She staggers, writhing in laughter. Elinor is so funny when she’s drunk. It must be the mixture of alcohol and antidepressants. For several years now, I’ve preferred her drunk, but I don’t dare tell her.

She laughs like a turkey before tripping over a tiny pebble.

Sixine smiles under the rays of the moon. She never wears an open smile. We don’t see her teeth when she dares to display this expression. This is the "serious" of the group. A bunch of crazies who have known each other forever, who have been experimenting with life for almost thirty years, in a pretty town in North Carolina, bordered by streams in its forest setting. Wolf Creek.

Elinor, Sixine and Neeve. Three inseparable friends. We even live together in a downtown loft. And besides, we’re just about to arrive there. Slowly, of course.

I watch as Sixine supports Elinor, who bursts into laughter for no reason. The blue reflections of her black hair almost sparkle in the glow of the full moon. The contrast to Elinor’s lunar blonde hair is stark. I take a drag on the joint and I’m distracted by wolf howls coming from the woods around Wolf Creek. Guess Cooper Bretton’s pack is out. It’s not good to venture into the forest tonight. My mood turns to bitterness. I can’t walk there as I please. We don’t mix.

Elinor snaps me out of my bitter thoughts. We can always count on her.

"Fuck, I’m going to pee myself."

Elinor is a teacher and lives badly in her role. We leave Jake’s, the only bar in Wolf Creek.

The streets are deserted. Elinor sings loudly. Sixine shakes her head and says:

"We’ll go more slowly on the vodka next time."

I chuckle.

We emerge into the avenue, two hundred meters from our apartment. Still not a sound, except that of the wolves that we hear howling in the distance, and Elinor, who shouts tirelessly. Sixine grabs me by the shoulder. The three of us walk forward, a smile plastered on our faces tired by this festive night. It’s when we pass the nine-story building on the corner of Willsborough, the pedestrianized street of Wolf Creek, that fate befalls us.

But at that time, we were not yet aware of it. We don’t yet know that this night will change our lives.

The impact of bones and flesh on the asphalt makes a sound so excruciating that I raise my hands to press them to my ears.

Elinor cries out.

Sixine stops breathing.

My heart skips a beat.

Before us lies the broken body of a woman who has just crashed on the asphalt.

"Ladies? Did you call us?" a young cop asks me quietly, just arrived on the scene.

I nod vaguely, still in shock.

"Yeah, that’s us," Neeve says, lost between two emotions.

At the same time, if we ask her the question now, I’m not even sure that she still knows where we live, so interpreting what we have just witnessed isn’t to be counted on! She takes a joint out of her pocket and gives me her most upset look. But she doesn’t have the strength to say anymore and falls gracelessly on the bench where Elinor is prostrate, unable to recover from what we have witnessed.

"Eli, the police are here. We’ll have to go with them."

"For what?" she asks me, raising her head from her knees, which she holds tightly between her arms.

Her makeup smudged; there’s no doubt she let her tears run wild, despite all our attempts to console her. How to blame her? Even her anxiety meds won’t be able to make her forget that a suicidal woman almost flattened us.

"Are you okay, ladies?" worries the policeman, inviting us to follow him to his vehicle. "Perhaps you would like to give evidence at a more reasonable time?"

"It will be fine, thank you. Tomorrow, I can’t."

It’s already not an easy task to talk about what we have witnessed. Might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible, it will be one less thing to do. Besides, it shouldn’t last too long, since there’s no doubt that this poor girl ended her life. Thinking back to her body crushed by the impact on the asphalt, acid reflux rises up my throat.

I gently push Elinor, who slides into the vehicle with the grace of a robot, and then Neeve seems a little tired. Once my girlfriends have boarded, I sit in the tiny place they leave me in the back seat and slam the door to signal to the driver that we are ready to leave.

The car barely starts when a guttural belch resounds in the passenger compartment, accompanied by pronounced gurgling. The kind of spontaneous noises that don’t bode well, especially when you’re in a confined space. Please don’t tell me Eli’s going to give back the barrel she drank!

We have not travelled more than a few meters when the dreaded tragedy occurs. As the car brakes at a red light, and before I’ve even had time to open the door, Elinor spills her stomach on the carpet, right in front of her miraculously spared glittery Louboutins.

"Are you OK?" asks the policeman, trying in vain to hide his disgust.

"We’re going to finish on foot, Officer. I think we need a little air, if you don’t mind."

He nods, disconcerted to see us hastily leave the cabin, while, forced to stay there, he opens the windows wide.

The air is cool this evening; however, a suffocating feeling of heaviness oppresses me. Perhaps it is the sad observation of not having been able to help this unfortunate woman that disturbs me. What else, if not that?

"Six, how are you?" Neeve asks me, sensing my discomfort. "Is it because of the woman?"

"I imagine."

The victim’s shattered face, wide-open eyes, and bloodied mouth appear like a filter in front of me, almost as real as when she fell.

"You know, you can’t help everyone!"

Thank you for reminding me of my weaknesses so gently, darling.

I glare at her. How stupid she can be sometimes!

Fortunately, I know her well and I know that behind this facade of indifference, she is as touched as I am. Or almost. As for Elinor, she wallows in a silence that says a lot about her psychological state. Our lives have already been a tad complicated lately, adding a tragic death isn’t going to make things any easier.

We enter the police station, arm in arm, unfailingly united, ready to face this ordeal.

"Follow me, it’s here."

A young woman, freshly graduated, seeing her starched uniform, leads us into a room usually intended for interrogations. Would there be a problem? Did I miss something?

"Please sit down. An officer will be coming to interview you in a few minutes. A coffee?"

Excellent idea. Maybe that’ll put our minds back together before we start.

"Yes. Three, black. Please."

The cop quickly moves away, closing the door behind her.

"But why did you ask for that? Coffee by itself, and black to boot." Elinor moans, her face now taking on a greyish tint.

"Don’t worry, there’s nothing more to mix in your stomach, you’ve vomited everything already. You’ll see, the coffee will perk you up. Life isn’t all about sugar-packed cocktails and little rainbow capsules, my little unicorn..."

"Eli’s right, you could have asked for something to snack on…" Neeve added, visibly hungry.

"You’re aware that we are neither at a hotel nor at a restaurant, at least?"

They don’t have time to protest when a tall guy, a little nervous, opens the door and holds out his hand to me, while little steaming cups are placed in front of us. And shit, it’s Sam Bass. Or more specifically, Sheriff Bass. He’s lived in Wolf Creek since he was born.

