Copyright © Rebecca Beatty
All Rights Reserved
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*4 Months Later*
I snapped awake at the slamming of a car door that caused the entire car to vibrate beneath my cheek. My eyes ached for the darkness of sleep to consume them. As the wariness started to consume me, there was a sharp knock sounding on the car’s window.
I wiped all the sleepers out of my eyes as I looked up to a smiling man. The familiar smile went along with this mid forties looks. His dark brown hair was shaved into a military style, but the hair color is what struck up the memory of my mother. His hazel green eyes had shining specks of brown coasting along the outer rim, while the rest of his face was pure masculine.
“Come on sleepy head! Get out of the car already!” He practically sung.
His smile and laughter was just like my mother’s. Everything he had was like my mom. And then I felt stupid. Of course it would, Brock was the older brother of my mom. Making him, my dear ole Uncle Brock.
I grabbed the two black duffel bags on the floor of the backseat and stepped out into the dry, summer air of Elizabeth, Wyoming. There was a forest surrounding all the acres my uncle owned, a small barn was off to the side that illustrated the perfect farm life for animals. There was many cows -who were eating the day away- and with many horses -who were running free and kicking the dust-.
I smiled sadly as many memories start to flood back. My Uncle Brock smiled blissfully as he stretched his hands out fully showcasing the one story home he built himself.
“So?” He asked happily. “Remember this place?”
I nodded slowly and felt a sting of pain pick at my heart. It was a large cabin that had a deck wrapping around it entirely. There was hunter green shudders that hung close to the windows, showing off the clear glass. The logs on the cabin looked worn out from rain but it made the house even more stunning. A paved side walk lead to the large wooden door that was covered on each side with colorful flowers. And on each side of the porch steps, was a huge white rose bush.
I remember my Aunt Josie having a bigger and more “special” garden in the back. That was her pride and joy. I saw a glimpse of the white lilies and other exotic flowers that she got in the jungles of Asia and The Amazon.
I smiled at the white roses and tickled my fingers down the petals bit by bit. They were so soft, and just so pretty. I softly reached in to pluck the flower when a feminine hand grasped my wrist harshly.
A snarl left my lips as I looked into a pair of pale green eyes. Fear was swimming in the depths of her eyes. The long brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail with caramel highlights gleaming against the sun.
“Don’t pick that,” she said threateningly but quickly adverted her gaze to the ground.
I released the flower and snaked my wrist away from her and grabbed her wrist more roughly, growling even louder.
“DO.NOT.” I said quietly to her. “Ever touch me.”
I released her hand and she quickly brought her hands to her sides and slightly bowed. She grabbed one of my black duffel bags and left swiftly to go inside the house.
While starring at the door, and anger flowing through my veins, my senses picked up on movement behind me. I heard the blades of grass being crushed and a masculine odor starting to fill the air. I snarled softly and dropped down and spun around kicking my uncle’s feet out from under him. My snarl started to get louder and my uncle’s hands flew up in front showing me, he meant no harm. I could effortlessly smell the fear pumping through his blood and I could see…was that surprise in his eyes?
I shook myself mentally and grabbed my last duffel bag. I sighed and raked a hand through my long hair. I stared at him and he looked down at the ground.
“I’m sorry Uncle Brock…I think I’m going to excuse myself and go to my room.”
No words had left my uncle’s mouth. I could still feel his fear, the surprise, every emotion that I could detect. I quietly turned on my heel and flew down the hall to the guest room.
I grasped a hold of the gold door knob that led to the guest room -my new room- and turned it. The inside of the room had dramatically changed. The walls use to be painted a light sunshine yellow with sunflowers stretching from corner to corner around the top of the walls. Now the walls were painted a lavender color with white vintage swirls gracing all the walls.
I remember there being dust on all the furniture, and now that I think about it, for some reason mom and dad never let me or my brothers spend the night here. I shook the thought away and looked at the new clean oak furniture.
There was a desk with two drawers on each side that sat by the window. School utensils covered the back of the desk where there was cups filled with pencils, markers, color pencils and a brand new HP laptop polished the desk off.
There’s going to be many nights of writing at this desk,
I think.
A vintage dresser with a vanity, graced the opposite wall. The wood looked so dark and attractive, no gifts on this piece of furniture but just the mirror itself made the piece look amazing. I smiled softly and walked down the length of the vanity, running my fingers down the smooth wood.
My eyes drifted to the -not so same- king size day bed. A lighter purple comforter laid tenderly on the bed that had white swirls going from top to bottom. At the top of the bed was two body pillows with white pillow cases covering them. My smile got a bit brighter. I couldn’t believe this bed was so perfect. It was like it was made for a Queen.
My smile dropped quickly as all the thoughts in my mind came to an end and the only word I could think about was “Queen”. I walked over to my purse and dragged out a small picture frame. At the top of the picture, there was 3 boys with shaggy dark brown hair and bright -and dark- brown eyes. The shortest boy was dressed as Freddy, with his fake nails and scary face. The boy trapped in the middle was dressed in a home-made outfit of Wolverine. His smiled was bright as he posed “as if” he was going to “pounce” on someone. The tallest boy had his arms crossed and had tight grin plastered on his lips. His outfit was the classic hero. Woody from Toy Story.
