Cold Shadows
Lexiah wakes as she did yesterday; to the sound of the blaring alarm and her mother’s boxer lab pawing the door. The seventeen-year-old hisses, reaching for the maddening machine that stood perched on a bedside table a good ways away. Eventually she flicks it off before getting ready for the oncoming school day.
Before she leaves her room however, she kneels at the low table set at the end of her bed. This is where her past resides when she cannot bare it. On the surface, several colorful candles surround a square glass plate. It’s laid so that its edges were diagonal on the white rabbit skin from her first hunt at the age of five. She trails a finger through the worn out fur, relishing the brief memory of happiness.
Sitting on the glass plate are a few selected objects from her almost nonexistent childhood. Most noticeable is the flat pad paw rock she received from her great grandparents when she had been presented to the wolf family she presided. There is also the charred clay arrowhead from when she had last seen the elder head of her wolven family. In addition, there is Sullivan’s first shed tail feather, from when the hawk was trained to be a messenger bird, by Lexiah.
However, all three of these memories fall by the wayside, when Lexiah’s fingers wrap daintily around the precious silver and onyx family ring. The onyx family ring; something she was gifted with before Lexiah was forced away from her father’s side. As always, the one night that has haunted her these past eight years, slides easily onto her left middle finger. The two straight stripes of black are encased by the silver, further broken into four by the two verticals of silver. When the ring settles on her finger, the numbing chill of that night returns.
“I’m sending her to the city; to live with her mother.”
Lexiah’s heart crippled. So, she was going to be sent away after all. He always lied. Her mind went numb as her knees met the floor. Her father turned towards her when the noise alerted him that someone was behind him. For a fleeting moment, Lexiah swore she saw something in his eyes, before they hardened once more.
“Lexiah, I said go to your room when you were done.” Immediately she looked anywhere but him and the staring council members of the tribe. Their angry, judging eyes seemed to follow, before she retreated on shaking legs to her room.
Of course, they looked at her as if she was a monster; an abomination. She was one now. With a vampire’s bite, a wolf will change, as a human will die. That was how the old stories went. Lexiah wished the vampire had never come to her. Because of him, she was being sent away. She had managed to disappoint not only her father, but the whole community of wolves that lived in the small town. After all, she was a Therion.
The Therions were a family of wolves known in prior times, as the advocates. This was due to their choice of blending in with man-kinds ways, but living separate from them. In the past, they were a formidable tribe of wolven kin. Their power followed them, and today they are the lead family of this tribal town. The only down-side is that male children are rare and few in between, due to all the past inbreeding. Lexiah’s father is the head wolf of the Therions, as well as the pack head of the community he protects. That is why the other creatures of the night tend to stay away from the town.
Lexiah shivers, remembering her father’s words, as well as the words of the creature that had exiled her from the wolven packs, from her home, and prior life.
Her heart aches to be with the wolves again; with her father, the tribunal wolven head. She wants to believe she deserves a chance to be the inheritor. Above that reason, she needs to know that having this ring means something in the eyes of her father. So as painful as it is to carry, and watch, and be reminded of what happened under that blood moon, she refuses to set aside her past. Instead, she looks to the future, remembering the wolf she once was, and secretly, the wolf she longs to become once more.
Of course, once Lexiah was sent to the city to live with her mother, they didn’t stay there. Lauren, her mother, caught wind of Lexiah’s fear of other people and the city in general. Her mother pulled Lexiah from the inner city district school after the second incident of her almost feeding on someone.
She moved herself and her daughter to the rural areas of the county, in a small town. That was Huntertown. It was north of the city by a good half hour but not far enough to cause trouble for her mother, who was a nurse. Luckily, there was a near-bye middle school, and Lauren enrolled Lexiah there. The population was smaller and the temptation to feed on anyone was diminished. She settled into a regular routine at an easy pace, and her mother would grin while watching her once baby girl relax into their new home.