"Hello, I’m Sheriff Bass."

As if we didn’t know...

"It seems that you have witnessed the fall of a young woman, a little earlier in the evening?" he asks, with the detached look of someone who doesn’t care.

I take a hot sip to contain my annoyance. I’m tired, this night is endless and I want to go home... I still answer calmly, so much so that one could easily believe that we are talking about the weather.

"You know Neeve Foris and Elinor Mona," I said, pointing to my friends in turn and extending my hand to her. Sixine Shadwe.

He greets us softly, satisfied by this semblance of formalism, and is about to repeat his question when I cut him off. I want him to take us seriously, despite the atypical circumstances of this late testimony and Neeve’s dilated pupils, whom Sheriff Bass watches with suspicion. I tell him:

"We were walking home when she literally landed at our feet."

"You confirm this?" he asks, turning to the girls who, despite the coffee, haven’t completely regained their usual lucidity.

What exactly is he looking for? On the one hand, he seems to care so little that it makes you wonder if he has an ounce of respect for the victim. On the other, he seems to be looking for a reason to lock up my girlfriends. As if it mattered, right now, that Neeve and Elinor were stoned. A woman has just crashed like a pancake on the asphalt, shit!

"Sam, it hasn’t escaped your notice that we went out for the evening. Some of us are a little... tipsy..." I nod at Elinor, who is dozing, then Neeve, who is drowning in her cup, trying to hide her amusement at me, trying to contain my exasperation.

"That’s what I see."

And so? Is he going to ask his question or is he waiting for it to snow?

"What do you want to know, Sam?"

"What did you see, exactly?"

That’s to say what? Other than a woman flattened on the ground after doing the angel jump? Nothing special, actually...

"Nothing more than what I have just told you: this woman fell in front of us."

"I see. We’re going to start all over again..."

I’m about to break down.

The migraine that’s been pulsing under my head since last night doesn’t seem determined to let me go, and the lack of sleep isn’t helping. It must be said that I hadn’t really planned to spend the night at the police station, answering a cop’s questions about the suicide of a girl who was even more depressed than me.

The memory of the disarticulated body of this poor woman makes me feel sick. Shit. I can’t vomit in class, on my desk... Although I did vomit in a police car...

Staggering, I get up and take three steps between the rows of tables. But why must they be so noisy today? Gagging seizes me. I hurry to the toilets, in the hallway, right next to my class. There, I push open a wooden door painted in a pretty, totally topical puke green, and throw myself on my knees, without any dignity, in front of the toilet. I barely have time to gather my hair above my head as the meagre contents of my stomach pass the barrier of my lips.

Whore. I can’t decide if I feel relieved or even more miserable than a few moments ago.

"Are you okay, miss?"

Holly shit. Not her. Ah, she’s cute, Lise-Ann, with her little pigtails and her big blue eyes, just above a clean dress, white socks and patent leather shoes. But, the truth, I know it. This kid is evil. So, OK, she’s only six, but I’m sure she’s the reincarnation of a dark mage. At a minimum.

With a small smirk, she walks over to the paper towel dispenser, pulls out a nice amount, and brings it to me. Tricks like that don’t work with me, I want to shout at her.

But I say nothing and accept the offering with a simple nod. It’s better to keep your mouth shut when you still have pieces of vomit between your teeth.

"Thank you," I said in a barely trembling voice. "Go back to class, please, I’ll be right there. I must have eaten something not fresh."

Or drink, rather. Yet there were ice cubes in all my cocktails, I’m sure.

"Good, Miss Mona."

Lise-Ann turns her heels in a flight of skirts. No sooner had she left the bathroom than I grimaced. This filthy little plague will tell everything to her mother, who in turn will hasten to feed Radio Portail. Tomorrow morning, Miss Mona on all fours in the toilet is all they will talk about. So nice.

But I’m not at the end of my troubles, except that I don’t know it yet.

I get up, legs shaking, and lean on the edge of the white earthenware sink. I look up and face my reflection in the mirror. I lower them immediately. Why hurt yourself? Besides, I’m sure the cold lighting in the small room is enough of an explanation for my waxy complexion and the large dark circles that adorn my light eyes.

"Elinor? Lise-Ann came to get me to tell me that you weren’t feeling well..."

No! Not this! Not this, not this, not this… I think that right now, I could kill for a Xanax, so I feel on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Levenach… What a surprise! I start straightening up, trying to stay dignified. No, listen, it’s fine. I’m a little… queasy, let’s say. We ordered sushi last night, and… you know, raw fish…"

"I totally see."

Levenach enters the room and comes to stand behind me. I raise my head to meet his gaze. It’s funny, the lighting is much nicer with him. His brown curls, a little too long, sweep over his broad shoulders, which ruthlessly stretch the fabric of his suit jacket. His mouth, a thin red line on his very pale face, doesn’t smile. Just like his eyes, by the way. Their beautiful translucent green is absolutely icy.

Levenach Havek, my dear director. A hell of a teaser… or not. I’ll never understand how Neeve stuck with him for so long when they were younger. Granted, he was a little friendlier back then, but still kind of dark. On the other hand, today, he’s a pure asshole.

In any case, I think we’ve known each other long enough for us to do without pretence.

"What are you staring at, Levenach, huh?"

"I’m staring at one of the teachers of the prestigious Wiccard school who sleeps off her wine during her school day."

"So, what’s it to do with you?"

Yeah, here, my lack of repartee terrifies me, I must admit. Clearly, I’m wrong, and my bravado attitude won’t save my ass.

"What’s it to do with me? Don’t you think that the parents of this establishment have the right to expect better from us? We promised them excellence, Elinor. And we owe them."

"I do my job well."

His eyes seek mine in the mirror. But I don’t see any compassion there.

"You’re lying to yourself, dear. It’s been a long time since you left the ramp. So listen to me. I don’t want to hear your excuses for today. I want you to pack your things, go home and..."

"What? But… are you firing me? Considering the time, you could at least let me finish the day!"

I’m close to throwing up again. I grit my teeth, trying to breathe slowly.

"No," he replies in a cold tone, "I’m not firing you today. But I’m asking you to take a few days to think about all this. If you are no longer able to carry out your duties, I recommend that you resign. And if you decide to come back to take your place among us, I advise you never to present yourself like this again."

It sounds like a threat. Well, it is clearly a threat. Throat tight, tears in my eyes, I can only shake my head. Lamentable. I’m pathetic.

