Celestial Heartbeat (Book One) COMPLETE

Chapter Four - Daring Dates

It was the dead of night, we were standing in a small opening of a forest, Dad and I. His messy blonde hair fell across his face, and he scratched thoughtfully at his beard.

“Dad!” I screamed. I could see him just in front of me, flicking through the pages of what looked to be a very ancient book. It had symbols, and words in a language that I didn’t understand. He was staring into the pages, chanting words under his breath. Light slowly began to glow from the centre of the book, growing with each word that he said.

“Dad!” I tried again, but he still didn’t seem aware of my presence. I wanted to run right to him, but my feet felt as heavy as lead, stuck to the ground, torturing me.

I could hear faint growling all around us, hidden within the trees of the forest. My heart was pounding against my chest and I was terrified.

Slowly, but surely, a wolf stepped forth from the trees, his teeth bared as he snarled, snapping at my father like he was warning him. It was a ginger wolf, but much too big to be my ginger wolf.

Dad chanted faster as the wolf slowly began to circle him. It watched him very carefully, keeping track of every twitch, every breath.

Dad stopped chanting and the light faded from the book.

“I’m doing the best I can!” dad protested as the wolf snapped at him again. “I don’t know most of this stuff. It’s too ancient. It hasn’t been practiced in well over two hundred years!”

The wolf didn’t care for dads excuses. The wolf stopped in front of dad, snarling louder than ever. He lowered himself to the ground, reading his body in a stance. In a second he was on top of dad, pushing him to the ground.

“Stop!” I screamed. But it was like I didn’t exist.

The book fell from my father’s hand, sliding across the dirt and towards me. The symbols scattered across the cover still didn’t make sense to me, but I could just make out the words ‘Le Livre de Lunes’ delicately carved into the leather book.

“Do what you want with me. Just leave her out of it.” My dad begged as more wolves emerged from the darkness.

“No! Dad! No!” tears were streaming down my face. The wolves circled him, all finding their places until I could no longer see past them to my father.

I heard a snap that could have only been one of my dad’s bones.

I let out one last, blood curling scream.

**

I lurched forwards in bed, my face was wet from tears and my body was soaked in my own sweat. My heart was beating so fast it was like a hummingbird wanting to break free from my chest. I took several deep breaths to calm myself down, and let my face fall into my hands.

I hated dreaming about dad.

If they were happy, peaceful dreams where I could see his face clearly, and talk to him then I would be happy. But that was never the case. It was like every time I dreamed of him my mind was trying to come up with a new excuse as to his absence. Most of my dreams consisted of him being murdered by different people, by different means, with different motives. This was the first time I dreamt it to be the wolves. I guessed it was Mr. Skye’s fault for putting thoughts of wolves and casters in my head.

With each dream all I could do was watch, having my father taken away from me again, again and again. It always ended with me waking up crying, my bed sodden with my own sweat.