Page 14 of Eclipsed Legacy

During the ride to Grandma’s, we’re all quiet, but it’s not an uncomfortable or awkward silence. We’re all relaxed. I think we needed a casual way to reduce the anxiety that we must’ve been feeling. I gaze out the window as the trees go by in a blur, the veils of dust forming from the dirt that the truck stirs up. In the distance, I see black clouds, which actually soothes me. It’ll be nice to fall asleep to the steady tapping of rain tonight. Another car turns off of Grandma’s road as we turn on to it. I stretch my arms out. I’m relaxed now, but I know whatever Grandma has to tell me will change that.

It’s only five-forty when we pull up, and Ricky brings the truck close to the door.

“You just drop me off here,” I say. “I’m riding with Grandma. Thanks for the ride.” I go to close the door, then stop midway. “I didn’t even think to ask. Do you mind taking Michael?”

Ricky shrugs. “Goin’ there anyway, ain’t I? As long as he doesn’t mind helping me roll Mel out of bed, I don’t care.”

I smile, “Thanks.”

“Sure thang!”

I close the door and turn to the house as Ricky and Michael pull away. I quickly jog up the steps, taking them two at a time, before opening the door.

The scent slams into me before I’ve fully entered the house. Blood. Familiar, yet not associated with this place of warmth and memories. The overwhelming strength of the scent sends my system into high alert. My heartrate increases; my palms already sweating. Please, please, please just let it be that the old lady tried to get a cold brownie out with a steak knife again.

I make my way around the entryway toward the dining room, each step adding another weight to my stomach. I stop in my tracks. My throat begins to close. The dining table is on its side, the chairs broken, and streaks of blood line the walls. Another scent begins to mingle with the first: gas. It’s then that I see a faint light from the kitchen.

I can’t feel my hands, my feet, or my other extremities, as I amble numbly through the house. The stove is on fire. I can’t process the flames further. They’re spreading, but I don’t care. In the corner, by the back door, I see my grandmother’s back. She’s on her side. And I know, but I have to check, if only for the slightest hope or need to have absolute confirmation that can shatter whatever ounce of denial still remains. I turn her over. Her eyes, wide with shock, accuse and condemn me for every sin I have ever committed against her. There’s an inch-long scratch on her neck, but that’s not what killed her.

Three long and deep gashes released her entrails. Her stomach and intestines are poured out in front of her with her bloody hands encircling her center. My mind imagines her being slashed open, only to frantically try to keep her innards from falling out. I pull her toward me, holding her, swaying side to side, like she used to do to me, as if she were the sick baby and this could somehow make everything better. A noise startles me, and I crane my head to look around without releasing her, but I can’t seem to locate where it’s coming from. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my own sobs, rocking my chest and sending waves through me as my tears blind me from the world around me. I can’t breathe. The smoke starts to fill the room, but I can’t tell if that’s what’s choking me, or if it’s just my grief. Just my grief, as if it were a small, insignificant thing.

But reality begins to set in. I have to warn everyone. With my hands shaking in front of me, I slowly lay her back down. Part of me wants to mourn the house, as well. My childhood. I know if I pulled out my phone now, the emergency services could probably save it. But that would bring up too many questions, none of which I could answer. Her house is secluded enough, so hopefully the fire will have time to do its work and there won’t be much left of her remains. Maybe they’ll assume she just forgot to turn the stove off.

My knees quiver as I stand, chest covered in my grandmother’s blood. I can’t fall apart again, not now. I have to warn them all. So, I walk out the front door, closing it, abandoning old relics and symbols of the past, the last remnants of innocence gone, and leaving everything I’ve ever loved behind me to burn.

Chapter 5

With a heavy heart, I pass Grandma’s little Kia. I still have to get back to Uncle Carl’s by seven, but my phone is dead. “Borrowing” her car may raise questions, and I’m not sure I can bear to drive the thing. I decide to carry on by foot.