Burning cheeks, swollen eyelids and a puffy face, I leave the bathroom to return to my class.

And there… I remain frozen, appalled. My students have erupted. They are turning over the room, when it’s almost time to leave. There are overturned chairs and desks, objects fly all over the room, luminous and multicoloured flashes streak the ceiling and, on the blackboard, white chalk writes, alone, in large trembling letters: "Miss Mona vomited in the toilet and I’m going to tell my mum". In the middle of this shambles, Lise-Ann is planted in her socks and looks at me with a little triumphant air. I’m sure she’s the one wielding the chalk from a distance. She is just as precocious in magic as she is in wickedness.

"You see?" Levenach whispers behind my back. "That’s exactly what happens when you can’t control your class."

How to answer that? I’m in no position to brag. He’s right all along. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any authority over these kids. I come every morning with a lump in my stomach, I can’t stand my colleagues anymore, I can’t stand the parents anymore… Just seeing these walls lined with ugly drawings gives me hives. I’m only holding on thanks to the antidepressants, which my shrink happily gives me, and the cocktails I prescribe myself every evening with my friends.

As I have nothing to say in my defense, I head to my office to take my things. I’m trying to stay dignified…except one of those brats armoured with youthful magic left a toy car trailing between the rows of tables. My foot slips on it and I violently fall to the ground, flat on my back.

A deep silence follows my fall… before screams and hysterical laughter break out.

I couldn’t even have managed to make a good exit. Until the end, my vocation as a teacher was only a masquerade.

I find myself quickly in the forecourt of the school. The cool air whips my face and feels good. I inhale, exhale… and empty my spleen:

"Holy shit!"

I interrupt myself as, mortified, a few meters from me, I see the most popular mothers in the school who are already expecting their offspring. And among them, Mrs Fleming, the mother of that venomous little wonder Lise-Ann. She looks at me with a slight smirk, obviously delighted with my decline.

I’m not going to be able to avoid it, I’m going to have to pass right next to them, because my car is parked in the parking lot opposite. Well, so be it. I square my shoulders, raise my chin high and head down the stairs. In my head, the one and only mantra: don’t eat meat, don’t eat meat, above all, don’t eat meat...

Phew. I arrive at the bottom of the stairs in one piece. I go beyond the group of silent mothers, and even allow myself to whisper:

"Lise-Ann Fleming is a filthy little pest, and everyone knows she got that from her mother."

To my great satisfaction, I hear a few mothers giggle, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the tall Ann-Lise Fleming blushing with anger.

But I don’t try to savour this small victory and trace my route to my old car.

Once inside, I collapse. I burst into tears, screaming, crying, sobbing, martyring my steering wheel, until finally the anger, the fatigue and this inexhaustible feeling of failure finally subsided.

Drained of all emotion, I let myself fall back on the back of my seat. I will finally be able to go home. The only thing I still want at this point is a glass of wine and a small cup of Xanax to peck at as an aperitif. It’s snack time, but frankly, who cares about this kind of detail?

I take a look in the mirror before starting the engine. And freeze in place. I’m not alone in this fucking car.

"Who, what…"

The stranger smiled at me, almost gently. The woman has a completely ordinary face, a little round, hazel eyes and chestnut hair that falls limply on her shoulders. She wears a shapeless beige raincoat, the kind of clothes no one notices. She could easily blend in with the parents of the students. That’s probably what she did, in fact.

"Don’t panic. I’m only here to shut you up. And considering the scene I just witnessed from the seat of this car, I’m sure it will be a relief for you."

What? But… what is she talking about? OK, I’ve thought about it myself a dozen times lately, but it’s still not the kind of thing you delegate!

At the time, I’m not even really scared. Am I anaesthetized by the depression and the drugs that I take in the hope of holding on? Have the violent emotions that have been unleashed since last night damaged something in my brain? Yes, probably a bit of all of these.

On the other hand, when the woman puts herself behind my seat having moved so quickly that I didn’t even see her doing it, then, yes, I seriously started freaking out. And when she passes, I don’t know how, a fine cord around my neck and squeezes with all her strength, while the back of my skull is crushed against the headrest, there, clearly, panic rings the bells.

Oh. My. God. I will die. I’m gonna die in my goddamn car, I’m gonna die hungover, I’m gonna die when my headmaster just kicked me out of my own class, I’m gonna...

Out of the question. An old survival instinct, long forgotten, resurfaces. Inside me, I feel magical energy flowing at high speed, flooding every part of my body, my power pulsing, stronger than ever. A blinding white light fills the cabin, so strong that I have to close my eyes.

A kind of unappealing noise follows. A kind of… Plof? Blop? The pressure on my neck eases, and I can breathe again. Well, a little magic is often enough to scare off any petty criminals, I’ll just have to pretend there’s been a flash of lightning and...

Oh no. When I open my eyes, I realize that I’m screwed. I blew up my attacker. Literally. I can’t even see the parking lot through my windshield anymore. My seats are covered in blood, bone debris and brains and... me too!

Nausea takes over me, I open my door and vomit a jet of acid bile.

When I straighten up, only one idea comes to me. The woman said she was here to shut me up. I see only one possibility. The suicide we witnessed last night wasn’t one. And I’m not the only one who witnessed it.

I grab my cell phone, which fortunately was in my bag and is relatively clean, select a contact, and call.

"Six? It’s me. We have a problem."

I work as a team manager at BONC, the Bank Of North Carolina. I’m good at my job. And if I’m still in the office despite my mishaps, it’s because my team and I are making a lot of turnover by offering useless insurance products to our customers. My team is the best in the whole state.

I hate this job. I applied six years ago just to piss off my parents, Derrek and Josephine Foris. Roots hippies living in the woods on the Foris’s 300-year-old estate. The Foris are sorcerers whose magic comes from Nature. The protection of the environment and the respect for fauna and flora are at the heart of our power. And there’s sex, too. Because what could be more natural than the sexual act, isn’t it? Except that six years ago, I didn’t really care about all that. I had just broken up with Levenach, my parents constantly pissed me off and I had no desire to follow the hazardous path of the Foris family.

But, at almost twenty-eight, I realize that my rebellious phase requires me today to fulfil objectives which amount to millions of dollars. The only good thing is that I’m responsible for recruiting my team, which includes the captivating Bob Matthews; I’m just evaluating him.

