The Art of Mending Memories

The Art of Mending Memories 38

The Art of Mending Memories

Chapter 38

I heard a loud thumping on the door.  I finished the last gulp of water in my glass and planted it on the counter, making my way toward the door.  The thumping became more insistent.

“Hold on, hold on,” I grumbled as I made my way to the door.  A shifter was outside, I quickly noted, expecting it to be Aaron.

The pounding didn’t stop.

“I’m here!” I yell at the impatience.  It had been—gasp—three hours since I had last seen Aaron.  You’d think he would be a little less impatient, especially since he had hardly left my side for the past six days.  I had finally forced him to go home after school so I could have the afternoon to catch up on my homework and work on my college applications.

“Calm down, you mu-ah!” I cried out on surprise when I opened the door.

Needless to say it was not Aaron, as I expected, at my door. 

“Where is he?” The werewolf yelled at me.  He had fury in his eyes and the red that came off his skin was nearly blinding it was blazing so viciously.  I could see his ears pointed between his brown locks of hair.  Little tips pointed out from his mouth.  Yeah, he was angry.

It took me a moment to realize it was Galen, Aaron’s older brother.

“Um,” I started to say.

“Where is he?” Galen yelled again.  I could see the muscles all over his body flex, as if ready for an attack.

“Who?”

With a roar, Galen’s infuriated body threw itself at me.  His hard body hit mine and the air whooshed out of my lungs as I was thrown back against the wall near the front door.  A hard elbow pressed painfully against me, right under my ribs, so I couldn’t fill my lungs with air.  His other hand gripped my shoulder in a powerful grasp.  I could feel his nails digging into my flesh.

Reacting on instinct, I brought my arm up and punched him in the face as forcefully as I could muster.  His head snapped to the side and his grip on my shoulder slipped enough for me to throw him away from me.

“What the hell?”  I yelled, anger pumping through me at being attacked in my own home.

“Where are you hiding him?” Galen growled at me, his body vibrating.

“Hiding who?”

“I know he’s here,” Galen said through his growls.  His eyes sliced into mine. “I can smell him all over the place.”  He looked at me with distaste. “I can smell him all over you.”

“You’re looking for Aaron?  He’s at home.”  That’s where I told him to go; where he said he would be heading.  Wouldn’t Galen know that, considering he lived there too?

With a roar, Galen flung himself at me again, pushing me roughly against the wall, his forearm holding me against the wall.  My throat felt constricted and I found myself unable to breathe easily.

“Don’t lie to me!” Galen yelled.

My hands clawed at his iron clamp over my neck.  After a second of failure, I threw up my leg and kicked him between the legs.  He let go and doubled over.  I kicked him in the leg for good measure.

“Don’t you ever come into my house again and attack me!  I’ve been brutalized by you goddamned werewolves enough in my life.  Get out.  Now.”

He looked up at me with fury and hate in his eyes.  His body was shaking and the red was blinding me so much I had to squint.

“I want.  My brother.”