The Worst Kind of Wonderful

Chapter EIGHT

✖️The Worst Kind of Wonderful✖️

Hope is the thing with feathers that

perches in the soul -

and sings the tunes without the words -

and never stops at all.

-Emily Dickinson

Chapter Eight~

My head was suddenly spinning. My veins began to ache. My heart vibrated in my chest, ticking like a time bomb and my stomach clenched at the smell of death and disinfectant that surrounded me and filled my cold dry lungs. Voices in the background came to an abrupt halt as my lids fluttered open and the comforting quiet of darkness dissipated, leaving me defenseless.

The room around me was filled with light from a dull white fluorescent lamp. Heels clicked along the hard tiles and Annabelle sat in a hard plastic chair with a book grasped in her hand and Zak asleep at her side.

"Miss Cassidy, it's nice to see you awake, how are you feeling?" I recognized Doctor Alvi immediately with her warm brown gaze and petite 5' 4" frame; she was seemingly average but had a glimmer in her eye that showed wisdom beyond her thirty seven years.

"I'm feeling better thanks." I replied, my voice coming out far more strained than I was used to. "My shoulder still aches but I don't feel the wolfsbane in my blood anymore."

"That's an excellent sign. I called your parents, they should be here shortly; if you need to contact me or one of the nurses just press that red button." She sent me a genuine smile before turning on her heal and walking briskly in the other direction down the hall.

"Hey Mia, how are you? I mean- I know that's kind of a stupid question- you're in the hospital but-" Annabelle rambled taking a seat at the edge of the hospital bed.

"I'm fine Anna." I laughed taking a glass of ice water off of the bedside table and inhaling the contents in one gulp.

"Did Zak get treated?"

"No, he was healed by the time you got here. Whoever shot him was from a different family than the guy who shot you, it's weird that they didn't use wolfsbane or silver though, it's like they were just trying to injure him or cause pain without doing permanent damage."

"Wait, what do you mean they're from different families?" I asked, sitting up straighter.

"Well I was looking through my moms things and I came across a box filled with her research on the hunters-"

"You didn't have to-"

"I did, I need to know about the people who killed my father." She sent me a stern look before continuing. "I found an article about them that explains how each family has a different crest that they carve into their weapons. Zak took the arrows from the scene and I got a chance to look at them before Dr Alvi took them to the COE."

"And..." I pressed, clutching her wrist with all the strength I could muster out of nerves.

"The guy who attacked you was from the Greyson family." She explained. "But what's weird is the person who shot Zak. They're from one of the fiercest families of hunters in history, the Bishops; there has never been a case of a Bishop shooting a wolf with any other intention but to kill or torture. The one shot at Zak was a training arrow, they still hurt like hell but can't kill a full grown wolf."

"So then why..." I looked to her, honestly baffled by the information provided.

"I have no idea."