The Alpha Legacy Boxed Set 1-7 Page 5

  At least this trail leads toward my street. I can see the distant backs of houses from here and I recognize the purple paint only the McPhersons' home sports. I'm just three streets over from mine. The sight calms my nerves. It also makes me wonder if Aunt May was right about where Cayden lives. I might be about to find out the truth.

  Cayden continues to run up ahead, and he vanishes over a small hill. Huffing, I try to keep up, feeling stupid. Maybe I'm being a stalker. If he turns and catches me following, I'll say I take this shortcut home all the time.

  Or I'll just tell him we're even after he sneaked up on me at the store.

  The sun comes out, casting rays of light through the trees and illuminating the brown needles and a few flowers poking out. But then another thick cloud moves over the sun, and the woods darken and turn ominous. The trunks become sentinels guarding nature's mysteries. I haven't walked through here before. Looking around, I see why no one uses this trail much. Silence still rules. It's a horror movie landscape where a killer is about to emerge from the trees to claim another victim.

  The wind picks up, blowing from Cayden's direction as he crests a hill. I hope there are no animals behind me who can pick up my smell. Or Cayden's.

  "Come on," I tell myself. "If Cayden walks through here all the time to get home, it's safe." Aunt May, however, would shoot me for coming through here. She always used to tell me stories about wild animals in the woods, just waiting to attack anyone who dared stray outside of civilization.

  A chill tightens my skin. I haven't dressed for the weather today. Wrapping my arms around myself, I catch sight of Cayden again as I reach the top of a hill. He's walking at a fast pace now rather than running, eyeing the surrounding trees as he goes. Is he watching for someone?

  A stalker, like me?

  As he's still a couple hundred feet ahead of me, I don't shout to him. What I'm doing doesn't feel right, even if it would make us even.

  A howl sounds in the distance.

  Cayden stops.

  I stop.

  There's no telling where the howl came from, but it's clear the sound must not be any more than a few miles away. The animal's cry stretches out, wild and savage, while Cayden grips onto a tree trunk and raises his shoulders. It's as if he's ready to face down the creature making that sound.

  And I know what creature that is.

  A wolf. It's unmistakable. My mind goes back to the police radio in the store and the dead moose. Creatures exist out here that can take down large animals.

  The sound dies, but Cayden remains in his place, waiting. He still doesn't see me as I stand there, frozen on the hill and exposed. The wind continues to blow from Cayden's direction, sweeping both our scents back toward the school and away from the thing that made that sound.

  I used to visit the old folks home to help with Aunt May every holiday season, back in elementary school. The white-haired men and women used to tell me there were wolves in these woods, always looking for their next meal, and to avoid the trees. An old man named Elmer used to tell me those stories, and when I asked Aunt May about wolves later, she told me that packs roamed the woods.

  And to stay out.

  They were just stories to keep kids out of trouble. Breck's version of fairy tale witches, monsters in closets, and the Boogeyman. There are no wolves in the area and haven't been for decades. No one has sighted any.

  And yet, the howl—

  Cayden lets go of the tree, running away from me at a pace just under a run.

  I follow, not so much to stalk him, but to avoid being alone in the woods. A shudder runs down my spine. I can't stay here. Upon looking, I realize I can no longer see the houses of my neighborhood.

  Maybe the old folks' stories held truth. If I catch up with Cayden, then I can warn him about the woods. But it looks as if he's already figured it out.

  The canopy thickens above, casting me in increasing darkness as my feet pound underbrush. Cayden puts more distance between me and him as the wind continues to blow our collective scent back. He's a great runner. If the wolf is ahead of us, we might be okay so long as we don't make too much noise. But if it's behind us, that might be a different story. Or there might be multiple wolves. Don't they stay in packs?

  "Come on, Brie," I say. Don't wolves tend to avoid humans?

  Cayden vanishes ahead, his dark jacket and jeans merging with the gloom. Instead of coming out of the woods, we've gone in deeper. There's more distance to cover to reach my street than I thought. Now I know why others don't take this shortcut.

