chapter 12
2120 Words
CATRIONA
I stepped further into Vanessa’s room, the heavy scent of crushed herbs stinging my nose. I sneezed the moment I got too close to the table she was working on.
She gave me a small, guilty smile.
I sat beside her slowly, watching her wrap a dried root into a thin piece of cloth. “What did you just say?” I asked, voice quieter now. “You mean… they visited you too?”
Vanessa gave a slow nod.
My stomach sank. “Did they give you a reason?”
She shook her head. “No. Just a warning. That was it. Cold. Final.”
I leaned back, closed my eyes for a second, trying to collect myself before my thoughts spiraled again. I took a breath, then turned to her.
“Make me understand this clearly. You said ‘they’. How many are we talking about?”
She hesitated, then said, “Only one comes to me… but I know he isn’t alone. He never shows his face.”
“That’s convenient,” I muttered.
Then I looked her dead in the eye. “Okay. I get it. But Vanessa—can you help me? Just help me find a way to—”
She cut me off, voice sharp. “Catriona, I said I can’t help you.”
She turned away, tying a bundle too tight. “As much as I’d want to… I can’t.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice nearly breaking. “Why not?”
“Because I fear them,” she snapped. “They killed my sister. Remember that? Do you know what they’ll do to me if I defy them after they warned me? They don’t threaten lightly. If I help you after that, they'll do something I won’t come back from. I know it.”
I was quiet.
For a breath.
Then, “You didn’t even let me finish.”
She paused.
“The kind of help I want from you,” I continued, voice low but firm, “isn’t to fight them. I want you to help me reach them. Find them. Call them. Summon, pull, drag—I don’t care. They won’t show themselves to me anymore, and I need to know why. I need to understand what I did wrong. I need to know why they’re tearing my family apart.”
Vanessa looked at me, wide-eyed.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I whispered. “I love my family. My son. Jayden. I can’t lose them.”
Vanessa looked down at her hands. Her fingers shook.
“I’m sorry,” she said, barely audible. “You’ll have to find someone else to do that for you.”
The words hit like stone.
“Who?” I asked, stepping back. “Who, Vanessa? Someone I don’t know? Someone you think I should magically trust while I’m watching my son fall apart?”
She didn’t answer.
I laughed once, hollow. “God’s sake, Vanessa. Who?!”
Still nothing.
I stared at her. Waiting. Wanting.
Needing anything.
But all I got was silence.
And a shaking hand.
I turned on my heel, blinking fast, and stormed out.
I barely heard her soft voice behind me.
> “I’m sorry.”
But sorry didn’t help.
Not now.
Not with war brewing inside my home and whispers crawling into my child’s head like poison.
I stormed down the corridor, my jaw tight and my fingers twitching for something to hit. The hallway felt too narrow, too loud with thoughts I didn’t ask for.
Vanessa’s refusal still echoed behind my ribs.
She could help me.
She just chose not to.
I turned a corner, ready to cut toward the stairs, when I nearly collided with Aria.
“Oh—there you are,” she said, slightly breathless. “Your brother’s here.”
I blinked.
“Already?”
She nodded. “Main room. Looks like he’s allergic to the furniture.”
I gave her a tight smile, then headed down.
Sure enough, Edrine was standing in the center of the main room like the couches might grow teeth if he got too close. His arms were folded, his weight shifted from one foot to the other like a child called to the principal’s office.
I stopped a few feet away.
“Follow me,” I said.
He didn’t argue.
We walked in silence down a side hallway and into one of the guest rooms. I closed the door behind us, let it click hard.
He turned, hands already sliding into his pockets.
“Since when did that start, Edrine?” I asked, my voice flat.
He shifted. “What did?”
I took one step forward. “You know what I’m talking about. Why were you at Gabriel’s house? What were you doing there?”
He looked away. His silence said more than any answer could.
“Edrine.” My voice sharpened. “I expect you to answer my question.”
He exhaled slowly, voice low. “I’ve been going there frequently.”
My heart skipped.
“What?”
“Actually…” he added, still not looking at me, “I’ve been staying there too.”
I stared at him, blinking.
“Edrine, are you being serious right now?”
He nodded once, jaw clenched like he was waiting for a slap.
“Why?” I asked, breath catching. “Why would you stay there, when you know exactly what that means for me? For Jayden? For Abriel?”
He looked at me then. Not with anger. Not even shame.
Just… exhaustion.
“To be frank with you, big sister… I feel comfortable when I’m there.”
I felt the sting of that.
“I’ve made a lot of friends there. More than I have here. I like the energy. I like the people. And honestly… I love it there.”
I didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t.
I felt the ground shift under my feet.
This was my brother. My blood. The one person who’d seen me crawl through hell and still chose me every time.
Until now.
My lips parted, but I said nothing.
I just turned toward the door. “Wait here.”
And I left.
---
The hallways blurred as I walked.
I didn’t know where I was going at first, not until I found myself at the door to the playroom.
Abriel.
I needed to see him.
I needed to breathe.
