Here it is! The lost chapter six. Hope you all enjoy it. Chapter eight will be posted tomorrow, make sure you reread chapter seven to make sure you did not miss anything!
****Warning, this is not a PG novel. There is language! So, if you are offended by words, I would not read.****
The community on the reserve was deep within the acreage in the woods. Dirt roads lead into the community square which spanned out into five different living areas. The leaders lived in the northern most area and the rest of the werewolves and their kin lived on the rest of the roads, creating a star shape. In the center there was a general store, a community center, and a pub/diner.
When we got to the center of the community, we took the farthest road to the right towards my house. All the houses were alike in outward appearance. Modest yet rustic looking, each house was a log cabin. I saw my mothers white lace curtains through our windows as we approached my house. Flowers aligned the sidewalk soaking the sun into their white and pink perfection. The place always reminded me of a house out of a country home magazine.
“Thank God, they are not home. My mom would grill me if she saw me out of that bed right now.” I reached for the car door handle.
“Will you be alright?” Razzi asked, “Need my help with anything?”
“I’ll be fine. But, lets just keep this whole healing thing on the down-low. Sound good?” I tapped my lips with my finger giving a little “shh” as I smiled.
“Always,” Razzi said with a smile as I shut her door. I stepped back and watched her pull out of the driveway. I was finally alone, yet I felt whole and part of something more. I needed some time to think and relax and bathe, yes that was right on the top of my list.
I walked into the house and ran right into my bedroom, locking my door behind me. My room was simple with only a bed, dresser, and desk taking up the modest space. Pictures were plastered the 3 foot tall mirror which attached to the far left wall. They were mostly of Razzi and I as kids, but there were also pictures of my family, other friends, and, of course, wolves.
I walked into my bathroom which was a pearl white with blue trim. I pulled back the shower curtain and started the hot water, adding just a little bit of cold to create the perfect temperature. I lit some lavender candles and went back to my room while the tub filled closing the door behind me to let the bathroom full with warmth. I peeled off my clothes and the bandages, looking at my body in the full length mirror. The scars were visible on my upper shoulder, ribs and back. They might heal over with time and some scar cream, but they really did not look that bad. Plus, most of the werewolves found scars attractive, battle wounds.
Steam began to rise out from underneath the door, helping rise the sticky, moist humidity that was common around these parts of Pennsylvania. Water beaded on my skin as I opened the door to let the steam out and walked towards the tub. I slid one foot in carefully checking to make sure the water was not too hot, I really did not need another accident so soon. I slid down into the water, only keeping my head exposed. The heat soothed my skin and joints. I was in such a state of relaxation by just soaking there that I felt I never needed to move again.
I tried to make sense of my situation, but as the water sat utterly still around me, nothing was becoming any clearer. Maybe all of this was just a severe hallucination, which would make perfect sense if Raz was going crazy too, and that really did not seem to be the case. I looked to my right and saw my razor sitting on the side of the tub. I had to prove to myself that I was not crazy and what better way then to cause harm and try to heal it.
I grabbed the razor and placed it against my left wrist. Hmm, these things were about impossible to slice open your wrists with. Maybe I should not start with such a big vein, what if I really was going crazy and nothing happened. Then I would be laying in the bathtub dying and that was not the goal. So I focused on something smaller, like a finger. I put my hands back under water to soften up the skin. Mentally gathering up the courage to cut yourself was a lot tougher than it sounds. I pulled my hands back out of the water and placed the pad on the razors blade. I let my finger rest there for a moment and took a deep breath in. I held my breath as I pushed hard with the razor and quickly slid it to the right. A sharp, paper cut like pain started as a bit of blood welled up on the wound. Now came the hard part, how did I heal myself in the first place?
I put my finger in my right palm and clasped my hand around it. Closing my eyes, I breathed out and said “Heal.” I wasted only a few seconds before I realized that was probably the dumbest idea ever. I remembered the dream that I had in the hospital. There was a man rubbing me and kissing the wounds. I settled back into the tub, placed my finger in my mouth, and licked the wound slowly. I closed my eyes and envisioned the wound closing. I saw the skin knit closed, felt the pain go away. I pulled my finger out of my mouth, inspecting it closely. It worked…it actually worked. I was not sure how or why, but I now knew I was not crazy. I could heal myself and I saw it with my own eyes.
