Updated: May 5, 2019
Corvo
"Do you have any from Ohio?" Damien nearly yelled over the other noise in the restaurant. But I couldn't call it a restaurant – more of a club with snack peanuts on every table. He leaned on the counter between two women in matching leather skirts, zippers down the middle directly between their legs. "Rhinegeist?" He asked after the bartender answered with a nod, throwing a towel over his suit vest covered shoulder.
"We've got Truth and Cougar," the bartender said, a flashy smile backed behind his voice. Damien beamed and ordered for both himself and me, and returned to Ethel and I shortly after with two bottles in his hand, and another drink in the other. A bourbon-y, red velvet colored drink with an olive floating on top between two toothpicks stuck in the pit.
"Two crafts and a Manhattan for the lady," Damien grinned and set the drinks down on our table.
"Aren't you still underage?" I went to grab Ethel's drink but she grabbed my wrist before I could reach it, and squeezed hard into my flesh. Her fingernails dug between the tendons underneath the skin. It took every ounce of my dignity to keep a hard face despite the pressure underneath her talons.
"Per Lycan Law, brother, I'm a legal adult and Lycans don't follow human law," Ethel said, popping her tongue at the end. With her free hand, she took the tall glass in her grasp, fingers around the stem. She took a big swig from it and popped the olive into her mouth mockingly.
"Fine," I ripped my hand from her bear-like grip and wrapped it around my own bottle. "So what is this?"
"Cougar," Damien said while drinking from his bottle. "It's a craft from Cincinnati, Ohio. I figured you needed to try something other than upstate alcohol." I lifted the cold glass to my lips and tipped it so the chilled beer came out in a thick wave of bitter and oat. I swallowed hard and set the bottle down while I swished the remaining beer around in my cheeks before tossing it down the back of my throat like the rest.
Around us people from all different backgrounds and parts of New York gathered in groups of three to ten. Smiles adorned the crowd, some with lipstick stains on their necks and cheeks, and others chapped and in need of company. Music boomed underneath our feet, the metallic black tiles clattering from the hard bass sounding from the speakers. Bright lights of all colors. Purples and blues flashed, engraining into my vision, even while I blinked. The blackness was splashed with colors, bright ones that blinded me while my eyes were closed. They danced around the club in brilliant flashes.
"You had to pick this place?" I almost had to yell at my sister who stood next to me at the standing table. Her heels picked her up so that the top of her head hit my shoulders but she still had to strain her neck to meet my gaze. "There are quieter restaurants around here, and this place doesn't even serve food!" I pointed with my whole hand to the depressive bowl of peanuts on our table. A small metal bowl covered in peanut dust and shells.
"I wasn't planning on eating here," she said. "This is for drinks and releasing some of the stress from our fucked-up lives." Ethel lifted her glass to the middle of the table. "To our shitty family, and may we neverbetray each other again." Her cut glare my way burned my peripheral vision but I clinked my bottle to her glass all the same. I wasn't in the mood to fight with her, but to repair what little relationship I had left with her before something else came along and set ablaze to the thin string between us tethered by loose knots threatening to come undone.
"Then where are we eating?" Damien growled from across the table. "You promised us food and so far I haven't seen any." His hunger set in faster after realizing we weren't eating anytime soon, and Ethel's gaze flipped almost immediately in response to his tone.
"Whoa there, big dog," Ethel cocked one of her brows, a smile hidden behind the wide-rimmed glass pressed to her lips. An outline of peachy orange lipstick stayed sedentary as her lips moved about the clear crystal. "I figured we'd grab a hotdog or something off one of the food carts around here," she said. "There were a couple a block or two down," Ethel shrugged and took another drink.
"So what are we doing here?" I asked. Curiosity and confusion hit me at the same time on either side of my head. As much as I didn't mind spending an evening away from the pack, I had worries at the back of my head that refused to budge no matter how many drinks I knocked back. Ethel wasn't the type to drive an hour away from home for a drink or two only to return to Emerald with a headache and buzzing eardrums boiling over from intense techno music played from speakers' inches away from us.
