Chapter Fourteen: Dear Agony

"I have nothing left to give -
I have found the perfect end;
You were made to make it hurt,
Disappear into the dirt.
Carry me to heaven's arms,
Light the way and let me go.
Take the time to take my breath,
I will end where I began.
And I will find the enemy within,
Because I can feel it crawl beneath my skin;
Dear agony,
Just let go of me -
Suffer slowly;
Is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear agony."
---Breaking Benjamin's "Dear Agony"

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Ravine recounted tales from her college life while I did my job as best friend and listened. It seemed to me that talking about something normal kind of helped get her mind off of everything else. And it helped me also, hearing about hot boys and good coffee and weirded out room mates.

It was sundown before we knew it, and Samuel came into the room.

"You two are going to stay at Da's house tonight. We're not posting a guard, so you shouldn't go outside." He smiled a weary smile and sat down on the chair. He'd been out running today, helping the search for the Marrok.

Ravine asked, "No guard?"

Sam replied, after a long sigh, "We would post one to keep you two safe from any over aggressive early alphas, but we really can't lose the manpower that would take; we've to all the wolves in the pack doing different things to help prepare for the Marrok's meeting without the Marrok. Not to mention that you'll be there, Emlyn, and he's more likely to show with you there, whereas a guard might accidentally send him further away."

Ravine snorted. "Boys."

Sam continued, "If I know my da, and he's in at least part of his right mind - which I presume he is - then he's going to guard his home place. And if you are there, he will not allow anything to happen to you."

I nodded. It sounded nice and all, the way Samuel had said it, but it made me angry that Bran was being so childish. It's one thing to not know how to deal with your problems or be overwhelmed by them, sure, and for me to say that running away was wrong would be hypocritical, but at a time like this, it was just kind of not an option. And I knew he knew that, which is what pissed me off the most.

It didn't help that he was leaving me alone during the alphas conference. Hundreds of wolves concentrated in one small place - not the greatest way to leave a good impression.

It was equally childish of me to want him there to protect me, but I didn't want to be alone in a town full of the creatures which I had always feared the most.

-------

Samuel gave us a ride in Bran's humvee; it was after dark and the woods looked sinister, like they were reaching their limbs out, begging for someone to attempt entrance.

Ravine was engaged in some conversation with Samuel in the front seat. I sat in the back, watching the moisture leave little trails diagonally down the window, stripes of humidity blocking a complete view of the black trees blotted by a black, starless sky.

Ironic, how the rain was in accordance with my mood - just like the movies.

The plan had been that Samuel would drop us off at the house, then he'd meet with Adam and Charles and Asil and some others in order to figure out the conference.

But Ravine, in typical charm, convinced him to stay for a few minutes and let her make him some coffee. Even if it didn't wake him up, she said, it would make him feel a smidgen better than he felt right now.

So he unlocked the door and let us in, and Ravine headed straight for the kitchen, at Samuel's directions. Samuel sunk into a chair immediately.

"You're exhausted," I said, pointing out the obvious, "You need some rest."

He chuckled, his eyes still closed, "I've been much worse."

I said, "That doesn't change the fact that you need some rest."

"Yeah," Samuel sighed. "I know. But I just can't afford it right now. The alphas are descending, and Da picked a damn fine time to play the distressed hero."

I said nothing. It was my fault, and I knew that. Samuel said nothing, and I knew he was thinking the same.

We sat in silence until Ravine came back in, holding a steaming violet mug of black coffee.

"What's with the dead silence?" Ravine smiled a bright smile and handed the coffee to Sam.

He took a long swig and raised an eyebrow at her.

I stood up and walked out. It seemed to be that since we were staying here for the night at least, maybe for the remainder of the alpha's conference, that I should know where everything was. And it was also just a peachy perfect time to leave, with Samuel pissed off at me and Ravine playing her typical part of charming young woman.

The bottom floor didn't interest me much. I headed straight for the stairs, going through the rooms to find something hopefully to keep me occupied. Maybe a computer room, or even just a peaceful place. Surely, being the Marrok, Bran would need somewhere to feel peace.

My search brought me through four bedrooms, one of which smelled distinctly like Leah, and another like Bran, but her scent was slightly intertwined, as it was throughout the house. Had I been a dominant female werewolf, it would have driven me mad, but I was me. I would have, oddly enough, preferred Leah to still be around and for me just go somewhere to find solace. Maybe Australia. I couldn't help but think that the Australian wolves would be fun-loving, just like most Australian people I'd ever met. (Not to mention the awesome accents.)

Then I came across a bathroom that, compared with Charles' house, was lavish, with a Jacuzzi tub and three-head shower and black-and-white tile. I didn't even glance in the direction of the mirror - I knew I looked pretty rough.

Then I found what I thought I was looking for. And office.

Well, more of a library, really, with it's walls of shelves of books and what looked like a comfy set of matching leather chairs in the middle, complete with footstools and side tables. They were angled in opposing directions, one facing the left and the other the right, but they were tilted so that the natural light from the windows would provide good light for reading. Alas, it was nighttime, so I flicked on the light to see that there were lamp-like lights on the walls, near the ceilings, that gave a low, yet plentiful, light.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me; taking off my shoes before I stepped onto the expensive-looking rug. IT was decorated in dark greens and burgundies and browns and tans, and the sides were tied off like rope. It was huge, covering mostly the entire room, save for a foot or so of dark hardwood around the edges.

