Unsettled Magic

Chapter 2 - Contagion

        Catching up to him was a complete failure.  I couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered me that I don’t know his name.  Our pack isn’t exactly a close-knit group of people.  Only the ranked members, their families, and surviving elders are recognizable.  Close contact was discouraged for fear of somehow making the contagion worse.  As the Delta’s daughter, naturally people knew who I was.  He was probably avoiding me because of that.  The families of the ranked members of the pack were meant to be “protected” in the event something happens. 

           Unfortunately, for me, that often meant keeping potential friends away for “my own protection.”  Only my friend Rowan seemed to not care.  Maybe, because, as the Alpha’s daughter, we all lived in the pack house together.  She was all I needed anyway.  Logan Shaw and Rowan O’Riley against the world.  I should find her later and tell her about what happened.   

        I gave up the chase for the mysterious classmate and made my way from school to the pack clinic for my monthly treatment.   If I had to attend the make-up day for treatment again, I would have to write my parents an essay on its importance.  It was bad enough I had to do the same assignment every week at school.  Doing it at home too just added to its annoyance and redundancy. 

        As the enormous clinic came into view, I took in the size of the line which was winding around the side of the building.  “Clinic” seemed like such a minimalistic word.  This place is at least as large as a castle.  With five stories above ground and another two below ground, our pack clinic was the largest in the pacific northwest, possibly the country. Not to mention, our doctors are the foremost leaders in researching the contagion.  It’s thanks to the tireless efforts of our medical staff that we managed to maintain what shred of our species we had left.

        I made my way to the back of the line.  My feet dragged in protest as I started to realize my attempts to catch up to the mysterious classmate cost me at least forty-five minutes of wait time instead of the usual ten.  My compact body and lengthy frame skidded to a halt as someone grabbed my arm.  Turning, I stared into the mischievous slate-grey eyes of Rowan.  Toning down a shriek, I fall into line with her.  Once I was back on solid footing, I threw my arms around her in thanks as we received judgmental looks from the other wolves in line.

        “I totally owe you, Ro! This line is gigantic!” My excited whisper did little to please the people around us. 

        “I know, I’m just awesome like that!  You’ll find some way to make it up to me, though.”  Her self-assured smirk never left her face as we took a small step forward with the line. If it wasn’t for being nearly mirror opposites of each other, people would think we were sisters.   Rowan was what you would consider “thick in all the right places” while my figure was still developing.  At least I hoped it was.  We were a little tall for our age of fourteen at 5’4. While my petite frame of 109 pounds made me look like a stairway railing, her figure blossomed with her 120 pounds of lusciousness.   

        Her caramel-kissed hair swayed with the breeze as if mother nature herself were worshiping Rowan.  I, on the other hand, was just trying not to spit on anyone as I tried to keep my deep chocolate mane out of my mouth.  She knew she was beautiful and had no problem flaunting it.  It's too bad most of our school seemed to walk around in a trance-like state to notice. 

        “Oh!  You’ll never believe what happened today!”  I lowered my voice several octaves, so she had to lean in to hear me.  “I found another conscious walker like us!” The thrill of this discovery excited me, and I couldn’t fathom why.   We could unpack that enigma later, but for now, it felt like big news.

        Ro and I decided to call ourselves “conscious walkers” because we were often more in tune with our surroundings than others seemed to be.  That is, apart from the first few hours after our treatment.  Ro often tells me though, that she becomes a conscious walker when around me.  She says being around me brings her clarity.  I don’t know how true that actually is, but I am grateful for her nonetheless.  Her presence makes me feel less alone in navigating the rough waters of the contagion.  She is my rock, my sounding board, and my best friend.

        The line seemed to be moving along slowly today.  Banners covered the exterior walls of the building every couple feet. Its colorful advertising is meant to draw the eyes and to remind the public of the benefits that the treatment each werewolf must endure had to offer.  Not that any of us needed a reminder.

        A loudspeaker attached to the outside of the building squeaked on followed by an elderly man’s voice.  He quickly began with his dialog on the effects of the contagion as a “courtesy” for those waiting in line.  Couldn’t they just play us some generic elevator music? Ugh.  If only we had gotten here sooner, we could have missed this “regularly scheduled program.”  People were not allowed to talk during these announcements unless it was an emergency.  It was considered disrespectful to the memory of the victims the contagion has already claimed.  Plus, there was a rumor going around that that kind of disrespect generates bad luck. Ro and I stood in silence, side by side as the announcement began.

        “Eleven years ago, our lives took an unparalleled turn for the worst.  Everything was turned upside down and destroyed as the contagion violated the lives of our people without mercy.  The contagion is a disease unlike any we have ever faced before. For the first time in recorded history, an unstoppable force may succeed in doing what our enemies could not.  Werewolves are on the cusp of extinction, and with it, our magic.  Soon after, our histories and memories will be nothing but folklore for the humans and contagion-resistant species.” 

        I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  Eliminating proof of an entire culture?  Millenia of documentation of our species and the contributions we’ve made to the world, destroyed?  I doubt that.  Mama always said they were turning the contagion into a political agenda between species instead of seeing and treating it for what it was- a crisis which affected everyone.  One glance at Ro told me she felt the same way.  Her thin upper lip nearly disappeared in comparison to the plump bottom lip which was dipped out with skepticism.  I nearly laughed once I realized I was making the same expression.

        “Our people had lost so much already.  At first it was a slow and subtle loss. The ability to find and recognize our mates was taken from us.  Because the first affected were the unmated wolves, we did not realize our people were already losing what they did not get a chance to have.  A whole generation will never know the peace and serenity of the mate-bond. 

