Ravensong (Green Creek 2)

I glanced around us to make sure no one was listening in, because my father said our world was a secret. I didn’t think Mom understood that, because she hadn’t known such things existed until she met him. “The witch stuff?”

She didn’t sound happy when she replied. “The witch stuff.”

“But it’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s who I’m supposed to be. One day I’ll be very important and do great things. Father said—”

“I know what he said,” and it was sharp. She winced before looking down at the table, her hands folded in front of her. “Gordo, I—you need to listen to me, okay? Life is… it’s about the choices we make. Not the choices made for us. You have the right to set your own path. To be who you want yourself to be. No one should decide that for you.”

I didn’t understand. “But I’m supposed to be the witch to the Alpha.”

“You’re not supposed to be anything. You are just a child. This can’t be placed upon your shoulders. Not now. Now when you can’t decide for yourself. You shouldn’t be—”

“I’m brave,” I told her, and suddenly I needed her to believe me more than anything in the world. This felt important. She was important. “And I’m going to do good. I’m going to help many people. Father says so.”

Her eyes were wet when she said, “I know, baby. I know you are. And I’m very proud of you. But you don’t have to. I need you to listen to me, okay? I need you to hear me. It’s not—this isn’t what I wanted for you. I didn’t think it would ever be like this.”

“Be like what?”

She shook her head. “We can—we can go wherever you want. You and me. We can leave Green Creek, okay? Go anywhere in the world. Away from this. Away from magic and wolves and packs. Away from all of this. It doesn’t need to be this way. It could be us, Gordo. It could be just us. Okay?”

I felt cold. “Why are you—”

Her hand shot out and gripped my own across the table. But she was careful, as she always was, not to push back the sleeves of my coat. We were in public. My father said people wouldn’t understand the tattoos on someone so young. They would have questions they didn’t deserve the answers to. They were human, and humans were weak. Mom was human, but I didn’t think she was weak. I had told him as much, and he hadn’t responded. “All I ever wanted was to keep you safe.”

“You do,” I told her, trying my best not to pull my hand away. She was almost hurting me. “You and Father and the pack.”

“The pack.” She laughed, but it didn’t sound like she found anything funny. “You are a child. They shouldn’t be asking this of you. They shouldn’t be doing any of this—”

“Catherine,” a voice said, and she closed her eyes.

My father stood next to the table.

His hand came down upon her shoulder.

We didn’t talk about it after that.

I HEARD them fighting a lot, late into the night.

I pulled my blankets up around me and tried to block them out.

She said, “Do you even care about him? Or is it just your legacy? Is it just your goddamn pack?”

He said, “You knew it would come to this. Even from the beginning, you knew. You knew what he was supposed to be.”

She said, “He is your son. How dare you use him this way. How dare you try and—”

He said, “He is important. To me. To the pack. He will do things that you can’t even begin to imagine. You’re human, Catherine. You could never understand the way we do. It’s not your fault. It’s just who you are. You can’t be blamed for things beyond your control.”

She said, “I saw you. With her. The way you smiled. The way you laughed. The way you touched her hand when you thought no one was watching. I saw, Robert. I saw. She’s human too. What makes her so goddamn different?”

My father never answered.

WE LIVED in town in a small house that felt like home. It was on a street with Douglas fir trees all around it. I didn’t understand why the wolves thought the forest was a magical place, but sometimes, when it was summer and the window was open as I tried to sleep, I swore I heard voices coming from the trees, whispering things that weren’t quite words.

The house was made of brick. My mother laughed once, wondering if a wolf would come and blow it down. She laughed, but then it faded and she looked sad. I asked her why her eyes were wet. She told me that she needed to go make dinner and left me in the front yard, wondering what I’d done wrong.

I HAD a room with all my things. There were books on a shelf. A leaf I’d found in the shape of a dragon, the edges curled with age. A drawing of myself and Thomas as a wolf given to me by a child in the pack. I asked him why he’d drawn it for me. He said it was because I was important. Then he’d smiled at me, his two front teeth missing.

When the human hunters came, he was one of the first to die.