"To drink our problems away," Ethel answered with one final drink from her glass before she slammed it down on the table with a screech of excitement. "Damien over here has a girlfriend who refuses to open up about her yikes past with your," she turned to me, "mate who is goddess knows where running from the Council with Ruby's very own Alpha and Beta. If anyone's got some babe problems, it's us!" She tipped her empty glass toward both of us. "I think we all deserve a night off."
"Well that's very kind of you but forgetting about our problems isn't the best action right now," I sighed and set my bottle down, and stepped away from the table. "The longer L and the others are out there the better chance the Council has of finding them, or worse, their bodies are found." Before Ethel could open her mouth, I stopped her with a finger to her lips. "I don't want your opinions about L right now either," I swiveled my head in her direction, jaw dipping toward my chest just slightly as I looked her in the eyes. Ethel pursed her lips but otherwise stayed quiet.
"Fine, no babe talk but last time I checked we've got a suicidal mother and our father's old mistress out there with a kid on the way so we have other drama to talk about!" Ethel cheered and took my bottle before I could notice.
"I forgot about Claire," I muttered, shaking my head. "Purposefully, but still, I forgot about her." The sudden upbringing of the Claire situation brought a headache to the forefront of my brain. I clasped at the temples on the sides of my face and rubbed circles for a moment. "Any news on that or are we still in the dark?"
"Hey, maybe we shouldn't talk about this here?" Damien piped in with his own pop of his tongue. I looked away from my younger sister and turned to him. He finished off the bottle in his hand and nudged his head toward the door. "As much as I love these types of places, you know the ones where you go deaf and all, well as much as I like them I can't really hear you so maybe we should go get that hot dog and sit on a bench and talk there." The hunger deep in the endless pit that was his stomach spoke for him as he licked his teeth under his closed lips.
Ethel frowned but ultimately agreed with a hard nod. She pushed her loose curled hair behind her ears with one solid stroke of her fingers through her scalp. "Alright boys lets go," she sighed, defeated by her two brothers, and led us toward the exit. As much as I didn't mind washing my problems away with liquor, so much weighed on my shoulders I felt the slump in my spine. Too many problems knocking on my front door. Alcohol only made it worse. We left the bar quickly, unseen by the front door guards letting people in by pairs. Ethel led us out an exit off to the side of the building where she held the door open for a couple females desperately trying to find a way inside. Once clear, she let the door swing, then slam shut leaving us out in the warm evening air suffocated by New York heat and smog. Steam rose up from nearby grates. Drunken people stumbled along the sidewalks, heels in their hands while leaning on their partner's shoulders. Clambering chatter echoed through the streets. But the best of all? Amidst the foggy streets and people, the lights were much dimmer, softened by the misty air floating ten feet off the ground in gentle waves. Cars passed, their engines buzzing with soft purrs.
"Come on," Ethel's voice seemed much louder now that the music had drowned out by the thick metal door separating us from the club we just exited. "One of those vendors is this way," she took the lead without hesitation and clacked her way down the sidewalk. Her heels echoed behind her as she left us in the dust without a glance our way. I took the moment alone with Damien.
"How's Alli holding up? I can only imagine what she's going through with all this Council nonsense," I urged the conversation to start. Damien shrugged but looked up anyway. His mood fell drastically from when we were inside the club to now, and I had a horrible feeling I had everything to do with that. Allison was a sour topic between the two of us, and it always would be.
"She's fine, I guess," he said. "She doesn't talk to me about those sorts of things, and she says stuff about how she's unsure how she's supposed to feel about it all," he looked up at the towering skyscrapers above us. A few people passed us without notice, and I followed their movements with my gaze until I couldn't turn my head anymore and focused back in on my brother.
"Doesn't that worry you?" I asked. My brows were pressed together. How could mates not talk to each other about dire topics, especially those involving the Council?
"Not really," he said curtly. "Allison is pretty reserved. She doesn't talk a lot about her past anyway and I don't bring it up because I know what kinds of nightmares she gets when I do," he sighed, frowning. "I just wish she would love a little more."
"How do you mean?" I pressed the topic a little harder with the knuckle on my thumb, digging into it like it were clay in the palm of my hand.
