Wraith
Something is wrong.
The thought surfaces through layers of static like I'm drowning and fighting toward air.
Everything feels muffled.
Distant.
Where am I?
The air smells like rain and earth and…
Honeysuckle.
Ivy.
My eyes snap open to dim green light.
The sound of breathing.
Two warm bodies pressed against me in a space too small for one person, let alone three.
Canvas walls.
A… tent.
And Ivy is curled against my side.
She's using my arm as a pillow. Her hair spreads across my bicep, and I feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
Thane is on her other side, one massive arm thrown over both of us, his dark shaggy hair falling into his face.
How did we get in a fucking tent?
My memory starts creeping in, little by little.
The care home.
The mask tearing.
The blood.
The screaming.
Ivy saw.
Ivy saw my fucking face.
My body explodes into motion, muscles responding to pure panic. I lurch upward, lashing out, canvas collapsing around us.
"Wraith? Geez, wait—" My brother mutters, his voice muffled.
Fuck.
FUCK!
I tear at the canvas, ripping it away.
The fog's so thick I can barely see ten feet.
My chest heaves. In through my nose—fuck, the mask's hanging off my face, no, not a mask, a fucking scarf—and out through my open jaws. Damp silk clings to my neck like a noose.
"Wraith?" Ivy's voice cuts through the rushing in my ears.
I spin toward her, and she's crawling out from under the destroyed tent, hair wild, eyes alert but not afraid.
Not running.
Why isn't she running?
My hands fly to my face, covering it.
A low, desperate sound tears from my throat.
"Hey." Ivy moves closer, hands outstretched as I turn away from her. "It's okay. You're okay."
I'm not okay.
Nothing is okay.
She saw everything and she's still here and I don't understand why and my brain won't stop screaming that this is wrong, all wrong, she should be gone—
My legs give out.
I hit the wet ground hard, knees sinking into mud.
My hands dig into my hair, fingers digging against my scalp hard enough to make my skull ache. The physical pain helps. Keeps me from disappearing completely into the static as growls and snarls tear out of me.
"Wraith."
Her voice is closer now.
The scarf slips further down my neck and I feel the fog's dampness on my exposed teeth. Cold. Everything's cold except the burning in my chest that won't stop, won't let me breathe, won't—
Warm hands cover mine.
Her fingers slide between my fingers, gentle but firm, and she's kneeling in front of me now. Close enough that her honeysuckle scent cuts through the panic.
"Breathe with me," she whispers. "In."
I try. I fucking try because she asked me to. Manage a shaky inhale that rattles in my ruined throat.
"Out."
The exhale is worse. Sounds like a dying animal.
"Again. In."
Her thumbs stroke the backs of my hands where they're still buried in my hair.
"Out."
Somehow, I'm following her rhythm.
The static starts to recede, just a fraction. Enough that I can focus on her face instead of the screaming still in my head.
Did she scream?
I can't remember. Can't think about anything other than how much I want to cover my hideous fucking face right now and can't because she's holding my hands and I won't wrench them away from hers.
Won't risk hurting her.
Bend my head down instead.
My eyes flick up to hers.
It's automatic.
Always looking for her.
Even when I shouldn't.
"That's better," she says softly. "Stay with me, okay? Don't go back to that place."
I nod.
Or try to.
Not sure if my head actually moves.
"Can you sign at all?" she asks.
My hands are shaking too badly. Can't form the letters. Can't coordinate the movements.
Everything's static, still.
Fuck.
Did I go completely feral?
I could have hurt her...
Thane appears beside us, emerging from the collapsed tent like some kind of disaster movie survivor. His hair's plastered to his head, shirt soaked through with rain and mud, but his dark eyes are laser-focused on me with the pack leader intensity that usually makes me bristle.
When I don't feel like I'm going to fucking puke or pass out, at least.
"Brother," he says quietly, signing as he speaks. “You with us?”
I manage a jerky nod.
“What do you need?”
My hands lift, drop, lift again.
My brain is sludge. Static and sludge.
All I can manage is fingerspelling.
H-O-M-E.
"The pack house?" Thane clarifies.
Another nod.
He breathes in relief. "Okay. We can do that. Valek's in Canada, remember? Whiskey and Plague are gone, too. House is empty."
Empty.
No Valek prowling.
No threat to Ivy.
Just our territory, our space, our pack house where I can—
Where I can hide again.
"Let's get you back to the SUV," Thane says, already moving to gather our scattered supplies and the tent.
Ivy's hands squeeze mine once more before releasing. "Can you stand?"
I can. My legs feel like they're made of water, but I force myself up. Tower over her even when everything in me wants to make myself smaller.
Less.
Nothing.
She reaches up to adjust the scarf around my face and I flinch automatically. But her touch is gentle, careful, as she wraps the damp silk back into place.
"There," she says softly. "Better?"
Not really.
But I nod anyway because she's trying to help and I don't know how to tell her nothing will make this better.
Nothing will be the same after she saw.
The walk back to the SUV is a blur. Thane leads, breaking trail through the wet underbrush. Ivy stays close to my side, her hand finding mine again, holding on like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.
Maybe I should.
Maybe that would be better for her.
Thane takes the driver's seat without asking. But I'm in no condition to drive anyway. Barely in condition to exist.
And Ivy looks exhausted.
My fault.
"You want the back?" he asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
I nod, climbing into the back of the SUV, folding my massive frame into the space. Ivy follows without hesitation, settling beside me instead of taking the front passenger seat for some reason.
She curls against my side, her head resting on my chest. I keep my face turned toward the window, watching the fog roll past. Trees emerge from the mist like ghosts, then disappear just as quickly.
Everything feels like a dream.
Or a fucking nightmare I can't wake up from.