Rabid: The Savage Spirit of Seneca Rain Read online

  I’m immediately hit with my mom’s scent, and it chokes me with sorrow so visceral that my hand comes up to cradle my throat. It’s as though I can feel the rope of a grieving noose wrapped there. It takes me several gulps of air before I can push away from the doorway and walk to my mom’s dresser.

  She didn’t wear jewelry or perfume or scarves or anything like that, but she did have a favorite two-piece hair pin that she always used to sweep up the front pieces of her hair when she needed it out of her way. The cuff and smooth stick are both waiting right here where I knew they would be. I grab them, fingers rubbing over the hand carved wood that’s been polished from years of wear, a rose at the end of the pin stick, and delicate leaves carved into the cuff.

  Reaching up, I secure the two front layers of my hair with them and pin them back, feeling stronger for it. Then I dig into her bottom dresser drawer where I know she kept some money. Not much, just a few hundred dollars, her just in case stash, she called it.

  It’s enough to get out of Twin Rivers territory. After that… Well, after that, I’ll get a job, find a place to live with humans, and hope Burke doesn’t ever find me.

  I walk out of my mom’s room, letting myself look back once, allowing myself to breathe in her scent just one more time. Then I’m down the hall and out of the house. I move casually into the surrounding trees, listening carefully for any signs that I’m being followed. I wouldn’t put it past Burke to put a guard or two on me, not because he thinks I’ll run, but just so that he knows where I am at all times. Controlling bastard.

  I figure if anyone is on my tail, I can lose them in here, but as I move silently, listening to everything all around me, I don’t hear anyone. It’s probably all-hands-on-deck in preparation for the Flux ceremony and the Spirit Weaver that will be arriving today, which is good for me. I waste no time in taking advantage and sprint in the direction of the nearest human town, away from my pack and my home...forever.

  The treeline stops just a couple miles out of the town of Hillsend, and I feel like a jumpy fox as I traverse the flat land between the forest and where houses start to pop up sporadically. I pass the ranches and farms of people who have worked this land for generations, some of whom still tell stories of my people and their reclusive, secretive ways.

  Most people think we’re like the Amish and that’s why we keep our distance. Some think we’re some cult that started in Eastern Europe and migrated over here due to persecution—that rumor is a personal favorite. And then there are those who suspect we’re something else but say nothing. We’re the fuel for scary stories told around dimming fires or late at night amongst a group of friends. The tales of the wolves that roam these woods for hundreds of miles is the stuff of legends, but most people never even think to see the connection. There’s no room for magic and mystery in their lives, so my pack exists right under their noses, exactly the way we like it.

  I jog down the two-lane road that leads into town, though I slow to a walk so I can look as casual as possible whenever I hear a car approaching. Each time I hold my breath until it passes, hoping that it won’t be someone from the pack. We usually only come into town to buy or sell supplies, and I’m counting on the fact that all of that was done earlier in the week.

  Soon, the intermittently placed homes begin to morph into neighborhoods as I get closer to the heart of town. I wish the bus depot wasn’t on the opposite side, but I’ll just have to hurry and hope there’s something going out within the hour. So far, this couldn’t have gone any smoother than it already has, but there’s no need to tempt fate. Deciding to play it safe, I skirt the center of town, even though it’ll add more time getting to my destination. I work my way through the less populated areas rather than walk on the busy streets. Fingers crossed, I’ll be on a bus in no time, never to look back again.

  My heart aches at the thought.

  I never in my life thought I’d be doing this. I’ve been planning for my wolf since forever, thinking I was safe in the shadow of my mother and what she meant to the pack. The weight of what I’m doing, what I’m leaving, is crushing, but I know it’s what I have to do. I exhale a resigned sigh and tuck my thumbs in the straps of my bag. I round a corner, my gaze tracing the cracks in the pavement as I calibrate myself for the new life I’m walking toward, when a squealing voice calls my name.

  “Senecaaaa! I didn’t know you were coming!” Trinity White calls out, and my head snaps up to find no less than ten females spilling out of a pack van on the side of the road.

