Tears of Silver

Two

  I set a brisk pace, excitement and fear mingling and sharpening my senses. I'd never been to Harrowford after dark, had never dared let the idea cross my mind, because once I got a taste for it? I was a wolf starved.
  I traverse the tunnels, only guided my the faint scent of Harrowford and the occasional breaks of moonlight through the grates above me. I still have time to return home and get a few hours of sleep before life demands my attendance.
  I come to a stop under a square grate, the ladder rusted and some rungs missing. I peer up and a fresh scent of the city engulfs me. I test my weight on the rungs before I creep towards the surface.
  My palms are slick with sweat as I reach the grate. I strain my ears, trying to hear any noise over the sound of my pounding heart.
  I'm doing this. We're doing this.
Only the distant noise of patrons at a late night tavern reach my ears, I grunt as I press a hand to the grate straining as it begins to creak open. I don't have the strength to hold it open long enough to check my surroundings, so I can only hope the fates are on my side as it swings open.
  I peer over the rim, finding I'm just on the outskirts of the cities south west side. Behind me is a lush, dark forest and before me is buildings in darkness. No guards patrol the deserted streets. I slip from the grate, torn between leaving it open for a quick escape or closing it to hide my trespassing.
  I leave it open, knowing I'd be dead if I was in a rush for an escape.
I dart towards the closest building, pressing myself into the rough stone wall as I take shallow breaths. To find the bookshop I'll need to head into the thicker part of the city on this side.
  Once I'm positive the only sound I can hear is my heartbeat, I begin to slink from building to building, taking back alleys and empty streets as I try to orientate myself with where I am.
  In the daylight the city is alive with people and wolves, the streets a mixture of cobblestone and dirt. The city breathes life through the day, but under the disguise of darkness the streets are silent, as though death stalks the streets I now occupy.
  Panic begins to build as I come to stop, unsure of how long I've been winding through the streets and by some miracle still haven't been spotted.
  I'm about to give up on my search when a faded flower sign propped on a dark building catches my attention across the street. I run for the shop on swift feet, skidding down the narrow alley as light spills from a building halfway down.
  Relief floods my system as I quietly rush for the shop, knowing my window of escape is growing shorter by every second. A small white and blue sign holds the door open, reading Fabel's Second chance Novels.
  I gather my fathers confidence as I walk into the shop, pulling the sleeves of my jumper down, hoping to conceal some of my scent. A head of grey ringlets pops over a counter that's hidden beneath a wall of books.
  The woman fixes wide brim glasses as she smiles at me, "evening!"
  "Hello." I smile tightly, inhaling the scent of old books and the deep musk of forgotten pages. It's a heady scent, and every book lovers dream.
  Lights hang from the ceiling, revealing a spiralling stair case that goes to a second floor where I can just see more books lined. This place is a maze, and helplessness threatens to drown me.
  "Can I be of any use?" The woman comes around the counter, hobbling on a wooden staff, "I may be an old wolf but I've got a keen eye."
  "I'm actually looking for a first edition for a friend." I offer, stuffing my hands in my pockets, "Atlantic. It's an older romance novel."
  The woman taps her staff as she hums to herself, lost in thought. I wait, taking the chance to catalogue more of the store, one thing I know for certain is I only have one route of escape.
  "Ah yes, I think I shoved a copy somewhere back here." She hobbles forward, walking past me and disappearing behind a stack beside me. I trail behind her, winding through the maze. I let my fingers feather the books, some covers frayed from use while others are near brand new.
  "It should be here somewhere." She calls down the aisle, peering up at a stack of books. I wander over to her, scanning the titles, "the Alpha actually donated the copy. I personally shelved it, chuffed to know he read a book of the sorts."
  "I didn't know he read." I say idly, truthfully not knowing a thing about the Blood packs alpha. I didn't even know what he looked like.
  "Oh yes, he's one of my best customers." She smiles proudly, the wrinkles almost swallowing her eyes. "I was surprised he was donating an original copy. He said something along the lines of knowing the book will land in the hands in needs too."
  "He sounds wise." I grin as I find the cover of Atlantic. I gently pry it from the top of the stack, holding it with both hands. The cover is in almost perfect condition, save for the corners being frayed. A girl stands on a ice landscape, her white gown flowing around her while a man made of nothing but mist holds her against him.
  "It seems it's found the hands it was meant for." A deep, male voice says from behind me. My wolf howls as she shrinks back, tail tucked and head down. The woman chuckles as she hobbles past me.
