Happy Birthday

Alpha Edmund is a bigoted bitch. It's too hard to be sad right now, so instead I'm just angry. And the prime source of my anger right now is my future fucking father-in-law. Isn't there a rule somewhere that all in-laws are terrible? I hate rules, so it makes sense.

I try to explain what happened at the game yesterday, like my dad wanted, but the Alpha keeps interrupting me with stupid questions. Like, "Why were you with the witches in the first place?" "How did Alastair know about the man's dead mate?" "Why did Adeline attack a werewolf?" "Why did she wander off alone?" "How did Alastair know his sister was in trouble?" "Why did you follow Alastair into the windstorm anyways?"

My blood boils when he gives me "helpful advice" like, "Next time try baring your neck and releasing a little omegan pheromones to calm a dominant wolf down," or "You should let the witches handle their own kind when magic is involved," or "Go to Davy for help when there is danger. You could have gotten seriously hurt."

Did he think I was stupid? Of course, I knew how dangerous it was! Well, jokes on him, because he's the real dummy here. What was Davy going to do against a fucking tornado?! Even he would have been ripped to shreds by flying debris before his healing could catch up. Idiot.

When I ask what is going to be done about the bullies—possible murderers—Alpha Edmund just tells me to "let the adults handle it" and not to worry my "pretty omega head" with such weighty matters. "Try to do something relaxing today," and the worst one, "Happy birthday".

After he leaves with Dad in tow, I just want to be alone. I need to work off my frustrations. A punching bag in the pack gym is calling my name, but I should have known my mother would have plans for my "big day".

"I was thinking you could go down to the swimming hole with Ellie today," she says over breakfast. Ellie is beside me quietly eating her meal, occasionally shooting me with a worried glance. I stab my French toast with my fork.

"Mom, I don't think Cam wants—" Ellie tries to interject.

"Dinner with the Alpha's family will be at six at the pack house, so be back by then."

"Actually, I was thinking of hitting the gym for a couple of hours." I know the fight that is coming is probably pointless, but shouldn't I be able to do what I want on my own damn birthday?

"No!" Mom jumps up frantically. "I mean, you can't go to the pack house today, because… you wouldn't want to run into Davy before you get all dolled up, right?"

"Mom," I sigh. "I already know about the party."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Please, Mom, I just need to blow off some steam," I try again through gritted teeth.

"I understand you are feeling a little anxious, honey. After all that horribleness yesterday and with your mating tonight… you must be feeling a lot. That's why, I want you to go to the swimming hole. It's a beautiful day! Go enjoy the sun and get your mind off things like Alpha Ed suggested."

All that horribleness yesterday? A beautiful day? Mating tonight? Seriously?! Does she think that I can get back on the horse after being thrown off so violently? That everything will just continue according to plan, and I'll just happily fuck tonight? That I'm just a robot? That I can just shut off all of my feelings?

Then I realize: yes. That's exactly what she thinks, because that is exactly what I've done my whole life. I've shut down any thoughts that might get me in trouble. And when I couldn't do that anymore and everything spilled out in torrents, I ran away and hid. Only Ellie knew about the panic attacks. Well, Ellie, and Dad saw one once, and, now, Alastair has too I guess.

But no more. Finally, I'm going to do what I want. I won't hide anymore.

"Get my mind off things? Seriously? I'll tell you what will help me get my mind off things," I spit. "Punching through a brick wall!"

"Cameron Marion Berkley, that is not appropriate behavior for an omega."

"Screw being an omega! Screw being Luna! And screw this party tonight! I'm not going!"

My mother pulls back, startled by my outburst. "What on earth has gotten into you today?"

"What has gotten into me? My friend is dead! She was murdered! And instead of dealing with the bastards that did it, all anyone can think about is how it's somehow her fault and how we shouldn't let the witches' problems interfere with having a jolly good time tonight!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, young omega." My mother's tone rises, her patience clearly running thin. "I've let your attitude slide so far, because it's your birthday, but even if you don't treat me with respect, you will respect the Alpha. He and your father have been in conference with High Priestess Ophelia all night and are going to speak with her again as we speak."

This surprises me a little, and my chest tightens. Is Alastair with her? Suddenly, I want to end this conversation as quickly as possible. I don't want to waste any more time dealing with Mom. "Whatever," I scoff. "I'm going for a run." I pull my adidas off the shoe rack.

