Chapter 61

The heart monitor’s beeping sound was the only sound that seemed to enter his ears in his entire shattered world.

“beep… beep… beep…”, a mechanical heartbeat that mocked the fragile one fighting inside Ariana’s chest.

She was barely alive.

The medics had taken away the blood-soaked bed and laid her on a clean wool blanket they had pulled from the emergency supplies, and hooked her to every portable machine in their kits.

A new IV drip bag hanging from a rusted nail in the wooden pillar.

Her skin looked like those old, yellowed paper, her veins were blue under the surface like rivers on a map to nowhere.

The wound in her lower back had been packed with QuikClot gauze and bandaged tight, but the wolfsbane had already spread its poison, her liver was failing, her kidneys were shutting down, and her blood pressure barely registered on the machine.

Eric sat cross legged on the cold floor beside her, his knees drawn up to his chin, her right hand cradled in both of his.

The empty red bottle of antidote lay on the small folding table.

The syringe beside it is still shining with the last drops of antidote.

He hadn’t moved in fourteen minutes, not to wipe the blood from his face, not to adjust the blanket, not even to blink for too long.

His eyes were fixed on her face, memorizing every line, every freckle, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.

Gabe stood at the doorway, one leg propped up against the frame, baby Eli asleep in the sling on his chest, tiny breaths puffing against Gabe’s neck.

Two hunters guarded Tyler outside, he was tied to the van’s bumper with extra restraints, he was still bleeding steadily from the shoulder but conscious, his eyes glaring through the windshield.

The pack’s lead medic, a tiny woman named Lena with gray strands of hair in her braid and blood up to her elbows, checked the IV bag for the third time and shook her head slowly.

“We’re out of options, Eric.” She said.

“The antidote neutralized what it could, but the damage is systemic.” She continued.

“Her organs are drowning in toxins, the liver enzymes are off the charts, and the creatinine keeps spiking.” She paused and sighed.

“We bought time, but not a cure.” She muttered.

“Even if an antidote gets administered to her right now, it’s still too late.”

Eric didn’t look up, his voice shaking as he tried to control himself.

“How long? Give me a number.” He muttered.

Lena hesitated, adjusting her glasses and looking up at the monitors.

“Minutes if her pressure crashes again.” She said.

“Maybe an hour if the moon doesn’t pull the shift and stress her heart.” She added.

“The full rise is at six, fourty seven p.m, she might hang on until then, might not.” She said.

Just then the walkie talkie on Gabe’s belt crackled sharply.

“Master Gabe, we have eyes on the cemetery gate. Madam Clara’s truck just drove out, northbound.” The voice reported.

“She’s alone, headed for the Alpha section.” He added.

Gabe’s jaw tightened, he quickly looked up at Eric.

“Copy that.” He said.

“Follow her from behind, don’t let her see you and most importantly don’t engage unless she’s in danger.” He said and looked at Eric.

“She’s chasing ghosts, man.” He said.

“I don’t know what’s happening with her but whatever she’s trying to do…” He paused.

“We can’t let her, ” he continued.

Eric’s voice was flat, dead.

“Let her go.” He whispered.

“She lost Liam. She’s got her own war to face.” He whispered.

Gabe opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded to Lena.
“Stay with them.” He ordered.

“Call me if anything changes.” He said and stepped out, the door creaking shut behind him, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.

Eric moved closer to Ariana, the floorboards felt cold under his knees.

Her pulse read 42, and slowly fell.

Each breath sounded like wet paper tearing, labored and painful.

He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers leaving little blood smudges.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice cracking on the word.

“Remember the night, the night I first saw you, you were naked, and you… you looked beautiful..” He paused and smiled.

“I immediately knew you weren’t from here because we didn’t transform while still naked anymore.” He paused and laughed again.

His laugh was a broken thing, tears slipping hot down his cheeks.
“Now I keep thinking of everything you said about me and I have to say you were right.” He paused, wiping a tear.

“You were right.” He muttered.

“You’re always right about me. About us.”

Her fingers slightly moved in his hands, it was almost impossible to notice, but he did.

