Frost Legacy: The Inheritance

Chapter 1

The offending messenger bag in my lap offered no assistance in my search for some sugary goodness. I sighed as my hand came back empty after searching the last pocket and I tossed the bane of my existence into the floorboard. Chocolate is supposed to be the cure for all problems. Or was that coffee? I guess it didn't matter which was true because I didn't have either of them, not that they'd help with my problems right now. My life was officially ending.

First and foremost, I didn't have any chocolate left. I'd suffered many years of addiction to the dark decadence and always kept it on my person, but I'd eaten my entire stash, as evidenced by the Machu Picchu pile of foil sitting in the cup holder beside me. Secondly, just try being the new girl during your junior year of high school, especially when you're concealing the fact that you're a teenage shapeshifter. Tell me how that works out for you.

Every day, I hid my other side, but sometimes I "wolfed out" especially when my emotions were overwhelmed. Believe me, that happened more often than I cared to admit. I blamed puberty and not my overdramatic personality.

What I craved, besides the occasional rare steak, chocolate, and moonlit run, was obscurity. It had been instilled in me by my Aunt Mauve and my Uncle Kalen. Obscurity equaled safety for all three of us. Obscurity meant that we would not be hunted down like animals.

Ever since my first shift, my emotions had seemed to grow more volatile and unpredictable and after a few shifting related mishaps, I had received the label of town freak. I was the prime target for bullies and strange looks. It ignited the saga of our multiple moves across the state of Texas and now, once again we were leaving.

I'd royally messed up this time.

Three days ago, I held the Mayor's daughter by her throat in gym class and let my wolf eyes emerge. All I'd say about this latest incident was that she deserved it. Don't get me wrong; I'd tried to be a normal good little human, like my Aunt, but if something simple set me off, my wolf wanted to take control. This knowledge forced me to remain distant and on edge, and knowing tragedy firsthand didn't help. I was damaged goods.

Twelve years ago my parents were taken from me by an evil, demented individual and if not for our pack's intervention, I would have become his third victim. Two weeks later, after suffering severe swelling in my brain, I woke up in the local hospital. My memory was sketchy. When I was questioned by the police, I wasn't able to answer many of their questions. All I remembered was the car crash. I remembered a strange cloaked man approaching, but after the figure shows and he opens my father's car door, there's nothing, just blackness, and fear.

For years nightmares have haunted me. That scene repeats itself over and over. Overwhelming guilt eats away at me. Why am I unable to remember? Do I really want to? The doctors say something is causing me to block the memories; that I'm protecting myself from something or someone that I am afraid of. This fear has allowed my parents' killer to remain free.

My Uncle Kalen, who was twenty-three at the time, and my human mother's Aunt, dear old Aunt Mauve, agreed that he would raise his brother's five-year-old daughter with PTSD. He did it without complaint and rebuilt my life with her help. He taught me everything I know about shifting and she taught me everything about being a girl. I owe them everything and my heart swells when I think about all they have done for me, but I am still an orphan, and because of my lack of memory I can't help the police catch the killer of my parents.

I used all my guilt as a reason for rebellion and I lashed out at anyone around me. Uncle Kalen stressed that I needed to channel my emotions into a hobby. Maybe then I'd get my wolf under control and my memory would return. Maybe then the questions and sadness in Uncle Kalen's eyes would disappear, and I wouldn't feel like such a failure.