"It's like she's a robot sometimes, doesn't know how to love or anything, but then other days she's attached at the hip. Consistency is all I ask, with the loving parts of course."
I pursed my lips, not wanting to press any further on the subject. Their relationship started so quickly and advanced before their eyes faster than any other I had seen, yet Allison never seemed to recover from her time with Peter. She never showed improvement, or any desire to open up about what happened despite Damien's constant support. I didn't blame her, if her experience was anything like L's. I only knew spare inklings of what went on behind Peter's doors but I knew enough that there were subjects better left in the dark and hidden away, locked in a chest with the key thrown into the ocean.
Further down the street Ethel stopped at a small cart vendor with an oversized painting of a hotdog on the side of it. A large green dollar sign next to the number two stood out against the poorly shaded brown paint and dark red behind it. Ethel spoke softly with the vendor while Damien and I stood back. She handed money to the man who took it generously and gave her back three parcels wrapped in foil. The interaction didn't last a minute, and Ethel returned to us with a hotdog for each of us.
"You're too kind," I said and unwrapped mine.
"Come on, let's find someplace to sit," Ethel said and started at the crosswalk just as the sign on the other side flashed with a white walking man. We followed swiftly behind her and entered a small park the size of a block and a half. People sat at benches, and kids played on a jungle gym but the park otherwise stood empty. Overflowing trashcans were stationed every twenty feet or so, and a couple homeless slept on benches. We walked past the few people loitering and made our way toward a multi-tier fountain in the middle of the park. Ethel took a seat on the rim with one of us on either side of her. Faint mist sprayed us on our backs but we didn't move. The cool water on the backs of our necks chased away the smoggy heat that loomed like a heavy blanket cast around our shoulders.
"This quiet enough?" Ethel asked after taking a bite of food. She chewed quietly, mouth closed with a palm over her lips. "I figured nobody out here would have any idea what we're talking about anyway."
I didn't say anything, but took a large bite from the hotdog in my grip. The bread was stiff but otherwise sweet, and the dog itself proved juicy despite the rough and crispy exterior. This conversation wouldn't start by itself. A subject the three of us refused to bring up without help from one another.
"So about mom," I started after swallowing.
"What's happening to her?" Ethel sounded genuinely concerned. She never got to see the loving side of our parent's relationship, only the sour side that lasted a little over a year before our mother was thrown to the curb. But Damien and I made sure to keep blinders over Ethel's eyes. She was and always would be our younger sister; we refused to allow her to see the toxicity in their relationship.
"In short she's dying," Damien answered for me. "She's lost two mates and to the rest of the Lycan community she's deemed useless. Her body is shutting down, and her wolf has most likely abandoned her."
"That's so sad," Ethel looked down at the ground. Her hair fell forward in two thick brown sheets around her face. I watched her through watery eyes. The image alone took me back to L's execution, how her dark hair covered the horrified look on her face as she knelt in front of the guillotine hell-bent on taking her life. In that moment, I couldn't watch knowing it was the last time I would ever see her but Zane forced my eyes open. He refused to shutter away. If L were bound to die then Zane promised me he would watch until the last second.
I looked back to Ethel who hadn't lifted her head yet. "Eth," I started and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's not fair," Ethel said softly, barely audible to us. "It's not her fault dad turned on her,"
"It was the illness," I said.
"He wasn't," she started but a choked sob in the back of her mouth stopped her from finishing her thought. "He-,"
"Dad was sick," Damien said. "Dad was really sick and it affected his rational."
"But why?" The alcohol from earlier had kicked in. When Ethel finally looked back up to face us her face was doused in tears. Wet and slick, her cheeks no longer held the rosy hue from before. Instead streaks of mascara coated her jawline and the subtle creases beneath her bottom eyelashes. "Why does mom have to pay for what dad did to her?" She asked a little louder. "And why did mom's second chance have to be a stupid human!" Ethel threw the rest of her food to the ground and stood up. Her hands shook in anger, face heated up and flushed as she faced us. The tears continued flowing from the outer corners of her eyes but they were no longer fearful and sad. If Ethel had any clue where Ryan lived neither Damien or me would've been able to stop her.
