Chapter 24 Rowan
“Honey, can you go grab a few of those tomatoes from the garden? I think they're finally ripe. I want to put them in the salad. Dinner will be ready in a few."
“Sure thing, Dad,” I said, setting down my book and peeling myself out of his worn leather armchair. The soft cushions had molded perfectly to me, and my body protested the movement like I was leaving a warm cocoon.
Outside, the garden was quiet. I moved between the rows, gently brushing the vines until I found the ripest tomatoes. Some were still green, so I left those untouched, plucking only the ruby-red ones that gave under just the right amount of pressure.
It was early fall, and the air should have been crisp, but instead, a thick, oppressive heat clung to me like a wet sheet. I felt it winding around my limbs, heavy and unnatural. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and for a moment, I wondered if I might be coming down with something. A fever, maybe.
Then, from somewhere deep in the woods, a howl rose into the night. The sound was long and mournful, like a cry torn from something broken. My heart jumped. There were wolves in these woods. We’d heard them before. But something in that sound twisted in my gut.
I turned and hurried back to the house, locking the back door behind me.
“Here you go, Dad,” I said, handing over the tomatoes.
“Thanks, honey. Can you set the table? I’ll just finish the salad and we can eat shortly.”
I grabbed placemats and silverware, moving to the dining table. Just as I was about to place the forks, a loud knock shattered the stillness.
I dropped everything. Silverware clattered to the floor.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned to look at my dad, but he didn’t even glance up. He was still calmly chopping vegetables, humming along to the soft music playing from his little kitchen radio.
“Dad?!” I whispered. “Did you hear that? Who’s out there?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept chopping.
“Dad!?” I whispered again with more urgency.
“Hear what, Rowan? Did you finish setting the table? The salad is done.”
Another knock. Louder this time. Heavier. Like fists made of stone pounding against the wood.
Chills ran down my spine.
“Oh, someone’s here! Wonderful,” he said with sudden cheer, pulling off his apron and heading toward the door.
“No! What are you doing?! Don’t open it! What if it’s Arca?! We need to hide!”
But he didn’t look at me. Didn’t even blink. He moved like someone caught in a trance. Like a zombie.
“Dad, please!” I lunged for him, grabbing his arm and pulling with all my strength. “Don’t open the door!”
He didn’t budge. He was too strong. I was a weakling, nothing against his alpha strength.
Then I heard the deadbolt turn with a click. He had unlocked the door.
“No!” I cried, trying again to stop him. But he only stepped aside, standing motionless, expressionless, his eyes staring into nothing.
“Dad?” I whispered, waving a hand in front of his face. Nothing. No reaction. Just that same empty stare.
A faint noise behind me, wet and slithering, drew my attention to the salad bowl.
Something told me not to look.
But I did.
The bright, fresh tomatoes I had picked just minutes ago, were black with rot. Maggots writhed from the pulp. Flies buzzed low over the bowl.
I gagged.
When I looked up, every plant in the kitchen began to wither. Their leaves curled inwards, brown and brittle, turning to dust before my eyes.
“Dad!” I turned back.
He was gone.
My breath caught in my throat. Where had he gone?
Then I saw it. The door handle turned slowly.
I suddenly remembered the knock. The unlocked deadbolt.
I lunged for the door, trying to reach it before it opened. But the hallway stretched like elastic, lengthening impossibly as the door creaked open.
And then I saw them.
Twisted creatures that looked like wolves, or maybe dogs, but wrong. With forms made of thick, roiling smoke. Eyes like dying stars glowed through their black cloudy haze. The smoke poured into the house, curling around me, choking the air, blotting out the light.
“Dad!” I screamed, reaching out for him.
Then the pain hit. The feeling was sharp and blinding, like my body was being torn apart cell by cell.
Darkness surrounded me. Endless. Suffocating. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. My eyes refused to adjust, no matter how hard I blinked.
I was no longer home, but in a strange empty void.
And then a wounded and desperate voice called to me, over and over, pleading. Demanding.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
I tried to run, but there was no direction. No floor. No ceiling. Just black.
I dropped to the ground, if there even was one, and curled into myself, hugging my knees tight.
The voice got louder. Frantic. Screaming my name now.
Rowan.
Rowan.
Mate.
The sound tore through my brain, like claws raking against bone.
I tried to cover my ears, but it was inside my mind.
Then came the pain again, slicing through me, searing and hot. I screamed.
In the distance, something stirred.
Two glowing yellow eyes blinked open in the dark, staring straight into me. They were bright as fire.
And I knew, somehow…
It had found me.
“Rowan!”
A voice screamed. This one was different. My screwed-shut eyes flew open, searching for the source of the voice, and landed on two warm brown eyes staring back at me.
Cade.
A soft ache pulsed in my arms where he gripped me tightly, his fingers digging into my skin. His expression was etched with concern, and he gave me another firm shake, just to be sure I was fully awake.
I looked around the room, scanning for glowing eyes.
There were none. A harsh light from the lamp on the nightstand burned my vision, and I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering clutches of deep sleep.
“What’s going on, Cade? What happened?” I asked, still groggy.
My thoughts were a foggy mess as I tried to gather my bearings. My heart was racing, my skin clammy with cold sweat, and my stomach twisted with nerves.
“You were screaming, Rowan. You were having another nightmare. I tried to wake you up, but you were stuck in it until I used my bark. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. I’m trying to remember it… but I can’t. It’s like it just gets further and further away the more I reach for it.”
“Do you remember anything?”
I thought hard, trying to hold on to the fragments of the dream as they slipped away, one by one.
“Eyes,” I said, unsure. Then, with more certainty, “Glowing eyes. And dead plants.”
I expected Cade to react like I was crazy. Glowing eyes? It sounded ridiculous, random, and surreal, like something out of a child’s nightmare. But when I looked at him, he wasn’t laughing. He was deep in thought, something shifting behind his eyes. He knew something he wasn’t telling me.
What did he know that I didn’t?
I didn’t bother asking. Cade only shared what he wanted, when he wanted. Keeping me in the dark was nothing new for him.
“Okay. Well, it’s late. You need to wake up soon and get ready for your appointment. Come here,” he said, holding out his arm so I could lay against his chest again.
I sank into him, grateful for the comfort, still feeling jarred by the lingering nightmare. He purred softly, stroking my hair, and despite the anxiety curling in my chest, my eyelids grew heavy. Sleep crept in again, dragging me back into its depths.