Out of the Darkness
Fourteen
Dr. McCoy
Stepping out of the airport, and into the thick and suffocating Phoenix air, I repeat to myself to not get my hopes up. According to my secretary, Jackson Stevens has lived in the outskirts of the metropolitan for roughly seven years. However, my secretary also told me that Jackson has been in and out of rehab centers since he was a young adult.
I don't know why he's been institutionalized so many times, but the fact that his mentality is already being called into question worries me a little. What if Mr. Stevens does practice magic and he's not in control of his facilities? This very well could be the last cab ride I take; and worse, I could die in bloody Arizona.
If I do die though, at least my assistant will know that I was on the right track.
About thirty minutes after getting into a cab at the airport, we pull up to what can only be described as a shack. Mr. Jackson's 'home' looks like if a strong wind comes through it would be knocked over.
I lean up to the cabbie, not taking my eyes off the home, and ask, "You sure this is the right address?"
The driver looks at the house, and then over his shoulder to me as he replies, "I'm sure. That'll be twenty-three dollars even."
Once I've paid the man, I grab my workbag before climbing out of the backseat. As soon as I shut the door behind me, the cab drives away; leaving me standing on the side of the road as I look unenthusiastically at the shack.
Taking a deep breath of the smothering air, I grip the handle to my bag tighter, and then start walking up the dirt driveway. There's no car parked outside, so it's possible that the owner isn't even here. When I get up to the door, it opens before I even knock.
A tall man with a gut stands in the door way; looking like a mess. His hair isn't combed, and he looks generally unclean. The stench of alcohol wafts from inside, making my stomach churn.
"Who are you?" The man asks, followed by a burp.
Pushing down my nausea, I reply, "I'm Dr. McCoy. I'm looking for Jackson Stevens; do you know where I can find him?"
"You found him!" The guys slurs, and then points to his chest. "I'm Jackson Stevens."
I look at my watch, seeing that it's not even noon and already Mr. Stevens is drunk. I suppress a sigh as I look back to him. "I can come back later if now isn't a good time," I say to him, silently begging that he tells me to kick rocks.
"Nah," he replies, "come on in."
He opens the door even more and starts walking deeper into the tiny house. My steps are slow and unsure. In his altered state, Jackson Stevens could have the answers for what I'm looking for, but how reliable can he be right now? I highly doubt he's the wizard whose done all these terrible things, and that's just from looking at him. For starters, if I were a wizard, I wouldn't live in this dump.
"Would you like a beer?" Mr. Stevens asks from the other side of the tiny room I step into.
I look over to him, seeing that his fridge is full of nothing expect beer. "Uh, no, thank you," I tell him as I awkwardly stand just inside the door.
"Suit yourself," he grumbles as he grabs a can. He pops it open, takes a deep gulp, and then points with his can to a tattered couch. "You can just throw them magazines on the floor."
When I make no attempt to move, Mr. Stevens stumbles over to the couch. He tosses everything off of it; making the magazines and papers fall to the floor in disarray directly in front of the couch, and then Jackson silently encourages me to sit down.
"Thank you," I say, although I wish I could just stay standing.
As I take a seat, sitting on the very edge of the cushion, Mr. Stevens sits heavily in a recliner across from me. My feet move the magazines underneath them as Mr. Stevens asks, "So why are you here?" He takes another big gulp of his beer, and my stomach does another flip.
"Really, I can come back when you've had a chance to sober up," I reply, my muscles already poised to spring off the couch and run for the door.
Mr. Stevens laughs. "This is me sober," he says through his roar. "So," he pauses once he's calmed down a little, and then he takes another drink, "ask your questions about my father."
I clear my throat. "I'm not actually interested in your father, Mr. Stevens." I swallow, worried I've made a huge mistake by coming here. What answers could a drunk give me? The only reason I open my mouth again is because I know Anna is Jackson's great-grandmother, and Anna knew about magic. "I'm here because of the attacks that's been happening around the world, and according to my research, your family has a history of practicing magic."
