Page 94 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
Despite the medicine and the protective charm I’m wearing, I know the strange pain the moon caused is still inside me, like a thousand pieces of string trying to float out of my every pore. But what is it reaching for? And why has the blood moon affected me like this?
“True, there are a lot of stories about the blood wolf—so many it’s hard to know what is reality and what is myth.”
“But in the stories,” Jasper says impatiently, “the blood wolf is created by the blood moon.”
“Created,” Agatha says, a questioning lilt in her voice, “or drawn out?”
Jasper bristles, and I reach over, place a calming hand on his wrist. He settles and I continue.
“You think the blood moon drew something out of me, like it was already there to begin with?”
Agatha releases her mug and nonchalantly tosses her hand into the air. “The blood wolf is a myth. But myths have to come from somewhere. They say the blood moon drives the blood wolf insane, filling its head with the voices of other wolves—from every pack in the world. Millions of voices all yelling at once. Enough to drive anyone a little loopy, no?” She grins at her little joke; clearly she enjoys her isolation. “Are you the blood wolf? It depends.”
I lean forward, covering my mouth with both hands.
“You’re right, something has changed within you. All wolves have a connection to each other. Time was we could all speak to each other without using words. Our ancestors used to use this form of communication to hunt, and to ensure the safety of their packs. Over time these connections have become dulled, we have become more human; their languages, their methods of communication, their smartphones, have permeated our culture, our way of life, and they have rendered most wolves incapable of communicating with their own kind without words. These sensing abilities are now reserved for the strongest wolves, those with the most powerful connections to the past.”
“Like alphas?” I ask, remembering again the way Jericho is able to sense every member of his pack, and Jasper’s meditation practice.
“Yes, likealphas.” The word clearly doesn’t taste all that good to Agatha. “What I believe happened to you, Mr. Max, is an opening of a sort. For some reason the energy from the blood moon has removed the barriers that have evolved over time, allowing you to sense the inner workings of wolfkind.”
Suddenly, I’m light-headed, my limbs are weightless.
“What are you saying? I can read minds?”
She purses her lips. “In a way. Think of it as a spiritual connection, a link to the minds and souls of other wolves.”
“But why does it hurt so much?”
“Your body is not used to its new ability. Think of it this way: imagine all your life you’ve been living in a cave, it’s dark and quiet, then all of a sudden you’re pulled into the light, the sun is blinding and the world is full of animals squawking and grunting. It would be a lot, no?”
“Yeah.” I nod, thinking about how sometimes in New York all the noises and the hustle can be overwhelming for my heightened senses.
“You will need time to adjust. Your body needs to learn what to do with all of this new information. The herbs I’ve given you will help close off those connections, but it isn’t a permanent solution. You must learn to control when you let the voices in.”
I gulp and glance at Jasper. “Why is it worse when I’m near certain people?”
Jasper glances at me but his eyes dart quickly away.
Agatha leans forward, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“The sensation will be stronger depending on your connection to another wolf. So sadly in this case, the pain will be worse—”
“The closer I am to someone.”
Jasper lifts his gaze to meet mine, and the look of guilt on his face is devastating.
“So, to answer your question,” Agatha says, throwing both hands up. “Are you the blood wolf? If what you mean is, ‘Am I a monster, the boogeyman from the stories?’ Eh, I’m not so sure. What I do know is this.” Her eyes bore into mine, and I can almost feel her thoughts, as if they’re tickling my brain. “Whether you like it or not, you have inherited a great power, and once you have control of it, you will be capable of a great many important things.”
The tickling sensation becomes a scratch, an electric pulse fizzing and burning at the edges of my consciousness. Agatha leans forward even farther and I wonder for a second if she’s trying to press into my mind. Darkness grows at the edges of my vision, blooming into a maroon cloud, as a wall of energy presses against my brain.
I squint a little and grip my chair, trying my best to close off my thoughts, to resist the invasive sensation. I push back with all the energy I have left, and finally the pressure subsides. Agatha leans back, again draping an arm casually over the back of her chair.
She surveys me with narrow eyes for a moment longer before smiling.
“I think you’ll be just fine,” she says, grabbing her tea like nothing happened. “It will take work. But you will be fine.”
I sigh a breath of relief. Was she testing me just now? Agatha has given me some clarity, but questions still swirl in my brain, and along with them a sense that things have changed irrevocably.