My eyes sink into his. I turned off my phone so as not to be disturbed during this monthly interview. I twist a lock of my red hair with my finger and giggle like a turkey when he says to me:

"I’ll do better next time, Neeve."

"I count on it," I answered in a voice that I hope is suave. "You are capable of so much better, Bob."

He smiles at me and I’m a hair’s breadth from slipping out of my chair.

We finally leave the partitioned office, dedicated to employee evaluations, and head to the open space where my team works. I pass my director who nods at me, before staring at Bob Matthews. My manager is gay and we obviously share the same tastes. Except that he’s a human and he knows how to behave. I’m a nature witch, so it is more difficult for me to control my instincts.

"Well, then, I hope we made money!"

My team exclaims reassuringly about the day’s sales. If they only knew how much I don’t care! Today, I’m doing this job to fund a lawsuit against a real estate developer who has designs on tracts of acres of Wolf Creek forest. Sixine is following me on this adventure, but we know we’re going to need a hell of a lot of dough to succeed in bringing this development down. We need this money, and I refuse to ask my parents for it.

On Friday, the day ends earlier. The team did wonders. Sales exploded in the afternoon, and the results table is black with dots. One dot, one sale. For my collaborators, the pinnacle of pleasure in a day’s work is getting up to place a magnetic dot on the board, making sure that the impact on the board makes as much noise as possible. I make less and less noise...

Bob Matthews is still at his desk, along with Rachel Bree, when they should have been gone for an hour. Like me, they find it difficult to leave when they are caught up in their work. I don’t like what I do. But whatever I do, I always get involved. A damn flaw...

My manager shows up with his briefcase in hand to congratulate us on a productive day. It’s funny, I have the feeling that every day is alike. He does this every night before leaving. My life is a loop. And I don’t like round things...

"Well done to you and your team, Neeve."

"Thank you."

I get up to put on my jacket and take my handbag. It’s time to go home. My manager makes a U-turn when a man in his thirties, not a member of the BONC staff, slowly approaches us. I feel a negative aura emanating from him. Handsome Matthews raises his pretty eyes to watch him. Rachel, on the other hand, is captivated by this guy. The manager frowns, no doubt wondering how a stranger got through the security gates. Something is wrong. I feel it in my chest, which rises faster with each breath I take. I feel it in the change of atmosphere that permeates me. My heart starts pounding.

When my manager asks him to state his identity, the man waves his hand. A blue light escapes from it and rushes, scathing, towards my boss, who crashes to the floor. Rachel screams. Bob is paralyzed. The man is still moving forward and I don’t know what to do. There are humans. No one should be hurt and I can’t use my magic. Damn… My gaze is on the patio. I rush to the bay window and open it. I manage to dodge the filaments of magic that pursue me and dodge a new jet of light that is about to hit me. In the middle of the patio sits an oak tree lined with earth and a thin carpet of poorly maintained lawn. I know what I must do. My head swivels towards the vast windows; my boss gets up, and Bob Matthews and Rachel, livid, stare at me. A hard time…

The man goes through the bay window showing a sinister grin. He raises a hand, and a new blue sphere forms just above it. I twirl around and hide behind the wide trunk of the oak.

"Do you seriously think a tree will save you, Neeve Foris?" says the stranger in a deep voice that frightens me.

I feel his presence. The magic flows through me. Emerald-coloured light radiates from my body as the man steps onto the earth surrounding the century-old tree. Then a second. So, I come out of my summary hiding place, a green halo surrounding my silhouette, and stretch out my arm to connect to the tree. The man has time to look surprised, before the roots of the oak wrap around his ankles and pull him down to engulf him underground. The deep silence that follows this hasty burial is broken by Rachel’s horrifying cry. I turn around and see Bob Matthews close to fainting. My boss faints again.

Shit… I’m going to need the Amnistral on this one.

I cross the vast hall swarming with colleagues accompanied by their stressed clients. It’s funny, this discrepancy between these people and the detachment of their lawyers for whom this is only one case among many others. It’s a little scary when you think about it, and not exactly human, this lack of empathy.

After studying business law and showing a predisposition for real estate and financial law, I finally opted for areas in which I play a decisive role today. I set my sights on the defence of the environment and registered on the lists of court-appointed lawyers and legal aid lawyers. Coming from a wealthy family, I don’t need exorbitant fees to live.

My heels click on the white and black marble, attracting the attention of the litigants who wander in the corridors of old stone. I go down the stairs and find myself on the forecourt. Instead of leaving the enclosure surrounded by huge black metal gates, I turn around and sneak to the left, towards the ground floor. I don’t know who had the brilliant idea of setting up a bar directly here, but it would have been difficult to be less pragmatic and wise.

I settle into a stone alcove and unbutton my coat. I shove it in a ball in my bag – luckily I chose a wrinkle-resistant one, given the way I carry it around – and call out to the waiter.

"A Penal Code, please."

He looks at me, surprised.

What? It is four o’clock. Am I not allowed to relax a bit?

After a few minutes, the waiter comes back and puts my drink on the table. A spicy smell escapes the scarlet liquid and gives me a boost. This is how legal perversion turned the Bloody Mary into the Penal Code...

I plunge my lips into the cool liquid. Not bad, although it could have been stronger. And with macaroons, it would have been perfect. Eli wouldn’t agree with that, but my tastes have always been different from those of my friends.

My bag vibrates.

Where’s that damn phone?

I spill the contents of my bag on the seat and retrieve the phone.

It’s Eli. But she’s not in class at this time?

"Six? It’s me. We have a problem."

She’s not just depressed or drunk this time. She is anxious, her jerky breathing suggests that she has run or made some effort, which isn’t usual in her routine.

"What kind of problem?"

"I…"

"Spit it out darling, I’m at work here."

OK, that’s shameful, since I’m sipping a cocktail...

"Something just happened," she tells me, her voice quavering. "I... I... blew up a girl in my car."

I don’t understand. But what is she talking about?

"In your car? In the parking lot?"

"Obviously in my car in the parking lot!" she screams suddenly. "Someone was waiting for me, Six! They tried to kill me!"

Shit, but what is she talking about?

"She told me she wanted me to shut up. I don’t know what happened. A reflex, I think. She ended up in pieces in the cabin! It’s everywhere!"

"What’s everywhere?"

"Some blood! Scraps of flesh and bone… but I don’t care! They’re after us! Go take shelter. NOW!"

But who and what is she talking about?! Silence her, why? She’s a schoolteacher!

An explosion rang out, blowing through the bar’s heavy wooden door.