Below them I was sitting between my mom and father. I was dressed as Belle from Beauty and The Beast with the long yellow dress and gloves my hair pulled up in a neat -full of curls- bun. To my right was my mother who was dressed as Glenda from The Wizard of Oz. She had on a silver crown and what looked like a puffy pink dress. To my left…was my father.
I closed my eyes tightly and tried holding back the tears. He was dressed as the big bad wolf from Little Red Riding Hood, but he looked more like a furry bull. My dad died just when I turned six, it was a year after we took the family picture I was holding in my hands on Halloween. The same thing that happened to my mother, sadly, happened to my father. Except there was no ginger wolf, that any of my family remember. Instead there was a black wolf with dark brown eyes that attacked my father.
I sat the picture on the nightstand and gently tugged on my hair. Both of my parents were gone, and here I was Queen of all North American Werewolves. No one to help train me, just me. Sure my mom taught me a lot but I wasn’t finish with my training. How was I, a young eighteen year old girl going to run an entire continent.
Soft singing was started to sing louder and louder and a vibrating pulse was buzzing in my pant pocket. I pulled out my HTC sensation phone and saw a picture of me and my eldest brother, Spencer. I quickly hid the sadness and the fact I had been crying.
“Hello?”
“How’s the good ole’ town of Elizabeth?” His deep voice echoed over the phone.
“Oh you know…pretty much the same…literally,” I mumbled, fumbling the lace curtains.
Spencer let out a short chuckle and I smiled. “So…,” he said his attitude changing. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” I lied rationally.
“Becky…you know I can smell when you’re lying.”
“And you also know when I’m awake. Speaking of which, are you making a list and checking it twice dear brother?” I smirked and heard him laughing, feeling the release of my own laugh.
“What I was saying sis,” he continued on, ignoring my comment. “Mom or dad wouldn’t want you grieving. Remember what they taught us? A King nor a Queen never---”
“My anger cut Spencer off. “Blames what fate plans! Spencer I know what our parents taught us!”
Spencer held his anger in, something that was hard for me to do from time to time. Since he was so calm, no matter how crazy the situation was, Spencer could always keep a cap on his anger. One reason why mom wanted him to be King of the European Werewolves. When mom was Queen of Europe, she and my father learned early that a level headed person needs to have all the control of the wolves in Europe.
“Then why are you trying to take the blame? Why are your emotions intoxicating me, screaming me that you would rather disgrace out parents and not be Queen?”
He was about to go on when he heard me crying. “Sis,” he asked softly.
I felt the tears splashing against my cheeks. “ Spencer she told me to run! Where is the honor in that?! Why would she want me to be Queen?! I could have stayed and proved to her what a Queen I would be, I could have saved her…she would’ve been alive Spencer.”
Spencer’s attitude changed dramatically as he started to calm me down. He talked about how our parents knew one day I would be Queen. How they knew that neither of them would be around long enough to see more of life. His speech brought tons of pain to my heart, but my brother shined a light in the darkness helping me see clearly.
“If you would have disobeyed mom, you would have broken her heart ten times worse then her being attacked by those ten rogues. Becky, you are the Queen of All North American Werewolves. You have the power and you have the compatibility to be great, just like mom. You can prove to us all how strong you and are and prove to us why mom chose you.”
I wiped the tears off my cheeks. “I understand it’s just hard Spencer…can’t I just come live with you and you train me to be the best?”
“Becky you know we can’t do that. You have school you have to finish and ----”
“I can learn French, German, Italian, any language, just please let me come live with you.”
“Becky,” he said more sternly. “You need to finish school and as Queen, you must stay within the territories you’re in charge of. You need to show all these doubtful wolves that you’re a tough bitch… no pun intended.”
I laughed lightly and smiled a little more then since the death. “You’re right.”
“I know I am,” he said cockily. “Now start unpacking and brush your teeth. Tomorrow is you’re first day of school.”
“Oh yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Don’t want to miss that.”
I could feel him smirking on the other end of the phone. “Well I would say you wouldn’t sis. But some other good news is that there’s pack meeting three nights from now that you need to prepare for. You need to pick a beta and gamma.”
I groaned and flopped down on the bed. “Thanks no pressure.”
Spencer laughed. “It’s not to hard sis. But get some sleep alright?”
“Alright bro.”
“And call me and the other two stooges to let us know how your day went.”
“I promise.”
Spencer chuckled, “Alright I’m getting off here. Night sis, love you.”
“Love you too big bro. Bye.”
Once we both ended the call, I stood up and unzipped one of the duffel bags. I needed to start unpacking and get ready for the big day tomorrow. I laid out an outfit and once that was done, I looked up at the vanity mirror and made a promise to myself.
I’m going to be the best Queen of all North American Werewolves…but I’m going to catch my parent’s killers.