Howling Bonds

12

CHAPTER 6

NELL

I

t was no surprise that none of the elders would assist Emilia and me as witnesses of the soul connection, except for Yorick, who had a hidden agenda. But my attention was required elsewhere. I sent Leighton and Anne to snoop around the Fevre Claws and learn as much as possible about their plans. Leighton, who had a keen sense of smell, worked in a bar and had good connections. He could get any local information he wanted.

We had just learned a vampire named Fred produced some counterfeit blood to sell on the black market, and a few revenge-seeking guys beat him to death. An old werepanda, with a heart condition, died right after drinking a cheap elixir, and his pack fought with a group of werefoxes, selling the potion in a spectacular battle that ended with the Scarlet Council’s hunters. And a few students who got a GPA of 4.0 because a Fevre Claw Werewolf bit their roommate, got too excited and started a fire by having a party at home.

But the Fevre Claw remained elusive. Except for the occasional graffiti left on walls in and around Tacoma Park, they seem to have disappeared from the world.

It seemed very odd, especially when I learned Fae was hanging out with the Hot Paws of the Night People, prowling Bellevue. They must have some kind of plot brewing, I could guarantee it.

Emilia and I deciphered the messages—most of which were incomprehensible Ruini words—as well as some sort of ancient texts that had existed in the history of the werewolves. These ancient texts referred to the Great Werewolf Emperor Aemilius throughout history, his feats, wars, riots, and his family’s tragic failures. Some historical myths, some prophetic phrases.

After sorting out all this historical information, we took a break on a pure and beautiful afternoon.

The clouds dissipated at noon, and the rain subsided, while the smell of late spring permeated the streets, resembling a translucent blue glazed tile. I walked with Emilia along the riverbank to our settlement, which was in a large meadow in the forest. The area lacked farmers, yet the elders had constructed their home resembling that of a wood keeper’s hut, adorned with vines, ladders, and barrels at the entrance. They also transplanted the sacred tree there with some ducks nesting in a small pond underneath.

This long river passed through several nearby towns, flowing through low mountains with a field of wildflowers and grasses, the sun shining on the water, some tombstones aligned along its edge. We stood halfway up the mountain overlooking the river, all beautiful as a daydream.

“I know this place.” Emilia gazed at the sun reflecting off the riverbank in splashes of light. “There was once a notorious serial killer here. Someone made a movie with his story, and it reminds me of the town I grew up in.”

“He was a werewolf.” I was familiar with the story she told, and the elders reveled in it. “They banished that motherfucker from some pack a long time ago to our place. He started out like a normal wolf, then went to a witch for Elixir, got married a few times, but failed. Then, around 1980, the adverse effects showed up and he went insane, killing seventy to eighty people. My father tried to fix him once, but he ended up in the hands of the police, where he is still serving time.”

“The history of strange things happening in our town goes back to at least the late nineteenth century.” Emilia shook her head and made a gagging sound. “Almost everyone believes it was werewolves. They even canceled Halloween. Can werewolves live that long?”

“There are individuals like that.” I thought of Lady Catherine, with whom I was last matched. “I’ve even met Maupassant’s ex-girlfriend. But it’s rare. Grandpa Shelton has a roster of almost every werewolf over a hundred years old.”

“I’d like to see that roster list. My mother left when I was about seven years old. I don’t know where she went. Maybe to New York or some temple in the snowy mountains of Tibet, but we can’t rule out the possibility that werewolves ate her.”

As if a large, invisible hand had gripped my heart, I stared at her. Emilia sat down on the lawn, her legs curled up, the sight resembling an oil painting. All the while, I saw in her eyes those fires that I couldn’t ignore. I knew what they meant.

“Listen, I’m sorry.” I spoke past the lump in my throat, “And I know how they used to be. One day, we’ll take care of all the assholes on that list.”

Emilia laughed. “My script for today is not Romeo and Juliet. Mom is a powerful woman, a complete atheist. My bookshelf of fairy tales was full of science books, and the only thing that scared her was when I got a C on my last report card. I don’t think a werewolf took her. She has compatibility issues with the werewolf world.”

I parked my vehicle a short distance away, almost under the sacred tree. The sun shone through the gaps in the leaves, casting a rich green shadow on the car window, and I thought of something far away. “Everybody knew where my father went. He was drunk all day back then, a heavy drinker, and a good fighter. And he took the meanest spots in the city for us, but also stepped on many toes. After taking on Andrew, head of the Scarlet Council, the expert hunter put an end to him.”

Since then, his former accomplishments became worthless, and everyone spoke of him with regret—and that epic battle. Sometimes I dreamed of him, alive, hiding somewhere in the city, and living on fried chicken and beer. But then I would awaken and realize it was all a deceptive vision. There was no lingering suspense; it had ended and was now dead and gone.

“I hate this moralistic censor part in movies,” Emilia declared. “No matter what they say, f**k them anyway. Their disgusting suits should burn in the flames of hell.”

I erupted in laughter and let the wind blow in our faces. Emilia continued, “Maybe you’ve heard it from many people, the old clichés. It doesn’t matter who we are born to be, all that s**t we can’t change, but the choices we make. Each decision makes up our soul and turns us into very different people. It’s like we’re developing, training, but in the end it strengthens us.”

As the sunlight on the river dimmed, time creeped by, making it pleasant and listless. The wind slowed with a slight sense of deafness, all shrouded in the river mist on a spring afternoon. I realized I was shallow in a world I didn’t know how to catch, like they knew the rules of the game in the city. But her T-shirt and jeans looked appropriate and original on her, like fireworks on a summer vacation. She was so beautiful, regardless of what she wore.