        It wasn’t until mated wolves started losing their connections that we noticed something was wrong.  By then it was too late.  No longer could we have the comfort of knowing our soulmate and forming that instant connection.  The intimate sparks at our touch and fluttering of butterflies deep within our hearts no longer existed.  This crucial bond broke apart families and continues to deny us the true love blessed to us by the moon goddess herself.”

        Because of the lack of mate-bond, the King and Queen of werewolves had to institute a program to ensure the future of our people.  Most wolves were too depressed to seek out a partner on their own, knowing those partners could not offer what a mate-bond could.  Many wolves, the council of elder advisors, and the monarchy included, were convinced we would one day find a way to free ourselves from the contagion and reclaim what was stolen.  For this to happen, future generations must continue to be born.  This was where the MCP came in. 

        The Mate-Connection program is more like an arranged marriage.  It’s how my dad, the Delta of our pack, came to meet my stepmom, Kate.  They met when I was four after my biological mom died. Kate raised me as her own kin.  Until my baby brother Griffin was born last year, I was convinced they were just really good friends who got married to avoid being put back through the “compatibility system” of the MCP again.  I do not even want to think about how wrong I was.  Ro's parents were lucky in that they decided to stay together after their mate-bond was dissolved.  Like so many, they were holding out hope that a cure could be found and their lives, and bond, were reestablished.

        “Second, went our abilities associated with our spirit wolf.  The inability to shift into our wolf form caused the other half of our soul to become restless.  While our wolf sides were of higher intelligence than a natural land wolf, we still maintained some of their wild nature which allowed us to live a less domesticated lifestyle.  This quickly prevented us access to the ability which lets our wolves take over our bodies and run.

        They could no longer let out their anxiousness, and in turn, aggression and violence-related crimes against our own people and others peaked at an all-time high.  Shortly after the ability to shift disappeared, so did our enhanced abilities.  The enhanced sight, speed, scents, and healing which were paramount for our people’s survival faded into a distant memory.  Without any notice, we had the rocky process of learning how to adapt and trying to be the wolves our other half used to be.”

        The idea of having a part of myself I didn’t know or have access to was a little unsettling.  My parents often talked about the good old days and would tell me stories about shifting and running through the woods.  The wistfulness in their voice was the only thing that made me believe what they said was true instead of just a bedtime story.  I smiled at the memory only to grumble moments later as the clinic security prodded us along. 

        Security was needed because some wolves pushed themselves to their limits before coming to get their monthly treatment.  When this happened, roguish behaviors start to emerge, and protection was needed for the safety of other pack members. I had seen it happen while waiting in line a few times.  When a wolf got like that, only high voltages of electricity and a double dose of treatment could save them before they were lost to the rogues for good.  It only strengthened my resolve for treatment that much more.

        I wasn’t worried about my safety though.  The guards were my father’s warriors. As Delta of our pack, my father, Henrick Shaw, was the tactician and therefore responsible for the protection of our people and training of its warriors.  Once the contagion hit and we lost our wolf abilities, he was forced to learn other ways to protect us.  He showed me some moves in his free time and even let me join in on some mild training sessions.  It made me feel more secure in the safety of our pack.

        “Lastly,” I winced at the sudden high volume that rang through my ears. Of course, our new position in line would put us right under a speaker.  

        “Our wolf spirit disappeared altogether.  That comforting voice each of us had within ourselves became no more. One by one, our people lost contact with their wolf spirit.  Now, the new generations coming into the world do not understand what it means to feel whole.  To have the once epic and unbreakable companionship of your other half.  Your partner in crime.  Your voice of reason.” 

        The voice over the speaker clearly understood the sacrifices my pack and ancestors had made.  I was barely three years old when the contagion hit, so I can’t quite comprehend the detriments that were forced upon my people, but I could respect and honor their pain and determination by moving forward.  A garbled choke came over the speaker as the disembodied voice tried to hold back tears before continuing. 

        “The only sign we have left, how we know we are still werewolves, is because we must remain within our pack lands or we turn rogue.  To go rogue means we lose our sanity, our community, and ultimately ourselves in the process.”

        I glanced around the line and noticed the somber aura many of the older, mature wolves gave off.  It was always heartbreaking to see someone reminded of the worst period of their lives. My dad never talked about losing my biological mom, but Rowan’s dad would often tell us how, as bad as going through the contagion himself was, watching his mate and child go through it was worse. 

         Knowing a disease is essentially carving out such important aspects of your loved ones was a wound to the soul that would never stop bleeding. I heard sniffles beside me.  Ro always was extremely emotional for any sort of heartache or when she found someone in pain.  I put my arm around her shoulders as she rested her head against mine. 

        I was wondering what the holdup was.  I already listened to Mrs. Emmerson’s entire lesson for tomorrow while standing here.  Was I really going to have to listen to Monday’s lesson on rogues too?!  Rowan was already crying.  If the announcement continued through rogue education, she would start her ugly crying.  Which would make me cry too.  I didn’t have the heart to agree with her statement that her ugly cries twisted her pristine face into the pointed vulture-like face of a harpy, but I didn't want her to feel self-conscious about it in front of everyone either. She tends to use humor to deflect her emotions.  At least that species was not real.  Greek mythos really did a number on their kind, and I doubt they would be all too pleased.

        Breathing a sigh of relief, we moved forward in line and reached our spot as next to go inside for treatment.  If we had to listen to the rogue lecture, the stories my dad told of my uncle would surface, and I was certain other pack members in line would have memories of relatives it would bring to mind.  I did not want to be around that kind of oppressive sadness if I didn’t have to.