"You aren't going anywhere alone, young omega. Ellie, go with him. Make sure he's back by six."

I don't wait to hear Ellie's response. I shove my feet into my tennis shoes, not bothering to lace them up, and rush out the door, slamming it behind me.

When I'm about halfway down the street, I hear Ellie jogging up behind me.

"Go away, Ellie."

"No can do bro. I'm loving this new independence from you and all, but I prefer staying on Mom's good side."

I snort. "Whatever, just don't get in my way." I say as I veer off the pavement and cross the tree line behind the rows of houses in our village.

"I would never!" Ellie scoffs in mock indignation. I give her this look that says, Really? Jokes? Now? Her expression falls, and she looks away, ashamed. "Do you… want to talk about it?" she asks as I follow the tree line, staying just out of sight of shifted children playing tag in their backyards or adults mowing their lawns. Mom was right about one thing. It is a nice day and everyone is out enjoying the temperate fall weather. This might be harder than I thought.

"Not really," I respond.

She nods, but then says, "Well, I do. Do you mind?"

I sigh, "I guess not."

"It's just... I can't imagine what you are going through right now, and I keep worrying about Alastair and his mom." Me too, honestly. "And I keep wondering if it was those wolves that killed her." I take a sharp breath in, then breathe out slowly. Ellie glances at me nervously, folding her arms into her chest. She looks so small and tense.

"I'm sure our parents will catch them," I try to reassure her, even if I don't believe it.

"I just… wish I didn't feel so… helpless." Hearing my own feelings echoed by my sister helps deaden my simmering frustration. I nod mutely, continuing towards my destination. "I just worry…" she hesitates, "Cam, what if— if there is something wrong with me?"

I look over at her, startled. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears. "What do you mean?" I ask, immediately switching into big brother mode.

"I just— I don't feel particularly… sad. Like when Grandma died, I didn't feel anything. And now… I just keep thinking, what if I had gone with Addy? If I hadn't been so focused on admiring Davy's perfect hair and just followed her?" She's crying now and words spill out of her in a torrent. "And I feel so stupid and selfish, because, like, what could I have possibly done, if she couldn't stop whatever happened? And I didn't even know her that well and yet here I am imagining that I could have somehow saved her, and I just don't know what I'm supposed to feel, because here I am just thinking all about me when she was really your friend and Al's sister and—"

I stop walking and pull Ellie into a fierce hug. I run my hands through her hair as she cries and shush her calmly. "It's ok, Ellie. Everyone grieves differently," I repeat what Dad told me this morning.

"Cammy!" Damn, someone saw us. A little girl named Katie crashes into us, joining our hug, with her two friends, Luce and Ida, following close behind. They all give our legs hard squeezes while shouting, "Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!"

I feel my irritation seeping back as I release my sister and turn my attention on the three first-graders.

"Hey girls." Maybe if I keep my responses short, they will get bored and go away. I normally like kids, but right now I'm worried I might say something I'll regret.

"I'm so sad, Cammy! Mommy says that we can't go to your birthday party tonight!" Luce informs me. So much for the "element of surprise". Honestly, why did Mom even bother?

"Yeah, sorry. It's just for big kids."

"But I am a big kid! And I want cake!" Luce pouts just as Ida asks, "Can little kids go to your wedding?"

"Uh…"

"Yeah, can we go to your wedding?!" Katie exclaims excitedly as Luce inserts, "Will there be cake?"

"Uh…"

While I hesitate, Ida forges, "My mommy said you're a princess now and next week you are going to marry Prince Davy!"

My fortitude snaps. "Your mother was wrong." I should probably stop talking. "I'm not a princess." Just shut my mouth. "I can't be, because I'm not a girl." How hard can it be to just not talk? "But, you know what? I knew a real princess."

"Really?" Luce and Katie ask simultaneously, while Ida says, "Who?"

"Her name was Adeline. Isn't that such a pretty name? Her mother is a queen. Do you know what happened to her?"

"What?" asks Ida as Katie shouts:

"Did she marry a prince?"

"No," I chuckle bitterly.

Ellie tries to stop me with a "Cam, don't", but it is too late.

"She died."

The three girls stare at me with their eyes wide.

Damn.

Shit.

I avert my eyes from their anxious faces. I bite my tongue until I taste iron.

