Ravensong Page 3

  Tanner frowned. “What’re weird white-boy arms?”

  “Dunno,” Rico said. “But my dad said it, and he knows everything.”

  “Do I have weird white-boy arms?” Chris asked, holding his arms out in front of him. He squinted at them and shook them up and down. They were thin and pale and didn’t look weird to me. I was envious of them, of their wispy, downy hairs and freckles, unmarked by ink.

  “Probably,” Rico said. “But that’s my fault for being friends with a bunch of gringos.”

  Tanner and Chris shouted after him as he pedaled away, cackling like a loon.

  I loved them more than I could say. They tethered me in ways the wolves could not.

  “MAGIC COMES from the earth,” my father told me. “From the ground. From the trees. The flowers and the soil. This place, it’s… old. Far older than you could possibly imagine. It’s like… a beacon. It calls to us. It thrums through our blood. The wolves hear it too, but not like us. It sings to them. They are… animals. We aren’t like them. We are more. They bond with the earth. The Alpha more so than anyone else. But we use it. We bend it to our whim. They are enslaved by it, by the moon overhead when it rises full and white. We control it. Don’t ever forget that.”

  THOMAS HAD a younger brother.

  His name was Mark.

  He was older than me by three years.

  He was nine and I was six when he spoke to me for the first time.

  He said, “You smell weird.”

  I scowled at him. “I do not.”

  He grimaced and looked down at the ground. “A little. It’s like… the earth. Like dirt and leaves and rain—”

  I hated him more than anything in the world.

  “HE’S FOLLOWING us again,” Rico said, sounding amused. We were walking to the video store. Rico said he knew the guy working behind the counter and that he’d rent us an R-rated movie and not tell anyone. If we found the right movie, Rico told us that we could see some tits. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

  I sighed as I glanced over my shoulder. I was eleven, and I was supposed to be a witch, but I didn’t have time for wolves right then. I needed to see if tits were something I liked.

  Mark was there on the other side of the street, standing near Marty’s auto shop. He was pretending he wasn’t looking at us, but he wasn’t doing a very good job.

  “Why does he do that?” Chris asked. “Doesn’t he know it’s weird?”

  “Gordo’s weird,” Tanner reminded him. “His whole family is weird.”

  “Screw you,” I muttered. “Just—just wait here. I’ll deal with this.”

  I heard them laughing at me as I stalked away, Rico making kissing noises. I hated all of them, but they weren’t wrong. My family was weird to everyone who didn’t know about us. We weren’t Bennetts, but we might as well have been. We were lumped in with them when people whispered about us. The Bennetts were rich, though no one knew how. They lived in a pair of houses in the middle of the woods that many outsiders came to from all around. Some people said they were a cult. Others said they were the mafia. No one knew about the wolves that crawled just underneath their skin.

  Mark’s eyes widened as he saw me approaching. He looked around like he was plotting his escape. “You stay right there,” I growled at him.

  And he did. He was bigger than me, and the impossible age of fourteen. He didn’t look like his brother or father. They were muscled and larger than life, with short black hair and dark eyes. Mark had light brown hair and big eyebrows. He was tall and thin and seemed nervous whenever I was around. His eyes were ice, and I thought about them sometimes when I couldn’t fall asleep. I didn’t know why.

  “I can stand here if I want to,” he said with a scowl. His eyes shifted to the left, then back to me. The corners of his mouth went down even farther. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  “You’re following me,” I told him. “Again. My friends think you’re weird.”

  “I am weird. I’m a werewolf.”

  I frowned. “Well. Yeah. But—that’s not—ugh. Look, what do you want?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “To the video store. We’re going to see some tits.”

  He blushed furiously. I felt a strange satisfaction at that.

  “You can’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m not going to. But why do you want to—never mind. I’m not following you.”

  I waited, because my father said wolves weren’t as smart as us and sometimes needed a little time to work things out.

  He sighed. “Okay. Maybe I was, but only a little bit.”

  “How can you follow someone only a little—”

  “I’m making sure you’re safe.”

  I took a step back. “From what?”

  He shrugged, looking more awkward than I’d ever seen him. “From… like. You know. Bad guys. And stuff.”

  “Bad guys,” I repeated.

  “And stuff.”

  “Oh my god, you are so weird.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just said that.”

  “There are no bad guys here.”

  “You don’t know that. There could be murderers. Or whatever. Burglars.”

  I would never understand werewolves. “You don’t need to protect me.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said quietly, looking down at his feet as he shuffled his sneakers.

  But before I could ask him what the hell that meant, I heard the most creative curse ever uttered burst from the auto shop’s open garage door.

  “Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch whore. Bastard cunt, aren’t you? That’s all you are, you bastard cunt.”

  MY GRANDPAP would let me hand him tools as he worked on his 1942 Pontiac Streamliner. He’d have oil under his fingernails and a handkerchief hanging out of the back pocket of his overalls. He muttered a lot while he worked, saying things I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. The Pontiac was a dumb broad who sometimes wouldn’t put out, no matter how much he lubed her up. Or so he said.

