The Silence

Chapter 6

Lucas

People think the creepiest person in the Pack is Quinn, but they're wrong. The creepiest person is, in every Pack alike, the mage.

Every Pack has a mage, a creepy old woman who has powerful magic and never uses it. There are thousands of times she could have helped us with this power she claims to have, but no, we're on our own.

The way she can just appear out of thin air, that stupid look of utter serenity she gives you like she's predicted everything that will ever happen and isn't afraid. 

Castilla is the mage in our Pack, and is probably three hundred years old. While werewolves can live up to a thousand years, mages usually live up to two hundred. By now, Castilla was a hunchbacked mass of wrinkles and looked like a walking skeleton. But we had been specifically commanded to respect her. So I smiled stiffly when she materialized beside me, pretending not to be bothered, and tried to move past her.

A dry, withered hand latched onto my arm, making me jerk back while stifling a gasp. But Castilla held on. "You should go to the ice cream shop," she suggested in her croaky voice.

"I have no reason to go to the ice cream shop, ma'am," I replied, trying to move around her in the politest way possible. She raised her nonexistent eyebrows and twiddled her fingers, having released my hand but not the power she held over me, which either meant she was summoning some magic to curse me into oblivion, or she was just amused that I was even trying to find a reason to not do as she said.

Castilla tapped her foot and I stomped mine in frustration. "Fine! I'll go to the ice cream place. Would you like an ice cream sandwich?" I growled.

"No, I don't like those," Castilla said off-handedly. "Get me vanilla soft-serve, my poor old teeth can handle that."

"You wear dentures," I muttered under my breath as I stormed off. I considered just not going but Castilla would know. She always did. So a while later I found myself pulling into the parking lot in a very dark mood and . . . what the effing hell, was that Quinn???

Quinn was leaning against the building, looking as expressionless as ever. Adriel was nowhere in sight. Was this what the hag meant?

I snatched a mini notebook from the glove department of my truck along with a red gel pen and marched over to the girl standing alone outside Frosty's Frozen Treats ice cream shop and handed it to her. "Start writing."

She stared at it, and with a terrifying grin, she handed me a mini notebook . . . one that happened to be identical to mine . . . and there was something written inside with a red gel pen.

I swore, not caring that she was only seventeen, which wasn't that young for a human, but I was one hundred and fifty-three years old. I opened it and scanned over it, growing happy and pissed off at the same time.

Adriel found his girlfriend, sorry, soulmate, and he left with her and forgot about me. I'm sure they'll be back soon, after all,  the Beta of Keres Crest Pack loves me dearly. Just like the rest of the Pack, you included, love me. With pureness and innocence and frivolity.

I scowled, shoving down the guilt that forced its way up. I sighed. "How long have you been waiting?"

She held up two fingers. I blinked. "Two minutes?"

Quinn shook her head impatiently and I swallowed. "Two seconds . . . ? No? Hours. How could that idiot leave you here for two hours??"

She pointed to the notebook again and I wanted to burn it. But I opened it to the next page. 

Having stood here with utmost patience for 132 minutes, I would like to turn him into a ghost, but he found his girlfriend in his grandfatherly old years so I must muster up the effort to be happy for him.

I groaned. "Please tell me you wouldn't talk like this if you could, well, talk."

She gestured to the book and my heart sank farther. There was more writing on the next page.

No, when you're silent all your drama stays pent up inside and you have to release it somehow.

I grimaced. "Hop into the truck."

She smirked and turned the page for me. Hop?

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Quinn stood beside the truck, waiting for me with her empty face back. I told her to get into the passenger seat, to which she looked mildly surprised, but obeyed.

I didn't know what I was gonna do with her though. Today, my schedule was packed with training sessions with my fellow Packmates and Quinn couldn't be trusted alone. But maybe she would agree to sit and watch? Without interrupting and scaring someone senseless.

Back at the Packhouse, Quinn just nodded when I asked her and followed me into the arena. Everyone was waiting for me, looking pissed, and they didn't look any happier when Quinn sauntered in, giving each of them a blank-faced stare. Her gaze locked on Kaden, her jaws parted, and I shoved her hastily to the side.

Quinn sat down cross-legged and remained that way as I told her she'd have to turn around as we shifted, which was when I noticed Lysander hovering by the doorway. My blood ran cold, and I wanted to call this session quits right then and there.

Quinn, please don't cause anything, and please, no one provoke her, I begged silently

We shifted and I took my place as the first opponent padded up in front of me. It was Kaden, and he was shaking like a leaf, darting frequent glances at Quinn, then at Alpha, and I knew he'd be too distracted and scared to fight properly. He was going to screw up spectacularly and Alpha wouldn't miss the chance to make it a reason for Kaden to die, as horrible and messed up as that was. 

Practice went uneventfully, and Lysander looked displeased about that. Quinn waited outside while I showered and after that, I took her to her room and collapsed onto the bed, right beside a sketchbook.

Curious, I reached to pick it up when a strangled hiss rasped in my ear, making me gasp, and Quinn snatched the sketchbook out of my reach, her eyes black and deadly. Fear shot through my chest as I stared at her gaze, merciless and cold.

"Sorry," I said hoarsely. "I know I shouldn't have . . . ."

Quinn relaxed a bit and went to put the sketchbook in her closet. I saw her lock it away in one of her suitcases, and for a split-second, I caught sight of what else was in that case.

More sketchbooks. Book after book, organized into neat rows, stacks of fifteen or twenty. What the . . . .

Come to think of it, she had a total of five different outfits, so it couldn't be clothes she kept in those cases. But sketchbooks? What kind of drawing fanatic was she?

"Um you like to draw?" I asked awkwardly. She eyed me warily before jerking her head in a nod.

"We have a whole room for that kind of stuff. Arts and crafts. I never use it because I'm terrible at it, but um, do you wanna see?"

Quinn looked excited when we entered, and I left her to it. I had stuff to do, like guilt-trip Adriel.

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1239 words

I am so sorry, this chapter is bad and short. I've had a very busy week, so to make up for this disgrace (lol)  I'll try to post two normal chapters next week.

I hope its not to awful. Please enjoy.

~Mikayla