However, as Lexiah came to know at the time, Huntertown was not an overall accepting community. Lauren kept up with the neighbors and learned this was a Hunters’ settlement. When she shared this with Lexiah after school one day, the girl had wanted to pack up and go. Her mother talked her out of it, managing to convince her that no one would find out she was a vampire; as long as they were careful.
After all, on the surface, Indiana is a simple quiet state. However when the human population is stripped away, maps show clusters of mythics. The southern hills house most of the were-clans. Towards the major cities, covens of vampires dot the plains, settling in amonst the humans, as they are the primary food source. The northern plains are home to a multitude of wolven packs; the Therion pack being the largest. Some have integrated with the human population. Several older packs chose to remain in their ancestral homes.
Ancestral homes; that had been Lexiah’s history class topic for the afternoon. She thought about her own, wondering if she’d ever get to visit one day. Since she grew up in the community, she knew that vampires weren’t welcome. So therefore, she was no longer welcome.
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Around three that afternoon, classes let out for the day. Carroll High is a public school that offers housing to students who can’t afford to get an apartment or live with their parents anymore. The school also enforces a strict dress code, making many of the students believe they are really attending a private school. The grades here are high and rightfully so. The difference between this school and the city schools is that Carroll is very aware of which students are mythic and which ones are human.
Students, who live with living relatives in the area, take a bus home. The routes are about an hour long, though Lexiah doesn’t have to wait that out. Forty minutes later is her mother’s house, nestled into the side of a dead end-road. It’s been a little less than eight years since they’ve moved here and Lexiah calls this place home now. Two others also live on this no name street.
At the edge of the road is a set of mailboxes for the accompanying houses. The bus has already dropped Lexiah and the two boys off and is on its way to the next stop.
The taller of them is Coleman. His burnet highlighted hair pairs well with the glasses that frame steel grey eyes. A charcoal stained leather jacket is hanging off his arm; while a murky-forest t-shirt was worn over a pair of dark jeans. He’s the cunning one, always watching, and waiting for the right moment.
The shorter, but not by much, is Logan. His raven fringe is swept out of his eyes. The mystic deep blue eyes scan their surroundings, while one ear displays a bronze clasp tucked away near the top lobe. His navy blazer is resting on his shoulder, while a matching light grey t-shirt pairs with cargo shorts. Logan doesn’t talk much, preferring to let his actions convey what he means.
Both of her neighbors had not bothered her, as they would have. Instead they chose to spend time on their mobile devices. The change in pace was nice. The auburn turns away first, the mail her primary concern before getting away from these two.
“What are you doing this weekend, Lex?” she hears Coleman ask.
“Homework,” the seventeen-year-old answers bluntly, as she reaches the road’s mailboxes.
Logan sighs and Coleman shakes his head.
“Ya birthday,” Logan ventures, “is this weekend. Ya’re celebr’ting right, Lexi?”
Lexiah opens her mouth to respond, only to close it. Unsure as to how to answer them, she decides to ignore the question altogether. From her pants pocket, she removes her keys and sets about to open her and her mother’s mailbox.
Both growing males take the hint and share an understanding look. In turn, they open up their parent’s mailboxes.
As the last of the billing white envelopes are placed in Lexiah’s hand, the pack seal of the Therion family is revealed stamped crisply in melted, mossy green wax. Lexiah’s hand shakes as she carefully removes the letter from the postbox. The seal; it’s come for me. But why today of all days!? Lexiah thinks, trying to reign in her emotions. Lexiah can feel the oncoming tears that will follow gravity if she isn’t careful.
Coleman and Logan are on either side of Lexiah, pulling mail as well. Both hear a quiet gasp of fright as she pulls the parchment packet from within. Almost immediately, both males recognize the crest and share a worried look. They watch silently as Lexiah turns it over.
