The Fire Seer

3 - Visitors

Another week passed in quiet. I was gifted decent clothes and finally given shoes, but by whose orders, I did not know. I was allowed, with escort, to go into town. For the first time in six years, I ventured past the woodlands and into the city.

The city was bustling with life. Cars drove down narrow streets lined with shops, and bike riders and roller skaters zoomed past sidewalks and through parks as throngs of people walked to and fro. As soon as they saw me, many stopped in their tracks to stare. I rubbed my neck, and I felt the raised skin where the mark of the moon bore itself onto my flesh.

Something they never mentioned in the history books was how much more alive I felt as an Oracle of Ilya. My skin radiated with clear brightness, and my hair was a more vivid shade of orange. My muscles felt stronger. It was as if my very chemistry had been changed. They must have looked on me as a powerful being. Some bowed as I passed with my guard. Everyone seemed on edge.

The good treatment was new and foreign, and I both loved and hated it. I basked in the way these people who had abandoned me now lowered themselves before me, and yet I hated that it took vomiting blood and being gifted powers by a god to achieve.

After several boutiques, I waltz out with bags of clothes and the platinum card Elijah had given. Apparently, seeing the Seer in baggy worn clothes with holes in them and no shoes was too much even for this godsforsaken pack. I felt no guilt about it, spending on what I had always wanted. I walked out in new jeans and a sleek black halterneck bodysuit, happily strutting the Vans I had been given for walking in.

The guard opened the car door for me, and I slipped inside, but not before seeing a small caravan of black cars pass. I glanced over, then back to the guard. "Sam, what's with all the cars? Everyone seemed a little on edge today, too," I pointed out. Sam got into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirror to look at me through it. "The other packs have arrived to see you. Alpha Elijah has been struggling to fend off the visitations," He explained. I pondered that before leaning forward in my seat, grabbing the pack of his chair. I smirked. "Take me to the packhouse, now," I said, and Sam took off down the road.

When we reached the packhouse, I climbed from the car with my bags and bags of new goodies to find the parking lot to the house stacked with black SUVs and Humvees. Men in sleek black suits and sunglasses stood guard at the vehicles, unmoving. We walked into the packhouse to a blood of people. I could smell on the air the distinct scent of outsiders and crinkled my nose, looking out upon at least thirty black three piece suits and elegant dresses and pantsuits and formal wear. Elijah stood among the throngs with Markus, trying desperately to sate them and answer their burning questions.

When I entered, the room went quiet as everyone turned to me. My gold eyes shone as the panic set in. Someone threw themselves at my feet, kneeling before me. "Great Seer of Ilya," He greeted. Everyone came forward, taking me in or bowing or reaching for me. Sam had to hold them back, snarling to make them draw away. "I must tell my Alpha. We must return at once," someone was saying. "I can't believe it, I can't believe it," someone else muttered under their breath. It was too much, and I clutched the back of Sam's suit to shield myself from them.

"Enough!" Absolute Authority shook through us all, and the power of Elijah's wolf had even other packs submitting, backing away with fervent bows and prayers. I was left with Sam in the center of the chaos, peeking out over his shoulder at Elijah, who fumed. "You see now that the Seer is real. Go run home to your Alphas and stay there, you vermin. Unless it is for the Solstice, no one is permitted on Ironfang territory that does not have our blood in their veins!"

Everyone seemed stricken with the command. Some snarled in return. "She is the Seer! You can not claim her alone!" Someone shouted. A chorus of protest rose up, and warrior wolves from our pack rushed in front of the flanks of the building, hovering and waiting for the calls of a fight. Elijah put up a hand to tell his men to hold, baring his teeth. His canines grew longer and sharper, ready to rip out any throat that made a move. "Listen up! Go back to your packs with your evidence if you must, but if you remain, I declare war on the packs of the Appalachians. The Seer is ours!" Elijah shouted. The wolves of the other packs growled back, fur rippling across their skin with the need to fight. I didn't understand why. Why was the Seer so important to them all? And why would Elijah say I was theirs? I would leave in a month's time. He could not stop me with empty words.

The wolves withdrew, leaving the packhouse with the threat of battle looming over, but many watched me as they left, like salvation in the flesh. When they had cleared out, climbing into their vehicles and tearing out of Redfield, I let out a breath, detaching from Sam. Elijah stormed away, cursing as he went, and the wolves stationed around the building stood down, relaxing. My heart pounded wildly in the events.

Suddenly, from the balcony to Alpha Elijah's room, Beatrice emerged, trailing bedsheets over her half nude form. I looked up at her, and we met eyes, her own narrowing before she turned, taking her head of wild blonde curls and unknown thoughts with her. I wondered what she and Elijah really were for things to end up this way, but my head was too consumed by the insanity of the events to properly consider it. I pushed away from Sam and took my bags up the flights to my room, slamming the door.

I thought of Beatrice, nude under sheets and flaunting it to all. I wondered if Elijah had marked her as his own, if the mate bond had pulled them together or if this was simply a marriage of convenience. I wondered why my heart ached so badly to it, why the attention from strangers felt so empowering, and why it all was happening to me. But I knew why. I knew why it hurt so much.

Elijah was my first love.

As children, we were best friends, inseparable by every standard. Beatrice was my friend, and her and Elijah couldn't stand each other. Their thoughts of the world were wildly different, with Beatrice as a wildchild and Elijah as the disciplined future Alpha. In middle school, we were a team, no matter how much we all butted heads. Every adventure was attended together, and every pack meeting was spent sitting side by side and imagining the day we were all grown. I would be Beta, and Elijah would be Alpha and Elijah swore to make Beatrice someone as important as she was to him. They never loved each other. Through high school, they dated every color of humanity but each other. My heart twisted to watch Elijah fall in love and dump each one, but I stood by his side as a friend. I loved his laugh. I loved the way he burned brownies and overcooked pasta and how I'd have to coach him on it. I love helping each other with homework--he was math-oriented, and I was history-oriented, and it worked. The year I got my wolf was the year after they had already gotten theirs, and we all ran through the woods together through thundering paws as the Howl of the year sent us into a frenzy I could never forget.

Then the incident happened.

I flopped down on the bed, curling into a ball as I kicked my new shoes off, bringing my knees to my chest. The good old days were gone, and yet they never left me. Despite everything, despite every moment of aching torture in this pack since I was sixteen years old, I loved them all still. Memories of baking with Mrs. Ronda or gardening with Mr. Brown lingered on the edges of my memories. Playtime with the pack children as Elijah trying to wrangle the stragglers and the laughter we shared perforated my being. I cried into the pillow for every bygone memory I had buried inside my heart to forget that now welled to the surface. I thought of Beatrice, my most trusted friend, and the coldness of her eyes now. I thought of how her father took what was mine and Beatrice took what was mine and this pack had taken what was mine. I loathed them and loved them all at once, an insatiable denial towards myself that would not cease.

All the memories swirled around me, and I could not find the answer in a single one. I missed my parents. I missed how my mother kissed my hair and my father pinched by ears and how they danced in the kitchen and sang radio songs together in the car. I missed hot chocolate winters by the fire with them and Christmases with the Sinclairs and prayer rituals with my mother over squirrel bones and sage. I missed the good old days. I missed the days that would never be again, except where they lived inside me, alongside birthdays and New Years.