Chapter5: Precarious

Dirt and gravel kicked up a storm of debris behind Jaxx as she pushed through the tree line and burst past the first row of buildings at the edge of the village. The drums grew louder, but they weren’t as loud as the voice inside of her head that was positively screaming every obscenity she could think of.

How could she have lost track of time? She didn’t even have time to change or clean herself up, or Gods, even get the smell of booze off her. This was it. This was going to be the night her father finally strangled her to death, and in front of everyone, too.

Rounding the corner, she took a moment to catch her breath and peek around the side of one of the houses. There, on the ritual grounds, stood every single member of their pack in a circle. Her eyes scanned the formation and finally landed on her father and mother, standing side by side on a raised dais. Even from this far away, she could see her father’s crinkled brows and locked jaw.

Oh, it was over for her. Just throw her in an unmarked grave right now and end it. Her mind tried to formulate some sort of excuse, but there was nothing she could say that would make this okay. The only option she had was to run. Her upper body twisted, but her lower half remained locked in place.

No. She couldn’t run from this. If she did, there would be no coming back.

She heaved a sigh, turned back around, and painfully made her way toward the back of the dais. Her father’s eyes were on her the second she took a step onto the platform, though he said nothing. She didn’t say anything either, or even dare so much as a look in his direction.

Below the dais stood Richard and his wife Mahalia, his son Jessup, and even Thea, who stood steadfast by Jessup’s side. Richard eyed her when she stepped onto the platform, mumbling something under his breath that she couldn’t make out. Of course, he would notice her missing in action. He was probably blaming himself for not ensuring his Alpha’s daughter was on time for the single most important ritual of their time.

At least Jessup hadn’t paid her any attention. In all honesty, she probably wouldn’t have been able to contain herself if he had given her so much as a side-eye. She shook the thoughts from her head and focused on the scene unfolding before her. This was more important than her mishap with that troglodyte.

Every single member of the pack over the age of eighteen was in attendance, each side by side, hands locked behind their backs, and eyes on a huge stone statue that loomed in the center. It was a carving of a wolf climbing a mountain, with a crescent moon coming out of the top. This statute had been hand chiseled by one of the first Alpha’s. A symbol to unite them all.

In front of the statue were the makings of a bonfire that had yet to be lit, and around the outside of the circle were flaming torches, seven feet high, casting wild shadows across those that stood at attention.

Those too young to participate in the ritual stood behind the circle, hands banging animal-skin drums, and mouths chanting in their native tongue. Everyone had their place, and everyone respected their responsibilities, all but one it would seem. And she stood there on that platform beside her mother and father, the rulers of this ancient pack.

The disappointment Jaxx felt in herself as she watched the ritual unfold could not be overstated. All she could do was keep her head up, eyes forward, and mouth shut. So, she did.

Toward the back of the circle, pack members parted to either side as a tall, muscular, bare-chested man walked through. He wore only a loin cloth, his body painted in white and red markings, and a headdress in the shape of a wolf’s, obscuring his identity.

This was their Shaman: a lineage of males that had served the pack since its inception, graced with the spiritual responsibility of pack members, and the only one proficient in leading the Blood Moon Ritual that would decide the next Alpha. A daunting role, but one that came with much respect. Everyone, the Alpha, and his mate included, bowed their heads at his arrival.

Once he took his place in the center of the circle, it closed again, and everyone snapped back to attention. A young man approached from the side and kneeled, offering up a staff wrapped in leather, covered in ancient markings, and topped with an eagle’s head. The shaman took the staff and the young man vanished back into the crowd.

“On this night,” the Shaman’s voice boomed, grave and weathered. “We give rise to new blood.”

From beneath the wolf headdress, his eyes glowed an eerie cerulean. He looked out amongst the pack, seeming to lock eyes with each individual present.

“At the height of the Blood Crescent Moon, this sacred ritual will decide who will rule over this pack for decades to come. As the moon rises above us, so will the new Alpha,” and as he finished, he rolled the staff in his hands and brought it down firmly into the ground beside him. “Bring forth the hallowed items.”