"We know it's not fair," Damien went to stand but I held his knee down. Ethel needed to vent, to cry and stamp her feet like a child. She needed this and I wasn't about to let Damien silence her like we had for the past two years. We hid her away from dad's illness and that ignorance still haunted us to this day.
"Mom did nothing wrong and now she's going to die because of... because of..." the tears grew bigger, thicker the more Ethel struggled with her words.
"Eth," Damien said. "We know,"
"Let her have this moment," I muttered low enough so Ethel wouldn't hear. "She needs to get this out."
Damien exchanged a look with me but I held firm on my decision and widened my eyes at him for just a moment before turning back to our sister who shivered in rage. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and her teeth clattered while the square shaped fingernails on her hands dug into fleshy palms.
"A-and what about Claire?" Ethel said between clenched teeth. Her jaw was a knife ready to cut the world in two for our mother. The veins in her neck bulged in lines of red and blue, strings tethering her head to the rest of her body. "She's pregnant with a kid who's going to take everything away from us!"
"She's not going to take anything from us, Ethel. I promise you that," I said. Damien shot a glare my way probably in response to my comment earlier but the mere mention of Claire and that unborn kid made the blood in my veins boil over into the back of my throat where it slashed onto my tongue. Acid coated my tongue and as much as I swallowed I couldn't get the taste to retreat back into my stomach. "That kid is nothing but a bastard. The only bit of Alpha in him will be his name."
"He's purebred, Corrie," Ethel held back more thick, soupy tears from streaming down her already coated cheeks. "He's got more Alpha in him than the three of us combined!" Ethel threw her hands into the air in frustration. Her hands didn't loosen from their tight fists. "We're half-bred at best, and Damien over there's mystery meat – no offense."
Damien shrugged and twiddled with his thumbs on his lap. "I think I'm at least half, but thanks," he muttered in response but it went unregistered with her.
"We have no claim to Emerald other than our last name and as soon as that fucking baby is born Claire's gonna go to the Council and petition for the pack," the tears at the corners of her eyes became too heavy for Ethel to hold back. They spilled down the remaining dry parts of her face until the only skin left untouched was her forehead but even that was coated in a layer of sweat pilling up near her hairline. "We'll be kicked to the streets like mom was. What are we gonna do?"
"We have claim over this pack, Ethel," I said. "It was our family who took over, not anyone else's. The Council isn't just going to hand it over to some infant child and Claire."
"The Council'll do anything at this point! They let dad's killer walk free, didn't they?" The words left her lips before she had a chance to take them back. Zane snapped at the inside of my head but I held him back. My fingers dug into the concrete slab I sat on, and I ground my teeth together in hopes to calm him down.
That was it. Ethel's knees buckled under all the pressure on her shoulders. She fell to the ground in a heap, but not too fast before Damien shot from his place on the fountain ledge. He caught her underneath the arms and pulled her up so she didn't hit the ground, but Ethel's body turned to Jell-O before Damien could get a grip on her. Damien's knees hit the ground but his arms around Ethel's middle didn't loosen. Instead they tightened as he pulled her into him. Damien looked back at me, a frozen form on the ledge of a fountain in the middle of New York. Our lives were crumbling. Ethel's world as she knew it started to shatter beneath her and I couldn't even get up to comfort her. Damien and I knew what pain felt like. When our parents divorced, Ethel didn't know the full story. She was too young, naive. Ethel's life had just begun. Damien and I made a promise never to involve her in the ugly parts of pack dealings. To never tell her what really happened between mom and dad, but she found out about the latter after Claire cornered her. Damien met my eyes. He knew I couldn't be the person Ethel needed, especially after what happened to our father. Ethel would never look at me the same again; I'd forever be the brother who stood by and allowed our father to get killed. The brother who betrayed our family.
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Happy new years! Hope everyone had wonderful, safe new years full of fun and champagne! I spent the night with a deathly sore throat and Alka-Seltzer in my system so I stuck with seltzer water in a champagne glass.
But enough about my tragic throat issues. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
QOC: How many of you forgot about the Claire Situation?
Comment, like, and follow!
Much love,
-Kate