Soul Stones

Chapter 2

I know I lost a lot of fans over my hiatus, but thank you to everyone who is reading this! I'm having a lot of fun. I think it's a really interesting and fresh concept on the werewolf genre. Enjoy!

The final ten steps before reaching my front door were the hardest I had ever taken. I paused at the threshold and took a steadying breath. It came out in a puff of white. My fingers were numb from the cold. I rubbed them together before shoving them into fur lined pockets. I figured the fur was okay. My entire life, the plan was to become fuzzy anyway. It couldn't possibly be hypocritical. More ironic, I think. But it was warm, something I desperately needed in the frigid January air. The sun had begun to fall from the sky, setting the tone for a darker world. Colder, too, yet as much as I craved the heat from inside the house, I stayed rooted firmly in place.

My house wasn't the nicest on the block. It was small. The paint was peeling, and when it rained the roof leaked in the bathroom. Wood much older than me formed a mini deck that led directly to the front door. It was rather pointless, and the third step had a crack in it that had been threatening to cave for months. My house was kind of like a death trap. There were certain things you had to know if you wanted to survive inside it. For instance, never open the second drawer below the microwave. As a child I used it to climb onto the counter countless times until the hinges finally gave out. To this day I don't know what is holding it in place, but everyone knows better than to try their luck at opening it. It's basically just part of the décor now.

With a sigh I finally gathered enough courage to take those ten steps – jumping over the broken third board, of course. I didn't bother pulling out a key. I didn't own one. We never locked up. If someone was going to get robbed on this street, it wouldn't be us. Anyone with a working pair of eyes would know from one glance we didn't have anything worth stealing.

A laugh echoed through the wooden door as the knob turned with a simple twist. Within seconds I was under attack. Somewhere down the hallway there was another laugh, and a scream. I was just slow enough to miss deflecting the foam dart that pelted me in the forehead and bounced harmlessly to the floor.

"Alexander!" I dodged the second bullet by crouching low, one hand held above my head as a shield. My eyes were already judging the distance to the safety of the couch. I could see most of the living room and part of the kitchen from there. It had been my safety haven on more than one occasion. Without a weapon of my own, it was my only option. If I could make it. A few yards of distance separated me from my home base. I would be completely in the open. Just as I was about to risk running anyway, I realized it wasn't necessary. The battle cry had stopped. My seven year old brother was standing in the middle of the room, Nerf gun carefully aimed, and a look on his face that told me I had just severely disappointed him.

"Aren't you supposed to be super fast now?" He demanded, his eyebrows turned down in a deep frown.

Cheeky little snot.

A familiar feminine chuckle broke out from somewhere deep inside the kitchen. Delicate footfalls sounded as a woman rounded the corner, her short blonde hair fanning around her face in golden curls. "Be grateful I caught him in time. He wanted to watch you catch a knife with your bare hands." My mom beamed at me, a fragile hope in her eyes that I was about to crush.

I forced a sad smile. An almost unnoticeable shake of my head. For a few second I couldn't even bare to look at her. "I failed." I whispered. I doubt she heard me though. She had already crossed the distance between us and was pulling me into a hug before the final syllable had left my lips.

"It's okay. It just wasn't meant to happen." Her smile was sad but genuine when she pulled away, holding me at arm's length. "Mimi could always use some help down at the bakery. She'd be happy to have you."