Mr. Stevens' face falls. He downs the rest of his beer, and then goes to the fridge and grabs another. He opens it, and I'm sure he drinks half of the new one in one gulp. The one room home falls into a thick silence that stretches on until Mr. Stevens' beer is empty.
"My older sister is the reason I drink so much," he whispers over his shoulder. He sighs as grabs another beer from the fridge. He comes back to his chair and then sits down with another deep sigh. He takes a deep breath, and continues, "When I was a kid, and keep in mind I don't remember much, but," he takes a drink, "my sister got my family into this huge mess. She ultimately tore our family apart."
I open my bag that's securely on my lap. It's possible that Jackson won't tell me anything of use, but he might let something slip with how much he's had to drink since just my arrival. Jackson himself may not practice magic, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know anything.
Grabbing a pen and paper, I ask Mr. Stevens, "How did she do that?"
"She started dating her teacher," he unloads, making my eyes go wide. "But, her dating him didn't even come close to what happened next. One day we were a normal family, and the next I remember our Mom telling us to stay far away from Hope because," he raises one of his hands and makes a quotation gesture, "'she's a beast.'"
I scribble as fast as I can. "What do you mean by 'beast'?"
"Miles, Hope's teacher slash boyfriend, turns out was a werewolf."
My pen stops, and then I slowly look up from my paper. "A werewolf?" I ask as he takes another sip.
How much had he drank before I showed up? Is he serious? Believing in magic is one thing, but believing in a mythical being running around is a harder pill to swallow; and I'm a professor of Mythical Studies. I've traveled all over the world, heard every story there is to hear, but I have never heard of someone actually seeing a werewolf. Up until a few months ago, everyone thought witches and wizards was a myth too, but that's changed.
When Mr. Stevens opens his mouth again, he delivers one bombshell after the other as he tells me about his childhood. Even through his continuous drinking, Jackson's story grips me and I find myself not taking notes, but instead actually engaging in conversation with him.
If Mr. Stevens' story is true, then everything I've ever thought was a myth is actually a fact.
After two hours, Mr. Stevens says, as he stands from his chair, "But if you don't believe me, you can always go ask Hope herself." He walks over to his kitchen table, and continues, "I have her address here somewhere." He looks through some papers on the table, and when he doesn't find what he's looking for, he opens a draw in the kitchen.
"Here it is," he says as he turns around with a paper in his hand. "Hope's address." He passes it to me as he explains, "Our Dad thought I would visit her once when I got out of one of my rehab stints. After what she did to our family though, I never want to see her again."
Jackson never said flat out that his older sister practices magic, but from the crowd it sounds like she runs with, it's definitely possible.
Brianna
When I learned of what became of my twin sister, at first I was relieved. Braelyn was a complicated woman who refused to show any type of weakness. Even when Valerio shunned her, she rebounded to The Warlock's coven. Braelyn had a smart mouth, and a large attitude to go with it. She always had to have the last word, and ultimately it was her choice to try harnessing the diamond's powers.
Zombie may have had the idea, according to Keegan, but Braelyn agreed.
Mom, Dad and I all thought something bad would happen to her after Valerio kicked her out. When we found out she joined The Warlock's coven, we knew it was only a matter of time before she turned up dead. So, when Keegan sat all three of us down and told us what he and Aunt Aquila saw at the compound, I was relieved that I didn't have to worry for her.
But just because I was relieved doesn't mean I don't miss her. It feels like the last few weeks has been one death after the other; starting with Aunt Nikiya. It's still hard to wrap my mind around her dying, let alone Uncle Cauis and now Braelyn.
How much death can one person experience before it swallows them whole?
My grief these days seems never ending. I even catch myself from time to time hoping that Dalton is okay. I know he's fine and that it's just my paranoid mind playing tricks on me, but I haven't spoken to him since Valerio attacked Sophie. When Lexie went to go talk to Valerio that day, I had turned around and simply gave Dalton a look. I was still mad at him for smoking weed, and because of the look I gave him, he knew his presence wasn't wanted.
He didn't say anything to me before he turned back to the house and left. I've thought about contacting him, but then I start thinking about our first time together and decide not to. I know I shouldn't base our entire mating off the first five minutes we were together, but it's all I have to go off of. Any time after that seemed awkward and forced, and that's not going to help me right now.
