Chapter 12
Hudson
The thing about creatures that lurk in the dark—the cursed, the lost, and the damned—they’re still people under all they’ve become.
Spirits and ghosts are merely echoes of who they once were, usually holding on with no more than a thread of whatever emotion bound them to our plane of existence.
Even though vampires were practically extinct in the western hemisphere, the legends depicted them as far more human than any of us.
Every feeling enhanced, every desire amplified fourfold.
Unfortunately, their most prevalent desire was usually blood.
Werewolves were no different. Just people. Some that had been born cursed may have been slightly more detached from humanity, celebrating their wolf and stifling their higher forms of existence. But like any change to our normal, balance is required. Balance is learned.
And just like the rest of mankind, so many of them sucked at it.
I had tried to appeal to the humanity of the first werewolf that attacked me a year after I’d left Felcove. Tried to remember that somewhere underneath those killer instincts was just a guy who wanted a normal life.
Then, after cornering me in a back alley on my way home from work, he’d told me what he’d come for. Accused me of keeping the key to his freedom a secret. Harbored a wild look in his eye as his fingers sharpened into claws, reaching toward my chest.
It had been mere fortune that he’d touched the necklace Grams had entrusted me with. My silver pendant, my family heirloom and good luck charm, saving me from the clutches of a wolf that intended to eat my heart.
I didn’t need luck anymore.
Seven wolves had come calling in the time since I’d left home.
Some attacked on their own like the first had, while others came in pairs.
It made me wonder how much they actually knew of the cure.
Wonder if the others understood what it was they’d come for— that if they killed me, only one of them was walking away human.
As I stood there in the parlor, watching the flit of that shadow dart around my house over and over again, I wondered how much this one knew. If it had occurred to him that the rumors that had reached his ears were the whispers of dead wolves who had tried before.
“Huuuudsooooon…”
I didn’t anticipate a great deal of wit from any creature that would dare make an attempt on a Garland witch in their home, however.
“Come out and plaaaaaaay…”
Perhaps the curse had become too much for these wolves.
“I just want a little taste…”
“Yeah,” I sneered, rolling my eyes. “Only one wolf gets to do that.”
“Ohh… we’ve heard,” the shadow sang, darting past the kitchen windows behind me. “Evans is going to pay for keeping you from us.”
I dropped back onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other, bored. “How thick are you?” Wolves on the prowl got high on fear. It was their fuel. That hit of adrenaline lacing our scents, making them feral for the hunt.
The wolf outside laughed. “Says the one hiding in his house, not even aware of the danger that awaits him. Of the screams he’s going to give me, crying for his precious werewolf playmate.”
With a chuckle, I tapped at my phone, tempted to let the guys know the danger they were so concerned about was right outside. I’d told them I didn’t need their protection, though. I’d meant it. I had no right to lend hope to their happy little idea.
Some strange and wild life where the three of us could stand against everything lurking beyond those walls.
“Come outside, Hudsoooon… You know you can’t hide from me forever…”
Tossing my phone onto the cushion beside me, I sighed. Tyler and Emery would likely show up eventually, given how concerned their messages sounded. Em could handle the pest, but I couldn’t bear it if something happened to Tyler.
I didn’t get a chance to plan my method of disposal, however.
“Time’s up, little witch…”
One of the windows facing the back yard shattered, something the size of a pop can flying into the parlor, scattering glass everywhere. I dove to the floor, shielding my face as other windows around the house exploded in my ears.
I whipped my head back toward the back porch, catching sight of the massive outline of a man, right before hissing filled the room. White mist shot out from the silver canister that had rolled up against the fireplace, slowly blurring my vision.
Burning. Burning everything. My eyes, my lips, and my lungs.
Through the pain and the horrible coughs that left my throat, I whirled around, seeking out the staircase to the second floor. The asshole was trying to force me outside, so he could go fuck himself.
I darted up the stairs, practically crawling on all fours to escape the gas. Tears streaked across my face, blurring my vision as I made it to the top landing, gasping for breath. Every pull of air burned my throat, my lungs, everything inside on fire.
My cocky demeanor was gone. I’d let my guard down so badly, thinking I’d be safe in the house. Acting like I was untouchable.
