Alphess: An Angel of Death

The Nightmares

I went to bed that night feeling accomplished. Training these girls was truly rewarding, albeit exhausting. I had hopes that in the next week or two, we would be able to find placement for them. They deserved to start their new lives soon, to have a chance at finding love and happiness. I clicked off the light in my room and curled up gratefully against the lumpy old pillow I had on the mattress, pulling a worn blanket over me. For a moment, I listened to the world around me – ensuring one final time that things were safe. I could hear the crickets chirping away outside, the wind rustling leaves on the trees, and occasionally the scurrying of some small animal in the underbrush. I heard the sound of half a dozen bodies breathing in the living room, some snoring or shifting in their sleep. With the lullaby of the forest promising safety, I drifted off into a much-needed sleep. Unfortunately, I was soon thrust into a nightmare I have had too many times.

            There was a big cream-colored mansion that rose out of the green, grassy hills like a beacon of hope. Something about it calmed me, like I knew that safety – true safety – waited inside the walls. I had never seen the building in my waking hours, but it had always felt familiar. For a long time, when I had this dream, I would only see the house. Nothing else happened. And every time I dreamed this dream, something new revealed itself to me about this place. I’d never actually been inside of the mansion before in my dreams, but somehow, I still knew that the first floor had the kitchen and the studies and the library and that the second and third floor had dozens of bedrooms. I knew it was a pack-house of some kind, I just didn’t know who lived there. The windows were all dark and the curtains drawn, like no one was home. The surrounding area was beautiful – lush, grassy fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. The front drive was long and lined with tall hedges that bloomed with beautiful white gardenia flowers. The smell was absolutely heavenly. The concrete formed a circle at the front of the home, with a bubbling three-tier fountain in the center of the loop. I knew that behind the home was a maze of gardens, and as I began to circle the home to go see them again, a big white gazebo came into view. It arose from what I assumed was the middle of the garden, the roof adorned with a bronze howling wolf right on the center. That was new – I’d never seen the gazebo before.

I stepped one foot into the gardens when a piercing howl split the air. I winced and then sighed – that meant everything was about to go downhill. I never got to see the gardens, never got to experience the splendor of the inside. Once the howling started, I was sucked into a nightmare instead. I whipped my head around toward the source of the noise, listening hard. I heard the sounds of dozens of growls in the distance and I could just barely smell the acrid tang of blood on the wind. For a moment, I stood frozen. I wondered what would happen if I just stayed here, if I entered the gardens and ignored the howling. But I knew I couldn’t, and that this dream wouldn’t let me. So instead, I turned away from the garden entrance, and with a longing look back at the mansion, I took off across the grass toward the sounds of the battle.

When I got there, the battle was already raging. A mass of wolves was fighting one another, just blurs of fur and claws and blood. I couldn’t make out a single identity for any of them. There was blood staining the ground everywhere. What was once grass was now a mud pit watered down with blood. Bodies lay all over the place, vacant eyes staring up at me from their lifeless corpses. I’d seen plenty of death, plenty of battles like this one, but none had ever left me so absolutely sickened and distraught. I always felt unsettled and at a loss for what to do. I didn’t know whose pack they belonged to or where they came from, or even why they were fighting. I just knew that wolves were dying, and one very important one was about to die. I threw myself into the fray, knocking bodies out of the way and killing those that I had to. I fought my way into the center of the mass, already knowing what I would find there but powerless to change the course of events.

Laying in a growing pool of his own blood lay a beautiful tawny-colored wolf. He was huge, nearly double my size. His eyes were distant, rapidly losing life out of them, and his throat was ripped open. I stood frozen there, watching as he bled out and the life drained out of his body. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, hear it pounding in my ears. I felt dread and guilt and agony beginning to crash down on me. I crumpled to the ground beside him and dug my nose into his fur, hoping to catch his scent one last time. I never could – I never knew what he smelled like. I heard him speak, his voice distorted and gurgling from the wound on his neck.

“Hayden.”

            I woke up in a cold sweat, the voice still echoing in my mind. I hated this nightmare. I hated how it made me feel. I always felt shaky, weak and nauseous when I awoke, and tonight was no different. I glanced around my room in the gloomy darkness, eyes rapidly adjusting to see in the dark. I could make out my old desk across from me, piled with papers and a few books. I could just make out The Art of War by Sun Tzu sitting at the top of the stack. The wobbly, uneven wooden chair sat just in front, right where I had left it before falling asleep. There was a pile of clothes in the closet that looked kind of like a crouched animal in this light. Other than that, it was just the thread-bare curtains hanging limp over the window. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. But I still felt like I had been invaded somehow.

            I sighed and ran a hand through my hair before rubbing my eyes. I had never met the wolf in my dream while awake, nor did I know his name or where he actually lives. The first time I had had the dream, he had merely been a warrior in the battle. Progressively, his status got worse and worse. Attacked, bleeding but alive. Broken limbs. Severe injuries. Comatose. And lately, minutes from death. The sight of his blood draining over the grass was still playing over my mind’s eye and I couldn’t get it to stop. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stop thinking about it. But how could I, when I had just had to see my mate so vividly close to death? I knew he wasn’t really dying out there, nor was he dead. But the longer I went without meeting him, the worse the dreams were. For some reason, the Moon Goddess really enjoyed messing with us all. If we were unfortunate enough to not have met our mate after so many years, we would begin to dream about them. Our longing for them would get stronger, their health status would get worse in our dreams. Supposedly, we’d begin to make decisions that would ultimately put us in each other’s paths. Wolves just really weren’t supposed to go through life without their soul mate. It was both cruel and beautiful at the same time. But the way I saw it, my life was nowhere near ready for a mate to come into it. What decisions could I possibly make that would allow for him to enter my life, save ending my crusade against the oppressors of the downtrodden?