I pushed the door open.
It was quiet inside, sunlight trickling in through half-open blinds. Toys scattered. Blankets piled in the corner.
But he wasn’t in there.
“Abriel?” I called gently, stepping in.
No response.
He must’ve gone back to his room.
I sighed—and was about to leave—when something caught my eye.
On the far wall… was a set of papers taped up.
Drawings.
They weren’t there yesterday.
I crossed the room slowly, kneeling to look closer.
Dark swirls. Symbols. A figure in black robes without a face. A large set of eyes, scratched in heavy pencil again and again. On one page, in shaky crayon:
> "I didn’t mean to let him out."
And below it, a name.
Half-faded, but legible.
A name I hadn’t heard since before Abriel was born.
My stomach turned.
I didn’t move right away.
The drawings hung there like warnings I couldn’t read. Scribbled in the shaky hand of a child who saw too much.
And then—
Behind me—
A quiet rustle.
I turned.
Abriel stood in the doorway, barefoot, clutching Mr. Patches to his chest. His eyes were calm. Distant. Like he didn’t expect to be caught, or didn’t care.
I forced my voice to steady. “Hey, baby.”
He didn’t speak.
I crouched to his level slowly. “Did you draw these?”
Still silence.
I looked at the one with the shadowy figure and the words that made my blood chill. I didn’t mean to let him out.
I turned my gaze back to him. “Who’s ‘him,’ Abriel?”
He bit his lip, eyes drifting toward the floor.
“Baby,” I said gently, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just need to know, okay? You can tell me anything. Is he real? The man you drew?”
Nothing.
I reached out and tucked a curl behind his ear, then rested my hand lightly on his shoulder.
“Sometimes,” I whispered, “things feel so big, so scary, that it’s hard to talk about them. But talking helps. Even just a little.”
Abriel looked at the drawing again.
Then—so soft I almost missed it—he said, “He said I opened it.”
I froze.
“Opened what?” I asked.
He blinked slowly.
“The gate.”
My heart dropped.
“What gate, sweetheart?”
Abriel’s brow furrowed, like he didn’t know how to explain it. Like the words didn’t exist in his vocabulary yet.
“He said I shouldn’t have,” he murmured. “But he asked me to. He was crying.”
I swallowed, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.
“Do you… see him now?”
He shook his head. “He’s not here. Not right now.”
I gave a slow, shaky nod.
“Okay. Okay, thank you for telling me, baby.”
He just turned away, knelt down by his toy pile, and began organizing them like nothing had happened.
I watched him quietly for a beat, then asked, “Do you want to go to the main playroom today? There’ll be other kids there. You might like it.”
He didn’t look up. “No.”
And that was it.
I stood, took one last glance at the papers on the wall, then walked back out of the room, feeling like I was trying to carry a thunderstorm in my chest.
I headed straight back to the guest room where I left Edrine.
But when I opened the door…
It was empty.
He was gone.
I turned sharply and caught one of the nearby pack members walking down the hallway.
“Have you seen my brother?” I asked quickly.
She blinked. “Oh. He said he had something urgent to take care of… and left.”
I stared at her.
“Left?” I repeated. “He’s… gone?”
She nodded, uncertain. “Yes, Luna. About fifteen minutes ago.”
I didn’t speak.
Didn’t blink.
Just turned and walked down the hall, slow, breath catching in my chest.
Gone.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
No damn answer.
Not even thirty minutes.
I climbed the stairs quickly, my heartbeat uneven as I reached the top floor and headed straight to our room.
I needed to tell Jayden everything.
About Abriel.
The drawings.
All of it.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and dialed him immediately.
Straight to voicemail.
I clenched my jaw.
“Jayden,” I said into the recording. “Call me as soon as you hear this. Please. It’s about Abriel. It’s serious.”
I hung up and fired off a quick message:
> “When you see this, call me ASAP.”
As I turned to head back out of the room, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Edrine.
I answered instantly. “I told you to wait in the guest room, Edrine. You just walked out without—”
“I’m still here,” he said calmly. “But I’m outside. Can you come out for a minute?”
My mouth opened to say no, to tell him to get his ass back inside—
But the line clicked.
He hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Then let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Oh, you’ve got some nerve now.”
The boy I raised… the one who used to cling to me when the world felt too loud… was now cutting me off mid-sentence.
I grabbed a jacket, headed downstairs, and paused at the front door to speak to one of the guards patrolling.
“If Abriel comes looking for me,” I said, “tell him I’m just outside the gate, okay?”
“Yes, Luna.”
I stepped outside.
The breeze was cool, brushing across my skin with that strange edge — like the air was holding its breath.
I looked around, scanning the quiet perimeter past the gates.
No Edrine.
“Edrine?” I called, walking forward.
Nothing.
I reached into my coat pocket to pull out my phone again, ready to dial—
“Catriona.”
I froze.
That voice.
Low. Smooth.
Familiar in a way that tightened every muscle in my body.
I turned slowly.
And there he stood.
Gabriel.
- Writer
