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Chapter 20
Conner’s POV:
Pain. That was all it was. Just pain. Nothing else. My entire life had turned into an endless torture session, and I couldn’t escape.
I was pretty sure I was asleep. Maybe I had fainted? It didn’t matter. I could feel it anyway. It felt like someone was skinning me, before they turned and twisted my organs, and then sewed my skin back on. And it happened again, and again, and again. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t even breath. It was like my lungs refused to take in air. But then again, the dead don’t need air, do they?
That was my theory. I was dead, and I had probably gone to hell by the looks of it. The details about my death were still fussy. When I concentrated I could see the picture of Logan’s dead body, but I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t really in any position to think, after all.
After something that seemed like an eternity, I realized that the pain was getting duller. I was pretty sure it was getting duller, at least. There was a chance that I was just getting used to the pain, but it didn’t really make much of a difference.
Soon my senses started to come back, and I understood that I had been right. I was getting better. It started like a faint buzzing, but after a while I could make out something that had to be voices. I didn’t understand their words, but it was a step in the right direction.
“…Considered what the council might do to you?” The voice sounded slightly familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I was pretty sure I had just heard it a couple of times. Maybe some distant relative?
“I don’t care,” someone answered. “Letting him die wasn’t an option.” I had a feeling I should know this voice, no matter the circumstances. It was someone close to me, yet the name just wouldn’t come. It was like all my memories had been wiped out.
The first voice started to speak again, but the darkness pulled me inn before I could separate the words.
The pain was gone when I woke up again. Actually, I couldn’t feel anything, which was strange. Not the temperature in the room, my own breathing or the presence of my pack members. The last one was the most disturbing. I could always feel the presence of my pack, no matter where I was. You usually couldn’t make out anyone’s exact position, but you could always be sure that they were somewhere.
For a moment I considered the possibility of them all being dead. That would explain the emptiness in my head. But even though a great deal of wolves had died in the war, everyone certainly hadn’t. I knew for a fact that at least the wolves Valentina had sent away were safe and sound.
War. Valentina. The words had popped up in my head as easy as anything, yet the thought disappeared as soon as it had come. It was extremely frustrating, almost like trying to catch smoke with your fingers. No matter how many times you tried, you just couldn’t get a hold of it. It would just slip through your fingers like you weren’t even there.
I decided to give up on my memories and concentrate on the things I knew instead. My name was Conner Emerald. I was eighteen years old, and a werewolf of the Bloody Moon pack. My parents… Don’t think about it.
My parents were… No.
My parents were…
“Dead.”
I spoke the last words out loud. My voice sounded hoarse, like I hadn’t used it in ages. Maybe I hadn’t. It didn’t matter, anyway. My memories were coming back like an unstoppable tide. Finding Valentina. My parents’ death. The war. An Ambush, and then… Will. Don’t think about that either.
How Logan had… No. I don’t wanna think about.
Blood everywhere… Thinking about it will make it real!
And now Will was… Stop!
“Dead,” I whispered. An undeniable truth that, somehow, hurt even more than my parents’ death. Maybe because I was there.. Maybe because it could’ve been avoided, or maybe because I needed him so much after my parents had passed away. I needed Will to be alive, but it didn’t change the facts.
“Yeah. A lot of people have died,” a familiar stated from beside me.
I opened my eyes to face the person, but the light made me shut them again at once. After a few more tries I managed to keep them open, even though I had to blink like a madman.
I sat up straight, and took in my surroundings. I immediately recognized the room as my own, which was reassuring. The curtains were closed, but the sunlight was still enough to give me a splitting headache. Val would probably have called me a psyduck if she was here.
“I guess you could say you have died as well,” the same person continued. It took my eyes a moment to spot the person talking, and I immediately felt bad for not recognizing the voice at once. It was my brother.
“What do you mean ‘I’ve died?’”
Ryan tilted his head slightly sideways. “You don’t remember?”
I blinked in a confusion a couple of times. “My memory is like a blur right now. I remember a lot of people dying, but…” A thought suddenly hit me. “Is this heaven?”
Ryan only laughed. He didn’t sound very amused, though. More like a “I hate everything right now, and that’s why I have to laugh, otherwise I’ll go on a rampage” kind of laugh. “Nope. You’re not that dead,” he answered, once his laughter had ended.
“So what the hell is going on? Why do you keep calling me dead? It’s annoying,” I declared.
“You really don’t remember, do you? Well, it’s kinda hard to explain…” he began. “You should brace yourself for this.”
I just glared at him, silently telling him to hurry up.
“Valentina turned you.”
Silence.
“WHAT? Turned like in…”
“Like in an undead bloodsucker.”
I leaned on my hands for support, not really taking in the news. “Are you telling me I’m a… a vampire?” The last word was spoken like a whisper.
“Yup. She should’ve been here right now, explaining this to you in a sugar coded way, but she’s busy getting scolded by her father. Apparently she broke some kind of sacred rule by turning you.”
“A vampire…” I whispered, not really listening to what he was saying.
Ryan snapped his fingers impatiently, bringing me back to reality. “We got more pressing issues at our hands,” he said.
“More pressing than me turning into a freaking vampire?”
“Stop complaining already,” Ryan snapped. “You got an eternity thinking that part over. You barley have a day for this.”
“Tell me about it, then,” I muttered, almost pouting.
“The Alpha is coming here,” Ryan declared.
I just tilted my head at him. “What Alpha?”
“The Alpha.”
My mouth suddenly went dry. The Alpha, leader of the Pack. The strongest Alpha in the world, widely known as unpredictable, coldhearted, cynical and ruthless (and good looking, even though it was whispered in secrecy.) Nobody crossed him and lived to tell the tale. He always got it his way, and he was amazingly cunning doing so. A visit from the Alpha usually involved someone getting executed in some crazy, but creative, way.
“Did you hear that? The Alpha is coming,” I told my wolf, using only thought. At least I hoped I told him. There was a slight chance that I couldn’t hear him, now that I had turned. He had been amazingly silent this past few minutes.
“I heard it. We’ll have to prepare ourselves,” he said, quite grimly.
“Prepare for what?”
A short silence followed before he answered.
“Death.”