He squeezed gently, afraid to hurt her.

Meanwhile, back at the cemetery..

The cemetery road was a road of cracked gravel and heaps of snow, most of the headstones already leaning to one side and looking exhausted under the weight of years.

Clara’s truck turned hard as she took the turn too fast, tires spitting ice chunks that pinged off the undercarriage.

The shotgun lay on the passenger seat beside a new army shovel, a headlamp with fresh batteries, and the small bottle of dark ritual liquid Mara had pressed into her hand.

Her chest burned where the old woman had cut her,
three shallow lines now stained with dried blood.

She groaned as she stepped on the accelerator.

Mara had sewn the wound with thread that still hurt as she drove down the road.

She parked crookedly at the iron gate, and turned the engine off, and sat in the sudden silence.

The truck began to give off steam as it cooled down.

Liam’s grave was in the third row, on the left side, fresh dirt still mounded in a raw pile from the burial three days ago.

She had stood at the edge that day, watching them lower the simple pine box, Gabe’s hand on her shoulder the only thing keeping her upright.

The pack had sung the old mourning song, it still felt so new to her.

She grabbed the shovel and headlamp, considering whether to take the shotgun, she had brought it along in case anyone tried to stop or intervene.

She looked around.

No one else was coming.

The gate squeaked as she pushed through, dried snow crunching under her boots as she walked.

The sky was already darkening, turning a bruising deep purple in the west, the moon already looked like a pale, bloated coin in the horizon.

Six fourty seven p.m was two hours away, but she could feel it coming, the binding in her chest was slowly healing.

She started digging, the shovel making dull noises as she slammed it into the frozen earth repeatedly.

The monitor’s rhythm slowly faded without warning,

“beep… beep…… beep…”, the pauses between each beep stretching longer, the sound slowly dropping.

Lena’s voice was gentle but firm.
“She’s fading, Eric.” She said.

“Her Pressure is dropping again, fifty over twenty.” She continued, hoping Eric would understand her.

“Her heart is compensating, but it won’t for long.” She added.

Eric held his chest as he tried to breath.

“Do something.” He begged.

“More pressors, another line, ” he begged.

“We’ve done everything,” Lena said, checking the defibrillator charge.

“The fluids are at maximum capacity already, and her dopamine is running low.” She said.

lThe wolfsbane shredded her from the inside.” She explained.

“We’re just… keeping her here until she decides.” She said.

He leaned over Ariana, pressed his forehead to hers, her cold skin felt foreign to his hot one.

“I’m here.” He whispered.

“I’m right here, baby.” He said, his voice shaking.

“You feel me?” He said, his voice shaking.

“We’ve got plans.” He whispered.

“That cabin by the lake, remember? You wanted to paint the shutters blue.” He cried.

“I said it was ugly, but you were right, it’ll look perfect.” He continued, tears in his eyes.

Her eyes weakly open, they were green, and looked lifeless, but for a moment.

She tried to speak, but no words came out.

Eric lifted it just enough, careful.

“Don’t talk. Just, ” He paused.

“Love…” The word came out as a whisper.

“You.” She whispered.

Then her hand slowly dropped, lifeless.

The monitor flatlined, giving one long, piercing sound that sliced through the room.

Lena immediately ripped open Ariana’s shirt, paddles out.

“Clear!”

Her body jerked with shock, limp.

No response.

“Charging again, clear!”

Nothing.

The line stayed flat.

Eric shoved Lena aside, dropped to his knees, started compressions, hard, fast, counting under his breath through tears.

“One, two, three, come on, Ariana.” His friend as he pressed her chest.

“Fight.” He cried.

“You promised me forever, damn it.”

A loud cracking sound rang through the room as one of her ribs cracked under his hands.

“Eric, stop, ” Lena reached for him.

He didn’t.

He tilted her head, breathed into her mouth, two puffs, before continuing the chest compressions.

Seconds turned into minutes.

He didn’t stop.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, mixing with blood and tears.

His arms burned, his shoulders screaming.

Lena shook her head and placed hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm.

“She’s gone.” She whispered.