  Underbrush grabs at my clothes and backpack as I struggle to keep up. Cayden's vanished. How did he get away so fast? I push on, heading in the general direction of Cayden. My street must be close, but I spot no outlines of houses anywhere.

  Or I'm getting lost.

  I consider turning back.

  But Cayden might be in danger.

  So I push ahead, ready to call out his name. The only thing that stops me is that something other than him could hear. At last, I reach the general area he stood in a couple minutes ago and search the trees, pushing through the thickening underbrush. Where did Cayden go? There doesn't seem to be anywhere he could have vanished.

  And then I pull a horror movie trope and trip on a jutting tree root.

  I catch myself on a low branch and manage not to go down. All that's missing now is something chasing me.

  A twig snaps.

  Maybe not.

  I whirl. My heart stops. Only fifty feet away, on another rocky hill, stands a huge wolf, black against the green backdrop of forest.

  I'm guessing it's a male wolf—there's something about the creature's build that tells me that—and I'm also guessing the reason I'm not dead yet is that the wolf faces away from me, peering into the woods as the wind continues to carry my scent away from it. I hug the nearest tree, careful not to make a sound, as I hold my breath. The wolf stands on top of some worn rocks, boulders that fell from a mountain long ago, and sniffs the air. A dense black coat ripples as the creature takes a step.

  The sun emerges, poking though the canopy of needles. The wolf's coat shimmers with red.

  Another howl cuts through the air. It's far enough ahead that I know that this wolf isn't the source. There's a second wolf out there, perhaps calling to the first. A pack. Aunt May was right.

  The black wolf growls and sniffs the air. It raises its hackles and growls, but then they fall as the creature continues to survey the news on the wind.

  I slip behind the tree. I fear it'll hear my heartbeat. If the wind changes, both wolves might sense me.

  Then I'm dead.

  I duck behind and stare at the tattered bark of the tree for what stretches into an eternity, listening. Silence hangs as if all the birds and small animals know a predator has entered the area. A single ant crawls up the tree. I wish I could join it, but climbing won't be possible with the lowest branches twenty feet above my head. So I stand in my hiding place as the breeze stops in terror.

  When I summon the guts to peek out from behind the tree, the wolf has vanished. Scanning the area and turning in a circle, I see no signs of the creature or of anything else, Cayden included.

  Hiking my backpack up, I turn away from the mossy boulders and run towards what I hope is home.

  * * * * *

  "Where is your car? Did it stall out?"

  Aunt May's in the living room, putting a binder on a shelf once I get through the door, covered in pine needles and out of breath to boot. Thinking back to her warnings, I put on an act. I can do that after seeing a huge wolf, right?

  "The car's fine." If I tell her it's dead, she'll call a tow truck and pay unnecessary money. "I walked home through a shortcut in the woods someone told me about." It sounds ridiculous. I've always taken the supposed safe way home: the streets. And I walk with Noah if I make the trip on foot.

  Aunt May shoots me a concerned look. "Why would you want to do that?"

  "I needed something different. It's been a stressf
ul first week with the auditions and getting adjusted with all the new classes so I needed to blow off steam."

  Aunt May shrugs though the hard look in her eyes remains. They're a harsh summer sky. She's still worried. "It's a good thing you didn't try that later. The weather guy said storms will be coming in off the mountains tonight. And I can drop you off at school tomorrow morning, but I have to do it early. I have an attorney appointment at eight sharp."

  "An attorney?" The word is horrifying and right up there with my wolf sighting.

  "It's nothing you need to worry about," Aunt May says quickly.

  "Are you sure?" I get the sense she's worried. It's there in the way she lifts her shoulders and grips the side of the bookshelf. I know she keeps important documents in the purple binder.

  And as if she senses my thoughts, Aunt May grabs the binder back off the shelf and holds it to her chest.

