Failine - 3. Chapter 3

We arrived at the clearing with the cabin in the middle. Lights were shining through the curtains. I had been here before, for the summer parties or when I had helped with the new painting, but this night the place was scary. Though it was painted red, the cabin cut a hole of pure blackness into the forest. The lighted windows were peepholes into some otherworld where shadowy figures danced around to an unheard melody. This was a place where horror flicks could take place. Would take place. I stopped. This was the last possibility to run away. I just had to turn around and dash into the forest. But where should I go? And how far would I come with a dozen of wolves after me? I took a deep breath and inhaled the smells of the forest once more. I was a shifter, homo lupus. Nothing would change this, and the pack was the place where I might actually find out what that meant.

“Don’t be shy,” my dad said, turning around. “They are all waiting for you.” He smiled at me. The same benevolent smile Mom and Dad hadn’t got off their face for the whole day.

I smiled back. Whether one of their wolf senses let them see through the falseness of my smile? “Then I won’t disappoint them, Sir.” When I said ‘them’, I meant ‘you’.

My false smile was apparently wolf-proof because my dad’s expression changed from benevolent to transfigured. He extended his arm. “Let’s go in together, son.”

I stepped forward, and my father’s arm closed around me. I didn’t have to look at Mom to know that she was holding back some tears. The body of my dad was warm, and I wondered whether my body would ever be that firm. His smell ousted the fragrances of the forest, filling up the space around me. I closed my eyes and imagined to be 6 years old again when I believed that Dad could take it up against everything and nothing could ever harm me. It was difficult to recall, more difficult than I thought, for there wasn’t much of these memories left. The reality of growing up had consumed them piece by piece. The light shining through the opened door, and even more the smells from inside, brought me back to the present. A room full of shifters, and a buffet, was difficult to ignore nose-wise. Dad and I entered the cabin together. I had seen every person in the room, but apart from their names, and for some I wasn’t even sure about those, I didn’t know anything about them. These strangers clapped their hands as we entered the room. My stomach cramped a little more, but the most important rules when dealing with wolves were: carry it off well and don’t lower your gaze. With the false smile stuck to my face, I let my eyes wander from person to person and gave an occasional nod. Hating to be the center of attention wasn’t one of the traits a designated alpha should have. Just another hint that the hopes my parents vested in me were all in vain.

I scanned the room, but I couldn’t spot the one person I really looked forward to see. Last time I had met Dillon was over three years ago. In our age, that was an eternity, and perhaps I just didn’t recognize him. Heck, I didn’t recognize myself at times when looking into the mirror.

Mr. Zelger, second of the pack, approached me, ending my musings. He was only slightly smaller than my dad, but his ever-smiling face didn’t evoke that knee-jerk respect that was my dad’s trademark. He raised his hand, and the applause ebbed. He extended the other one. “Greetings, Elias. This will be your night. Enjoy it. When you’ll look back at this moment, it’ll be one of the most important in your life.”

I didn’t know how to possibly enjoy this moment. Perhaps this was something that important moments had in common: when you were in them, they felt awful, and only afterward you realized their relevance. I shook his hand. “Thanks, Mr. Zelger.” His handshake felt firm, a little too firm for my taste. I just wanted to get away. “Is Dillon here already?”

The question irritated him enough that he let go of my hand. His brows furrowed. “Who?”

“The Goddard boy,” my father answered for me.

Mr. Zelger’s gaze switched to my father, understanding dawning on his face. “Oh, the other initiate.” He looked at me again. “Yes, he and his family are here.” He gestured inside.

His reaction confirmed my worst apprehensions: this was the initiation of Elias Knightington and some other kid. Dillon didn’t deserve this, and I didn’t want this.

“I’ll go find him and say hello,” I said.

“Fine. Present him my best compliments,” Mr. Zelger said. Even I knew that this was something that he should have done himself when Dillon had arrived, but through the unwavering smile I couldn’t tell how he felt about his lapse.

“Of course, Mr. Zelger.”

“Mom, are all these people wolves?” Jamie said at a volume that no one in the cabin could ignore. The room went silent. My dad laughed out, the signal for the pack to join in.

