Chapter 7 — Ethan
About an hour ago, Akila brought me to the infirmary.
I’ve been dozing since their healer, Dr. Olcan, gave me something for the pain.
How they do things is so odd here. I didn’t get a shot or any pills, just this colorless, tasteless liquid that the healer told me to drink.
The next thing I know, I drift off to sleep.
In my mind, I’m seven years old and standing in the driveway of my house, passing a basketball between my hands.
The rhythmic thump of the ball against concrete fills my ears as I practice dribbling. I’ve been out here for almost an hour, trying to perfect my technique. Dad always says practice makes perfect.
From inside the house, I hear the crash of something breaking, followed by my mother’s voice, high and desperate. “Please, stop! I won’t go. Please!”
The subtle shift in my father had started earlier this morning.
I’d caught it at breakfast. The tightening around his eyes when Mom mentioned visiting her sister, the slight twitch in his jaw when he sipped his coffee, gripping his mug so tight I thought it might shatter, — warning signs I’d already learned to recognize even at my young age.
I freeze mid-dribble, clutching the ball in both hands. I should go inside. I should help her. But my feet won’t move.
Another crash. My father responds without words, letting his fists do all the talking.
My mother is sobbing. I start dribbling again, harder now, begging for the sound of the ball to drown out her cries.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The basketball becomes my anchor as tears blur my vision. My hands tremble, but I can’t stop.
“You’re a worthless piece of trash!” My father’s voice cuts through the walls like they’re made of paper. His shouting is followed by the sound of glass breaking.
I bounce harder. I want to run inside. I want to stand up to him, like a man. But if I go in there, he’ll turn on me too. I’ll just make it worse, make him more mad. And my arms already have bruises that I have to hide from my teachers.
If I stay out here, he’ll eventually calm down. God, I hope she’ll be okay.
Tears stream down my face, but I keep bouncing this stupid ball, pretending I can’t hear her pain.
I startle awake, all my muscles seized and my skin covered in a cold sweat, my heart going a hundred miles an hour.
Shame washes over me, that old familiar guilt that’s never gone away.
That wasn’t the first time nor the last time my father hurt my mother, and I still hate myself for being so weak.
So useless. Yes, I was just a kid, but I wish I had done something. Anything.
The infirmary’s stone walls glow with a soft amber light from oil lamps hanging in iron brackets.
The crisp scent of dried herbs bundled in the rafters mingles with something antiseptic.
A wool blanket scratches against my skin as I shift.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch, still caught in the memory of my father’s rage and my childhood cowardice.
“Hey, hey. It’s all right.” The voice isn’t my father’s. I look up and see that it’s the tall blond guy from the guard and I remember. I’m not in Creek Falls anymore.
My brain automatically scans his face, a habit I can’t turn off. Pupils normal, breathing steady, shoulders relaxed. No danger signals. But there’s a tightness around his eyes that reminds me of how someone looks when they’re holding back. My childhood survival radar is pinging softly.
I sit up and put my hand over my face. I’m soaking wet with sweat. “Shit,” I whisper.
“You must have been having some dream,” the blond says. “You were talking in your sleep.”
I wonder what I said, what I revealed. I take a moment to regulate my breathing. Read the room first, then decide how to play it. “Somebody send you to keep an eye on me?”
“Yes. The Commander did.”
I nod as my predicament comes back to me. I’m Thea’s bestie, so my life is valuable. At least for now. “I’m fine,” I say. “You can report that back to her.”
He shrugs. “You can do it yourself once you’re healed.”
“Healed,” I scoff. “I just had the wind knocked out of me. I’m fine.”
He snickers.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
“Conan.”
“Conan?” I laugh. “Seriously?”
He glares at me, but his smile remains. “You have a problem with my name?”
“No, no. Sorry.” I need to stop forgetting that I’m not at home anymore.
“I suppose my name means something idiotic where you’re from?”
“No, I mean. . .it would take too long to explain, but there’s a character in a movie that has your name. He’s a warrior, so that’s good.”
Conan raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Okay. You know, you took quite a hit from Jayme for a guy that ‘just got the wind knocked out of him’. Believe it or not, it’s impressive.”
“Is it?”
Conan nods. “Jayme’s a little more aggressive than he needs to be.” He sits down on the end of my bed. “The Commander’s been trying to teach him control. The fact that you weren’t crushed shows restraint on his part.”
“Ah, you’re saying Jayme was impressive.” I shake my head and laugh. “Good for him. And for me, I guess, being a weak little human.”
Conan snorts a laugh. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. You’ve got potential. You know, before Alpha Xander became, well, the Alpha, he started out pretty lousy at training too. Don’t tell anyone I said that though.”
I smile. I can see that he’s trying to make me feel better, but nothing about his demeanor is reading as false to me right now. “So, the Commander paired me up with someone who has a problem with self-control. What does that say about her concern for my wellbeing?”