  My breathing stops and my heart stutters for a beat before picking up and kicking into high gear.

  Shit. What are they doing here?

  I look around the neighborhood of houses, like I’m making sure I didn’t circle back to pack land, because I can’t for the life of me understand why they’re here of all places.

  This is what I get for thinking everything was going so smoothly. Why do I have such horrible luck?

  The gaggle of females gather on the sidewalk, most of them talking excitedly, looking over at the two-story house in front of them. That is, until they spotted me. The jubilant chatter slowly dies off as looks of empathy and prudence fill their gazes.

  “I am so glad you decided to come, this is exactly what you need! Get out of the house, let loose, and let go of the funk you’ve been in,” Trinity declares, as though my funk is nothing more than an unjustified episode and she holds the cure.

  I look away from her to the clear road just beyond them and try to work through a way past.

  “Seneca, come on!” Trinity calls again, practically jumping up and down in excitement.

  I just stand there, confused about what to do. My eyes flicker over to the van, and my stomach drops when I see Seamus in the driver’s seat. The giant of a man is staring at me, his face hard as stone, like he knows. When I see his gaze drop down to where my hands are clutching my backpack, the blood drains from my face. It’s enough to spur me into action.

  I let a carefree, excited smile take over my mouth before I hurry over to the small pack of females. “Hey!” I greet them like some mindless twit, hoping against hope that I’ll blend in enough for Seamus to ignore my presence.

  Trinity jabs her shoulder against mine playfully, her heart-shaped face beaming as she gathers her black hair onto the top of her head in a messy bun. “I’m so excited you came! Daisy, aren’t you glad Seneca came?”

  Daisy is as pretty as her name, so short and petite she can probably be plucked off the ground as easily as her namesake. “You never come to our get-togethers,” she says, coming up beside Trinity. Her voice is light but her eyes are slightly wary. She’s right. Although we’re all in the same pack, I never lived in shared housing like some of them, and like my mother, I was more of a loner. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  I just nod and smile, because although I have no idea what they’re talking about, I can feel Seamus’s stare burning a hole in my back. I clutch my bag tighter, my entire body hot with burning worry. All I can do is play this off and pretend I was meeting them all along. If I try to leave now, Seamus will know. It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere, based on the way the windows are rolled down and the engine is off.

  Crushing disappointment at my failure to escape floods my ears. My mind whirls, trying to spin a new plan, so I don’t even hear the girls as they all continue to talk. On autopilot, I follow the group, and we make our way across the lawn until Trinity is knocking on a robin egg colored door.

  It swings open within moments, and the crowd surges inside, bringing me right along with it like a leaf in a river. We fill up a decent-sized entryway where I’m swept up in the noise of happy hellos as we’re greeted by a trio, and my nose immediately perks at an unmistakable smell.

  Lycans.

  I study the three people with wary curiosity. I’ve always felt a little sorry for our shifter cousins. It’s said their bloodline was cursed centuries ago, which is why their transformation is so terrifying. Unlike my pack of T
otemic shifters who can transform at will from human to animal once we have our wolf spirits, shifting is uncontrollable for Lycans. Their bodies are forced into it by the moon, and though they’re practically unstoppable once they shift, they’re also terrifying monsters that walk on two legs, complete with wolfish faces, hair-covered bodies, and animalistic rage.

  These three are family—that much is made immediately clear by their resemblance. All of them have dusky skin and dark hair, with wide, friendly mouths made to smile, and almond-shaped eyes. You’d never know looking at them now about the Underworld style monsters they turn into.

  There’s an older woman and two younger Lycans, a male and female, who look so alike that my guess is they’re fraternal twins. And based on the collar-to-knee aprons they’re all wearing, I realize what this little trek is. I’m so out of the loop when it comes to the social happenings of the females my own age that I forgot I heard talk about them planning a treat yourself day before the Flux.

  I just unwittingly walked into a girly bonding thing.