L. Therion; daughter
This is the first letter she has received bearing the seal, since they moved from the city eight years ago. Yes, this is definitely important. She just wishes it had come on a different day. After all, today was the day she had lost the wolf within.
An endless array of colors saturated the sky, envisioned by the setting sun. Lexiah appreciated the appearing starry pattern for the first time in years, as she fell numbly to the grass. Around her, trees swayed wildly and the animals were silent. When she looked at the sky, she noticed a blood-chilling scarlet moon; something she had been taught to associate with the bloodsuckers. Stupid vampires, Lexiah’s nine-year-old mind thought.
Bewildered, she pleaded with Mother that this wasn’t happening. However, the ground was cold and hard packed, drawing a pained sob from the light haired auburn, as an even colder hand clenched around her neck. She screamed, tears falling, when something sharp sunk into the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Several minutes later, a breathy throb took residence, originating from the fleshy portion of her neck.
“You will live, and you will join us.” The voice was barely a whisper, yet the crying child could pick out the tenor pitch of a male’s voice. Absently, she tasted something metallic rushing down her throat. “From pack to coven, you shall become one of our own – your own will or not, Lexiah.” He laughed. “Then everything will be ready for the beginning of the end.” He drew away from the shaking girl. “I’ll see you in eight years,” he spat. Then he was gone; a strong wind, brief and fleeting, yet vanishing a moment later without a trace remaining.
Lexiah shook off the memory, clutching the packet to her chest. Lexiah knows she needs to go. Her emotions are running rampage and she has no control over them. She feels as the tears well up in her eyes. Shaking, she backs away from both boys as they watch her with confused eyes. Quickly, she turns and bolts for the house, using the vampiric power unintentionally.
Coleman and Logan watch as Lexiah vanishes into thin air. The next moment, something shatters on the gravel road. Logan crouches down and reaches out to the blooded mess on the ground. Shards of a vial are scattered lightly around the area, and Logan begins to piece together why there is a shattered vial of blood on the ground.
Coleman reaches the same conclusion as Logan does. “We’re calling your dad.” Logan can only nod in agreement.
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There’s mail dumped on the floor of the living room when Lexiah’s mother came home that evening. Amidst the mess is the parchment envelope. The family seal is unbroken, but the top is torn wide open. Lauren swiftly claims the opened package from the floor, unsure as to where its contents were. She reaches for the house phone, after not finding the letter, before punching in her husband’s number.
Once, twice, three times it rang. Half way through the fourth, he picks up.
“Hello Lauren.”
“Don’t you dare ‘hello Lauren’ me, Glenn Therion! How dare you send Lexiah that letter, today, the day she lost the wolven bloodline?!”
A sigh comes through the line. “I didn’t have a choice. The elders want her off the inheritance. My hands are tied, Lauren.”
“I know,” Lauren says softly. “At least they can’t interfere with my actions. That’s why I left.” Lauren hangs up swiftly, before imputing a different number. Lexiah should have been home by now; Lauren knows this. She hopes the Anders can help her find Lexiah.
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Lexiah read the letter repeatedly.
Her father, a man of few apologies, had apologized. It was rarity; something never before to have been directed towards her, but many times for her. Her heart pulsed, something warm flittering to the surface; something she tried to push away. It was too confusing.
One line in particular, he called her baby girl. He was sorry, and he wished that he could have sent this at a later date, or not at all. The letter itself was full of this, emotion, she never thought her father was capable of. Lexiah felt she could hear the saddened tone in his words as they flowed seamlessly on the page.
Two months, the exact amount of time left until the Naming, where the eldest child of a family bloodline is presented to the community as the heir of their bloodline. In cases, like the Therion family, it is to show who the next pack leader will be. From what Lexiah understands, if she doesn’t return to the wolven bloodline by then, he will have to revoke her claim to the tribal head, pack, and the family inheritance.
