Luminous (I)

Chapter IV ***

QUESTION FOR TODAY: What time are you reading right now?

I flung the front door open and bolted upstairs, too exhausted to make conversation with my intoxicated uncle. He would offer me next to no comfort in this state and I wasn't sure I could handle his slurred ramblings.

I sighed and collapsed on the bed, unsure of myself. Maybe I was crazy. I had seen the four boys with my very own eyes; I was sure of it. Maybe Tom was crazier than I had first assumed, and had spiked my drink. Maybe they were ghosts, and were there to forewarn me of my upcoming destiny to save the world and all its inhabitants. I brushed off that possibility--I was more likely to see a werewolf in my garden than for that to be true.

"Are you ok, T?" Uncle Tom slurred.

"I'm fine," I called down the stairs, "Just a bit tired."

I heard his retreating footsteps and slumped. After a few seconds of hesitation, I eventually decided to pull my shirt over my head and find my pyjamas. As I walked by, I spared a glance in the mirror and leapt backwards.

"That's not possible." I whispered.

My back was patterned with whorls of black, swirling ink.

I ran a shaking hand through my hair. That wasn't there before. That had never been there. Had my Uncle tattooed me as I slept? No, that was impossible. I would've woken up, right? Right?

My stomach was swirling with nausea. Perhaps...perhaps if I went to sleep, I'd wake up and it'd be gone, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'm okay," I said, almost to myself. "When I wake up, I'll be fine. I won't remember any of this."

I clambered into bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin.

And I fell into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

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The next morning, I awoke to pain.

Not the type that disarmed you. Not the type that made you cry or groan or scream. It was more of a discomfort, a tingling burn, and it rippled from the apex of my spine to the bottom, skittering down my nerves.

Hesitantly, I approached the mirror and lifted my shirt. The mark remained, the black ink mapping my skin, curling in great whorls of ink. My heart stuttered. Blood thundered through my veins and roared in my ears. And I just...stared. What else could I do? This was impossible. This was unnatural and wrong and terrifying and it scared me—

Someone knocked at our front door.

I dropped my shirt as if it had burned me. No one could know. Not Uncle Tom, not Chrissy...no one. This was something I'd have to research on my own. There'd be an explanation. Tattoos didn't just appear, after all.

With a heart that still raced a hundred miles an hour I stumbled downstairs, hollering for Uncle Tom as I went. Another knock slammed against the door, this time more insistent.

I yanked it open. Two men flooded the doorframe, donning matching suits and dark, indifferent expressions. The first thing that hit me was their blinding attractiveness; the second was that they looked like members of the Mafia, dispatched to butcher me.

I smiled nervously.

"Why hello there," I said, waving half-heartedly, "do you want me to get my Uncle?"

They nodded, watching me waver indecisively with sharp stares. As I stepped away from the door, my heart in my throat, they simply walked in. I opened my mouth to object but quickly thought better of it.

Uncle Tom emerged moments later, wiping his eyes blearily. Upon seeing my terrified expression, he jogged down the stairs and stood beside me, placing a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder.

"Airon, Eric. It's nice to see you." he greeted, eyes narrowed. "What brings you here?"

I shivered as they directed their gazes at me. "She does."

"Well," I chuckled, scratching my head, "she is going to make some tea. Au revoir."

I scrambled into the kitchen, listening intently.

"Didn't you think to tell us that she sees us, Thomas?" one of them hissed.

My Uncle's eyes widened. "You haven't taking the potion? Eric, that's impossible. Yes, her father was a wolf, but no matter how strong he might've been the human gene always wins—"

True, unadulterated fear roared through me. Was my Uncle part of a cult? What did he mean, my father was a wolf?

Airon interrupted, eyes dark. "She may be shiftless, but it seems her father's strength as a werewolf has granted her the Sight."

Run, Thea, run, my mind screamed. No matter how desperately I tried to move I was frozen, watching the three men interact through the slit between the door and its frame.

"The Sight?" Uncle Tom asked, quirking a brow. "Impossible. I would've seen the mark."

"It would've only just appeared as she reaches maturity. Chances are she's hiding it from you."

And just like that, Airon's eyes flickered up to meet mine.

That was enough to wrench me out of my fear-induced stupor. With legs that trembled with adrenaline I burst out of the back door and into the forest, heart pounding. Their exchange beat in my mind in a clumsy array of words. Wolf. Sight. Mark. Werewolf.

Heavy footfalls echoed all around me but I was fast, entire body burning with adrenaline and fear and something raw, something primal. A scream hitched in my throat and thickened like tar.

Wolf. Sight. Mark. Werewolf.

"THEA!" Uncle Tom's scream rattled in my mind but I couldn't stop. I needed to get away. These people were crazy and they were after me, they were hunting me—

An arm around my waist, sure and steady. And then, before I could even begin to fight, I was flung on the ground. I began to struggle as Airon reached for my top and yanked it off me in one seamless, easy movement. The rip rang in my ears.

"Thea..." Tom's voice trailed off as he stared at my back, eyes wide.

For there, laid bare for all to see, was my mark.

A wolf stepped out of the shadows and I screamed, fighting more desperately in Airon's grip.

"Just watch, Thea." Tom said, voice sullen, words hollow. "You're quite safe."

My gaze sharpened, but I did as he said. If I was going to die, I'd do it with dignity.

The wolf, of such a dark hue that it was barely discernible against the shadows, howled.

It dropped to all fours, shaking its head, and its fur seeped back into its skin—pale, hairless, human skin. My eyes widened.

The wolf was no longer a wolf.

It was Eric.

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