“I’m not sure why. But the moment your family launched their hostile takeovers, the allies of your family took this as a sign to freely attack other packs related to the Richardson clan, which set off a chain reaction of violence among our community. Most of the deaths were kept in secret, but the few that the media got hold of were reported as the works of a serial killer instead,” Eliza explains.
I spot a folder taped to the underside of the table.Weird. I reach for it.
“Don’t you remember, Mistress? You were caught in a crossfire at some point.”
I stare at the parchments and letters in my hands. They’re correspondents between my grandmother and someone named Simone L. “I was? If something like that happened, I don’t think I’ll forget it.” I trail off. “And why do you know so much about this, Eliza?” I ask off-handedly as I look through each paper. I can make out a couple of words but some of them are smudged.
Stage a coup. They need to be stopped.And then it just cuts off. I think this is it.
“Because I was taken from my family during the great uprisings.” The silence that follows her confession makes me uncomfortable.
I look at Eliza, and her expression is unreadable. I recount the very first time I saw her. I was eight when my grandmother brought a young girl, about my age, into my room. Grubby and red all over, she wouldn’t even look at me at first. “I didn’t know. Eliza, I’m so sorry.” She turns and smiles at me.
“No, Mistress. How could you have? You were a child. We both were. Though it’s still painful to think about what happened to my family, I’m quite grateful that you’ve shown me nothing but kindness. I’m thankful for your friendship.” Eliza puts a hand on top of mine, her own way of reassuring me. I smile at her but inside I feel the familiar sense of burning rage starting to grow.
Gregory was right. We’re nothing but murderers,I think bitterly. “All this time, I thought it was normal for our kind to keep fighting. To keep taking from the weak. I thought it had to be done, and that others needed a ruler. A queen. I can’t imagine the pain you and other people must’ve gone through in order to survive. It must’ve been hell,” I tell her. “I appreciate you, Eliza. But I can’t live like this anymore.” I proceed to confess everything to Eliza, from Gregory’s attempted kidnapping to the story about his mother and father. When I was done, I couldn’t help but let out a few tears of frustration. “I want to make this right,” I say after a while.
“How will you do that? Where will you even begin?” I shake my head.
“I’m going to help him. I’ll find Gregory’s father within this estate and help him escape. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Maybe, other packs will hear about this and,” I inhale sharply, “and maybe, we wouldn’t be feared or hated as much.” I hear hushed voices coming this way and I quickly gather all the letters and parcels in my hands when a photo lands on my lap. A picture of a young boy, smiling sweetly at the camera. Both hands holding tightly to the arms of a woman beside him. A beautiful woman, tan-skinned and blue-eyed. They both look similar. I tuck the picture in between the sheets of paper and hand them over to Eliza. “We need to go.” I push random documents inside the folder and place such under the table again.
“Mistress Isabela, I’ll go first and distract them,” she states and quietly slips outside. As soon as I hear Eliza speaking, I reach for the door handle. Just then, a shine catches my eye. I turn and see a book nestled in between fictional titles. The old cover seems to shimmer in the dark.
The voices creep closer and I take the book on impulse and escape into the hallway.
Chapter Eleven
“I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” I say to a chubby-faced boy as we huddle together behind thick shrubbery and large slabs of stone. “Shh, stop. They’ll hear us,” I mutter and attempt to soothe the boy but he keeps blabbering something I can’t quite make out.
He’s staring at something far away but I can’t turn my eyes away from the crying child.I wonder what’s wrong?
“Can you look at me instead?” I ask and attempt to turn his head my way but he pushes my hands off of him.
“She’s going to die,” he whispers back.
“Who is?” I query and he points at someone from beyond our hiding place.
“Help her, someone please,” he pleads to no one in particular. I look to where he’s pointing and see a woman on her knees, trying to strangle a man bigger than her. He’s clawing at the ground beside him, feeling for anything he can use against her. His hand creeps closer to a shard of broken glass and he grins. He mutters something to her and she screams. At this moment, his right hand comes flying to her throat. The shard of glass slots itself in between her neck and collarbone, and he drags it all the way across. Blood comes rushing out of the wound and the woman falls on top of him, lifeless. “No!” the boy beside me screams and my hand comes flying to his mouth.
“What did you do?” I berate him. I look back and see several pairs of eyes zero in on our spot. “We need to go, come on. We need to leave!” I urge him to move but he remains frozen, crying out for the dead woman in front of us.
“Mom, no…” He trails off. A tall, slender man moves in time to stop a rather large werewolf from pawing at the thicket of bushes in front of us. He grapples with it for a bit, before reaching behind him and pointing a gun directly at the creature’s temple. He shoots it point-blank and moves to crouch protectively at us. “Dad! Run! Run away!” the boy beside me squeaks.
“Please, let’s go.” I take him by the hand and pull him out of our hiding spot. I tug the boy outside with me and we start running just as a flurry of gunshots starts echoing through the forest.
“No! Dad! No!” The boy tries to pull his arm away from my hold but I grab on.
“It’s not safe!” I yell.
“No!” he screams again. I look behind to see the man from before, convulsing on the ground. Gun still in hand, but he’s unable to grip it right this time. Time seems to stop as the man starts levitating a couple of feet from the ground. He stills for a while, and I think he might have died right then and there.
I pull the boy and run as fast as I can, not looking back and not slowing down. As soon as I spot the main road outside of the forest, I quicken my pace with the boy still in tow. A gust of wind blows us back a couple of feet away from the road, and the next thing I know, searing pain travels from my left leg all the way up my body and I yell.
“Ah!” I wake up with a start. Sweating profusely, I try to get a good grasp of my surroundings. Plush pillows scatter all over the floor, and the familiar feel of my mattress is soft against my skin. Various papers disperse all over the bed, and I suddenly remember what I’ve been doing before I fell asleep. “He’s not coming back.” I sigh. “It was just another dream. You’re fine, Isabela,” I say out loud. My hand fumbles for my phone in bed, but it catches something else. I bring it closer to my bedside lamp. The picture from the library had been slightly crumpled but I attempt to smooth it over. “I need to bring this back to the library, but—” I freeze.
It’s the boy!I gasp as I realize who this is.It wasn’t a dream; it was a memory. I know who he is. “Gregory! I can’t believe this! I knew he looked familiar.” Head swimming in confusion and disbelief, I stare hard at the photograph. The same hazel eyes stare back at me.
A knock on my door breaks me out of my trance. I quickly gather the litter all over my bed and stuff them into my drawer. Eliza steps into my room after a few more knocks. “Mistress Isabela, time for breakfast. Will you be joining your family?”