Chapter 1 - Wilf #2
Then a voice, from somewhere near the back, tries to break through. “Well, that’s a new one.” A nervous laugh follows that dies fast.
Nick steps forward and claps his hand on my back. I know what he’s doing; he’s rescuing the moment, the only way the alpha can. “Sometimes the magic glitches,” he says, loud enough that the others will hear. “Doesn’t mean anything; I’m sure it will all figure out.”
“Sure thing,” I say.
Elder Amelia hasn’t moved yet; her hand still lingers on the bowl, her eyes on me. When she does speak, it’s pitched only so that I, Nick, and Luna can hear. “Wilf, you will come and find me within the week.”
Her voice is light and even, as though everything is perfectly in control. But I see the uncertainty in her eyes and the way her hand trembles slightly as she picks the bowl up. I really don’t think she meant for me to notice that, but I nod.
The crowd is starting to come back to life as I step away from the stage, and I spot Hannah watching me from the steps with a look of polite but embarrassed sympathy.
She’s got the look of someone who is glad to have been let off the hook but feels bad about it.
Aria gives me a small smile as I pass, but I don’t have anything to offer either of them, so I keep walking.
The crowd parts for me. It’s not unkind, but somehow that just makes it worse.
I know these are good people; they always say and do the right thing.
But they also don’t quite know where I fit.
And they’d be right after that display.
I hear Elder Amelia’s voice resume, talking about the newly bonded couples and their next steps.
How they don’t have to remain bonded if they choose not to, which is new and thanks to the changes Nick and Luna made, but the magic is rarely wrong, and the whole pack welcomes their bonding.
The band is moving into place, and as usual, it will be a great party, I’m sure. But I won’t be here.
I try to avoid him when I notice him make a move, but Connor catches up to me before I make it to the alley.
"Hey." He doesn't grab my arm, but his voice has the same effect. "Stick around for the party, you might as well."
"I'm good, thanks," I reply.
"Wilf." He tries again.
I stop, and he steps in closer so that no one else can hear. Connor's not a man who makes a fuss, and I brace myself because if he’s going to say something, he means it, and I’m not sure I’m in the mood.
"Don't do this," he says. "Don't disappear because that weird bowl did something weird."
"I'm not disappearing, I'm just going home. There's a difference." I tell him.
"Is there?" He raises a brow.
Connor's face is as unreadable as ever, but his eyes are sharp. We’ve known each other long enough, trained together, and fought together, and he knows when I’ve had enough. He can probably read my mind at this point, but I don’t owe him, or anyone else, an explanation for leaving.
"I'll see you at training on Tuesday," I say. "Tell Nick and Luna I said thanks."
"For what?" He asks.
"For trying to make me feel better about the weird bowl." I laugh humourlessly
Connor doesn’t laugh, but he does nod and lets me go.
I turn and walk back out the way I came in, past the chairs, the bunting, and the fire pits. The band strikes up behind me, and I hear the cheers of the crowd. I reach my truck and sit in the cab for a moment with my hands on the wheel, letting the engine warm up.
The flare of the flame keeps replaying in my head, the way it shot up and the way the woman’s hands made no difference, even though it was clearly saying I should have a mate. Isn’t that what the flare means? That’s how it’s worked for everyone else.
Trust me to be the odd one out.
I've always known where I stand in the pack. It's not something I've ever had to wonder about. I'm the kid whose father was a criminal and ran off owing money to half the pack. He left me at seventeen years old in a cabin with a busted stove, a stack of unpaid bills, and a name that everyone in town already knew for the wrong reasons. My mother died when I was young, and sometimes I’m grateful she didn’t have to live through all that. The pack did right by me; they always do. They didn’t hold me to my father’s debts, and they’d drive out with random supplies now, and then, I even had offers of places to stay in town.
Nick’s father was alpha then, and he got me into the recruits, gave me focus, and told me I could ask for help.
I never did, though. I figured out the busted stove, got a job on the side in forestry, and paid my own bills.
I passed the recruits stage, and by the time Cheslem attacked, I was trained to fight with the best. I’ve defended this pack with everything I’ve got, and I’m proud to head up the ridge patrols, but I’m not stupid.
The lottery magic just told the whole town what I've always known.
The lottery's been a feature in a pack for as long as anyone can remember, and as far as I'm aware, nothing like that has ever happened.
People will say it glitched, as Nick said.
People will be kind. And then they'll forget, because the pack always moves on eventually, and I’ll go back to living on the ridge, running the ridge patrol, alone.
The lottery knows you can be part of a pack but not worthy of being at its center.
That's fine. I tell myself it's fine.
The truck has warmed up, so I put it in gear and head out on the mountain road.
The cabin is in darkness when I pull up.
I don’t bother with the porch light, just head straight in and let the sensor lights guide the way.
I stand there for a moment with my hand on the latch before kicking off my shoes.
The stove hasn’t been lit since this morning, and the air is cold enough now that I can see my breath in the air, reminding me of the way the smoke curled when the flame extinguished itself.
I light it and make some tea, because I don't want to go down the route of having a beer. Sitting at the kitchen table with the cup in both hands, I stare at the flame on the stove until my eyes finally adjust and the room stops feeling like an icebox.
The tight feeling in my chest is still there.
It’s fainter now, but it’s still there. Not faint really, sharper than it was on the stage, if I'm being honest with myself. I think I’ve just gotten used to it now, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s ever going to stop.
The magic flared, and something cracked open inside me, but there's no one on the other end of it, and that's not a thing the lottery does. The lottery isn’t supposed to half-open a door to nowhere.
I drink the tea. I tell myself it'll fade because it has to.
Getting up, I rinse the cup, and I think about what Connor said. Don't disappear. Connor's not wrong about most things. But he's wrong about this; I wasn’t running away or disappearing. I was never really there.
Outside, the wind is picking up, and somewhere on the ridge, animals are out hunting. I can hear their calls. I turn the stove down, wash my face, and go to bed in the same room I've slept in all my life.
The tight feeling is still there when I close my eyes; it’s not fading.