My wolf longs to be comforted, but I the woman can't stand Dalton. How can both of us win if we're fighting on opposite sides?
I want to talk to Mom about what to do, but she's so broken up over Braelyn that any time I walk into a room, I know she sees Braelyn and not me. Seeing as how Dad will just tell me to give Dalton a chance, I don't want to talk to him anymore about it. I would talk with Lexie, but it's clear that her and Valerio are going through a rough patch. And who knows what's happening with Aemilia. She's not around much anymore, so it kind of leaves me to figure everything out by myself.
As I come into the kitchen, I see Keegan resting his head in his hands at the table. I don't say anything as go to the fridge. I'm not really hungry; just bored. I gaze into the open fridge, seeing nothing that jumps out at me. Sighing, I shut the door, and then I sit down in a chair across from Keegan. Neither of us say anything, but when the chair scrapes against the tile, it makes him jump.
"Sorry," I say as I sit down. "Didn't mean to scare you."
He forces a smile at me as he shakes his head. "You're fine, Brianna. How are you?"
I chuckle once as I run my tongue over the front of my molars, causing the sound to be louder than I wanted. I clear my throat, and reply, "I'm a mess, but I'll live."
"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asks as he gives me a sad look.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, "Is Dalton really as bad as you say?"
His eyebrows shoot up at my sudden question, but I figured out of everyone, Keegan will know him best. He lets out a large breath of air as he looks down to the table. "Uh," he says as he shakes his head again. He's quiet for a moment, and when he looks back to me, he continues, "Honestly Brianna, he's worse. I don't have one good word to say about him. I actually feel bad for you that he's your mate."
Before I can say anything, Keegan's younger brother Kalvin comes into the kitchen. "Keegan I can't get the PlayStation to hook up to the internet," he says, looking upset with himself.
Keegan gets out of his chair. "I'll be right there." When Kalvin leaves the room, Keegan looks at me again, and says, "I really am sorry, Brianna."
As Keegan walks passed me, I nod my head. "Thanks."
I sit in the kitchen by myself, just listening to the silence around me. I used to love the sound because of how many people live here, but now it makes me want to peel the paint off the walls with my nails. I had hoped that Keegan had something good to say about Dalton, but Dalton did so much damage to Keegan that in Keegan's eyes, there's no good left in him.
How did I get stuck with someone like Dalton? I thought mates were supposed to be perfect halves of a whole. What about Dalton made the universe believe he was meant for me?
Putting my head in my hands, I mirror the stance Keegan had when I walked in. I want to cry at how unfair everything seems to be; and not just for me. I realize that others have lost their mate and would give anything to have them back, but that's just not my case.
I hear someone walk into the kitchen, so I bring my head up only to see Elena. It still surprises me that she's here, but really where else does she have to go? If she were to go back to Australia, she would constantly be around the things and people that remind her of her lost mate. I don't blame her for not wanting to go back. And it's not like Uncle Luke is here to make things awkward for the two of them.
It's probably best that Uncle Luke stays away until it comes time for their wolves to refuse each other.
"Oh," Elena gushes, "I'm so sorry. I didn't think anyone was in here."
She starts retreating, so I quickly say, "Please, come in." I stand from my chair, and tell her, "You're a guest, Elena. You're welcome to any of the amenities."
"I don't want to be intrusive," she replies with a smile, "and it looked like you were needing some alone time."
Waving my hand at her, I say, "I was just thinking of how screwed up the universe is."
Elena laughs, but I can tell it's not because she thinks I'm funny. "If you don't mind," she starts as she comes more into the kitchen, "what has the universe done now?"
"Straddled me with a incompetent mate," I reply, the words freefalling from my mouth. When Elena's face falls, I realize I should've thought before opening my mouth. Me complaining to a widow about who I'm with is so classless that I want to punch myself in the face. "Elena, I'm so sorry."
She forces a smile at me. "Noah wasn't always the man I dreamed I would be with either," she tells me as she takes a seat at the head of the table. "He was entitled, boastful, and liked very much to be heard. But," she sighs with a smile, "in time, he became more than I could ever have hoped for."