"But then the prince kissed her, and she woke up! Just like Sleeping Beauty!" Ellie says hastily. I throw her a grateful look, feeling immense shame. Goddess, why am I taking my anger out on little kids? It's not like they knew any better?

"Listen girls," I sigh, "I'm not getting married next week, but when I do get married you all will be invited. And yes, there will be cake."

"Hurray!" Luce shouts. "Cake! Cake! Cake!" I smile tiredly despite myself. Children are so forgiving and easy to please. Now, if I could just get to him, maybe…

No, that's not right. I don't have any illusions about us talking out… whatever happened yesterday. I'm not even sure what I expect or what I want. I think I want to be there for him, but I'm afraid he doesn't want me there. I want to give him space, if that's what he needs, but I have this dreadful feeling that I know exactly what he is thinking right now. And it terrifies me.

In the week that I've known Alastair, I've seen him blame himself for other people's actions at least three times. If Ellie and I are feeling guilty, I can only imagine what's going on in his head. Thinking about the very real possibility that the normally stoic warlock is spiraling, unable to escape the clamor of the coven's thoughts, is more than a little worrying.

I'm already walking away from the girls, making my way further down the lane towards the pack house. I'm careful to move from trunk to trunk stealthily, focusing my heightened smell and hearing on my pack's activity, trying to predict the optimal timing to move to avoid detection. Stalking through the woods, I skirt around the back of the multipurpose building.

I crouch behind a clump of bushes with a good view of the large pool and patio, already swarming with women setting up decorations for the party. They blow up pink balloons, hang streamers, or string fairy lights, obstructing my path into the pack house. The large sliding glass door leading into the ballroom is wide open, but there is no way I'll get in that way unnoticed. The door to the gym is also out of the question as an army of busybodies stands between me and east side of the building. Maybe David's window is unlocked on the west side? I've snuck in that way more times than I care to admit.

My sister saddles up beside me, whispering in my ear, "Are you trying to talk to Alastair?"

I nod once, and begin to stand up, but she captures my forearm, keeping me in place.

"Wait. If he is in there, he will be in the meeting with his mom and the Alpha. There is no way you won't be noticed."

Of course, she's right, but... maybe I don't need to talk with him. Maybe, if I just get close enough...

I pull from my sister's grasp and follow the tree line to the west until I have a good view of the front the building. A dark red Tesla—which only comes to the pack lands when High Priestess Ophelia meets with the Alpha—is parked in the circular driveway. When I see it, I realize the best course of action is probably just to wait.

I don't need to wait long, as twenty minutes later my focus is drawn in by the smell of lavender, stronger than ever. My whole body calls out to him, squeezing and pulling.

However, the first man to step out of the entryway is not Alastair, but a middle-aged warlock. Swirling tattoos. Ginger hair. I immediately recognize him as the man who told me to leave yesterday.

And I immediately hate him.

Even if he was comforting Star, or had such a calming voice, or rubbed my back while I vomited, or kept the other adults at bay...

I still hate him, because I hate everything right now.

He walks with heavy footsteps towards the car, movements sharp, anger emanating from him as clearly as any alpha pheromones. He slams his palm against the hood and curses just loud enough for my enhanced omegan hearing to pick up, "Damn, werewolves."

That's basically exactly how I felt after talking with Alpha Edmund. Maybe I won't hate this warlock after all.

His head whips in the direction he just came from, and instantly his stormy expression softens to a worried one. He rushes back and emerges a few seconds later with two figures in black, arm in arm. I don't know High Priestess Ophelia well, and I've never seen her wearing anything but vividly dyed florals and geometric patterns, but I still recognize her from behind due to the vibrant red hair spilling around her like a bloody waterfall. She is leaning into her son, who is bent over with his arms wrapped around her, supporting her weight.

"I've got her," the man says to Alastair as he urges her to lean against him instead.

The younger warlock nods, but keeps his head down and shoulders slumped, even when his burden is removed by the older warlock. My heart twists painfully at the sight. Alastair's head turns and our eyes meet. From this distance his violet eyes look like inky black pools, devoid of any light. He probably can sense my strong emotions calling to him, but I try to reach out with my thoughts too.

Alastair, please, I'm so worried about you.

He closes his eyes instantly, brow furrowed in pain. He turns away from me, but I can't stop my plea.

I can't know for sure what you're thinking right now, but if you're blaming yourself at all, please, I want you to know, this isn't your fault.

He disappears into the car without looking back.