The area’s isolated enough that I doubt anyone would notice me walking down the side of the dirt road. I walk close to the tree line, rather right next to the road. As the chill begins to set in, I almost regret not snatching one of Grandma’s many sweaters from her car. They’d probably smell just like her. When my mind tries to drift to darker, brooding thoughts, I look down at my feet and count each step until a slight pain goes through my body and I see two black paws carrying me forward. My mind is so numb the change hardly registers.

Dark thoughts get a little easier to dismiss when I walk through the taller grass. It rustles as I move through it, bending and bowing for me. Why can’t life be that easy? The sounds around me are anchors, holding me tightly to this world. The rustling of the grass, the thunder in the distance, and the crunch of the occasional interruption of sticks and rocks among the greenery; they all pull me into the moment, away from the harsh, bloody reality that would subdue me if I allowed myself to dwell now.

My walk transitions into a full run as I cut through the woods. A wolf in this part of Maryland would raise more than a few eyebrows. It’s best to remain unseen. The forest is my escape once more, just like that first turn, which both haunts and thrills me. There’s as much beauty as there is danger to what I am, and Grandma’s death will forever cement the severity of what I am in my mind.

By the time I reach Uncle Carl’s workshop, the parking lot is full with everyone else already there. I shift back and open the plastic tub that Uncle Carl keeps outside for unplanned shifts, such as this. An over-sized gray hoodie is all that remains, so it will have to do. I slip it on, thankful it fits me almost like a dress, and roll up my sleeves.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door. I don’t have time to take another before I am ambushed with questions. Nearly four dozen heads turn to face me, eyes wide with horror.

My mother rushes to me. “Tala! Oh my God, are you okay? Do we need to call someone? An ambulance?” The mumble of the crowd echoes throughout the tall building.

I shake my head, confused. “No?”

Lizzy’s pleasant smile appears before my face. “Tala, are you okay?” she asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I shrug her off. “I’m fine! Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“You’re covered in blood. It’s almost eight. No one’s been able to get a hold of you or Grandma. Where is she, anyway? Is she with you? Why are you just wearing a hoodie?”

Everyone stares at me as I walk to the front of the room. “I need everyone’s attention,” I say, which is redundant, but that’s what Grandma usually said at these meetings. “Our alpha is dead.” I pause, allowing my announcement to sink in. There are gasps; some members of the family begin to cry, while others stare blankly at me. The few members of the pack who aren’t blood related to us still look like they’ve been slapped.

“What happened?” Uncle Carl asks.

I swallow before answering. “I was supposed to meet her at six to be briefed for today’s meeting. Since I’m her second, she said I needed to know ahead of time what she wanted to disclose to you all today. Unfortunately...” Breathing in, I collect myself, licking my dry lips before continuing, “…she was already dead by the time I got to her house.”

I scan my gaze over my friends, my family, my pack. They are dumbfounded, staring at me in shock, desperate for answers. They need more, but I don’t know how much I can give. I have to hold it together, not think of my pain. The searing pain in my chest that is seeking to consume me. Ignore it. Push it down. Remain strong. They don’t need weakness. They need answers and a reason to continue on.

I set my stance a little straighter, a little firmer, and raise my chin a little higher as I continue. Matter-of-factly: that is the goal. Give them the facts, Tala. Continuing, I speak as evenly as I can, “Her house had been broken into, and she was clearly attacked by another werewolf. Since the full moon is tomorrow, her attacker could only have been a natural born wolf, not one who was turned since turned wolves can only shift during the full moon. They tried to cover their tracks by setting fire to the house through the kitchen. I arrived in enough time to see the damage, but not to stop it. Altering local authorities at this point will only raise unnecessary questions. Officially, we know nothing. We will all be shocked when we learn that she died in a house fire.” I say the last part firmly and pause to let them know that it’s an order, however politely stated. When they start to nod, I continue.