I may be allergic to injustice, but I’m not reckless. Even less in the face of an aggressor armed to the teeth. I sink under the seat, trying in vain to gather my things in my bag.

"What are you doing? You can’t…"

New detonation.

This time I see the assailant, a man dressed head to toe in black, a bandana and a hood obscuring his face. We let anyone in! What is the gate?!

When he turns around, he begins to destroy the benches one by one. Is it really me he wants? How does he know where I am? I didn’t even know I was going to be here...

Swirls spread between his fingers, before hitting the furniture a few metres from me. All that’s left are a few charred bits and a terrible burning smell. This guy is a sorcerer!

But what the hell is he doing? How does he intend to explain this attack to higher authorities? Isn’t he afraid of the sanctions?

I have to get out of here! But how? For now, he’s blocking the only exit.

I crawl with relative discretion under the tables, hiding in the shadows of the dim lights, taking advantage of the tumult of the successive explosions to progress.

Breathe.

Breathe…

But what does he want, exactly? Who would want to hurt Eli? And to me?

He’s getting closer.

He’s gonna blow me up!

I don’t want that. I do not want that.

Here, he arrives at the table which I occupied. He throws a violent wave that shatters the table, spreading the slips, in the form of confetti, throughout the room.

A piece of table hits me head-on. My forehead is busted! It pisses blood!

I’m going to die!

I struggle not to scream.

No!

NO!

Tight under my seat, clinging to my purse like a paranoid grandmother on public transport, it takes me a few seconds to realize that silence has invaded the room.

Silence?

When I open my eyes, I no longer see anything. Shadows have spread into every nook and cranny of the room, so opaque that I can’t even make out my fingers. The sorcerer disappeared as if his body had been devoured by darkness.

What happened? How is it that night surrounds us in the middle of the day?

I don’t know where to go. I’m not going to rummage around to find my damn phone. With the luck I have, I’ll end up groping the killer!

I crawl out of my hiding place and run out of the courthouse.

Outside, as in the bar, the half-light conceals the neighbourhood with its protective veil.

What did I do?

Am I able to do this?

Me?

Plunge the world into darkness...

Even after eight years, a simple call from Neeve is enough to distract me from the smallest task, futile or of importance. Neeve still has that power over me. Since that famous night. That disastrous night, when everything changed. Not that I regret it, but here I am, in a cloud of black swirls, teleported from the Wiccard Academy. I inherited this power with my position as Amnistral.

I’m walking down the hallway of the BONC when Neeve jumps on me.

"Damn, what were you doing?" she says, annoyed.

I sigh. Even if seeing her still provokes in me feelings that I prefer to repress, I don’t forget what I have to accomplish at her request. She used magic in front of humans, and I’m already about to invoke the laws that govern all magical races when, suddenly, I perceive the reminiscences of ancient magic. Dark magic. The magic of the Nightfalls… But I know that Neeve uses nature magic, she cannot be responsible for this.

"What happened?" I ask.

"They tried to kill me, damn it!"

I frown, instantly doubting her words. Not that it’s impossible, but who could hurt Neeve? An upset investor? A rejected lover? I know her so well. Granted, she’s a powerful witch, like her housemates, but Neeve is different, much to my regret. And I’m not there for nothing.

"Explain to me."

She invites me to follow her down the hall. I then find myself in the open space. Her boss is lying, passed out, on the floor. A young woman is crying. A human holds his head, constantly mumbling that he hasn’t seen anything and that he won’t say anything. The typical reaction of humans having witnessed a supernatural attack.

"Vampires or wolves?"

Neeve turns around and looks at me. His gaze almost strikes me on the spot. She still hates me. She hates me so much. But that wasn’t always the case, and I cling to that memory.

"sorcerers," she says.

"Unlikely," I replied.

"Neeve, I want to go home," the pale young man begged.

She lowers herself to his level and caresses his cheek. Her belligerent expression disappears and takes on a deep gentleness.

"It won’t be long, Bob, don’t worry," Neeve reassures him.

Then she turns to me and gives me an acid smile.

"Hurry up, Levenach. It’s your job," she spits, before turning to the famous Bob.

I watch her soothe the human without saying a word. I won’t give her that pleasure. So I raise my palm.

From my hand escape three nebulae. They rise slowly under the eyes of the humans who are about to receive my fate. The next minute, Neeve’s boss and his employees get up and hurry out, with no memory of what they’ve seen.

"Tell me," I repeated.

Neeve makes sure the door is closed before facing me. Her closeness overwhelms me, so I take a step back. It does not escape her. A jaded smile forms on her lips.

"A man came and threatened me."

"Where is he?"

"Six feet under, I would say."

My gaze drifts towards the patio where the only plot of vegetation in the building is located. I know the power of Neeve. This immeasurable power that she draws from the earth. Neeve looks down and twiddles her hands.

"Thanks for coming."

I’m surprised that she agrees to thank me, but remains stoic. I know her only too well.

"I’m the Amnistral, it is my duty."

"Yes, of course."

The silence between us drags on. Our eyes fuse. I wish I could read her mind, but the magic of the Nightfalls overwhelms me again.

"How are you, otherwise?" she asks me.

I know she asks me this question with as much awareness as I do of the pathos of the present situation. We don’t know what to say to each other, and I don’t even remember when things have been like this between us.

"I’m fine," I answer while a thin line of derision can be guessed on my lips.

"OK."

So. The discussion is over, and we both know it. I nod my head in salute and rush towards the corridor by which I arrived. The portal I created is still open, but before I go through it, my cell phone vibrates in my jeans pocket.

"Hello?"

"Sixine used her powers at the courts. You must go there, and you are expected to provide a detailed report on the circumstances of these… incidents."

I frown and walk back to Neeve. She’s packing up her things and rolls her eyes when she sees me coming back. An idea bothers me, and I prefer to remove it immediately from my mind.

"You forgot your smile around here somewhere?" she says.

"Were there any strange events you witnessed in the company of Sixine?"

"Except in court?"

"Hmm…"

I turn away and walk back towards the portal.

"Oh, and there was a suicide," she adds.

"What do you mean?" I asked, facing her again.

"A woman jumped from a building at the corner of Willsborough. She crashed before our eyes. It was horrible."

Willsborough.

"When?"

"Yesterday."

I take it upon myself to hide the storm that invades my chest. I pick up the phone and ask:

"Anything about Professor Mona?"

"You guess right. Elinor Mona is missing. Her father tried to contact you several times."