  Pure terror floods my veins, threatening to choke me.
  If I wasn't holding the book so tightly I'd be trembling.
  A clear sign of guilt.
I peer over my shoulder, eyes landing on a broad chest cloaked in a simple black sweater. I'm more than aware of how it hugs his large frame, and no doubt the muscle underneath.
  I'm about to come face to face with the alpha of the Blood pack, the youngest alpha for centuries.
  After dark.
  I'm already dead.
  "I was just telling the young lady here about that." She chuffs. He chuckles, I feel every octave as though it's a caress against my skin. I keep my features calm as I turn, tilting my face back to meet the alpha's eyes.
  His golden orbs burn bright as they assess me under heavy set dark brows. The dim light gives his features a soft touch, night black curls cover his forehead and lick the sides of his cheeks, slightly shorter on the sides. Dark tattoos decorate the exposed skin of his throat, but I'm too far away to make out what they are.
  "Did...did you want this back?" My voice wobbles and I curse silently. Although his expression is guarded, he makes no move to grab me and haul me out of the shop.
  He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants, "like I said to Irene, the book will find where its meant to be. It's yours to keep."
  "Thank you." I hold it to my chest, needing to feel some form of barrier of false protection, "it's going to a loving home."
  His full lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. "I believe it is."
  "It is." I manage a small smile, looking back down to the book, "I almost know it word for word."
  "As the season changes, and my form grows thin, know that my love will endure..." he trails off, tilting his face slightly as he watches me.
  "For my love will be in the fresh bloom of spring, the first fallen leaf of autumn, the rays on sunlight basking on your skin and the first kiss of winter." I finish the last line, admiring a man I have no right admiring. He stares at me, and I can pick nothing from his expression.
  Irene hobbles back with a paper bag and a gold chain bookmark, a crescent moon hanging from the end. "Ah yes, he'll be chuffed now. You've fed his ego."
  The alpha chuckles, rolling his eye as he steps to the side, letting Irene pass. "Who keeps this place afloat?"
  She waves a hand, so nonchalant it shocks me, "I have more customers than you, Ciaran."
  Ciaran.
  "How much would you like for it?" I ask, glad to look anywhere else but at him. She smiles up at me, taking the book from my hands.
  "Nothing for you dear." She pats my hand, passing me back the book tucked safely in a paper bag. "it's on Ciaran."
  "Oh no, I couldn't-" I stutter, not wanting to add stealing to the list of rules I'm breaking tonight.
  "It's on me." He says, finality in his tone, "let's just say you owe me one."
  I peer over at him, "is it safe to owe the alpha a favour?"
The corner of his lips tip up, a dimple creasing his lower left cheek, "it depends who I'm receiving the favour from."
  "Who knew my little old bookshop would make the alpha a lovesick teen." Irene chortles, tapping Ciaran on the arm, "where's this charm any other time?"
  My cheeks burn as I look away, wisps of my black hair falling down from the loose bun I'd thrown it into. I fight the urge to brush them away, needing the curtain to hide some of my embarrassment.
  Ciaran smiles down at the old woman, "I always charm you, Irene."
  "Men and their sweet words, am I right?" She asks me, raising a brow.
  "Absolutely." I offer weakly, managing a smile. "I'd love to linger, but I best be off."
  "Allow me to walk you out." Ciaran offers, stepping aside in the tightly packed aisle. Irene mumbles something under her breath, her light laugh leaving mounting tension behind. I curve my shoulders in slightly as I walk past him, subtly inhaling his scent.
  Warmth encases me, caresses me and spills into the broken pieces of myself I keep hidden from the world. It lures me in, a siren that sings such a sweet song. His scent is as alluring as sin, a mixture of the forest that encases Harrowford and his very essence.
  I trip over my own feet, too occupied with the feelings that pass through me. A warm hand grips my elbow, steadying me before I go face first into a stack of books. His touch burns through the material of my thin jumper, and I could swear an imprint of his hand would be left behind in his wake long after he lets me go.
  "I'm so sorry." I blurt, leaning into his hand as I reach out and steady myself on the books I almost sent flying.
  "Can't have you owing me anymore favours, could we, pup?" He hums, voice thick with a feeling I can't place. It sets my blood alight, making my heart sluggish in my chest.
  "That's definitely one way to say it." I swallow through the dryness of my mouth, needing a cold drink. A cold shower. Anything that'll put out the fire that's now alive inside of me. He chuckles as he releases me.
  "Lead the way."