Well now what? I can heal, which is good and bad. This could be really awesome, maybe I cannot die now. Maybe I am now immortal, probably not but nonetheless, healing was cool. But with the good comes the bad. Werewolves do not trust things they cannot understand. I know, what is weirder than a werewolf? Magic users and vampires that’s what. And neither explains a nonwerewolf healing kin. Maybe I was just special. I doubt it, but I had to be careful.
Ding Dong. You have got to be kidding me. “Just a second!” I yelled, hoping they could hear me through my open bedroom window. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me. I went to the door, not bothering to look at the window, whoever was there knew I was home anyway. I flung the door open, holding the towel tight around my body. There was no one there. I looked down and spotted a package, a simple brown box with a red bow around it. A small write card was stuck under the bow. I walked out onto the porch to the stairs, searching for a car, person, anything. There was no sign of anyone. Shrugging, I picked up the box and brought it inside.
Placing the box on my bed, I checked the card to see if it was even for me. ‘Aisha’ was written in cursive on the outside of the card. Not a handwriting that I recognized. I gently shook the box and heard an object shifting inside. I picked up the envelope so that I could open the card. The card was just a plain white card. The same cursive was inside. It read ‘Careful what you wish for.’ I turned it over looking for anything else. Nothing. Not even a signature. What was this suppose to mean? I placed the card on the bed and pulled the red bow off of the box. I lifted the lid off the box and placed it on the bed beside the card and the bow. Looking inside I saw pictures laying on top of a tissued mass. I picked up the pictures to get a closer look.
The first picture was of my Jeep in perfect condition. Weird, who would want a picture of my Jeep? The next picture was of my Jeep again, only this time it was smashed into a tree and laying on the drivers side. Panic set in as I realized when these were taken. I quickly switched to the next picture to confirm. This was was even harder to face. There I was, lifting myself out from the passenger window of the car with a large silver wolf coming up behind me. The forth picture was taken just after Razzi raked her claws down my back. The final picture was when Razzi sank her fangs into my shoulder. Seeing these images from another perspective made my heart race. The memory of the event flooded my mind as I sat on the bed. I could feel the claws enter my ribs, the slicing of muscles down my back, and the crunching of bones in my shoulder. Pain shot through my body as the visions became more than just memories. I hugged myself and rocked slowly back and forth, soothing myself until my breathing slowed and my heart stopped racing. I tried to compose myself, remembering that these were just pictures and the memories were not real. My mind was tricking me. Where the hell did these come from anyway?
I remembered the tissue wrapped item still sitting in the box. I pulled the box onto my lap, not really wanting to touch the item inside. Hesitantly, I peeled off the tape on the paper and saw there was something white inside. I pulled the tissue back more and gasped as I pushed the box off my lap and onto the floor. The item popped out and slide across my carpet. That could not be what it looked like…
Slowly, I stood up and walked over to the tissued mass on the ground. I pulled the paper off the object and revealed a horn, Bill’s horn. It was white again, not silver anymore. There was dried blood on one end that would have been in his skull. I ran to the bathroom and threw up bile. I sat there on the cool floor for a few moments. Trying to steady my breath.
I stood slowly since I was still a little light headed and walked back into my bedroom. How did Bill’s horn get in there? It had to have been the person how killed him who sent me the package. They would have had to grabbed it after the werewolves found him dead since Razzi said they found both horns in him at the time. Plus they were silver then too. Was she mistaken? But who would stalk Razzi and I and then kill Bill? I had to call Jonathan and I knew this was not going to be a fun mess to add to the already complicated situation.
I picked up the phone and dialed Jonathan’s number. He finally picked up after four rings, “Hello.”
“Jonathan, it’s Aisha. Look, I know this is sudden, but I need you to come over right now. It is an emergency.”
“Where are you? I thought you were at the hospital.”
I hesitated, “they umm let me go. Said I was fine and dandy. Now, this is important Jonathan, I need you to come to my house.”
He must have sensed something in my voice because he stopped questioning. “OK Aish, I will be right over.”
“Thanks, see you soon.” I hung up before he could say anything more. I through on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I finished the outfit by putting my gun holster across my back and put in two Colt .45’s. I was not taking any chances.
The doorbell rang and this time I checked the peephole before opening the door. Jonathan had arrived and was wearing his normal red flannel shirt and khaki pants. As I opened the door I realized that I had not really thought about how I was going to tell him the news. Something like ‘hey Jonathan. I found our guardians horn in a box on my doorstep with a bunch of pictures of me getting killed, so how are you today?’ Yeah that shit did not work.