  "I'm sure," she says. "It's just a minor legal matter. You know there are still a few loose ends from your parents. Bless them, but the law is convoluted beyond belief." She wipes her eye with her free hand. Bags hang under them both.

  It's clear she's done. Aunt May walks into her bedroom with the binder. Her action makes me feel like a creep all over again. Would I have tried to go through it the moment she wasn't home?

  Or the attic, searching for clues?

  Later that night, thunder rolls over the mountains and closer to town. I sit at my window and mull over every single word Aunt May said. She's retreated to her room now and hasn't come out except for dinner. There's a lie she can't hide for much longer:

  We're in trouble.

  And I wish I could do more to help. I think of getting another job after school, but she also needs me at the store.

  But for how much longer?

  Will I graduate here in Breck with Noah and the others I've grown up with, or will it be with strangers in another town?

  A weight settles on my back as I look out the window at the field beyond my back yard. My chest tightens as I breathe in cool moisture and listen to the pattering of the rain. Aunt May has put everything into Sterling Grocery since losing my parents. Me and the store have been her life.

  And more, our final connection to them.

  I think of prying the door open and climbing up to the attic the moment Aunt May leaves the house, to see my parents in whatever form I can, even if it brings nothing but sadness.

  Rain pours down.

  I watch the wet curtains in the dark and then, they part for a moment and the deluge stops. The moon, bright and full, shines like an eye on the landscape below. Tall grass turns silver. The sight brings me back to the woods and the bone-chilling howl I heard earlier that day. I blink and the scene replays in startling clarity as I lift my chin from the windowsill.

  A dark shape, a dog maybe, darts across the field.

  Or perhaps it's a wolf.

  Chapter Eight

  Aunt May drives into the busy school parking lot to drop me off.

  "Good luck," I say, climbing from the car and eyeing the Beater, still in its spot from yesterday afternoon. Hiking my backpack up, I wave to her. "Hope everything goes well."

  Aunt May nods. "Thank you." She keeps her lips even, refusing to betray a smile or a frown. Her happy mask is washing away in the rain and she's trying her best to keep it on, but the nervous twinkle in her eyes makes my palms tingle and my stomach ache.

  She adjusts her rearview mirror as she drives away. I know she's looking at me, standing there and watching her go. Aunt May must know I realize something's wrong. Maybe she will open when I get home from school today once she knows how bad things will go. Taking a breath, I try to muster hope, but I can't even grab onto it to do a rallying cry.

  My mood's in the gutter. I eye the busy parking lot. Aunt May's dropped me off at the edge and now I have to walk through the throng of people getting off buses and out of cars. I'm not in the mood to speak to anyone so I turn towards the grass and walk across that, taking the path that leads past the picnic tables and towards the Science wing doors. I'll go in through there, visit my locker, and get to class before I have to interact with people.

  No one's out at the picnic tables this early since they don't fill until around lunch except for a group of senior guys jogging onto the grounds and covered in sweat. A lot of the strength and conditioning kids jog before class, hit the showers, and then start the regular day. I recognize Ted and Matthew from the football team, since they share my Economics class, but I don't know the other three guys. They're not my crowd.

  I move to the side to let them pass. But Matthew holds his hands out and the five guys stop right in front of me. I figure they're catching their breath before they head inside.

  "Look. It's Disney," Matthew says, giving me a stupid grin.

  "Disney?" I ask, confused.

  Then he breaks out into a horrible singing voice that makes me want to cover my ears. "It's a whole new wooooorrrrrld..."

  The other four guys laugh. Matt spreads his arms as he sings the lyrics of the song, raising his voice enough to make people turn their heads from the parking lot. Then Ted joins in and sings another couple of lines until the two of them form the worst Disney duet I've heard in my life. The worst duet, period.

  What is it with a bunch of guys being together that brings out the worst in them? And I'm not in the mood. Heart racing, I give the jocks the middle finger.

  "Whoa!" Matthew says, holding up both hands as if he can't possibly imagine what he did wrong.

