My hands ache as I push out the power, but it works. The more power I send toward Ares, the more impossible it is for him to fight it. He may be a Greek god, but it turns out I am a Greek goddess.
And I have been waiting for this fight my whole damn life.
“Enough,” I say, to both him and myself. “Enough.”
And so, it is. My peace binds him, pushing him further and further back. We move past the tree clearing, into the woods, and my strength continues to break him down, until he’s on all fours, crawling toward a cave in the distance. I don’t know how long we walk, my arms outstretched forcing him away, but eventually, we end up in the same cave I slept in the night I was with the men. He is forced to crawl inside it, the entire time begging me to relent, to hear him, to listen.
But I have no time for his words.
For his tricks.
I am many things—but I am no fool.
Once he is in the cave, I push the stone over the cave wall, trapping him in. “No, listen, child. I am not what you think! Your mother was evil. She did this!”
But I don’t listen. Instead, I envelop the cave with all that is left within me, innately knowing it will keep him bound. Maybe not forever, but long enough.
Long enough for me to find my other sisters.
Epilogue
Remedy: 4 Months Later
After I bind Ares, there isn’t much left for us in Ketchikan. The cottage had nearly been destroyed in his rage, but fortunately, everyone had exited safely. The last thing we do before leaving town, is stop and see Sadie one last time.
Everything from before was gone. Now that I know what I truly am, nothing will ever be the same.
In wolf form, I watch Sadie from the tree line. She is on the back balcony of her apartment. Her hair down and a smile on her face. My heart beats hard as I realize she isn’t alone.
A man joins her on the balcony. He wears a pair of blue jeans and a flannel shirt. He has soft brown hair and a face that is easy on the eyes. My senses are keen as I observe him. Sadie blushes when he looks at her. He leans in close and tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. She looks shy, but happy.
Peaceful.
“Thanks again, Jim, for coming to fix the sink,” she says.
“Anything, for you, Sadie.”
And then he steps closer and he kisses her. And I know, in that, moment, that Sadie is going to be okay.
I run with my wolves out of Ketchikan, holding the memory of my oldest friend close to my heart.
* * *
The air is hot, the sun beating down our backs as we run. The heat of the California desert is relentless. The fires in Southern California were so intense the land begged for mercy. We ran as a pack: Callum, River, East, and me. I needed to calm the fire scorching the Earth.
Now, we are spent, ready to shift to human form and sleep for days. The men were amazed as I did what I could for the wildfires. I stand at a distance, doing my part. Before we parted ways, Harlow taught me how she works to bind the sea when a hurricane strikes, when a storm billows. She does what she can from the ocean, and now I do what I can from a hillside or a mountaintop.
Knowing a hotel is near; we shift before we enter the city limits. As I come into my human form, I roll my shoulders, exhaustion covering me. I press my hand to my belly, wondering how long I will be able to do this. I’m showing now, the pregnancy undoubtedly real. When I went to the doctors, they wanted me to stay for testing, saying that while my baby’s heart was four-chambered, like all humans, something wasn’t normal.
When I asked what not normal meant, the doctor explained that while it makes no sense, my child’s blood was a blood type they had never seen before. He insisted intensive testing was needed. I thanked him and made a second appointment, knowing as I walked away from the office that I would never return.
My child didn’t have human blood because he is part wolf.
I remember the grin on my face as I realized how fucking amazing that was.
My baby is a wolf-boy and I am a wolf-mama. If there was anything more badass in this world, I’d like someone to tell me.
And just like that, any fear I carried about being a mother was gone. This peace thing is no joke.
“That was freaking intense,” I say, coming down from the exhilaration of putting out the fires. While I don’t want to begrudge my gift, I’m still, at times, overwhelmed by it. I hate knowing I can’t be at all places at once, that as a human I am limited in what I can do. If my father is a Greek god, why can’t I be everywhere at once?