Chapter 3 - THE GIRL WHO COULD NOT HEAR HER WOLF
I did what any reasonable twenty-six-year-old woman would do when confronted by a wolf on a third-floor fire escape.
I screamed.
The wolf flattened its ears.
Then it jumped.
Not down.
Up.
It cleared the railing, landed on the roof of the adjacent building, and disappeared into the rain.
I remained beside the window, breathing so hard my ribs hurt.
Seattle had coyotes.
I knew that.
People occasionally posted videos of them wandering through neighborhoods.
But coyotes didn't have shoulders as high as a kitchen counter.
And they certainly didn't look at people with the expression of someone recognizing an old acquaintance.
I grabbed my phone.
Dead.
Of course.
I plugged it in and searched for the number of my building's emergency maintenance service.
Then I called my parents.
My mother answered immediately.
“Honey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”
I tried to laugh.
“Define okay.”
Her voice changed.
“What happened?”
“Mom, this is going to sound ridiculous.”
“Tell me.”
“There was a wolf outside my apartment.”
Silence.
Not the kind that meant she was confused.
The kind that meant she'd been waiting for something terrible to happen.
“Mom?”
“Did it touch you?”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Did the wolf touch you?”
“No.”
I heard movement.
My father speaking in the background.
My mother covered the receiver, but I caught his words.
It's started.
I went cold.
“Mom, what has started?”
“Honey, listen carefully. I need you to stay inside.”
“Why?”
“Lock your door. Don't open it for anyone.”
I looked toward the cream-colored envelope.
“Someone left a note.”
Her breathing stopped.
“What did it say?”
“That a Blackwood king had found me.”
Something crashed on her end.
I heard my father curse.
Then my mother whispered a name.
“Dondre.”
I pressed the phone against my ear.
“You know him?”
“Honey—”
“Mom. Please.”
She started crying.
My mother almost never cried.
Not when she broke her wrist.
Not when Dad's practice nearly went bankrupt.
Not even when we buried my grandmother.
But now she was crying because I'd met a stranger in the rain.
“Your father and I should have told you years ago,” she whispered.
“Told me what?”
A sound came from my bedroom.
A soft scrape.
I turned.
The door was opening.
Someone stepped into the hallway.
A young woman with dark skin, short silver-blond hair, and a bleeding cut across her forehead.
I froze.
She wore a black jacket torn at the shoulder.
Her bare feet left muddy prints on my floor.
“Don't scream,” she whispered.
Naturally, I screamed.
She flinched.
“Please. I'm not here to hurt you.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Nia.”
I reached for a kitchen knife.
She lifted both hands.
“The wolf on your fire escape. That was me.”
I stared.
Then slowly lowered the knife.
“I'm calling the police.”
“You can. But by the time they arrive, the men following you will know where I went.”
I looked at the blood running down her temple.
“Who hurt you?”
She swallowed.
“The people who killed the last Moonkeeper.”
My mother's voice burst through the phone.
“Honey! Who are you talking to?”
I looked at Nia.
She looked at the phone.
Then whispered, “Is that Evelyn Evans?”
My mother went silent.
Nia approached carefully.
“Tell her Nia Thorne found you.”
I repeated the name.
My mother began sobbing.
And then she said something that made my knees weak.
“Sweetheart, listen to me. You aren't entirely human.”
Two hours later, I sat on my sofa with a stranger who claimed she could become a wolf.
She had declined my offer to demonstrate.
Apparently, shifting with an open wound could worsen the injury.
Instead, she showed me something stranger.
Her eyes turned amber.
Her fingernails lengthened into claws.
And a low growl vibrated through her chest.
I stared at her.
“Okay.”
She waited.
“Okay?”
“I'm choosing to have a nervous breakdown later.”
Nia laughed despite the blood on her face.
Then she explained.
Hidden throughout the world were communities of people who carried an ancient wolf lineage.
Some lived in isolated territories.
Others lived ordinary human lives.
They worked in hospitals, taught school, drove buses, and paid taxes.
They were called packs.
The strongest territories answered to an elected council of Alpha leaders.
And above that council stood one hereditary ruler.
The Alpha King.
Dondre Blackwood.
I rubbed my forehead.
“So the man who gave me his coat is some kind of werewolf monarch?”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
Nia raised an eyebrow.
“Would you prefer another explanation for what you saw outside?”
I had nothing.
Then she asked, “Have you ever heard a voice inside your mind that wasn't your own?”
I hesitated.
For months, I'd been experiencing strange dreams.
Running through forests.
Hearing distant singing.
Waking with the taste of snow on my tongue.
Sometimes I felt something stir beneath my ribs when I was frightened.
But no voice.
“No.”
Nia's expression changed.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother belonged to the Moonkeeper line. You should have awakened years ago.”
I stared at her.
“What exactly is a Moonkeeper?”
Nia looked toward the window.
“Someone whose power can protect the bond between wolves.”
“And?”
She swallowed.
“Or destroy it.”
At that moment, my phone lit up.
An unfamiliar number.
A text message appeared.
Honey, this is Dondre. I believe you're in danger. May I call you?
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
And please tell the injured wolf in your apartment that she owes me an explanation.
