Jaylindid call. Every day he called, and every day he came to understand just a bit more about Quentin’s world.
On Monday, he learned that the werewolf society had been birthed only thirty years ago. He learned that their government branches into dozens of different authoritative positions, that the Alphas were only the middle-men in a hierarchy of powerful people and those people operated under two separate matriarchs—the most powerful of the powerful being the very family of women who wrote the laws of the wolves.
On Tuesday, he learned that humans who knew of wolves were welcomed into the society under one condition; they weren’t to expose the society to other humans. He learned that those who did were not killed, but taken away. Just where they went, Quentin didn’t say. On Tuesday, Jaylin learned that Quentin’s first breath as a wolf was taken at age sixteen.
On Wednesday, Jaylin asked about the matriarch. For as long as anyone remembered, the werewolf society had been governed by women. It was only sixteen years ago that the system had changed. Their society split in two—the West and the East. Quentin blamed this on the birth of the new queens. He said that much like human beings, the werewolves adapted to their own political structures. The West cherished noble causes; prioritizing the safety and the sanctity of their people. The East cherished power, the right to hunt, the right to kill—within bounds, of course. Then there were the humans like himself, stuck in the middle of it all. Bystanders who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were bound to the laws of the wolves or face the punishment. There was no other option.
On Thursday, he learned that not every wolf could turn a man. That whether you had the ability to change a person was entirely dependent on your genetics. He learned that not everyone bitten turns into a wolf. That some live with the scar for the rest of their human lives, and some perish in a war between their own bodies and the infliction. On Thursday, Jaylin learned that even if Quentin could, he would never change a soul.
And then came Friday.
Talking to Quentin had become an addiction to Jaylin. Partly because of the thrill of knowing the unknown, of including himself in a world that didn’t exist a month ago. And partly because it was Quentin. Quentin, who never made a mistake. Quentin who spoke slow and heady, like he did it for a living. Quentin who answered every time Jaylin called. Every single time.
And somehow, that was more of a curse than a blessing.
Jaylin laid on Tisper’s couch, staring at the screen of his phone. Denying himself the liberty of pressing that button—the one single tap of his finger that would connect him to Quentin. He had a pile of questions in his mind and he’d been going through each of them, deciding which he wanted answered the most.
But it felt like no matter the explanation Quentin gave him, he was always hiding something. And there was one question he just wouldn’t remedy. One that he’d find a clever way to deviate from every time. And yet, the one that never left Jaylin’s mind.
What was inside of him?
He’d had the opportunities to corner Quentin on it in person. He’d been in the right position so many times to ask. But Quentin had a way with his eyes—a way of speaking with a low, hooded eyes that made Jaylin flick through the folders in his head for a different question entirely. And when not in person, it was the quiet that pried Jaylin apart bit by bit. The difficult way Quentin would go silent, pass a breath through his nose, like a static charge scrabbling through one end of the line to the other.
Because of that, Jaylin could never bring himself to ask. He wanted Quentin to keep talking—forever.
His thumb feathered the call button beside Quentin’s name.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Jaylin?” Tisper called, tiptoeing into the room. A sequined crop top flowed over her midriff, one boot on over her skin-tight jeans while she struggled with the strap of the other. “We can stay home, we really don’t have to go if you don’t feel well.”
“No, you were right.” Jaylin swung his body upright and slipped his phone into his sweater pocket. “We haven’t really spent a lot of time together lately. We should go, it’ll be fun.”
Tisper gave him a wide grin and finally slotted her foot into the boot. “Okay, but if you want to go home, tell me. I know you feel like crap.”
It was an understatement. In fact, sitting on the coffee table in front of him was his second helping of tea, the cup half gone and too cold to swallow down. He’d gone through the entire bag over the course of a week, but Quentin’s magic herbs had stopped helping him. The sore throat and lethargy were back and no amount of lavender was going to ward them away this time.
But between Tispers classes and the fact that Jaylin slept well into twilight, they’d hardly seen each other in the passing week. And despite how much he hated parties, he knew Tisper loved to socialize. He also knew that if he were to deny her his company, he’d only watch her sit with a look of disappointment until the walls in him broke. There was no point in saying no to someone he’d do anything for.
Tisper collected her things, locked up her apartment and they headed for the car.
Jaylin didn’t know where the party was—somewhere near the college campus, which meant it would be nothing like Alex’s party at the mansion. Less composed, more intoxicated. That party alone was already too much for Jaylin to handle. No, the idea of a remote location made him weary enough, but the woods—partying in the middle of wilderness? It sounded like the proper arrangement for a horror story.
And though nerves made it hard for him to focus on anything at all, somehow Jaylin couldn’t look away from his phone. The entire car ride, he stared at the screen, only managing to type a single message to Quentin and only sending it once he had re-typed it twelve times over.
“How did you know what was happening in the cemetery that night?”
But Quentin didn’t reply to texts quite as quickly as he answered phone calls and Jaylin had to find another way to busy himself for the remainder of the ride.