  Uncomfortable is an understatement to how I feel right now. Not because the girls are bitches or anything—I don’t subscribe to that generalized bullshit—it’s just that I’ve never become friends with any of them. We’re friendly sometimes, but I’ve never felt bonded or experienced that click you feel when someone really gets you.

  I take in the comfy-looking home as our group is led further inside, to a set of stairs leading down into a finished basement with beautiful plank flooring, barber chairs, and lit up mirrors. The entire space is wide open and welcoming, the faint scent of hair dye fumes clinging to the walls.

  I wait awkwardly at the base of the stairs as three of the females are immediately selected from the group and placed in the salon chairs to await their pampering.

  “So, why’d you decide to come?” Trinity asks, leading me toward the couches set up on the far side of the space. The rest of the group is already over there, flipping through hairstyle magazines and watching reality television from the hanging flatscreen.

  “Oh, um, I needed a break, and I figured it would be fun,” I offer, hoping that doesn’t sound as cringy as it felt.

  But Trinity just smiles kindly at me before hip bumping another girl over so she and I can perch ourselves onto the couch. “Are you nervous about the ceremony?”

  I place the backpack between my legs on the floor, fingers curling around the handle like I’m afraid someone will rip it away from me at any moment. “Definitely. You?”

  “Yeah. But I’m excited too. I feel...empty lately. You know?” she asks, thick black lashes fanning across her cheeks with every blink. “Like my soul is missing that other part of me. I can’t wait for my new spirit to come and fill that space.”

  My chest gets tight again, and I have to work to swallow down the lump that rises in my throat, because I know exactly what she means. It was easier to ignore when I was younger, but every year I’ve spent without gaining my wolf spirit, it’s been harder to ignore that missing puzzle piece. Like I can’t truly be me without her. Knowing I’m going to keep on feeling like this, knowing that I’ll never get my wolf because I’m leaving, it hurts more than I can put into words.

  I decide to change the subject. “How did you guys find Lycan hairdressers?” I whisper, not wanting to offend the trio behind me, and knowing that their hearing is much better than mine.

  Trinity laughs and settles back on the leather couch. “We’ve been using them for the past couple of years. They stay off Twin Rivers territory, and since they don’t belong to a bigger pack, Alpha Burke lets them be, so long as they treat the females whenever we want.”

  I frown a little at that. Typical of Burke to force them into working on our pack simply because they live nearby our territory.

  Trinity nudges me. “You’d know that if you ever came with us.”

  A twinge goes through me at her words. I know she doesn’t mean to sound like she’s reprimanding me, but the truth is, she probably is. Out of everyone, Trinity was the one I was the closest with before Burke came along. I was always a loner, but whenever I did things with the pack when I was younger, it was with her.

  But that all changed when Burke took over as alpha. It became very clear that he’d set his sights on me for whatever reason, and I wanted nothing to do with him. So I started staying home, skipping pack gatherings so I could be out of sight, out of mind. My mom helped me, kept me with her as her helper, kept me busy and as far away from Burke as possible. Unfortunately, that distance extended everywhere, until I became the pack outsider.

  I clear my throat awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. “Yeah, I just started helping more with the healer side of things, and my mom just always cut my hair…” It’s a lame excuse, but what more can I say?

  A look of genuine sadness crosses Trinity’s face. “I’m so sorry you lost her, Seneca. That we all did,” she says softly. “It was such a shock.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  It’s the most she dares to say, because the truth is, my mom shouldn’t have died.

  The thing about shifters with the rare magic of healing is that they’re susceptible to giving too much power to help others. It’s why they have to pace themselves, to train for years, and to learn how to concoct other remedies to use besides just magic. If healers push too hard, if their magic runs out, their power can start pulling on their lifeforce.

  My mother knew this, worked to counter it, and never blurred the line between her gift and her life. So when Burke and the betas carried her lifeless body back to the house and told me that she had drained herself past the point of saving, I didn’t buy it for one second. Neither did some of the other members of the pack.