"What makes him think she’s missing?"

"Her car was found full of blood. Blood that couldn’t be hers."

My eyes turn to Neeve.

"Flee. Far."

"Pardon?"

I move closer to Neeve, my eyes dark as my thoughts race. I must make her understand the danger that awaits her. Elinor Mona and Neeve Foris used magic to defend themselves. I don’t doubt that Sixine also used hers for the same reasons. These are not coincidences. My hands rest on Neeve’s shoulders, and she immediately tries to free herself from my grip. This contact bothers her. It should not. Still, the current I feel in my forearms burns me. I clench my jaw before managing to say:

"Elinor, Sixine and you must flee very far."

"Wh-what?"

Her hard gaze changes and gets lost a little. I pull my hands from her bare shoulders.

"Go somewhere where no one can find you."

"What the hell are you saying, Lenny? I can’t run away! My mother, my father, my brother… No, no. I can’t!"

"You have to leave town tonight, Neeve. Someone wants you dead and might succeed if you stay here. For once, damn it, listen to me, and run away!"

Neeve slumps in her chair. I notice that what I said to her is making its way into her head. I cling to this belief. I can’t do anything more, so I leave, failing to mention to her that I may know who this someone is.

Night fell while I was dozing in the technical room on the ground floor of the Wiccard Academy. Moaning, I get up and rub my lower back. I had the bad idea to doze off against a broom.

I don’t feel good. Not good at all. A terrible migraine pounding my head, and I still feel nauseous, even though my stomach is empty. Flashes come back to me, violent, bloody, terrifying. Did I dream everything that happened since last night? Did Levenach send me home? Was there really someone waiting in my car to assassinate me and did… did I really blow that person up?

To be sure, I grope in the dark to find the switch. The light springs forth, white and raw. I turn it off immediately. I got my answer, my clothes and skin are mottled brown. Dried blood.

I can’t stay like this, I can’t stay here. I also remember calling Six to let her know… And Neeve? Was she attacked too? She was supposed to work today. I find it hard to believe that anyone could have tried to attack her right in the middle of the BONC offices... But after all, didn’t they want to kill me in the parking lot of a school, in broad daylight? It’s a crazy story.

A wave of anguish seized me. I grab my bag and search furiously in its folds. A teacher’s bag is not a cliché. There’s everything in there. Pens, markers, scraps of paper, brushes, children’s drawings, chalk, handkerchiefs, and not always very clean… Everything, except what I need, right there, right now. Panicked, I empty the entire contents onto the bare concrete floor. But I have to face the facts. I no longer have my meds.

I have trouble breathing. An icy sweat runs down my back, and the retching seizes me again. On my knees, I burst into tears, while my stomach twists painfully. I feel miserable, holed up in this goddamn broom closet. Miserable, and in danger.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...

I need to calm down. I lie on the hard, cold ground, close my eyes, and take the time to clear my mind. It’s my shrink who tries to teach me some techniques to prevent me from throwing myself on the little pills with each increase in stress. Usually, we can’t say that it works crazy. But usually, I have meds in my bag. Now, I have no choice, I have to find a solution to get back on my feet and go back home. There, I can medicate myself, see if the girls are home, wash myself, change my clothes, and find a solution to get out of this mess...

Just the thought makes my heart race again. Don’t think about what’s next. Stay in the present moment.

Despite everything, little by little, my heart rate calms down, and my breathing no longer makes that nasty noise of asthmatic bellows. The tremors in my hands subside. It’s only temporary, I know. Strangely, a little voice deep inside me reminds me that it’s time for me to take charge. OK, it’s noted. But later, okay?

Finally, I can get up. I look up at the barred window. It is quite dark now, and the moon, round, full and milky white, is high in the sky. It’s not going to be easy to slip through the darkness, but its presence reassures me, as always.

I stuff all my things in my bag and keep my set of school keys in my hand. I did well to take refuge in this room because it opens directly onto the outside. In silence, I go out into the street, then close behind me. There is nobody. Silence reigns. I usually like the silence. But here, this absence of noise has something oppressive. The night tastes and smells of danger lurking in the shadows.

Too bad, I can’t stay here. With a hurried step, I take the streets that separate me from the loft. I could have taken my car back… But no, I imagine that someone must have noticed the carnage in the passenger compartment and reported it. The idea occurs to me that I should either be considered dead or wanted for murder. Well, maybe not very actively, if no one has thought to search the broom cupboards.

For a moment, I wonder if I shouldn’t better go home. Not the loft in which I live with Neeve and Sixine. Rather, the family castle, this improbable Gothic construction on the shores of Mona Lake. Yes, I know, my family owns a castle not far from a lake that bears our name. It’s because we come from a long line of sorcerers, established in the region for a long time.

The idea of taking refuge in the arms of my father, Luthor, seized me. I imagine my mother making me one of her favourite infusions while sliding a plate filled with cinnamon buns under my nose and brooding over me with her worried gaze… Worried. That’s why I can’t go back to the castle. I might worry my parents. My sister Liv is already causing them so much trouble… Besides, I need to know if my friends are okay. If they are still alive. And it won’t take long for the great Luthor Mona to guess that I’m still plagued by my demons. I’m going to disappoint him again… there’s no way I’m adding problems to my parents.

Heart clenched with anguish, I hurry again. It isn’t very far now.

Finally, I see the tall silhouette of the old textile factory which housed our loft apartment.

I stop at the corner of the street, sheltering under a porch so as not to be seen. Despite my anxiety and the urgency that I feel roaring in my veins, I take the time to observe the surroundings. I don’t see anything or anyone. That doesn’t mean the place is deserted, but… I’ll have to try my luck. I slip from shadow to shadow as far as I can. On the last metres, I have to run in the open to reach the heavy steel gate, which conceals the entrance to our reserved area. I manage it without difficulty. Either there aren’t any enemies nearby, or…well, I’m dealing with some smartass who’d rather have the three of us at once.

I unlock the gate, which squeaks horribly. Shit. I slip inside. Not a sound. Not a light. That’s fishy. Neeve always forgets to turn it off. Ears filled with the beating of my own heart, I climbed the stairs in stealth mode. We haven’t fitted out the ground floor, and the old sewing machines cast eerie shadows on the walls spattered with lunar whiteness.

Finally, I reach the loft. There too, everything is bathed in lunar waves. It’s beautiful, these large openings, but when your life is wanted, you quickly regret not having curtains or shutters.