Two young men, both wearing similar headdresses to the Shaman entered the circle, a wooden chest being hauled between them. They brought it in front of the Shaman and sat it at his feet before kneeling and opening the chest. Inside was a bed of blue silk, and on that silk laid a wooden chalice enshrined with jewels and carvings. Beside the chalice was a curved dagger, the hilt of which had been carved from an elk antler.

The Shaman took the knife into his free hand and started for the dais where Octavius, Helene, and Jaxx Lorient all stood. One of the young men beside the chest, took the chalice, stood, and followed behind him.

“First, the blood of the current ruling family,” the Shaman said.

Octavius stepped forward and offered his right hand. The Shaman took the blade and drug it across his palm, and in true form, the Alpha gave no notion of pain. Once the blood flowed, the young man with the chalice collected it.

Helene stepped forward next and repeated the process. Lastly, all eyes were on Jaxx as she stepped up beside her mother and offered her hand in the same fashion. Once the blood had been gathered the Shaman turned to face the circle of pack members.

“Now the blood of the pack,” he said.

Each member produced a blade of their own and sliced their hands in succession. The Shaman nodded to the young man with the chalice, and he went around the circle and collected blood from each member. When the deed was done, he returned to the Shaman and exchanged the ceremonial blade for the chalice.

From behind the Shaman, the bonfire suddenly roared to life, having been lit by the second man that had carried the chest over earlier. Wood crackled and snapped as smoke began to blanket the earth and sky. The Shaman raised his staff, shaking it wildly toward the flames, and the drummers once again banged their instruments and chanted.

The circle began to move, bodies gyrating, tongues trilling and clicking alongside the chanting and drumming. As Jaxx watched, eyes slightly enlarged, a surge of adrenaline began to course through her body. Her mouth went slack, and her chest heaved. It felt as if she would shift at any moment. A hand found hers and she jerked her head to the side to see her mother watching with concern.

Jaxx had heard stories of previous rituals, and how the energy of past leaders, those passed on, and those still alive, along with the aura of the pack could induce a sort of drug-like euphoria. That must have been what she felt. She focused now on the twisting tendrils of the fire and tried to slow her heartrate, but her insides felt prickly and uncomfortable.

“Goddess of the Wolf,” the Shaman chanted, his voice loud above the rest, as if amplified by an unseen source. “We offer you our sacred lifeforce, our kinship, and praise as we beseech you to show us the next Alpha to lead us forward under your banner!”

The chanting intensified, the drumming turned cavernous, all sounds colliding and forming a thunderous sound that channeled through the surrounding forest. In the distance, wolves howled, joining in with the delirium that overtook the circle. As above, the moon rose to the highest point, shaded in red, covered in a smokey hue from the flames below, the Shaman threw back the chalice and drank deeply the blood of his brothers and sisters.

His staff shook wildly, his head rolling from side to side, as twin streams of crimson liquid flowed down his chin and dripped on his chest. When he finally stilled, the drumming and chanting slowed to a whisper until eventually all became silent.

He stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, chest rising and falling in quick succession, until finally he turned to face the circle. His cerulean engulfed eyes radiated from behind the wolf headdress, searching through the vast collective of people until settling on one person. With languid and intuitive steps, he made his way toward the dais.

Jaxx blinked as he grew closer, her eyes shifting down to Jessup who suddenly seemed to stand taller than the rest, his chest puffed out with what she could only guess was bravado and anticipation. Of course he would end up being the new Alpha. He’d only been groomed from birth. The rage that swelled inside of her at that moment was palpable.

But as quickly as that rage blossomed, it was replaced with bewilderment as the Shaman raised his staff and pointed it directly at her.

“You,” he said gravely.

All eyes shifted to her, and she looked from side to side, soaking in the confusion of the others. Jessup snapped his head back, mouth slack, eyes enraged, and stared daggers right into her core. Richard, Mahalia, and especially Thea, all looked on in utter shock. Octavius and Helene had both stepped to the side, facing their daughter, staring at her the same way as everyone else…In complete disbelief.

“You have to be f*cking kidding me…” Jaxx whispered weakly.