“Eric. Let her go.” She said.

He kept going, his eyes getting blurry with tears.

“Eric.”

He stopped, his hands still on her chest.

The room was silent except for the wind howling outside and the soft dripping sound of blood from his face onto the blanket.

He gathered Ariana against his chest, rocked her like a child.

Her hair smelled of pine needles, gunpowder, and her, the scent that had been home for years.

He buried his face in it and broke down in tears.

Meanwhile back at Clara, who was still at Liam’s grave.

The hole was three feet deep now, her hands had blisters from the shovel handle, the skin splitting with each thrust into the ice cold ground.

Sweat froze on her forehead, her breath came in white puffs.

The ground turned to mud as she hit the muddy earth, the blade making a hissing sound.

She didn’t feel the cold anymore, only the burning tiredness in her muscles, the pain in her chest.

Just then she finally hit wood with a hollow dull sound.

The pine box was simple, it was pack tradition, no metal, just small joints and a carved wolf on the lid.

She wedged the shovel’s edge under the lid, pulled with all her weight.

It gave way with a loud groan of nails pulling free.

Liam lay inside, wrapped in a white clothes that had been stained with old blood.

His face was untouched, peaceful, almost like he was sleeping, the wolfsbane wound in his chest cleaned and dressed with herbs.

She touched his cheek.

Cold.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“I’m bringing you back. I have to.” She whispered, her tears running down her cheeks.

She climbed out, her legs shaking, she checked her watch, it was five, twenty one p.m.

The full Moon was in 86 minutes.

She dragged the wrapped body from the coffin, it was surprisingly light, like the life it carried before was the weight,she laid it on the frost beside the hole.

The markings in her chest hurt from the weight of the body as she gently put it beside the hole.

She arranged Liam’s body in the center of the open grave, arms crossed over his chest like he was sleeping. Mara’s instructions echoed in her mind, blood, salt, moonrise.
She poured a thick circle of salt from the pouch in her pocket, the grains hissing on the snow.

She took out the bone handle knife and drew it across her palm, deeper this time, blood coming out immediately.

She let it drip onto Liam’s chest, the dark drops soaking the white garment.

The wind increased, whipping her hair, like it had noticed what she was about to do.

She began to chant, the words Mara had told her to say, she had memorized them, every last word.

Her voice shook as she said the words.

“Liam, Liam, Liam… return to me… by blood and bone… by salt and soul…”

Meanwhile back at Eric at the mill.

Gabe returned, his face looking sad, he had no reason to smile or be happy.

He looked down at Eric.

“Clara’s at the cemetery.” He said.

“Digging up Liam.” He added as he waited for a response.

“She’s alone.” He continued.

Eric didn’t move, Ariana’s body still in his arms, he was silent, almost like he wasn’t in the room anymore.

Gabe bent down beside him, his voice low.

“We’ll take care of her, Eric.” He said.

lThe rites, the pyre, whatever you want.” He said.

“You just need to breathe.” He said.

“You need to.”

Eric’s voice was dead, empty.

“Take Tyler.” He whispered.

“Put him on the ground.” He continued.

“Do it slowly.”

“Make it hurt.”

Gabe nodded without hesitation to the hunters outside.

They dragged Tyler past the doorway, his hands still tied, his face swollen, his eyes filled with fear now.

The gag silenced his screams as they dragged him away.

Eric kissed Ariana’s forehead one last time, her lips resting on his cold skin.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered, tears dropping on her lashes.

“Wherever you are.”

“Wait for me.” He whispered.

He laid her down gently, closed her eyes with trembling fingers, folded her hands over her stomach.

Then he stood.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

Meanwhile
The hunters had Tyler on his knees in the snow twenty yards away, one holding a knife to his throat, the other ready with a shotgun.

Tyler’s eyes were wide, he was pleading now, but Eric walked past without a word, without looking at him.

He climbed into the van, his hands weren’t shaking for the first time since the knife went in.

The engine turned on with a growl.

He shifted into drive and headed south, toward the cemetery.

Toward Clara.

Toward whatever came next.