  I didn’t know what any of that meant.

  I thought he was wonderful.

  “Torque wrench,” he would say.

  “Torque wrench,” I would reply, handing it over. I was moving stiffly, the latest session under my father’s needles only a few days past.

  Grandpap knew. He wasn’t magic, but he knew. Father had gotten it from his mother, a woman I’d never met. She’d died before I was born.

  There’d be more cursing. And then, “Dead blow mallet.”

  “Dead blow mallet,” I said, slapping the hammer into his hand.

  More often than not, the Pontiac would be purring again before the day was over. Grandpap would be standing next to me, a blackened hand on my shoulder. “Listen to her,” he would say. “You hear that? That, my boy, is the sound of a happy woman. You gotta listen to ’em, okay? That’s how you know what’s wrong. You just listen, and they’ll tell you.” He snorted and shook his head. “Probably something you should know, too, about the fairer sex. Listen, and they’ll tell you.”

  I adored him.

  He died before he could see me become the witch of what remained of the Bennett pack.

  She killed him, in the end. His lady.

  He swerved to miss something on a darkened road. Went into a tree. Father said it was an accident. Probably a deer.

  He didn’t know I’d heard Grandpap and Mother whispering about taking me away just days before.

  ABEL BENNETT said, “The moon gave birth to wolves. Did you know that?”

  We walked through the trees. Thomas was at my side, my father next to Abel. “No,” I said. People were scared of Abel. They would stand in front of him and sputter nervously. He’d flash his eyes and they’d calm almost immediately, like the red brought them peace.

  I’d never been scared of him. Not even when he held me down for my father.

  Thomas’s hand brushed against my shoulder. Father said wolves were
territorial, that they needed their scent on their pack, which was why they always touched us. He hadn’t been happy when he’d said it. I didn’t know why.

  “It’s an old story,” Abel said. “The moon was lonely. The one she loved, the sun, was always at the other end of the sky, and they could never meet, no matter how hard she tried. She would sink, and he would rise. She was dark and he was day. The world slept while she shone. She waxed and waned and sometimes disappeared entirely.”

  “The new moon,” Thomas whispered in my ear. “It’s dumb, if you think about it hard enough.”

  I laughed until Abel cleared his throat pointedly.

  Maybe I was a little scared of him.

  “She was lonely,” the Alpha said again. “And because of it, she made the wolves, creatures who would sing to her every time she appeared. And when she was at her fullest, they would worship her with four paws upon the ground, heads tilted back toward the night sky. The wolves were equal and without hierarchy.”

  Thomas winked at me, then rolled his eyes.

  I liked him very much.

  Abel said, “It wasn’t the sun, but it was enough for her. She would shine down upon the wolves, and they would call to her. But the sun could hear their songs while he tried to sleep, and became jealous. He sought to burn the wolves from the world. But before he could, she rose in front of him, covering him completely, leaving only a ring of red fire. The wolves changed because of it. They became Alphas and Betas and Omegas. And with this change came magic, scorched into the earth. The wolves became men with eyes red and orange and violet. As the moon weakened, she saw the horror they had become, beasts with bloodlust that could not be sated. With the last of her strength, she shaped the magic and pushed it into a human. He became a witch, and the wolves were calmed.”

  I was enchanted. “Witches have always been with wolves?”

  “Always,” Abel said, fingers brushing against the bark of an old tree. “They are important to a pack. Like a tether. A witch helps keep the beast at bay.”

  My father hadn’t spoken a word since we’d left the Bennett house. He looked distant. Lost. I wondered if he even heard what Abel was saying. Or if he’d heard it countless times before.

  “You hear that, runt?” Thomas said, running a hand through my hair. “You keep me from eating everyone in town. No pressure.” And then he flashed his orange eyes and snapped his teeth at me. I laughed and ran ahead, hearing him chasing after me. I was like the sun and he was the moon, always chasing.

  LATER MY father would say, “We don’t need the wolves. They need us, yes, but we have never needed them. They use our magic. As a tether. It binds a pack together. Yes, there are packs without witches. More than have them. But the ones that do have witches are the ones in power. There’s a reason for that. You need to remember that, Gordo. They will always need you more than you could ever need them.”

  I didn’t question him.

  How could I?

  He was my father.

  I SAID, “I promise that I’ll try my best. I’ll learn all that I can, and I’ll do a good job for you. You’ll see. I’m going to be the best there ever was.” My eyes widened. “But don’t tell my father I said that.”

  The white wolf sneezed.

  I laughed.

  Eventually I reached out and pressed my hand against Thomas’s snout, and for a moment I thought I heard a whisper in my head.

  packpackpack

  And then he ran with the moon.

  My father came to me after. I didn’t ask where my mother was. It didn’t seem important. Not then.

  “Who is that?” I asked him. I pointed at a brown wolf prowling near Thomas. His paws were large and his eyes narrowed. But Thomas didn’t see him, instead focusing only on his mate, snuffling in her ear. The brown wolf pounced, teeth bared. But Thomas was an Alpha-in-waiting. He had the other wolf by the throat even before he hit the ground. He twisted his head to the right and the brown wolf was knocked to the side, hitting the ground with a jarring crash.