When they finally arrived, the cabin was nicer than Jaylin had expected. Nothing tough and rustic about it. In fact, it nearly looked like the dwelling of a gentle old woman who’d sentenced herself to a life away from civilization.
Wind chimes hung from the roof of the cabin, clattering when the slightest breeze pushed by. Wilted flowers framed the home, in small soil beds and others in pots. Cars had squeezed themselves beneath trees, parked along the expanse of open grass and some by the neighboring lake, where a few collegiates were already drunk and shoving one another towards the water.
Jaylin watched Tisper’s reflection in the rear-view mirror, studying the nervous scowl on her face as she plastered over more and more lip gloss and shuffled the front tresses of her hair this way and that. Jaylin thought she’d take all night, until he reached over and flipped the visor mirror up.
“You look great,” he said, taking the lip gloss from her hand and screwing the cap back on. “If you stay in here staring at yourself all night, no one else will get a turn.”
A smile tightened her lips and Tisper shook her head at the comment. “I’m just nervous.”
“I know,” Jaylin said.
“I’m going to really try tonight, Jay,” she told him. “I’m going totry to make friends.”
Jaylin could only smile to that. He nodded and watched her shove the car door open with a glutting amount of pride. He couldn’t help but feel prideful himself. It took nearly eight years to come out of her shell, but he watched her walk off in sheer confidence to the bonfire where the others rested around the flames. He watched every sharp strut she took, watched her take a seat on the empty logs and introduce herself to the others with a bashful little wave. And Jaylin sat in the car a while longer, observing it all.
The point of this trip was to spend time together, but there was not a sour face around that fire. Everyone greeted her back with just as much enthusiasm, so Jaylin let her be. Instead, he pushed open his door and made for the cabin, where surely there were drinks inside.
The cabin was loud and cluttered, so Jaylin stayed out of the way, tucked on a seat in the corner and sipping on beer that only unsettled his sour stomach. He’d felt increasingly sick since they’d arrived and now he was finding himself irritable to the country music that played through the surround sound speakers.
He could have left if he really wanted to—could have found the nearest bus stop and used the last of his spare change on the ride home, but Jaylindecided to stay. He owed it to Tisper.
Instead, he slipped out through the back. The sky had darkened, and at some point the fire had grown so large, they’d had to push the logs back to keep away from the heat. Tisper didn’t see Jaylin. She was too busy laughing, batting her coquettish eyes at the handsome brunette across the flames. So Jaylin slipped by unnoticed.
The forest around the cabin was lush and Jaylin ventured along a beaten path, his chilly fingers stuffed in his sweater pockets. The sun was setting, but he could use the light on his phone if he happened to travel too far. He just needed away for a moment. Gone from the cramped cabin, gone from all the smells and sounds that were driving into his nerves.
The forest had gone so dark so quickly, and Jaylin jumped at the sound of his own cell phone, ringing in his pocket. He looked to the screen and answered swiftly at the sight of Quentin’s name.
“Jaylin.” His words rushed through the other end before Jaylin even had the opportunity to greet him. “Listen to me. Where are you right now?”
Jaylin paused. “I’m at a party. What’s it to you?”
“A party where?”
“I don’t know? Out of town?”
“Send me your location,” he said. “I’m coming to get you.”
“What? Are you serious? This is completely unnecessary, Quentin. I—” But the line went dead. Despite how overbearing it was, there was something in his voice that frightened Jaylin. So before he tucked his phone away, he hit the tiny icon that would send his GPS coordinates off into the ether. Even if nothing was wrong, even if Quentin showed up and took him back without a hitch, it would at least give him an hour in the car where there was nothing else to do but ask the questions he needed to ask.
But as Jaylin started to turn back to the party, there was a whisper in his ear. Something that felt so close, his eardrum twinged and chills prickled his nape. It wasn’t like a voice spoken into his ear, but more like a song carried on by the wind. Twisting through trees, rustling through brush until it had finally reached him.
Fear chilled him down somewhere deep and he brought his phone out of his pocket again to dial Quentin’s number. But that voice, it reached out for him so sudden and shrill this time, so demanding. Jaylin was clutching his head now, the voice a tinny echo in his ears—resonating again and again, but never clear enough to understand. He was beneath water and someone was speaking over the surface.
“What’s happening?” he whispered, to himself and the wind and the trees around him.
He used the flashlight on his phone to search the forest for the source of the voice, but he saw nothing beyond the dark slits in the trees. And then there was that voice again, wrapping him in its frightening beauty. He hadn’t noticed the phone vibrating in his grip. If he had, maybe Jaylin would have realized he was moving. That he was walking off into the dark, his cell phone not lighting his way but instead pointed idly the ground. His body felt numb, his mind dislocated, but his legs walked regardless.
He walked on, down the trail, into the darkness. His phone rumbled on between his fingers, and somewhere—wherever his conscious laid dormant, Jaylin knew it was Quentin calling.
