Page 10 of Until Forever Comes
Not when I felt the sharp pain. Not when I felt the hot flow of blood drip down my skin and onto the ground. Not after the first cut, nor the second. Not even when I lost count of how many slashes covered my arms and legs. I didn’t stop until my hands turned into paws so I could no longer grasp the knife.
Taking in a deep breath, I reveled in the ability of my lungs to fully expand. A few moments alone was all I allowed myself before I trotted over to the front door and yipped.
My mother popped her head out a minute later. She laid her hand on her chest and gave me a watery-eyed smile. “I do declare, son, you are a gorgeous wolf. We didn’t see you walk out here so we reckoned you was taking your sweet time. I’ll let your father know you’re ready to run.”
The screen door slammed shut and I heard my mother call out, “Gerald, you might should get a move on. Ethan’s waitin’ on you.”
It was better than I ever imagined. Running with my father, I mean. He was a kind man, and while I knew he loved me, in human form he wasn’t particularly affectionate. He was different as a wolf, though. Nudging me with his snout. Jumping on me playfully, his front paws on my back as he barked quietly and then darted away, asking me to give chase. We ran for hours, hunted rabbits, and then napped in the shade of the trees before running again. It was a special time, one I knew I’d hold close to my heart always, and I was grateful to have been able to hang onto my wolf the entire time.
As the sun sank on the horizon and the sky darkened, I could feel the blood I’d lost regenerating. Well, that wasn’t it, exactly. I could feel my heart working harder, my lungs faltering as I tried to take in deep breaths, my veins throbbing. Now that I knew what to expect, I reckoned that meant the effect of that morning’s bloodletting was wearing out.
“There y’all are,” my mother said when we got home. “Go on and get washed up. I have supper ready.” She was smiling and drying her hands on a towel. Her hair was slipping out of her ever-present bun, and her long, flowered dress was belted with a white apron embellished with eyelet around the edges. The whole picture was so familiar, so comforting, and I knew my days of experiencing it were numbered. A heap of emotion flooded me. I shifted back into my human form, rushed over to my mama, and threw my arms around her, then buried my face in her neck.
“I’m glad you had a nice day with your father,” she whispered to me. Then she patted my back and cleared her throat. “All right now, no more lollygagging. I done made pork chops, and they’re gettin’ cold.”
ILAYawake in bed that night and waited until I was certain my parents were fast asleep. My sheets smelled like sunshine and pine ’cause my mother hung them on a clothesline in a clearing surrounded by trees. The scent of vinegar was there too—she used it to mop the floors.
A tiny wooden box sat on my nightstand. It was a construction project I’d made with my father when I was barely starting school. My sister had painted it. That was one of my earliest memories: Crissy sitting on the floor, a cup of water on one side, a few paints on the other, and a faraway look in her eyes. That look became familiar over the years. It was the same one I’d seen the day prior.
I flipped on the light and picked up the box, examining Crissy’s art for the first time in years. A full silver moon graced the top of the picture, beams shining from it. The golden sun was barely peeking up from the bottom edge. And between the two, there was a person alongside a wolf, running toward the sun.
I’d always reckoned the drawing was of me and my sister. She had painted it, after all. But now that I looked more closely, I realized the person didn’t have curves, the shoulders were broad, and the long hair was black, not my sister’s dirty-blonde color. I shivered.
All right, then, time to move on along. I had me a mate to track.
I climbed out of bed and found a piece of paper and a pencil. It took only a few seconds to jot a note down for my sister. It was the only one I’d write. I’d leave it in Crissy’s mail slot and she’d explain things to our parents, to our pack. She’d know the right words.
The big question on my plate was whether I should go after Miguel in man form or as a wolf. I’d be able to make better time in my wolf form. But even if I could shift, which wasn’t a sure thing, I didn’t think I’d be able to maintain the shift. Plus, I’d have nothing to wear when I returned to my human form.
With the decision made, I put on my shoes, stuffed a couple of changes of clothes, all the money I had, and the wooden box into a knapsack, then grabbed a jacket. I folded Crissy’s note and slipped it into my back pocket, planning to deliver it on my way off pack lands. Then I opened the window and climbed out.
A quick stop next to the tree where I’d shifted earlier was first on my agenda. I rescued my pocketknife from the ground, spit on it a few times, and then wiped it on my pants leg until it looked clean. I folded the blade inside and dropped the knife in my pocket as I took a long look at the only home I’d ever known. I wondered when and if I’d return. Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away.
No crying. It was time for me to fish or cut bait, and I wasn’t going to be sad about it. I was twenty years old. A man. For the past couple of years, I hadn’t been sure I’d live this long. I hadn’t been sure I even wanted to.
Now I’d been rewarded for my patience and my pain: I had a true mate, and I could shift. If both of those things had come in unexpected ways, well, they could join the club with the rest of my existence. Nothing worth having comes easy, that was what Crissy done told me. She had a solid track record for being right about most all things, so I reckoned this weren’t any different. I had a chance at a life here, for however long it lasted. And I wasn’t fixin’ to give it up. Not for anything or anyone.
Chapter 6
I’DSPENTthe entirety of my life in Miancarem, so you’d have thought finding one vampire in the neighboring town wouldn’t have caused me grief. Well, you’d have been wrong.
Miancarem proper was all tree-filled hills and mountains, and I knew every square inch with my eyes closed. Kfarkattan, the closest town, the one where Miguel lived, was a two-hour walk away. It wasn’t big enough to call a city and I’d been there several times with my folks, so I should have had my bearings. But the thing was, we only ever went into town to buy supplies, and even then we barely chatted to the half-souls, never interacted with them other than to exchange money for goods. So I had no connections, no idea where anything was save for a couple of shops. Well, a couple of shops and the bar where we’d found Miguel and his coven that first night, but I’d already sought him out there and had come up empty-handed.
By the time the night was drawing to a close, I’d already looked all over hell and half of Georgia and hadn’t found my vampire. Heck, I hadn’t caught whiff ofanyvampire. Not knowing where else to search or what else to do, I was fixin’ to call a close to my hunt for the night. I figured I’d hole up somewhere, get some rest, and then try again when the sun went down.
But then I heard a sound. Come to think of it, “heard” might not be the correct description, because it was so faint, it was more a feeling than a sound, really. Whatever it was, I heard it, felt it—a steady drumming, a comforting beat—and I followed it without thought.
Down a curving cobblestone street, past darkened buildings, through an alley, and then I was in a particularly run-down part of town, in a musky corner, staring up at a nearly windowless building. I’d seen these structures a time or two from afar and heard tell they were used by them half-souls for storing goods.
The thumping rhythm I’d followed was inside, but it was changing, getting faster, more desperate. I recognized the thought to be peculiar as soon as I had it—how could a noise be desperate? But it was.
I’d never been accused of bravery, and in that moment, I’d have given half of Texas if for once that wasn’t so, if just for once, I could be someone different, someone stronger. But I couldn’t. I could only be me.
So as I approached the eerie building, I was shaking like a leaf, my heart beating so fast and strong, I swore it was fixin’ to pound itself right out of my chest. It was such a loud noise, in fact, that for a moment I thought it had drowned out the other sound, the other beat, but then I realized what I was hearing was a combination of the two thumping rhythms. They had joined together, and though everything seemed too fast, too panicked, there was also a hypnotic comfort in the duet.
I wound around the side of the building and found a door ajar.
“You have to stop, Miguel! Please, listen to me. Get ahold of yourself before it’s too late.”