Honestly, that’s exactly how I felt in that house growing up.
Within those walls, I was truly immortal because I was a Garland, and all our magic converged there.
I never fully understood the workings of the wards or the hallowed ground on which the house stood, but Grams’ assurance had been enough for me.
The window in the guest room shattered. I forced myself to keep moving, scrambling upright to get to my room, fully expecting more gas.
And whatever remained of that promise of safety evaporated. Without a Garland Sovereign, without Grams anchoring that ancient magic—I ran right into the fucker, standing there in my hall, daring to set foot in my ancestral home.
I raised a hand, ready to end him, when one massive hand clamped around my wrist, twisting. Another hand wrapped around my throat. His razor-sharp claws broke the skin of my neck, but I couldn’t scream against the pressure as he lifted me from the ground.
“Ah-ah-ah… none of that nasty magic of yours.”
Struggling for breath as the man leaned in, taking a deep inhale, sniffing me as if he were relishing the smell of his catch, I fully expected to die right there. A delighted hum rumbled in his chest, his face shrouded in shadow and blurred from the effects of the gas.
“There it is… that delicious scent. Terror.”
I whipped my other hand upward toward his chest, begging my magic to save me. With the force of a wrecking ball, the man roared as he went flying down the hall, crashing through the closet doors near my room. Red blurred my vision as I fell to the floor, clutching my neck, gasping for air.
Wet. My hands were soaked as I pulled them away, covered in my own blood.
The force of my blast had torn his claws along my skin.
“F-Fuck…” I sputtered, fighting to stand and then racing down the hall to my room before the wolf could recover.
With a flick of my hand, my door closed.
I flattened my palm, holding it out as if bracing the feeble wood with my mind, commanding the house to bar his path.
A thud shook the walls as the wolf crashed against my door. I backed against the wall furthest away, near the balcony door, catching my breath. Trying to devise a plan of attack without my weapons in the altar room downstairs.
Another loud crash against the door.
I couldn’t even call for help. My phone was still downstairs. I knew Emery would be coming. He’d sense my fear and smell my blood from a mile away.
Another crash.
But I needed to protect myself. I’d done it so many times before. I was in the Garland House, resting on top of a convergence of power like no other.
I turned to my reflection in the claw-footed mirror in the corner of my room. I was bleeding badly, but I had enough time to deal with this piece of shit.
Leaning back against the wall, I called to the magic I’d used already that night.
Help me. Heal me. Please.
The bleeding didn’t stop.
I tried again, banging my head back against the wall with my eyes clenched shut, begging. “I… am Hudson fucking Garland… heir to the magic that resides here. Please. Help me.”
As I felt myself weakening, I could almost hear Grams in my head.
“You can’t have it both ways, sweetie.”
I opened my eyes just in time to see the moonlight coming through my balcony door, obscured by a black shadow.
The glass shattered as the man punched through, sinking his claws into my shoulder. I screamed out in agony as he tore through skin and muscle, hauling me through the broken window, sending me flying from the balcony.
Please. I’m not done yet.
The space around me seemed to ripple. My descent from the second floor continued in slow motion, time and space affording me a precious few moments before I hit the ground below.
“No one is ever really done,” Grams whispered. “We can go on and on, just existing. Surviving…”
I turned my head, staring out across the darkened water at a sea of stars. Still falling. Still dying. The northern lights, painting the sky, offering me celestial wonders beyond my wildest dreams.
“It’s time to stop surviving, Hudson.”
All I needed to do was reach out and take them.
“You’re a Garland,” Grams echoed, fading as I neared the ground. “Make your choice. Thrive.”
My awe went flying out of me with the wind in my chest. I smacked the ground below, suddenly commiserating with Emery on so many levels, my entire body screaming in pain.
Not dead yet. Not exactly great, but not dead.
The predator leapt from above, his feet landing on either side of my body with a crash barely audible above the rushing in my ears.
In the moonlight, I caught brief glimpses of his half-shifted appearance.
Dark, matted hair sticking out at strange angles.
Scars on his neck and along his jaw. His sharpened teeth stretched into a hungry grin that made me want to vomit.
That may have been the blunt force trauma, though.