With everyone’s attention on Jamie, I sneaked away from Mr. Zelger and my parents. I owed the little one for this. Dillon had to be in the rear of the room so that was where I was heading. Jamie’s distraction was already wearing off for gazes and whispers followed me. Though I tried, both were difficult to ignore.

There he was, leaning against one of the timber beams. He had changed, but not as much as I had. Three years ago, he had been the tallest in the cub-sitting group. He hadn’t grown much more since then, and I towered him by a full head now. However, he was twice as broad as me, the muscles in his arms and chest tightening the cloth of his white shirt. He wouldn’t have to feel ashamed without clothes during the initiation. I would. His hair still seemed impossible to tame, and its color hadn’t changed at all, the shade of moist sand. The intense color of his hair contrasted to the subtle hue of his eyes, as if a single drop of ink had been swirled into a pint of water. His eyes reminded me of something else, but the memory stayed just beneath the surface. I was smiling. The smile had just crept onto my lips when seeing him. He was looking at me, and I couldn’t quite say what was going on in him. His features were hard, and he squinted his eyes, not much, but noticeably. Was this disdain?

“Nice entrance, crown prince,” he said. His voice had deepened to a profound baritone.

My smile crumbled away. It was disdain. “I’d have preferred a different welcome,” I said.

“What was missing? An orchestra? Honor guards lining the door?” He folded his arms over his chest.

I lowered my eyes. “Nothing was missing.” If I explained that I could do without any attention, he wouldn’t believe me. I couldn’t even blame him for having hard feelings. I looked up. “I’m glad seeing you again.” As if he believed that.

His body tensed up. “You missed me so much that you couldn’t pick up the phone or come over once in the last three years?” His posture was all confrontation, but something happened with his eyes. Some other emotion flashed up, something softer, something vulnerable.

It’s not a good idea to fraternize with future underlings. Mom and Dad never mentioned Dillon by name, but it was absolutely clear whom they were referring to. My offense was following their orders, being the good son, the son of the alpha. “You didn’t call either.” What was his excuse?

There it was again, the emotion I couldn’t name. He opened his mouth and closed it. He swallowed.

“Mr. Knightington?”

I almost jumped up at the voice behind me and turned around. A man in his forties, balding and with glasses that almost made his eyes disappear, held up a white envelope.

“The pack wants to express its joy about this evening.” He waved the envelope about my face. “With the best wishes from all of us.”

I snagged the envelope from his hand, just to get it out of my face. I looked at the man who showed a grimace that only remotely resembled a smile. My eyes went down to his hands. They were empty. I looked at Dillon and then at the envelope in my hand. A dozen of adults couldn’t be that brainless, could they?

“This is Dillon Goddard. He’ll be initiated this evening,” I said so coolly that it wasn’t hard to imagine icicles hanging from every word.

Sweat made the bald head shine. I could smell how uncomfortable he was. He was in fear. “Our best wishes for you too, of course.” He extended his hand towards Dillon. Hopefully, he wasn’t a neurosurgeon with tremors like that.

Dillon looked at me from the corners of his eyes. His lips twitched as he stifled a grin. “Please express my gratefulness to the pack.” He shook the man’s hand.

“And mine, of course,” I said with my freezer voice.

Still holding Dillon’s hand, his eyes switched to me. Fear had turned into full out panic. The sweat formed beads that trickled along the few remaining hairs, plastering them to his scalp. “Our best wishes for both of you.” He jerked back his hand. “Would you excuse me?” He spun around before even finishing his question and hurried away. Only a slightly faster and he’d be running.

I turned to Dillon who wiped his hand on his pants. With wrinkles on his forehead, he eyed me up. “What was that about?”

“Attempted bribery gone wrong?” My hand closed to a fist and crumpled the envelope. How fricking calculating and selfish people could be who claimed to form a pack.

“I was talking about you.” The wrinkles remained. At least, the disdain was gone. Now I knew what his eyes reminded me of: the copper sulfate crystals I had grown for my home schooling project. Mysterious and beautiful.