I hold my breath as I weave through the maze of books, not wanting a repeat, heading for the front door. I wave at Irene as I walk past the desk and slip into the  alley. Ciaran follows a step behind, coming to a stop in the moonlight. It sets the strands of his raven hair silver.
  I tuck the book into my backpack before slipping it over my shoulder before facing him, knowing I might need to run for my life and never show my face in these streets again depending on the next words that come from his mouth.
  As the moonlight kisses my face, it seems to whisper you're safe.
  "Do you live far from here?" He asks, eyes flicking towards the darkness at the end of the alley. I grip the straps of my bag, hesitating.
  "It's a bit of a walk," not a lie, "nothing I can't manage."
He nods once, a stillness settles around him, as if the moon doesn't wish to disturb his presence under her glow, "I don't think we've met before."
  The warmth is slowly leaving me now there's distance between us, clarity is finding me once more,"I think I'd remember if we had."
  His golden eyes burn brighter, "as would I."
  "Well..."I trail off, not wanting but needing to bring this to an end, "it's been lovely meeting you. Thank you again for the book, you don't know how much it means to me."
  "It's my pleasure." He nods subtly, "I never got your name."
  "You can call me Ivy." I murmur, giving my tunnel nickname to him. I can only hope he hasn't been bothered to sniff out his rival pack's daughters.
  "Ivy." He tastes my name on his tongue, and the way he says it has something akin to lust flooding my senses. I rule it down to the wine going straight to my head, I mean I did sneak into his city against better judgement.
  "Ciaran." I say his name in goodbye, lingering for a moment and commit his features to memory before turning and walking down the alley. I do my best to walk normally, knowing if I could I'd be sprinting for the open grate. Once I slip around the corner I sprint down the road, slipping from alley to alley, wanting to be sure no one follows me as I make my escape. After five minutes of traversing the south side of the city I come to rest in the alcove of a shop, catching my breath from a moment while I lean on my knees.
  Jesus fuck I just met the alpha of the Blood pack, and dare say flirted with him?
  My dad would have my head on a stake if he ever found out, my fur a rug to add to his collection.
I inhale, needing the fresh air to clear my lungs when I freeze, scenting blood. I peer around, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
  My hackles raise and common sense would have me heading for home, but what if they're hurt and need help? I can't leave a wolf in pain, regardless of who they are.
  I stalk along the shadows and follow the tang of iron, the stench growing heavier as I get closer.
  I come to a dead end alley, clouds cover the moon and the world is thrown into darkness momentarily. I quiver where I stand in the open, dread clawing its way up my throat as the clouds part and the moon breaks through.
  I bite my lip, drawing blood as I resist the urge to scream.
A wolf lays in pieces at the end of the alley, their remains scattered carelessly with grey tufts of fur stuck in puddles of blood that coat the cobblestone alley.
  It's jaw lays extended from its head, eyes gouged from the sockets. Tears fall from my eyes as my wolf cries out, the savage massacre too much for my soft heart to handle.
  That's someones brother or sister, someones father or mother.
  Someone is going to learn in the light of the day that a person they loved has been murdered, and they'll never get to see them again.
I turn and heave, glad I didn't eat anything that would make vomiting worth it.
  I whine as I spin and race from the alley, fear powering each step. I can't be caught in this alley, I can't add framed for murder to my growing list of treason for one night.
  Someone will find whoever this wolf is and alert Ciaran, but I can't be that wolf.
  My cares for being seen grow slimmer the closer I get to the open grate. I leap down the tunnel, snapping one of the rungs as I heave the grate closed. I don't waste anytime lingering as I follow my fading scent back through the tunnels, heading for the tunnels that will lead me home.
  I'll have to warn the pack underneath, in case the murderer isn't caught and is still on the hunt.
  Relief washes through me as I climb through the grate in my own city, I seal it shut behind me before slinking through the forest, each step strained as the stench of blood still taints my senses.
  I have enough sense to keep to the shadows as I head for home, sticking to the forest as I break for the back of the large two story home that sits in darkness on the top of a lush hill.
  I grunt as my bag snags on a branch in the bushes that line the lower level, tugging it free before slipping my fingers under the windowsill and sliding it open. I climb through my window, sealing and locking it shut behind me.
  I drop my bag on the ground, sliding down the wall as I hold my my knees to my chest and drop my face.
  Guilt tries to gnaw at me, taunting me that I should have alerted someone to what I'd discovered.
  But I'm not a hero, and I never asked to be one.
I can't bring the dead back to life, and I'm not willing to join them just yet.