Failine - 9. Chapter 9

I walked into the assembly room and tousled Jamie’s hair as I passed him. He didn’t know that he had saved his brother’s humanity this night.

Grabbing a knife from the buffet, I walked over to Dillon. In silence, I cut open the ropes around his hands.

He tore off the silver chain around his neck.

We looked at each other.

There was that one thing I had to do as pack master. “Dillon Goddard. In the name of the Creek Forest pack, I apologize for what you have gone through. What has been done to you cannot be forgiven. We will live in the disgrace we have brought over us. You are free to go.”

It was a hunch, one of those moments where the older parts of the brain, perhaps the wolf itself, took over, but I stepped forward and pushed Dillon away.

The crack of the gun rang in my ears.

I turned around. Mr. Goddard was still pointing the weapon at me, the place where his son had stood moments before. Mr. Zelger whipped the gun out of his hand. The first members of the pack shifted, others backed away. I looked down at me. A spray of red shot out of my stomach. My eyes fell close, and I swayed backwards, something soft stopping my fall. I opened my eyes and looked into a pair of green-amber irises. The feeling, that soft and vulnerable feeling finally got a name: affection. He purred at me as I touched his cheek. He lowered me to the ground and licked me once with his raw tongue before his pupils turned to slits. With a jump, he was gone. I tried to raise my head, but the muscles in my neck refused to obey. The scream of a cougar and the gurgled howl of a wolf echoed through the cabin. I didn’t have to see to know what had happened. Dillon had done what I had refused to. Ironically, this made Dillon even more human than me.

“Elias! Just hold on. The ambulance will be here soon,” my dad said, pressing a blanket on my wound.

The paramedics would never arrive in time. I nodded and smiled. They had already enough to worry about.

Mom sat at my father’s side, her face wet, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I said.

“Just get well, honey.” She touched my cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

This time, she meant it.

Something furry was placed in my hand. “Mr. Hoppypop will watch out for you.” That was good. I was save now.

“Thanks, shorty.” I turned my head to look at him. “Don’t change! Ever. Scout’s honor?”

His small fingers crossed his heart.

Dillon, in human form again, knelt down at my other side. His face was smeared with blood, through which tears had beaten paths.

There was no need to hold back. This was even truer now. “I would have loved you. Only a matter of time, and I would have loved you.”

That benign smile I hated so much on my parents was adorable on Dillon. “I do love you already.”

An exaggeration, a lie, but a good one, and I didn’t mind.

“The pockets of my pants,” I said, smiling back at him.

He nodded and vanished from my view. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and opened them again.

Dillon returned and held out the bone necklace. I put my hand around his and closed his fingers over the family heirloom. I’d meet my ancestors in person, so I didn’t need it anymore to remind me of them.

I turned to my parents. “He is your son now.” A dead father, a dead son. This was the only justice possible.

Mom and Dad looked up at Dillon, and so did I.

“Help Mr. Hoppypop to care for Jamie, okay?”

Dillon caressed my cheek and wiped away his tears with the other hand. He kissed me.

This was one hell of a last memory, and I couldn’t wish for a better one.

I didn’t hurt. Life just drained out of me. It was selfish and grim, but I wanted my death to be meaningful and they should feel pain.

Pain is the key to transformation.