“This is your night as much as it is mine.” I had to put right what the adults had fucked up. “Here, take it.” I held out the crinkled white paper.

He looked at my hand and raised his gaze again. “Are you kidding me?” His words were harsh, but everything else about him was not. His eyes bore question marks, insecurity, and… hope?

“I’m dead serious about this.” I extended my hand a little more. “He didn’t call me Mr. Knightington, because he wanted to be polite. He doesn’t know my name. I’m just the crown prince.”

Dillon blinked several times and licked his lower lip.

“No, no, you’re right,” I continued before he could say something. “That’s what I am, and I wish I wasn’t. And even less I want to be the proxy for bribing my dad.” I reached for his hand and grasped it. He didn’t resist. It felt warm and soft, but also callused in some places, and I placed the envelope in his hand. “Take it as compensation for how they are treating you.” I gestured at the room.

“I’m used to this.”

His words hit me like a kick to the head. It wasn’t what, but how he said it. His tone was matter-of-fact and devoid of any emotion. It was one of his personal truths, and I refused to accept it as that. This was Dillon, the brave leader of our scrap yard expeditions, the one who won back the football from Mr. Hubbard’s mean bastard of a dog. No one should ignore him. “Then you deserve it even more.”

His eyes alternated between the envelope in his hand and me. “I’m saving for a car.” He shook his head. “It’s as you said: this is your night as much it is mine. Fifty-fifty?”

My parents hadn’t bought me a bike let alone they allowed me taking the driving test. A car meant getting away from home when you wanted to, meant escaping the supervision, meant freedom. “You know what: keep my share, get a car, and from time to time, you’ll give me a ride. Okay?” My parents wouldn’t let me go, but hadn’t they both told me I was a man now? It was about time for some decisions of my own.

Dillon looked at me, his gaze wandering over my face. The muscles in his cheeks were working overtime, and I could almost hear the rattling of gears in his head. “Deal,” he said, and before I realized what was happening, he had me in a bear hug.

With his body pressed to mine, I learned first-hand that his muscles were as impressive as they looked. Even Dad wasn’t in such a good shape, and unlike before with my dad, it wasn’t hard to feel safe and snug in those arms. My respect for Dillon was genuine, as genuine as he was, not something I clung to because I was used to or because it had always been there. So close up, I noticed how different Dillon’s smell was. There was this musky scent that was typical of shifters, but it was more intense and earthier. Despite its strength, the smell was pleasant, and I liked it.

“Thank you,” he said for my ears only and let go of me.

“You’re welcome.” I scratched the back of my head. “At least, it won’t take another three years for us to see again.” My smile returned of its own accord.

He smiled back at me, and it suited him much better than the disdain. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Eli? Eli?” That was Jamie, zigzagging between the people at breakneck speed. “There you are. Daddy-sir wants you to get ready for the ishi…inshi… for the wolf-thing.”

The ants beneath my skin, which had taken a break during my talk with Dillon, tried to catch up by working double-hard. I swallowed down the lump that formed in my throat. “Tell him I’m coming, shorty.”

“’Kay.” Jamie dashed off.

“What was your brother’s name again? James? And I remember that rabbit.” Dillon’s smile changed into a grin.

“Jamie, and you’ve heard him: the crown prince comes first again.” The corners of my mouth drooped.

His grin toned down, but a trace of it remained. He grabbed my shoulder; so gentle for a guy of his build. Where his fingers touched me, something happened. Whatever it was, it shooed the ants away.

“In this case, I don’t mind yielding to you,” he said. His eyes did with my mind what his hand did with my shoulder, and I feared I was sporting the same stupid expression my parents had been showing the whole day.

“My dad hates waiting. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure.” He squeezed my shoulder once more before pulling back his hand. “Good luck.”

“You too.” I turned around and walked off.

“Elias?”

I veered back to face Dillon, the fast movement making me dizzy.

“I’m also glad seeing you again.” He hesitated for a moment. “And I missed you.”

I only nodded because words wouldn’t come out, and I was sure now that I had contracted my parents’ benevolent smile.