  I wondered if Thomas would hurt him.

  He didn’t, though. He went and pressed his snout against the brown wolf’s head. He yipped, and the brown wolf pushed himself up. They chased each other. Thomas’s mate sat and watched them with knowing eyes.

  “Ah,” my father said. “He will be Thomas’s second when Thomas becomes the Alpha. He is Thomas’s brother in all but blood. His name is Richard Collins, and I expect great things from him.”

  the first year/know the words

  THE FIRST year, we headed north. The trail was cold, but it wasn’t frozen.

  There were days when I wanted to strangle the three Bennett wolves, listening to Carter and Kelly snap at each other in their grief. They were callous and mean, and on more than one occasion their claws popped out and blood was shed.

  Sometimes we slept in the SUV, parked in a field, rusted farm equipment buried in overgrown vines sitting off in the distance like hulking monoliths.

  The wolves would shift on those nights, and they’d run, burning off the almost manic energy from having been trapped in a car all day.

  I would sit in the field, legs crossed, eyes closed, and breathe in and out and in and out.

  If we were far enough away from a town, they would howl. It wasn’t like it’d been in Green Creek. These were the songs of sorrow and heartache, of anger and rage.

  Sometimes they were blue.

  But most times, they burned.

  OTHER TIMES we’d be in a shoddy hotel off the beaten path, sharing too-small beds. Carter snored. Kelly kicked in his sleep.

  Joe often sat with his back against the headboard, staring down at his phone.

  One night a couple weeks after we’d left, I couldn’t sleep. It was the middle of the night and I was exhausted, but my mind was racing, my head pounding. I sighed and turned over on my back. Kelly was next to me in the bed, curled and facing away, hugging a pillow.

  “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

  I turned my head. On the other bed, Carter huffed in his sleep. Joe’s eyes glittered in the dark as he looked at me.

  I sighed as I looked back at the ceiling. “What?”

  “This,” Joe said. “Here. Like we are. I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do you think….”

  “Spit it out, Joe.”

  Christ, he was so fucking young. “I did this because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Sure, kid.”

  “I’m the Alpha.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He needs to pay.”

  “Who are you trying to convince here? You or me?”

  “I did what I had to. They—they don’t understand.”

  “Do you?”

  He didn’t like that very much. There was a low growl in his voice when he said, “He killed my father.”

  I pitied him. This shouldn’t have happened. Thomas and I weren’t exactly the best of friends—we couldn’t be, not after everything—but that didn’t mean I wished for any of this. These boys should never have had to witness their Alpha fall under the weight of feral Omegas. It wasn’t fair. “I know.”

  “Ox, he… he doesn’t understand.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “He’s angry with me.”

  Jesus. “Joe, his mother is dead. His Alpha is dead. His ma—you dropped a bomb on him and then left. You’re goddamn right he’s angry. And if it’s at you, it’s because he doesn’t know where else to direct it.”

  Joe didn’t say anything.

  “He text you back?”

  “How did you—”

  “You stare at that phone enough.”

  “Oh. Um. Yeah. He did.”

  “Everything all right?”

  He laughed. It was a hollow sound. “No, Gordo. Everything is not all right. But nothing has come back to Green Creek.”

  If I were a better man, I would have said something c
omforting. Instead I said, “That’s what the wards are for.”

  “Gordo?”

  “What.”

  “Why did you—why are you here?”

  “You told me.”

  “I asked you.”

  For fuck’s sake. “Go to sleep, Joe. We have an early start.”

  He sniffled quietly.

  I closed my eyes.

  I DIDN’T know them. Not as well as I should have. For the longest time I didn’t care. I wanted nothing to do with packs and wolves and Alphas or magic. When Ox had let spill that the Bennetts were back in Green Creek, my first thought was Mark and Mark and Mark, but I pushed it away because that was the past and I wouldn’t have any of it.

  The second thought was that I needed to keep Oxnard Matheson far away from the wolves.

  It didn’t work.

  Before I could stop it, he was already too far gone.

  I kept them at arm’s length. Even when Thomas came to me because of Joe. Even when he stood in front of me and begged, even when his eyes flashed red and he threatened, I didn’t allow myself to know them, not as they were now. Thomas still had the same aura of power around him he always had, but it was more intense. More focused. It hadn’t been this strong, even when he’d first become the Alpha. I wondered if he’d had another witch at some point. I was shocked at the burn of jealousy at the thought, and hated myself for feeling that way.

  I agreed to help him, to help Joe, only because I wouldn’t let Ox get hurt. If Joe hadn’t been able to control his shift after everything he’d been through, if he’d been slowly turning feral, it’d mean Ox was in danger.

  That was the only reason.

  It had nothing to do with a sense of responsibility. I owed them nothing.

  It had nothing to do with Mark. He had made his choice. I’d made mine.

  He’d chosen his pack over me. I’d chosen to wash my hands of them all.