  The problem is, I couldn’t prove otherwise. There wasn’t a mark on her or anything else that would give me any clue about what really happened. No broken bones, no sign of poison...I looked at every possibility I could think of. It has to be something to do with magic, but I have no way of knowing for sure. And because Burke rules through fear and threats, there’s no one who dares question him about it. Not even Hess.

  I thought maybe the Flux would be pushed back at least, just until a new healer joined the pack—in case anything goes wrong with anyone’s transformations. But Burke said he wouldn’t cancel the Spirit Weaver, since he’s coming down from a neighboring pack specifically to perform the ceremony. So despite the mystery surrounding the death of my mom, everything is continuing on like normal. It’s like we all know that something happened, but no one is willing to stick out their neck for her. Or for me.

  “Do you know what you want to do to your hair?” Daisy asks me, steering the conversation away from the heavy shit. She hands over a magazine, and I take it but don’t bother opening it up. “I’ve always been jealous of your gorgeous hair, so please don’t tell me you’re chopping it all off and dyeing it blue or something.”

  “Hey!” Mackenzie objects from where she’s leaning against the wall by the snacks the Lycans laid out for us.

  Daisy looks over sheepishly and smiles at the female with the pixie cut that’s currently dyed bright orange. “I didn’t mean you, Mack, you totally pull it off. But can you picture Seneca with a bright blue mohawk or something?” she teases as she strokes a strand of my warm brown hair.

  “Bright blue would be the wrong color with those icy blue eyes. She needs something dark, more like a navy or midnight blue. Ohhhhh, that would be pretty!” Mack declares, and the other girls all look over at me appraisingly.

  “I’m just gonna trim it,” I hedge, pulling my hair away from Daisy and bundling the rest of it over one shoulder protectively. Just in case anyone gets any bright ideas about pinning me down and bleaching anything.

  “You should totally curl it,” Trinity encourages, and Daisy starts nodding eagerly in agreement. “Lee has a technique that would make a Victoria’s Secret Angel jealous, that’s how gorgeous it is.”

  “Count me in,” I concede, worried I might tip the
m off if I’m not more into this.

  “You’re already super tan, so I wouldn’t recommend a spray, but mani and pedi for sure, and maybe wrangle those eyebrows,” Trinity assesses, like this is makeover day on some rigged TV talent show.

  My hand shoots up to cover my eyebrows. “Thick defined brows are in,” I defend, but she just waves a hand at me dismissively.

  “I know, but some of those hairs are trying to make friends with your eyelids and that should never be allowed, girl,” she teases, making everyone around me chuckle.

  “Don’t worry, everyone’s usually too busy staring at those eyes and the lips you’ve been blessed with that most women have to buy. I doubt they’ve ever noticed the caterpillars you’re trying to grow, but this is what a pamper day is all about,” she encourages, bumping my hip with hers and whooping excitedly.

  The whole salon whoops in return, and I can’t help but crack a small genuine smile at the antics. I drop my hand from my forehead. “Fine, turn these bitches into butterflies,” I tell her, pointing at the offending strips of hair as she claps excitedly and pushes me in the direction of a salon chair.

  Two hours later, after gaining firsthand knowledge of what Toula from My Big Fat Greek Wedding felt like on her big day, I emerge, not quite a snow beast, but definitely something outside of my norm. Thankfully, nothing required Windex, but I’ve been waxed, polished, curled, and contoured, until I look like I belong on a red carpet instead of amongst the rivers and trees that make up our pack land. This look is definitely not inconspicuous for riding on a bus.

  The entire time I was being transformed and girl talked, I tried to think of a new plan. Maybe some errand that calls me away so I can sneak off. If I hurry, I might still be able to get away.

  “May I take a couple pictures for the salon’s Insta?” Lee asks me shyly, and I offer him a warm smile and nod. “Perfect! Let me grab a ring light. One sec,” he says before rushing off.

  I sit here in the chair and stare at the person in the mirror looking back at me. I can almost see a happy-go-lucky girl if I don’t look too closely. Just like the foundation I’m wearing that hides the few freckles I have dotting my nose, my makeover is a mask, hiding what’s really going on underneath. I’m not sure how to feel about that.