Lexiah sighs, reclining back onto the trunk of the tree she is perched in. Around her, the leaves have begun changing as of a few weeks ago. In what remained of the sunlight, which is little due to the storm clouds rolling in, the leaves vibrate, shedding their colors on one another. As the wind picks up however, leaves twirl happily from above, before finding their final resting place on the ground. Acorns and twigs dot the trodden ground that carves pathways in the otherwise unbreachable forest. Oak, maple, shag-wood, and hickory, among others, make up the twisting trees.
The burnet’s stomach growls quietly. Lexiah slides out of the tree, free falling until she lands on her feet in a crouch. She breathed in the air around her, picking up a nearby deer and something else; something not quite human or wolf, but she can’t tell what. Lexiah chooses to ignore it in favor of taking care of her hunger. Taking off at a light sprint, she headed for the deer. Lexiah smiled, her fangs making themselves known in the dimmed light. She was happy to take animal blood instead of harming a human. One of the few things she retained from being a wolf.
She caught the doe easily, breaking its neck cleanly so it wouldn’t be in anymore pain. Lexiah’s vampire teeth bore into shoulder, ripping away a portion of the pelt. She began to drink deeply, cringing at first as the metallic taste rushed down her throat.
The feeling of being watched by the unknown creature won’t go away. After a moment of forcing the metallic substance down her own throat, she lets the deer go, and hears more than sees the deer crumple to the ground. Her eyes are busy scanning the tree tops and the field before her.
The sky flickered briefly before thunder jolted Lexiah. She heard something move from the treetops, and seconds later a set of heavy feet landing in the brush. An adult, she reasons, backing up against a tree. Another band of lightning lit up the field, encasing a single figure now standing ten feet from her.
Lexiah’s vocals release a terrified shrill. It was him; that male from eight years ago. Suddenly there is pressure pushing her down, causing her to collapse on the ground. Not again! Her mind screamed. The burnet whimpered, trying to back away from the older vampire.
“Hello doll. It’s been eight years,” he sneers, grinning. “You’ve grown. I expect you got the letter today; poor thing. But don’t you worry; I’ll always take care of you.” His expression hardened. “Seems you have company. I’ll be around doll. Be good.”
Lightning flashes again, showing a small group headed towards her quickly, but not the older vampire. Lexiah looks around rapidly, trying to pinpoint the bloodsucker. Whimpering in relief, she can’t see or smell him. She turns back to the new problem. Thunder resounds just as the field is light up once more. Three wolves and one human, she mentally observes. She finds herself rooted to the spot, remembering that the wolves and humans here work together to keep unwelcome mythics out.
The next blinding light confirms Lexiah’s guess they they have encircled her already. She shakily holds up her hands to ward them away.
“Please… I, I… I just want-t,” she starts, closing her eyes. “I don’t want, to die—” she hiccups. “I just want-to return to the wolven bloodline!” she cries out hoarsely, while her body shakes with sobs that won’t voice themselves properly.
“Lexi, why would we kill ya?” Her attention snaps to the raven wolf. Its eyes were a deep ocean blue, reminding her of someone she knows, but can’t place it. The big wolf tilted its head, and as the lightning strikes down once more, light bounces off a bronze ear clasp that is buried high on the furry ear.
“L-Logan?”
The wolf harrumphs. “Da. And who else?” he asks as he nudges the slightly larger wolf at his side.
“C-Coleman too?” she stutters out, looking over the burnet wolf’s fur. Looking into the wolves eyes confirms it, as they are the same slanted grey.
“Yup, me too, Lex.” He glances over his shoulder. “The other wolf is my old man.” A low growl follows the comment and Coleman chuckles.
“And the human hugging ya, would be me mother, Cheryl. She insisted on coming,” Logan says, glaring at the woman.
Cheryl rolls her eyes at her son, choosing to pull back a bit, letting a soft smile grace her features.
“Let’s get you home, sweetie. Your mother is worried sick.”
Lexiah snorts, a small smile appearing. “That’s not new.”