Taking a deep breath, I call:

"Neeve? Sixine? It’s me…"

"Shhhhh, but you’re stupid or what, yelling like that?"

Just hearing that voice could make me cry with relief. Neeve is there. And Six?

"Are you alone?"

"No, I’m here too," replies Sixine. "But shut up!"

"Where are you?"

"In the kitchen," Neeve replies in one of those magnificent shout-whispers she’s used to.

I roll my eyes. Not the right time to explain to her that she’s no more discreet than me.

Without hesitation, I head for our kitchen. I know the places so well that I could walk around with my eyes closed. And then, tonight, with all this light... Besides, it’s crazy, that the moon is so bright. My attention keeps coming back to it, but I can’t quite put my finger on what’s bothering me.

Finally, I find my friends sitting on the floor. Each holds a glass in her hand. Between them sits a well-opened bottle of wine.

"OK. So while I was crossing Wolf Creek to join you, clenching my ass so as not to be killed by another psychopathic killer, you were quietly boozing at home, right?

"Hey, okay, Eli. We’ve had a rough day too, can you imagine," Six replies, throwing another swig down her throat.

"Rough how?"

"Rough as in they also tried to kill us.

"No! Where and how?"

"Right in the middle of the bank," Neeve replies, looking bored.

"At the refreshment bar at the Courthouse," continues Six.

Wow. Indeed, the situation is much more serious than I imagined. One attempted murder sucks, but three…"

"Are you hurt?" my friends are immediately worried.

"No. Not injured. But I need my pills to calm me down."

Neeve helps me sit next to her, and I rest my head on her shoulder. She may be completely crazy, but I always feel good when I’m with her. She reassures me. It must come from the type of magic she practices, nature, all that… But my mind is confused. I feel so bad, and the adrenaline plummeting through my veins isn’t helping.

"Sixine, don’t you want to go see if you find anything in the bathroom? Poor thing, she’s shaking like a leaf."

They know exactly where I stash my supplies, just in case.

"Yeah, great, so it’s up to me to go for a walk in front of the windows and take a bullet, right?"

"Six…" growls Neeve. "They were sorcerers. They don’t use guns. I’m too tired to cast a protection spell, and so are you and Eli. Get low and go get those fucking pills."

Sixine sighs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my friend who gets on all fours and begins to crawl along the bay windows, taking care to keep her head down. New shivers, incoercible, seize me. The moon, Sixine moving on all fours, the smell of fresh moss emanating from Neeve...

"Oooooh…"

"What? Here, have a drink while waiting for your magic pill."

And Neeve holds her drink under my nose. I swallow a big swig of red liquid, then a second, a third… I often make fun of my friend and her way of filling her glasses to the brim, but here, I admit that the usefulness of this excess is blatant.

The wine flows down my throat, as sweet as honey, and warms my insides. I hadn’t realized I was so cold. Still, even though I feel better, I know that’s not what my body is crying out for.

Finally, Sixine returns; she holds out her hand to me, palm open, and I see my precious pill on her pale skin. I grab it right away and throw it down my throat. I don’t have time to swallow it and I already feel alive again.

"Only take one, we can’t afford for you to end up stoned, with a trickle of drool at the corner of your lips," adds Neeve. "We need to talk."

I growl. They won’t even let me enjoy the well-being that is gradually taking hold of me. The noose of anxiety loosens its grip on my chest and, finally, I have the feeling that my thoughts are freed. I feel less miserable. Stronger. And more stoned too, I admit.

"Good. Where do we start?" asks Sixine.

"Look, girls, we’ll keep it short," Neeve announces. "The dead woman probably didn’t commit suicide. We have to escape, and as soon as possible."

"What? But I was thinking of going to the police station instead, and…"

"The cops can’t do anything for us, Six. I brought in Levenach, at the BONC, there was so much damage. He got a call about what happened to you, and he heard about you too, Eli. When he heard that we had witnessed a suicide on the corner of Willsborough, he looked shocked. And he told me that we had to run away and make sure that no spell could locate us..."

A long silence follows this tirade from Neeve. It doesn’t look like Sixine, by the way, not to ask more questions than that. In me, on the other hand, anguish has reappeared and is knocking furiously at the doors of my foggy mind.

"Avoid locating spells? And he told you how to do that, your old friend Levenach?" says Sixine.

"No. He didn’t tell me anything more. He left, as usual."

"And you want us to do what, then?"

"But damn, I don’t know, Six!" Neeve gets angry. "I’m just telling you what he told me. We’re still targeted by an assassin, damn it!"

"Bah, precisely, when someone wants to assassinate you, you go to the police, and that’s it! We don’t take to our heels without knowing where we’re going..."

In the beneficent mist in which I wallow, I smile. Their argument has something so reassuring, so normal… I raise a hand, pale and slender as if to catch a moonbeam. I laugh, not even knowing why.

"But why is she laughing?" remarks Neeve, narrowing her deep hazel eyes.

"I imagine it must be the shock. Or maybe the mix of wine and pills she just gulped down."

I look at them. They are so beautiful, lit by the moon. Neeve, and her hair so red, it looks bloody. And Sixine, whose bluish reflections take on an almost metallic appearance… I laugh again, very gently… I know… I know!

"Girls…"

"No need to ask, Eli. You won’t get any more pills, honestly."

"No that’s not it. Listen… can’t you hear it?"

Neeve and Sixine stare at me, totally bewildered. It makes me want to laugh even more, but I have to contain myself, otherwise, they won’t hear anything. I raise a finger to point to the moon, which sits proudly in the sky, facing our bay windows.

"Listen…"

"I can’t hear anything..."

"Me neither…"

How is it possible? Is it only me who hears the moon whisper soothing words to me? My friends may be right, I’m completely stoned… But no. I know clearly what we need to do to get to safety.

"Wolves!" I say triumphantly.

"Damn!" Neeve exclaims, clearly exasperated. "You suck, Eli. As if it was time to talk to us about the moon and wolves, seriously!"

I make an effort to sit up. I grab her forearms, making her look me in the face. For her to really look at me.

"Wolves, Neeve. They are our solution."

"What do you mean by that, Eli?" Sixine says, right next to me.

"I mean we have to go hide with the wolves. Bretton Pack is closest to Wolf Creek. We’ll be safe from danger!"

I let go of Neeve’s arm and point to the moon.

"The moon is full. It’s the perfect time for a special Moon spell, don’t you think?"

