Chapter3

#Chapter3

My father had once said that no good deed went unpunished. The words rang truer than ever. Next time I found a brat in need of help, you could sure as hell bet your ass I was hightailing it and walking in the other direction.

/"He changed./" Breathing in deeply, I regretted it almost instantly. The foul taste that clung to the air filtered in, burning into my tongue, catching at the base of my throat. Had a small coughing fit breaking out. /"He was small. A toddler . . . and then he changed./"

Which was still only the tip of the fucked-up iceberg. Within hours of taking the child into my home, reality bowed in on itself and the impossible happened right before my eyes. The tiny creature grew. Not in a puff of golden light. Not in some heavenly chorus. But in some demented, horror-flick kind of way. Fingers seemed to stretch, legs seemed to double. The thing grew from the size of a two-year-old to a small seven-year-old in the matter of a minute.

If not for my Beta, Jonathan, being present, I would have sought out a nut house before the Vidua.

/"The power this child possesses, it's beyond your level of comprehension. He could be the destroyer or saviour of worlds if - /"

/"So how about I kill it and save us all the suspense?/" I injected. The thought had already crossed my mind, but the slaughter of an infant hadn't sat well with Jonathan.

/"That would be a mistake,/" she said gravely. Thunder boomed from outside. The roof trembled. The flames shot up like half a tank of gasoline had been thrown against them before settling back down to their meagre tendrils. /"One, for your sake, I would not recommend. Unburdening him on another is also ill-advised./"

Boom. Boom. Boom. The pressure behind my skull got worse. Like a lunatic with a sledgehammer was going at the bonework over and over. A deep breath out helped, but not by much. /"Whatever this kid is, he is wrong./"

/"His powers suppress him. His growth was a defense mechanism. He sensed the danger and his body reacted in the only way it knew how. But his mind remained as it was./"

Which would explain . . . a lot. But it didn't stop me from asking, /"What do you mean?/"

/"Your eyes will deceive you, little wolf king. The temptation to see what is before you and take it as truth will be hard for you to overcome, but you must if you are to succeed. His mind is fragile. He is, in many ways, still only a babe. To see him, you must teach yourself to see beyond what your eyes show./"

/"We're going to find his parents,/" I said firmly. Although, the 'how' was still up for discussion. With no scent, progress had hit a brick wall. We couldn't use his as a base scent to pinpoint any blood ties, and then there was the whole issue of why he didn't have a scent. If it was genetic, if whatever fucked up little monstrosity he was had been passed down to him from his parents, would they even have scents? /"Then he's their problem./"

She barked out a laugh. It hit the air like broken glass. /"That you will, little wolf, but not in the way that you expect. No. The boy is your burden to bear. Skirt around the responsibility if you must, feral one, but on your own shoulders will the repercussions lie./"

/"What do I do?/" I asked. /"His presence will be used as a war chip and you know it./"

/"And you fear for the crown that you slayed so many to obtain?/"

/"No./" Sneering, I shook my head. /"But what use is the rank of Alpha if there is no pack left to rule?/"

/"And so you come to see that heavy is the head that wears the crown./"

A small handful of my pack knew about the boy, but only Jonathan was aware of the circus act that had taken place. I had planned on keeping it that way. It posed a threat from neighbouring packs; if word got out and they governed the boy a danger, the flags of war would be raised.

And then there was the small matter of my own pack. Fear kept them in line, but it didn't win loyalty. There were those within who were still loyal to Malcolm Asher, and by default his offspring, William Asher, who I had stupidly spared. It had been an act of cruelty over mercy, stripping the next-in-line Alpha of his rank and demoting him to Omega, but I wasn't all that convinced that the two were not the same thing. It was a mistake I was still paying for. One that wouldn't be rectified until I reunited the son with his father.

The kid was part of the unknown, and without insight into the dangers that put our pack in, William Asher and his band of maggots would undoubtedly use it to their aid.

Gotta love mutiny.

/"What do I do?/" I repeated.

/"Protect him. The enemies you think you know are insignificant to the ones that will come./" Her face turned upwards, eyes rolling up into her head until only the whites remained. I didn't remember standing up. Didn't remember backing away. But the wall rushed up to meet my back and there was nowhere else for my feet to take me.

/"Protect him,/" she repeated, firmer this time. More a demand than advice. The flesh of her face bubbled and warped once more. Cracks hit my ears, the bones of her neck snapping and bending as she pushed to her feet. Stiffly, like a puppet made from rusty tin metal, her limbs became a decrepit tangle. The blanket dropped to the hardwood. Turned to ash right where it fell. And then, with one harsh howl of wind that struck the cabin so damn hard the entire thing shook like it had been caught in the heart of a tornado, the flames in the fire were doused, plunging the room into complete darkness.

Almost complete darkness.

Her eyes lit up like red-hot coals. Burned from all the way across the room. Any remaining illusion that she was but a sweet old lady spun on a six-point and ran for the hills. There were a lot of monsters in the Peccatorum, but none quite like her.

/"Protect him. Nurture. Break the cycle in which anchors you to your own bitterness. Lives depend on it./" With every word, the luminescent flicker dimmed, dying away until the room fell into a pit of nothingness. No light. No space. I could barely even breathe.

Her departure wasn't foretold by the disappearance of the lace glimmer of light, but by the way the room seemed to exhale, as though letting out a collective sigh of relief. Breathing became easier. Legs became jelly, buckling, forcing my knees to get up close and personal with the damp ground. Everything became so much more vivid, as though the Vidua's presence had put the world around us on mute.

I was shaking. The cold ate away at my flesh, digging like tiny claws until they hit the bones beneath. Agony laced my limbs. Hands felt like they were blistering, the worst of the cuts and slashes starting to weep a foul, clear discharge.

But most of all, it was the hollow ache that ricocheted throughout, a cold, but all too familiar sensation: alone. I was alone. Completely and utterly alone.