We stood there for a moment in silence, me not knowing what to say to him and him probably wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Jonathan finally broke the silence, “uhhh Aisha?” he asked as he waved his hand in front of my face which snapped me out of my own thoughts.
“Oh hi Jonathan.” I gave him a soft smile, “I am so sorry to call you over like this but…” it hit me like a ton of bricks, Bill’s horn was laying on the floor of my bedroom. I fell into Jonathan’s arms and started sobbing. I cried hard as Jonathan wrapped his arms around me. I felt secure in his embrace and he just let me cry as long as I needed. I just had to tell him, but no words would come out of my mouth. I opted to grab his hand and drag him into my bedroom. Probably not the best idea, but at least I did not have to find the words.
I stopped right at the doorway and stood there looking at Jonathan, “I have to warn you, what you are about to see is going to upset you to your core. But please, do not rage and kill me OK?”
“OK Aisha, you are starting to scare me. This must be pretty bad.”
“It’s worse.” I stepped back into my room and let him walk inside. I quickly grabbed the pictures off my bed and handed them to him. “I found a box on my doorstep and those were inside.” He looked at each picture slowly taking each of them in. His facial expression remained blank.
Jonathan sat down on the bed, “Who took these Aisha?” he snapped. I knew he had a few reasons to be mad. First, photographing a werewolf was a bad thing, we did not want the normal people to find out. Secondly, it was worse to be photographing a werewolf killing someone.
“I don’t know. Like I said they were in that box,” I shifted nervously. “But there was something else in there too.” I stepped to the side and pointed at the heap of tissue paper on the floor.
Jonathan glanced at me nervously, “what is that Aisha?” He stood up from the bed and took a few steps forward. I moved to my bed and sat down, putting my head in my hands and closing my eyes. I did not want to see this again. I heard the floorboards creak as he walked closer. Then he stopped, he must have been standing right by the horn now. Another loud creak happened as he must have shifted his weight and crouched down. The crinkle of the tissue paper was came next and tear welled up in my eyes as I knew he what he was about to see. A horrified gasp erupted in the room. “Oh my God. Aisha. Is this? Oh no it cannot be. I mean, is this Bills’?” I could feel his heart race in the back of my throat.
I nodded my head in my hands, if he was holding the horn I did not want to know. I heard a loud thud as a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders. I lifted my head knowing he was not holding the horn anymore. “Aish, you have to tell me who sent you this.”
“I don’t know,” I answered, not making eye contact. I did not want to see the hurt in Jonathan’s eyes. He ans Bill were best friends and now I was adding to the pain he was already feeling. Jonathan sat on the bed in front of me and lifted my chin to meet his eyes. Just looking into those sad and lonely eyes made me want to tear up again, but my eyes felt like they dried out. His face was so close that I could feel his breath on my skin and smell his musky cologne. I searched his face for a clue to the next step. What could I say? What could I do? Staring deep into his eyes, I felt the answer creep up inside of me. He wanted to be held, consoled, and told everything was going to be OK, even though it was not going to be.
I put my hands behind his head and pulled it towards me chest. It was a gesture of comfort and Jonathan took it as one letting his head rest gently on my breasts as I stroked his hair. He let his hands fall along my waist and rest there gently. After a few moments, I felt something wet fall between my breasts and Jonathan’s hands clench my waist tightly. The tears started to flow and I let him cry in silence. Moments passed and I kissed him gently on the top of his head and laid my cheek down on it. I did not tell him it would be OK, because it would never be. We held each other for what felt like hours, even though it had only been a few minutes.
Jonathan’s tears stopped flowing and he lifted his head up to look me in the eyes, “thank you Aisha. I really needed that.” Before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. My heart skipped a few beats as he pulled away. “Well…”he paused, “I am just gonna get this over to Melissa and see if she can get a read on it,” he stammered as I felt him stand up from the bed. I opened my eyes and smiled softly, but I was still unable to speak.
He started to back out of my room, “I will see you later Aish,” he said with a hurried smile. I lifted my hand and waved to him a soft goodbye. As he turned away, I wanted to yell out to him to come back, or at least run up to him and kiss him back. But I just couldn’t, his kiss took my breath away. When did I become so weak?