"How did you make him change?" I ask as I retake my seat.
Elena fully laughs. "Dear child, I didn't 'make' him do anything." She takes a deep breath, and then continues, "I was simply myself. Noah could be just as stubborn as me, but we both understood that being mates doesn't mean everything is going to be smooth sailing. We eventually gained respect for one another, and the pieces just fell into place after that."
"But if he was so bad, how did you learn to respect him?"
"People say it's a man job to respect his woman, but it's also the woman's job to give the man something to respect. Just like the man has to give the woman something to respect. For Noah and I, it was right after the battle with the vampires." A smile forms on her thin lips as tears fill her eyes. "We had both put our lives on the line to live in peace. After, I didn't see him as an entitled son of a Regional Alpha. He was simply Noah to me."
I chew on the inside of my bottom lip. I don't ever see Dalton and I becoming like Elena and Noah. The only war we're in now is one that could easily and abruptly end my life. As someone who practices magic, the humans are after those few like me. Dalton doesn't care about that though, and therefore he doesn't care about what happens to me.
Dalton
The club bumps and vibrates to the beat of the song, causing the patrons to lose themselves on the dance floor. I stand to the side, just watching. The song playing happens to be one of my favorites, but I just don't care to cut loose tonight. Normally by this point, I've found someone to hook up with. There's plenty of attractive women here, but my wolf won't let me do anything.
Not since Brianna came into my life. She's an uptight snob who's been fed by a silver spoon her whole life, and somehow she's my mate. She doesn't understand what having a hard life means. I've only been a werewolf for a few years myself, and before I was bit wasn't any better.
My parents got a divorce when I was eleven, and I was put in the middle of a custody battle. The court proceedings droned on for three long years because neither of my parents wanted me. Being unwanted is nothing new for me. Since neither of my parents would take me, I was put in the foster system; where I stayed until I was sixteen and was emancipated. When I was trying to tell Brianna about it, it was like all she could focus on was my hair. Since I could see it in her eyes that she couldn't care less about me, I stopped talking and walked away.
She is so self-absorbed that she also can't see just how beautiful she is. Even though her and I found each other at a gathering, and there was countless wolves who witnessed me claim her, unmated male wolves still hit on her on a daily basis.
And she lets them!
I take a large drink from my cup, praying that the alcohol takes effect soon so I can stop thinking about Brianna for one night. It hasn't even been a week since she sent me away, but already I can feel myself losing control. As my head levels back out, I spot Natasha coming over. Her hips sway seductively while her eyes flirt with me.
The sex between us was always intense and satisfying, and although I would love to take her for another ride, I know my wolf won't let me even get a boner unless I'm with Brianna. Why the fuck did I mate with her?
"Hey handsome," Natasha purrs as the song changes. "You wanna get out of here?"
"I'd love you," I reply honestly, "but I can't."
She drapes one of her arms on my shoulder, steps closer to me so her full chest is touching me, and asks, "Are you sure you can't?"
If Brianna wasn't in the picture, then I would be taking Natasha to the bathroom right now to fuck her brains out. She's wearing one of her tiny dresses that has easy access, and although I know she looks stunning, I can't do a damn thing.
"I'm sorry, Natasha," I yell over the blaring music. I brush her arm off of me, take a step back, and tell her, "I can't."
If Natasha were a werewolf she would understand, but seeing as how she's only human, she won't.
Her face pouts, making me feel worse. I want her, I really do. Natasha has a gorgeous body, and a face so perfect God himself would sin to have her. But Brianna is now the only woman my wolf will let me have.
"Suit yourself," Natasha replies with an attitude before storming off.
I watch her leave the club, and as soon as she's out the door, I make my way over to the bar. I don't know how long I stay as I slam one shot after the other. The night becomes a blur, and the last thing I remember before blacking out from too many drinks is me shouting to the bouncer as he pulls me out of the club that I have an uptight girlfriend who uses magic.
Thanks for reading!
I'm so sorry for the wait, my lovelies. I was in a major funk, but I think I'm coming out of it. Thank you for your patience!
~Stefanie