Bitter Blood (BBi)

Chapter 35: Rise Up

Chapter Thirty-five
Rise Up

They move with a savage grace - not like kids who have just been plucked out of their normal lives and shoved into something entirely different, but like they were born a predator and everyone else is prey.

Even from the back of the room I feel it; the strength, the ferocity that they generate, the atmosphere that captures the attention of every person in the room.

I am such an idiot, I think. Such a goddamn idiot.

I should never have come.

The first one I see is shockingly beautiful. Waves of black hair frame her thin, naturally dark face – a face made up of striking features, high cheekbones, plump lips, and brown eyes that hold an emotion the name of which I can't quite grasp, but could be best described as a certain kind of determination. She barely appears to be out of her twenties.

“My name is Julietta Carvert.” the woman tells the group, her voice clear and resolute as she addresses them. “I am the descendant of Alpha Werepanther Markus Carvert.”

Julietta takes a place towards the far right side of the stage and another woman moves up.

She looks as if she's been carved from marble; a thin, rigid statue that absorbs the bright world around her with black, unyielding eyes. She holds her hands behind her back, her bone white hair pulled into a tight, twisted bun. She looks albino all except for her dark eyes. I can imagine her animal shape would appear somewhat the same.

“Adelheid.” she announces her name to be, speaking with a slight Russian accent. “Long forgotten heir of Anatoly, Alpha of the Gavrikov Werepanther pride.”

Werepanther. Terrifying.

The next is a heavy set, muscular man with a crook in his nose and a smirk on his mouth. He's wearing a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt that he crosses his arms over. His name is Brad and he's a Werewolf, the first to appear on stage.

Brad nods at the next woman who stands up and faces the crowd. She's got warm, brown skin, long, dark hair, and smooth features. She seems kinder than the others, with eyes that travel over the crowd in a mixture of excitement and disbelief, and my thought of her shape is as clear as a bell; wolf.

“I'm Mae Chasings.” she introduces herself. “And I'm a Werewolf – descendant of Eli Chasings.”

Mae is a name that suits her appearance well.

After Mae there are two male Werepanthers – Jonathon, who looks like he's in his late thirties, and Mason, who's around his early forties. Then comes an older looking man with peppered hair slicked back named Joseph, the fourth Alpha Werewolf.

After him, there's another female Werewolf named Lia. She's the last but she's gorgeous still; shoulder length black hair and a slim face with a strong jaw and pink lips. She appears to be East Asian but I couldn't know that for sure without asking her, which I'm definitely not keen to do. She wears a leather jacket and jeans and just kind of waits for the next step in the plan.

She brings it up to a total of four female Alphas, two for each breed of Shapeshifter.

I think that's the last of them, an even group of eight all together. But then the last figure comes on stage and I stiffen the moment I see him because he's somebody I recognize.

I guess Avery was right.

Carter looks the same as the last time I saw him except now he's wearing a grey shirt, dark jeans, and a smile that is pure anticipation.

“Carter South.” he announces to the crowd, incidentally telling me his last name for the first time. “I am the Alpha descendant of Maximum South.”

And then that's it. Nine to complete the collection.

The Alphas are looking out at the crowd, glimpsing all the different faces that stand before them. They watch us and we watch them.

They all possess the kind of beauty that is ruinous; both admirable and terrifying. The kind of person you'd pass on the street and shiver under the gaze of. Like I did the first time I met Carter. I can see how they would rule their packs, how people would look up to them for advice and leadership. How outsiders would fear them. How, already, the shapeshifters in the barn around me have made their decisions, whether they are conscious of them or not.

Alrick steps forward again.

“The days of the Prophecy are nearly upon us!” he shouts so that all can hear him, rallying the gathering back to life. “We have suffered at the Witches hands for long enough! We must unite against our common enemy – we must fight!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause and whoops of agreement. Even the Alphas are grinning, teeth gleaming. They drop down into the throng of people and greet them hand to hand, the noise growing louder and louder in the room where they have joined.

“Rise up.” Alrick declares from the stage.

And the myriad cries back to him.

“Rise up!”

“Rise up!”

“Rise up!”