recognizes me hiding in the shadows as his face twisted up in a sneer.

“Hiding, are we?” His tone is mocking, and I can hear the glee underneath. A sick, twisted glee that has my heart dropping in fear. When he moves closer, I scuttle back until my back is pressed against the wall, but he still keeps coming closer. Closer. Closer until he’s almost standing on my feet. Being a full head taller than me, Axal towers over me and that only serves to make my feeling of dread become all-encompassing. “Seems you haven’t learned your lesson about being seen yet. Do you need a reminder?”

Something in his tone darkens when he says that, something that has Luna cowering in fear inside my head. “N-no,” I eventually manage to stutter when it becomes apparent that he’s waiting for my response. “N-no, I don’t.” Shaking like a leaf I press my back harder against the wall when he comes even closer, close enough to grab one of my braids and yank me away from the wall and out of the blessed reprieve of my shadows. “Please,” I can hear myself pleading, but it’s as if I’m detached from the situation like it’s happening to someone else. “Please don’t hurt me,” My voice sounds weak and shaky, but that doesn’t stop him.

“But if I do that, slut, how are you supposed to remember your lesson?” To an outsider, Axal’s tone may have sounded kind, but I could hear the malice bubbling underneath the friendly, polite, surface. “You need to learn, slut, and I’m happy to teach you before someone else does. But you better remember next time, okay?”

Hearing the word ‘slut’ repeated causes something jagged in me to snap, and I feel the tears silently dripping down my cheeks. Memories of all the times I’d been forced to act the w***e to the pack tears at me and before long I shut off myself to feeling anything other than an encompassing numbness. Separated, like before, from the situation, I get to watch as he beats me bloody before sneering at my bloody and bruised appearance. As he walks away, I hear some rude comments and that just causes me to curl up on myself even more until I’ve almost disappeared into myself.

But the torture’s not over. Not yet.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Axal suddenly turns, and I can see a dangerous light in his eyes that has me cowering in fear, even in my condition. Striding back with purpose, he drags me into a room by my hair and opens the window. Panic makes my heart drop. Grabbing me by my hair with one hand, and my worn backpack in the other, Axal throws me out of the window and I close my eyes, not wanting to experience the fall of the long drop. But I know enough to understand that my pain is the point of this. So that I learn.

For next time.