The Crying Wolf Chronicles: Forbidden (Book 1)

Decisions: April 15th 1921

"Father, please let me help you." Warm tears softly dripped down my cheeks and onto the deep black velvet of my dress.

The room was warm and lit with ghost colored candles. They surrounded my father's bedside, heating my wet cheek. Every bone in my immortal body rattled at the very thought of the once  burning light inside of my father extinguishing. 

Father laid his head on his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. His blue eyes were filled with stalling tears. I have never seen my father in so much anguish before. Not since he had found out what my mother was. About her kind. 

His face was pale and calm. The deep wrinkles around his eyes were delicate lines. Father pursed his thin lips at the direction of the ceiling and sighed.

"Stephie, do you know why they call that place heaven?"

I picked my head up from my lap and sniffled. My eyes were burning red. "Yes, but that place is where you shouldn't be. You should be here with Mother and I."

"I can't my dear. This is the path that I've chosen. This is the path I was destined to live," he coughed once. "And I wouldn't choose it otherwise. I was brought down from heaven by our God and he has called me home."

"Father, please," I began.

Father sighed quietly and continued to stare at the ceiling. His silence terrified me. I knew that he wanted to stay mortal. That was his determination. 

I had always respected his decision, but he would've been better off as an immortal. His strength and his witts would've made him powerful and unstoppable. He would've been invincible, but instead he chose to be vulnerable and powerless.

Father closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His chest rose and fell slowly. He gasped, then coughed twice. "Stephie, don't be sad. I wont be far from you. I wont be gone forever."

His words sent chills through me. My eyes burned more with biting tears. My hands quivered in my lap, hot and damp with sweat. I couldn't hold back my words any longer. They needed to be said. He needed to hear and understand how much his decision has affected me.

"Father," I screamed. "I will not listen to anymore of this. You will live. You will become an immortal."

Father didn't utter a word. His eyes widened at the sight of my hurt expression. His wrinkled hand reached out toward me, quivering. I looked down at it and turned my head the other direction. I will not give in to his demands. I will not lose him.

"Stephanie, darling. Let your father rest." Mother's intoxicating fresh almond and sweet vanilla scent entered the room. I turned to see her. She gracefully walked to the other side of my father's bed and picked up an empty glass. Her lengthy and curly chestnut brown hair hung down to the middle of her back. Her flowing black and royal blue lining robes followed her as she strolled out of the room. I sighed and waited for her to re-enter. When she did, I turned to her again.

"Mother, this is unfair. Why would father put us through so much pain?"

"Stephanie, your father has made his choice. He will not turn. There is nothing we can do."

Her words didn't matter to me. I knew there was something we could do. That something required the shedding of my father's blood. If it was up to me, my father would've been immortal. I truly hate that it's not. I couldn't stay and watch my father suffer. I left the room without a word. 

The hall was bright with the same white candles as the inside. They lined the walls and burned inside of their ancient steel holders. The carpet of the hall was a deep shade of red that resembled dried blood. Portraits of our early ancestors filled the walls. The particular hall of the mansion I waited in was in remembrance of those who died before us. I just hope to God that my father doesn't end up on that wall. I paced constantly from one end of the hall to the other. My feet thumped against the carpet. What was Mother telling him? Was she trying to help him change his mind?