I walked around the room in my socks, looking at the titles of the books that were about eye-level with me. He had everything.

Science textbooks, English literature, histories, poetry, medical books, mythologies, mysteries, science-fiction. Everything from Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society to The Art of Racing In the Rain.

And those were just the ones in English.

I was too paranoid of damaging the old books, the first editions, so after a half-hearted scan of that row, I pulled out an old paperback. It was rather thin, maybe a hundred pages, and the cover was falling off. It had random price tags on the back, so I guessed it had multiple garage-sales under it's belt.

It was called simply, Poems, and it was a compilation of short-length poems from names I didn't recognize and names I did.

So I started reading it out loud to myself. Poetry always sounded better out loud, and best in an English accent, I thought. So when I read poetry to myself I always either read it out loud in an accent or imagined it in one. It was an embarrassing confession, but it was one I'd always had.

-------

I woke up in the chair with a book on my knee. I sat up and looked around; someone had turned the light off, and the shadows were elongated by the mostly-closed curtains. All was silent.

Except it wasn't.

I heard breathing, but I couldn't tell from which direction it was coming from. The only upside was that it was slow, contented, rather than what a battle-ready wolf or intruder might sound like.

I was already panicked and scrunched up in the chair, my knees drawn up to my chest and my feet dangling in the air in front of the chair; I was holing myself in the air with my hands on the arms of the chair. A thousand thoughts of a thousand terrible things raced through my head, then I sucked in a long breath.

I could scent my own panic - very smart of me, to panic - and I could scent whoever was in the room with me. It should have taken me a second to place, but it didn't. I knew as soon as it registered that it was Bran.

The lights flipped on and he was suddenly in front of me, crouching before the chair. I hadn't had time to react and not look like a deer in the headlights, yet. Bran looked worried.

"What's wrong? What has happened?" He asked. I could see all the thoughts racing through his head, so I tried to stop them.

"N-nothing. I'm fine. I just didn't expect you to be here." I wanted to ask a thousand questions, but I knew that this probably wasn't the time. Or was it? I wasn't sure, so I waited for him to talk.

He sighed and sat down on the floor; I couldn't help but notice that he was keeping himself where I had to look down to see him. Making sure I didn't see him as a threat. "I am sorry. I did not mean to scare you."

I shook my head, "I'm not scared." It wasn't a lie. I wasn't scared - now.

When he didn't speak, I asked, "So…" I paused. Then, "What happened?"

He avoided the answer he knew I wanted. "Your friend was asleep on the couch after Samuel left and I scented you outside, so I Changed and came to look for you. How are your wounds?"

"They're fine," I said. They weren't, really, after my impromptu attempt at becoming a contortionist - the bandages were loose now on my stomach and neck, and I was starting to feel the wounds again as Samuel's medicine wore off and I woke up. Forget my quick healing, my stomach was going to be hurting for a while.

I must have whimpered or something, because Bran was suddenly at my side, still below my level with his hands out to me, one at my shoulder and one towards my hip. "Emlyn, don't overwork yourself; you need to lie down."

I shook my head, "Hell no. There's nowhere to lie down and now I'm thankfully awake. I'll be okay." It was the truth - I would be okay, I just wasn't right now.

Bran just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, how about this - I want to talk to you before you go running off again. Is that alright?"

I hadn't meant to say it like that; something was obviously wrong, and I had just acted like it was just him being moody. He looked hurt for a split second before carefully masking his emotions again.

Illusions. Mirrors behind windows behind mirrors behind windows.

I knew I had struck a nerve, though. So I smiled sympathetically (and probably pretty pathetically, my stomach was hurting and I wasn't a good actress), and said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'll listen if you do." I hoped my curiosity didn't come across in the way I said it.

It was sort of awkward, having the leader of all the wolves in North America below my level, so I carefully maneuvered myself down to sit cross-legged on the floor next to him. He still kept his mask of emotionlessness, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes.

He sighed and started talking, his voice surrounding me, as a master storyteller's always does. I figured that he'd had enough years of practice to enchant his listeners, and he already commanded attention when he walked in a room if he wanted.

He spoke like a master storyteller, closing his eyes and waving his hands in the air as if he was picturing the scene himself.

I listened.

Okay.

My computer has crashed.

And I've been sick for about a month.

So, I have an excuse. But I'm sure that's not what you want to hear.

Anyway, I have a Mac until May, so I can now continue my writing,

and post it using a borrowed laptop.

Thank you in advance for the forgiveness. I'd be one angry reader if I liked a story.

So, um, I know it's asking a lot, but reviews are always welcome. They make me feel accomplished to hear anything about my writing.

Again, my most sincere apologies. I'm almost finished with the next chapter, but I don't know when I'll be able to get on fanfiction again (the Mac is a school computer that has most websites blocked.)

I'm really trying, you guys.

-Em.