  "If you want to make fun of us theater people," I say, "at least sing the right musical."

  Matthew and Ted stop. "Who cares?" Matthew asks. "Theater's such a waste of time. All you get to do is hang out with a bunch of emasculated guys in tights. Maybe they're all eunuchs. Isn't that what they do to keep guys' voices at the perfect pitch?"

  "Shut the hell up," I say, hiking up my backpack. I've got to defend Noah and the other guys. "They don't wear tights. Maybe you're jealous that theater requires, you know, some talent?" I'm not putting up with these idiots this morning. "You can laugh all you want, but doing something you enjoy is a sign of maturity. But I understand if you're too juvenile to get that." I go to walk past them and leave them with those words.

  But as I walk past, Matthew's arm strikes like a snake and he wraps his hand around my lower arm. I keep moving for a second, but his grip forces me to stop.

  "Let go," I say, glaring into Matthew's brown eyes.

  They sparkle with amusement. "But I'm too juvenile to understand what you're saying," he says.

  Behind him, his friends laugh again. The four other guys move to stand behind me.

  Back prickling, I pull again, but Matthew shows no signs of letting go. His meaty hand tightens around my wrist.

  My heart races not with anger, but with nerves. I hate myself for letting myself get scared, but Matthew is much bigger than me and we're isolated over here. In the parking lot, the stream of students thins. In a couple minutes, we'll be alone out here.

  Matthew grins and flicks his tongue over his lips. "So you like eunuchs," he says. "I can cure that—"

  "Lay off."

  A new voice, right above a growl, sounds from behind Matthew.

  Cayden stands just behind him, hand on Matthew's shoulder.

  "Whoa!" Ted asks. "What's this pretty boy doing here?"

  Cayden glares at Ted and the other three guys, who have gone from active participants to just watching. I hold back a sigh of relief. What's going on here? Cayden wasn't anywhere near us. It's almost as if he popped out of the woods—

  Matthew maintains his grip on my wrist but faces Cayden.

  A wild gleam fills Cayden's eyes. It's almost not human.

  "What are you going to do about it?" Matthew asks. "You must be one of those men in tights. I heard you auditioned the other day for Mr. Saffron." He makes that last line sound suggestive.

  The other guys chuckle, but Cayden continues the stare-down. He keeps his gaze on Mat
thew. Only then does he let go of my arm.

  "Let go," I repeat.

  Cayden lifts his hand from Matthew's shoulder. It looks as if he'll punch Matthew, but instead, he shoves the jerk.

  And Matthew, all two hundred pounds of muscle that make up his body, flies across the grass and crashes into one of the picnic tables. The table slides across the grass, leaving indents where the legs sat before. Matthew grasps the wood planks but falls to the ground, mouth gaping open, as he rubs his backside almost like an afterthought.

  The pressure from his hand remains on my flesh as Cayden squares himself, facing Matthew. Matthew slides down the picnic table in shock as he blinks, surveying Cayden. The other four guys stand in shock. Ted backs away.

  And then Cayden looks at me.

  His eyes flash with fury. The nobility has left, and instead there's a terrifying animal in its place. A chill spreads through me as our gazes lock.

  "Go," he says, his voice a mix of human and beast.

  My pulse races and my legs jump into action as I bolt into the Science Wing doors.

  * * * * *

  My mind can't process the events of that morning. It's hard to focus in first period, and Mrs. Connors chastises Cayden when he walks into class, late.

  And he's unscathed.

  I half-expect Cayden to explain himself or give me a nod to let me know Matthew won't bother me again, but instead, he sits and won't even glance at me. He keeps up his aloof behavior throughout class, and since Noah is sitting beside me, I don't dare get a reaction out of Cayden. This morning has been strange enough.

  And Matthew never walks into the room. Mrs. Connors marks him absent.

  Cayden's growl of a voice returns to my mind.

  The woods...the look in his eyes...

  I shake my head. No. My thoughts are going to crazy places and I can't let my imagination take over.