He wanted to answer, but he was too far away. Too far to move his fingers. Eventually, Jaylin let the phone fall from his grip, where it cracked against the dirt floor. The dark was wrapping its spidery arms around him and Jaylin knew—but he welcomed it. It felt so comfortable, this dark. And as the darkness grew, so did the voice. And as the voice grew, Jaylin only moved faster. Faster over thorny brush, faster feeling his way along the sharp bark of mangled trees. Faster, and farther until the dark had swallowed him whole.
He was chasing something now—beneath wild twisted roots of cedars that had breached beyond the surface, through the cold wet streams that parted brush and veined in unending labyrinths across the forest floor. He could see it, but just barely. It was dark, and so it escaped his eyes time and time again, but somehow Jaylin could still see it. With his ears, with his heart, with every muscle in his body. He saw it entirely without ever catching a glimpse.
Then it was dark—darker than the dark he’d chased the creature through. Darker than black, now. And Jaylin was gone in the darkness.
–
When he woke again, he knew he was laying on the forest blood by how strongly the soil smelled. The pounding pain in his head from where he’d hit it on a fir as he fell. He opened his eyes to form of a wolf, its fur stained with blood as it paced around the collapsed body of another. Then Jaylin let the darkness take him again.
Tyler.
When Jaylin opened his eyes, his was the first face he saw. He swore it was Tyler above him. The way his jaw met his chin in a narrow V, the way his hair curled over his ears and his fringe swept his eyes. Tyler. He was in Tyler’s arms.
Jaylin made a noise—a quiet protest, but when he tried to shove Tyler away, he could hardly move. His hands were occupied by something else, and in turn, his shoulders jerked and thrashed and that was when Jaylin felt the sharp pain in his stomach—a gut-wrenching, stabbing agony that poured from his throat in a yelp.
“Don’t move,” the voice said, but it wasn’t Tyler’s. No way was that voice Tyler’s. The face that looked down at Jaylin didn’t belong to him either. Then he remembered, Tyler doesn’t look like this anymore.
Jaylin opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt dry—parched, like he hadn’t a drop to drink in a week and not even the energy to ask for a glass of water. They weren’t exactly in a place where one could be readily delivered. Jaylin could tell by the transcending treetops overhead that the two of them were buried deep in the stomach of an evergreen forest.
Too tired to turn his head, Jaylin watched the stranger carry him in his arms. He watched the trees pinning the stars to the sky and the glinting eyes of a passing owl as it soared through the open air. It wasn’t quite dusk, but not dawn either. More like astronomical twilight. The kind that lit the sky, but not yet the earth below it. It was beautiful, was all Jaylin could think. Beautiful so far from the city.
His body began to shift and Jaylin wanted to cling to the stranger for safety, but he found his arms accosted again. This time he was awake enough to feel the wool against his skin. The thick, warm blanket that wrapped around him, save for the tips of his toes. His shoes had gone, but Jaylin didn’t know where.
Then the stranger was maneuvering a phone to his ear—or trying to, without dropping the arm from beneath Jaylin’s knees. The slight movement made Jaylin howl in pain again.
“Yeah, I got him,” he said into the device, balanced between his head and his shoulder. “Awake. How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Jaylin freed a hand, just enough to grip onto the cloth of the stranger’s shirt. The touch bartered a glance from the man, who turned his attention once more to the front of him.
“It’s the chrysalis. What do you mean ‘how do I know’? Do you not fucking hear this?” Jaylin watched the man’s jaw set tight in aggravation, and then relax again. “Yeah,” he said softer now. “Fine. I don’t really have an option, do I?” Then he lowered the phone from his ear.
Jaylin wanted so badly to cry out. To claw his way out of the man’s arms, and run until he couldn’t lose himself in the forest any farther. But he could hardly keep his head upright. Hardly move his mouth at all without feeling his lip split. Without tasting the blood that followed after. And surely, he couldn’t put together words. Not so much as a “who are you?” Making a sound at all felt nearly impossible.
But somehow this pain in his stomach—it made it all so easy. The twisting started again, a pain that clenched every muscle in his body. He was crying out some kind of silence, tears swallowing his sight. The scream turned to sobs that shook his entire body and for the second time in his life, Jaylin thought he might be dying.
“Alright, get over it,” the man said, and Jaylin felt himself lowered as they crouched beneath a skirt of tree limbs. Jaylin could feel the needles scrape against his ankles, and he tried with all his might to look the man in the face. The face that he knew and didn’t. But the stranger didn’t take his eyes from the horizon to offer him a second of recognition.
“You think this hurts?” he said, his voice just loud enough to piercing the raucous howl of the wind. “You have no idea what pain is, Lich.”
There was the sound of a zipper, then the stranger took Jaylin by the face. His jaw was forced open, a pill popped between his lips. Before he could spit it out, a bottle of water was forced to his mouth, and a ravaging thirst overtook him. Jaylin drank until he couldn’t breathe, and after a gasp he drank some more.
And by the time the bottle was empty, a heavy sleep was drowning him down. The last thing Jaylin felt were his arms tied around the man’s neck as he heaved him onto his back, and carried him in the direction of the swollen moon
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