Howling Bonds

19

The glow brought back memories of riots, arson, and looting. The sweltering summer heat seared my eyes as it rolled in.

“Wow... This is lit,” I exclaimed, admiring the intricate craftsmanship of the trunk. “You did all this on your own?”

Faye ran his hands along the trunk of the tree and looked almost proud. “It’s not done yet, but when it is, it’ll look just like its original form with a little something extra. It’ll make a haunting noise when you least expect it, and wasps will come out of nowhere to track the scents released by couples getting soul connected here.” He gave me a sly smile. ”Pretty spooky, eh? It’ll be perfect for couples on dates.”

“Wait… what about werewolves who want to hold soul connection ceremonies here?” I asked. “Soul connection ceremonies are important for werewolves and—”

“No one is still doing that lame ceremony, but I spotted your pa making a wish under the ancient tree on the night I retrofitted it.” Faye had a faraway expression in his eyes. “He stayed there for what seemed like forever.”

“You were wrong about that,” I retorted. “My dad and Uncle Memphis were brawling with those hunters out there. And rumor has it… it was total chaos.”

“I guess that’s his big secret.” Faye smirked. “Let’s make a wager.”

My throat was a little dry and my jaw tightened. “No! I refuse to gamble on my dad’s honor.”

“Honor?” Faye snickered. “Please, your dad is the alpha of a werewolf pack, the same as all those big shots in politics. Having good public standing is part and parcel of the job. It’s like making a wish at a wishing tree—nothing more than an old tradition; it has no special meaning. “

“I don’t want to hear that.” I exhaled, my throat feeling like it was being strangled. “Every alpha fights for honor.”

“Get real, kid. The great Aemilius was a bastard. Everyone knows that.” Faye’s voice had become a whisper, a secret shared with me alone. “Adults have secrets in the depths of their souls that they’ll never show the light of day.”

“That’s silly.” I shoved him and bolted out of the field, over the fence. I was too busy to give a damn if Aemilius, the first Lycanthrope King of Lore, had been born out of wedlock or not. I just couldn’t shake those thoughts. There were some things that only I was aware of, and I knew my family didn’t look like other werewolf families. Whenever Dad and Mom were home, they kept to themselves like two strangers in a rented room. They never talked or asked each other questions—just like a landlord and tenant on TV.

Did they make it this far in a soul connection ceremony? Did their souls ever bond under the sacred tree? What secrets did their spirits share?

Faye trailed me over to the railing and stood near me. “You gave up without even making a bet,” he mocked. “An alpha-hopeful shouldn’t be like that.”

“Shut it,” I shot back.

“There’s something about you that just screams failure,” Faye said, standing close to me. He sneered as if he wanted to laugh, but then deflated after a second with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Back in my day, I thought parents were always so strict and predictable, like two robots programmed to do certain things. But I was wrong. They were young, too. Eventually, they gave into society’s expectations and turned drier than the Mojave Desert. All the memories of their youth became secrets that only made their relationship stronger. Secrets make friends. You’ve got your chance now, Nell, so become an adult and make friends with them.”

I remained silent as Faye held his head high and his gaze fixed on the lush green foliage of the blessed tree. Soft rumbles of thunder resounded in the distance, yet the sky remained bright and not a breath of wind blew through. “You’re concealed within the shadows so well he won’t spot you. I’m certain he will return this evening.”

“If he finds me, he’ll give me a beating I won’t forget,” I declared. Faye’s words weighed down on my heart like a stone, and it forced me to concede that perhaps he was right. Whenever Plank was at home, I had to abide by an intricate set of rules for even the simplest of tasks, such as using the restroom. Home didn’t feel like home anymore; it felt like one of those convents during the days of The Great Plague—full of high priests, brutal disciplinary heads, and orphans at the mercy of God.

“Yup, that’s the way to handle kids.” Faye held a tiny firecracker in his hand. “I gotcha covered if you ever find yourself in a jam. If your dad catches ya outside, just chuck this thing at his feet and he’ll be so entranced by the smokey bees flying around that it’ll give you enough time to make a break for it.”

My heart was pounding as I wracked my brain for an excuse. I knew something wasn’t right, but why couldn’t I speak up?

“You don’t want to stay young forever,” Faye continued as he hopped onto the railing, teetering back and forth. “No great alpha was ever kept caged up, neither was the great Aemilius. Everyone has to take risks.”

I scrambled for a plan to resist, but nothing came to mind. I yanked out the firecrackers from my pocket and hurled them at his feet and an acrid stench of sulfur, liqueur, and rosemary filled the air, making me gag and splutter as Faye howled with laughter. The hour was late, not a soul on the street, and everyone looked drained of life under the sun. Flies buzzed over the rye field with no bird song in the sky. Emilia’s voice reverberated like faint thunder through the stillness, swallowing up all silt and sediment.

“You’ll never guess who I just saw,” she cried out, her voice trembling. “An old woman Called Rem. She said I am a human and had a hard time bringing a cursed werewolf back from hallucinations through vision. But she helped me do it, and we completed the soul connection ritual. Me and you, Nell. Rem said such examples are rare throughout history. Can you believe it? It must be true; I couldn’t make this up.”

As I approached the sacred trees, white smoke enveloped me and the sun’s blistering rays blinded my vision. Faye, who was standing next to me, aged rapidly, his flesh and blood falling apart like autumn leaves. As he crumbled to the ground, I watched the world around me collapse as well, breaking apart into fragmented pieces that shimmered with a shadowy light of bygone days: fields, the sun, everything. In the distance, applause erupted among the audience in the ninth row, and a single whistle blew out into the void.

With Emilia’s voice, everything became chaotic, like an ever-shifting sea of sand. It pulled me into a dream until I found myself in the boughs of a sacred tree. I remembered where I was—fifteen years ago, I had hidden in this same tree, its bountiful leaves shielding me from the sticky summer night. I could hear nothing but the chirping of insects and my own beating heart.

A figure emerged from the shadows, and as it neared, I knew it was my father. No one wore a turban like Alpha Plank did. He walked beneath the canopy, his body only a few inches from my toes. He hung a slip of paper outlined with a design similar to that of the Ace of Clubs on the branch of the sacred tree, and recited ancient prayers in a low, distant voice.