“Oh, Rhiannon just wants to toughen you up. She’s been kicking my ass since we were whelps and it’s only made me stronger.”
“You two grew up together?”
Conan nods. “Yes, we were originally from the Lohalis Pack, one of the oldest noble bloodlines in Clarion.”
I tilt my head in wonder. Nobility. That sounds like a pretty big deal. “So, you and Rhiannon are. . .siblings?”
“Cousins,” he says. “I’d go into the whole family tree thing, but it’s really very boring. I doubt you’d want to hear about it.”
How wrong he is. I’d love to hear about it. It feels like overstepping, though, so I just reply, “If you say so.”
“Anyway, now Xander’s the fiercest of all of us. Well, next to Rhiannon anyway.” There it is again. That slight shift in his posture, the barely perceptible tightening around his mouth. He smiles, but looks a little sad when he says that. I wonder why.
The sadness that crossed his face vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. He throws a playful jab at my shoulder. “I’ll go tell Olcan you’re awake. Hopefully you’ll be back on the field before too long.”
I nod and watch him walk out, his footsteps echoing off the smooth stone floor. The door shuts behind him.
It’s much more peaceful than a human hospital.
No beeping machines and noisy alarms. The infirmary’s quiet is broken only by the soft bubbling of something brewing on a Bunsen burner across the room and the distant chirping of unfamiliar birds outside the window.
Once in a while, I hear faint footsteps walk by in the hall.
The air feels cooler now, carrying the overly sweet scent of cough syrup and the medicinal aroma of healing salves lined in clay jars on nearby shelves.
Two sets of footsteps approach outside, and voices carry through the thick door.
“Is the human still here?” a deep male voice says. “Disgusting.”
“Alpha’s orders,” a female voice answers. “Luna’s pet gets special treatment.”
“Barely survived one training session. Pathetic. Should’ve snapped his neck and been done with it.”
“The Commander’s wasting resources having to babysit him.”
Their voices fade down the hall, but their words linger like thorns in my skin.
Luna’s pet, huh? Is that all I am?
I stare through the window at the sprawling forest stretching beyond the rooftops of tiny homes clustered around this stronghold. I guess there are worse things than being Thea’s pet human out here.
How did I let myself stay trapped in Creek Falls for so long?
No wonder Thea left and didn’t look back.
With some distance from Creek Falls, I’m seeing my life differently, even while stuck in this hospital bed with a sore back.
Maybe this bizarre situation will turn out to be exactly what I needed.
If anything, at least it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than waiting tables at Cid’s.
The door opens again and Olcan comes in.
He’s wearing his white lab coat, which actually looks more like a robe than a lab coat, if I’m being honest, and a small pair of glasses on the edge of his nose.
His graying hair is cut short and conservative around his ears and above his collar.
If I weren’t sitting in a strange land of werewolves, I would think that he was just a regular doctor working in an ordinary clinic.
“Well, hello there,” he says with a polite smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” I tell him. “But fine. When do I get out of here, Doc?”
“Doc?” He chuckles a little. “I’m still not used to Luna Thea calling me ‘Dr. Olcan.’ Now you too?”
His hands move over me, lifting my arms and pressing on my back and along my ribcage. Not gonna lie, it smarts with every touch, but the concussion Branson gave me before felt worse.
“Fascinating,” he says.
“Fascinating?”
“You’ll have to forgive me,” he says. “You’re the first real human I’ve ever treated. It’s interesting to see how your body is reacting to our standard protocols.”
I scoff. “You make me sound like I’m a lab rat.”
Dr. Olcan’s fingers probe my side and back, his brow furrowing as his clinical gaze catalogs every wince and reaction I can’t suppress. “You’re healing slower than I expected, but, as I said, I’m used to Lycan anatomy.”
The slight concern in his voice makes me uneasy.
“Should I be worried?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. “It doesn’t feel that bad.”
“Well, your ribs are mostly healed.”
I frown. I couldn’t have heard that right. “My ribs?”
“Yes. They were broken in several places, actually. Now, it appears that they’re almost entirely mended. I would say, with another dose and rest, you should be fine by tomorrow morning.”
I look down at my bare chest, touching my sensitive and bruised skin.
Shit. I broke my ribs and they’re almost healed an hour later? What the fuck. . .
He looks me over some more, testing my reflexes and range of motion and all that, then has his nurse come in with another cup of whatever it was they gave me before. Before handing it to me, he peers over his small eyeglasses to give me a stern look.
“Now, Ethan, despite my warnings, they said you must continue to train with the guard. You need to be careful. I can heal broken bones, but it takes three times longer for you than anyone else. And I cannot bring you back from the dead.”
“Got it, Doc.” I nod. “Don’t die.”
He gives me a look of exasperation and hands me the drink. This time, it sends me into unconsciousness almost as soon as I swallow. Just before the medication pulls me under, my mind lingers on returning to the training grounds, on how I can’t wait to see her again.