            I got up and slipped off my pajamas, easing open the window of my room and hopping outside. I felt the cool night air blow over my naked body, tickling my hair against my shoulders. I relished in the feeling of the moist dirt under my feet. I sighed and let my wolf come forward, shifting into my wolf form. I shook out my coat and went sprinting off through the woods. I hoped I could run fast enough and long enough to get the dream out of my mind. For a little while, it worked. I focused on the forest whipping past me. The trees stood tall and elegant in the night, silent sentinels to all of the life we lived below. The forest was a milky navy color at night, and the air was thick with the promise of rain. I loved that smell – pine, dirt, and a freshness I could never quite describe. The underbrush tore up my feet I was running so fast, mulch prickling the tender pads and pine needles poking at the spaces between my toes. I startled rabbits and a couple deer, but I came across nothing and saw no one else. I began to slow down, ducking under a thicket and heading toward the stream. I settled down on a flat rock at the edge of the water, just as the images of the dream crept back in. Wolves tangled in war, blood rushing over the ground. And my mate, my sweet mate, gurgling out my name with his last breath.

            I knew from experience it really was no use to try to avoid thinking about the dream. I’d be up all night thinking about it. Thinking about him. It made me so angry to think about him out there, alone, waiting for me. Probably dreaming some wicked dream about me. He deserved so much better than that, so much better than me. I was a killer who wasn’t ready to put down the fight yet. A wolf like me shouldn’t have a mate. It was silly to think about it, and I chastised the Moon Goddess’ decision to give me one.

            “I mean, really, it’s just silly,” I spoke out loud to the still night air. My voice barely carried over the babbling of the water. “I’ve murdered arguably hundreds of innocent people, and somehow I’m supposed to believe someone will love me unconditionally? Get real, MG.” I huffed and settled my chin on my paws. The wind kicked up out of nowhere around me, battering my body. I growled. The Moon Goddess really wanted to argue with me? “Alright, alright. I believe you. But it doesn’t mean I like it!”

            The interaction made me think of when I had been granted my eight lives. For many Alphas, it’s a serious ritual. You drink tea laced with silver (toxic to werewolves) and fall into a deep, comatose-like state. Very fancy. But my experience was much different; I didn’t know I would be granted seven additional lives. I just thought I’d unceremoniously be the leader of my rag-tag group and that would be that. But after a harsh ambush with a group of rabid, rogue wolves, I was badly injured. I didn’t think I would survive it. I remember fading out of consciousness and then blinking open my eyes to find myself in a cave. There was a pool of water at the far end that was bright cerulean blue and glowing like it was made entirely out of bioluminescent algae. The water reflected bright prisms onto the walls of the cave. It was both beautiful and mystifying. I was so entranced with the water that I very nearly missed the wolf sitting between me and the pool. But she had stood up and caught my attention, and I felt inferior immediately. She was the most beautiful wolf I had ever seen, medium-length fur that glowed with silver light and a long, slender face with eyes the same bright blue as the pool behind her. She was just barely transparent, as if should I blink too hard she may disappear. She was as if moonlight could be embodied into a creature.  

            “My child,” she had said, with a voice that was so melodic it was almost haunting. “I invite you to drink from my pool of starlight. It will grant you the gift of seven more lives, and you will wake up fresh and new.”

            I remember barely being able to form words, but I knew I asked a question. “Why me….?”

I knew she would know what I meant. Why me, a murderer? Why me, a female? Why me, a leader of rogues? Why had she made me into what I am now? Why had she given me this gift I could barely control? Why had she destined me to endure what I have? But mostly…How am I worthy?

            “My sweetness,” she had said. “There is much wrong with my kingdom, and you have the heart and the strength to change it. Do not deny the gifts I have given you, nor the gifts I will continue to give you.”

            I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask more or to argue. The vision of her had faded away and I had woken up freshly healed and with eight full lives to spare. After that day, I felt like I communicated with the Moon Goddess from time to time in my own way. Not a direct line by any means, but enough to know I was on the right track.

            I flicked my tail and stared into the depths of the water, watching it run over the rocks in the stream. I did wonder what my mate would be like. I knew his wolf was tan and brown, that he must be a strong warrior. I knew his pack house was a beautiful mansion with acres of land around it and a zig-zagging garden. But other than that…not much else. Was he in the Pacific Northwest, or did he reside somewhere much further away? But more than that, I wondered why I even cared. A born heartless killer wasn’t supposed to care. Shouldn’t have the capacity to love, and certainly shouldn’t be loved in return. I huffed out a sigh and watched as it made ripples against the water. But I do care. I want to find him, badly. I want to know everything about him. Most importantly, I wanted to know if he wanted to find me as much as I him.