Page 7 of Rabid
“Oh, um, I needed a break, and I figured it would be fun,” I offer, hoping that doesn’t sound as cringy as it felt.
But Trinity just smiles kindly at me before hip bumping another girl over so she and I can perch ourselves onto the couch. “Are you nervous about the ceremony?”
I place the backpack between my legs on the floor, fingers curling around the handle like I’m afraid someone will rip it away from me at any moment. “Definitely. You?”
“Yeah. But I’m excited too. I feel...empty lately. You know?” she asks, thick black lashes fanning across her cheeks with every blink. “Like my soul is missing that other part of me. I can’t wait for my new spirit to come and fill that space.”
My chest gets tight again, and I have to work to swallow down the lump that rises in my throat, because I know exactly what she means. It was easier to ignore when I was younger, but every year I’ve spent without gaining my wolf spirit, it’s been harder to ignore that missing puzzle piece. Like I can’t truly bemewithouther. Knowing I’m going to keep on feeling like this, knowing that I’ll never get my wolf because I’m leaving, it hurts more than I can put into words.
I decide to change the subject. “How did you guys find Lycan hairdressers?” I whisper, not wanting to offend the trio behind me, and knowing that their hearing is much better than mine.
Trinity laughs and settles back on the leather couch. “We’ve been using them for the past couple of years. They stay off Twin Rivers territory, and since they don’t belong to a bigger pack, Alpha Burke lets them be, so long as they treat the females whenever we want.”
I frown a little at that. Typical of Burke to force them into working on our pack simply because they live nearby our territory.
Trinity nudges me. “You’d know that if you ever came with us.”
A twinge goes through me at her words. I know she doesn’t mean to sound like she’s reprimanding me, but the truth is, she probably is. Out of everyone, Trinity was the one I was the closest with before Burke came along. I was always a loner, but whenever I did things with the pack when I was younger, it was with her.
But that all changed when Burke took over as alpha. It became very clear that he’d set his sights on me for whatever reason, and I wanted nothing to do with him. So I started staying home, skipping pack gatherings so I could be out of sight, out of mind. My mom helped me, kept me with her as her helper, kept me busy and as far away from Burke as possible. Unfortunately, that distance extended everywhere, until I became the pack outsider.
I clear my throat awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. “Yeah, I just started helping more with the healer side of things, and my mom just always cut my hair…” It’s a lame excuse, but what more can I say?
A look of genuine sadness crosses Trinity’s face. “I’m so sorry you lost her, Seneca. That we all did,” she says softly. “It was such a shock.”
“Yes, it was.”
It’s the most she dares to say, because the truth is, my momshouldn’thave died.
The thing about shifters with the rare magic of healing is that they’re susceptible to giving too much power to help others. It’s why they have to pace themselves, to train for years, and to learn how to concoct other remedies to use besides just magic. If healers push too hard, if their magic runs out, their power can start pulling on their lifeforce.
My mother knew this, worked to counter it, and never blurred the line between her gift and her life. So when Burke and the betas carried her lifeless body back to the house and told me that she had drained herself past the point of saving, I didn’t buy it for one second. Neither did some of the other members of the pack.
The problem is, I couldn’t prove otherwise. There wasn’t a mark on her or anything else that would give me any clue about what really happened. No broken bones, no sign of poison...I looked at every possibility I could think of. It has to be something to do with magic, but I have no way of knowing for sure. And because Burke rules through fear and threats, there’s no one who dares question him about it. Not even Hess.
I thought maybe the Flux would be pushed back at least, just until a new healer joined the pack—in case anything goes wrong with anyone’s transformations. But Burke said he wouldn’t cancel the Spirit Weaver, since he’s coming down from a neighboring pack specifically to perform the ceremony. So despite the mystery surrounding the death of my mom, everything is continuing on like normal. It’s like we all know that something happened, but no one is willing to stick out their neck for her. Or for me.
“Do you know what you want to do to your hair?” Daisy asks me, steering the conversation away from the heavy shit. She hands over a magazine, and I take it but don’t bother opening it up. “I’ve always been jealous of your gorgeous hair, so please don’t tell me you’re chopping it all off and dyeing it blue or something.”
“Hey!” Mackenzie objects from where she’s leaning against the wall by the snacks the Lycans laid out for us.
Daisy looks over sheepishly and smiles at the female with the pixie cut that’s currently dyed bright orange. “I didn’t mean you, Mack, you totally pull it off. But can you picture Seneca with a bright blue mohawk or something?” she teases as she strokes a strand of my warm brown hair.
“Bright blue would be the wrong color with those icy blue eyes. She needs something dark, more like a navy or midnight blue. Ohhhhh, that would be pretty!” Mack declares, and the other girls all look over at me appraisingly.
“I’m just gonna trim it,” I hedge, pulling my hair away from Daisy and bundling the rest of it over one shoulder protectively. Just in case anyone gets any bright ideas about pinning me down and bleaching anything.
“You should totally curl it,” Trinity encourages, and Daisy starts nodding eagerly in agreement. “Lee has a technique that would make a Victoria’s Secret Angel jealous, that’s how gorgeous it is.”
“Count me in,” I concede, worried I might tip them off if I’m not more into this.
“You’re already super tan, so I wouldn’t recommend a spray, but mani and pedi for sure, and maybe wrangle those eyebrows,” Trinity assesses, like this is makeover day on some rigged TV talent show.
My hand shoots up to cover my eyebrows. “Thick defined brows are in,” I defend, but she just waves a hand at me dismissively.
“I know, but some of those hairs are trying to make friends with your eyelids and that should never be allowed, girl,” she teases, making everyone around me chuckle.
“Don’t worry, everyone’s usually too busy staring at those eyes and the lips you’ve been blessed with that most women have to buy. I doubt they’ve ever noticed the caterpillars you’re trying to grow, but this is what a pamper day is all about,” she encourages, bumping my hip with hers and whooping excitedly.