"Damn, Eli... Witches among the wolves… If we are discovered, they will eat us! And if sorcerers find out, we’re dead."

"Before the jury of the coven, we’ll have nothing to fear and in addition, Levenach intervened," Sixine says.

I release Neeve. Now my mind is as clear as night. I know exactly what we have to do. And it will work, I’m sure of it. I know I’m right. I know it, I feel it, and it’s been a long time since I had such confidence in my own judgment.

"The spell I intend to cast will turn us into wolves for one lunation. No more. And it can only be done once. It’s the only solution I can come up with right now."

"What about locator spells?"

"Sixine, don’t you remember that wolves’ smells mask our witch nature?"

She slaps her forehead with an exasperated hand. Her studies at the Wiccard Academy do not seem to have left her with an imperishable memory.

"Yeah, yes. OK. But hey, I just need time to put my affairs in order, I have to plead tomorrow…"

"And I have to tell my manager that I’m taking unpaid leave..."

"No," I said. "It’s now. Tomorrow, the moon will already be waning, and my spell won’t work."

The girls look at me.

"You have to stop the meds, too," says Sixine.

"I told you and I’ll repeat it for you, if we want to hide somewhere, it’s with the Brettons, and it’s now!"

My words act on my friends like a whiplash. Their eyes finally lose their dazed glow.

"You’re sure?" asks Six.

I nod my head.

"But like sure sure?" adds Neeve.

I nod my head twice. But still, I wonder when I lost my credibility so badly that even my two best friends needed me to confirm my certainties. Deciding enough is enough, I grab the discarded bottle of wine and take a good swig of it. With the back of my hand, I wipe my mouth.

"Come on, it’s good. Let’s go."

The girls nod in agreement. It’s good, we’re moving forward. We take each other’s hands. Right in the middle of our circle, a moonbeam illuminates our intertwined fingers. I focus on it, as hard as I can, and we close our eyes.

In the beginning... Well, in the beginning, nothing happens. Nothing nothing nothing. I feel Neeve open one eye to watch me and Sixine sniffle. Women of little faith.

Uncertainty takes hold of me, and I try to push it away with all my might. But… what if I had abused my meds and other crap so much that I was no longer able to use my magic? Then I think about the woman who exploded in my car. I had never done such a thing before today, but I am capable of it. So little by little, I feel the influx of power seeping into me. Almost timidly at first, then more and more forcefully, until the sweet lethargy into which my pills and my few sips of wine had plunged me was shattered.

I scream, surprised, as always, by the strength and power of my magic. I don’t need to open my eyes to know that a sphere with opaline reflections crossed by dazzling flashes has been created around us and isolates us from the rest of the world.

Then I scream, shaken to the depths of my soul by the effort I have to produce to change us into wolves. In my mind saturated with sensations that don’t all belong to me, I isolate the image of three beasts. One with a silver coat, one with tawny hair, and the last with a black coat. I superimpose our faces, our identities, and what I know about us. And I know everything about us. The good and the bad, strengths and weaknesses.

In the loft, the light intensifies, until it becomes blinding, a furious wind rises and makes the doors slam, the papers fly away, and the old walls groan. A few windows smash. A chandelier comes down from the high ceiling and crashes to the floor. But all this I do not see. My whole being is invested with the power of the moon, and my mind with the image of a wolf.

A wolf I don’t know.

Or at least not yet.

A tornado devastates the room, crashes follow one another, the windows shatter on the floor, and the glass that I haven’t even had time to empty explodes in my hand. What’s going on? Will it work, at least?

"Shouldn’t we go somewhere where we would cause less damage?" I squealed, affected by the disaster that surrounds us.

"How materialistic you can be," Neeve says.

But she takes a look around us and changes her mind:

"It’s not totally stupid, that said. How would it feel if the neighbours saw three wolves come out of our house?"

Absorbed by her fate, Elinor doesn’t intervene in our conversation. Her body is present, but her mind is focused on the words she chants non-stop, and a blinding moonlight surrounds her pale face.

"What are we doing?"

"The forest," Neeve suggests.

Coming from her, another answer would have surprised me. Nature is her domain, and in absolute terms, it is also that of the wolves. Anyway, anywhere else than here will be less devastating for our decor. And more discreet, too.

I put my arm under Elinor’s armpit, who staggers and still hums in a hoarse voice, possessed by visions that I don’t envy. Neeve immediately imitates me, and we head for the hidden exit at the back of the building. The risk of being seen will be reduced and access to the forest is direct.

After a few steps, I’m already teetering on the stilettos that I had kept on my feet. Must say that sitting on the floor, my high heels were not frankly requested, but walking and supporting a friend in the middle of a bad trip, changes the game!

And Eli has the weight of a dead unicorn!

"Wait," I whisper to Neeve, but loud enough to get her attention.

I swing my poor heels a little further. Shit, twelve centimetres high! They weren’t useless, however, given my reduced size compared to Eli’s, who now leans towards me. Being a condensed version of perfection is cool when you want to buy shoes or clothes because you can always find your size, even during the sales. Any other time, it’s almost a handicap!

Panting, sweating, dishevelled and my dress half up. All this effort was annihilated in a fraction of a second, it’s unfair! Worse, if Eli’s attempt works, we will become wolves! Animals full of hair and sticky slime! Joyful prospect!

In the meantime, I would like to keep what little dignity I have left for as long as possible. What if I helped myself with a little magic? Moving objects is a formality for me, so it’s worth a try, even if Eli isn’t the same size as a law book.

Things are going a little better, thanks to the magic, even if Neeve picks up the pace to lead us under the cover of the trees, about ten metres from us. Eli’s words still flow between her lips; this sweet melody embraces us, infiltrates through our pores and insinuates itself into our veins. I no longer just hear it, I feel it. It is palpable, it vibrates and resonates in every part of my being. The vision Elinor clings to as we move her is imprinted before my eyes: three she-wolves in sparkling coats. White, Red and black.

Struck by this appearance, I forget to mentally support Eli who collapses, despite the relentlessness of Neeve who struggles to keep her upright.

"Six, damn it! Make an effort!"

Oh yes.

I put Elinor’s arm around my neck again, and we end up dragging her without grace or care, in a hurry to leave the edge of the wood for a less exposed place. Once far enough away, out of sight, we place her at the foot of a large oak tree, on an opulent layer of moss, before sitting down beside her.

The moon bathes the undergrowth in a silvery aura, concentrated in radiant swirls that wrap around Eli. Her song weakens, and she is suddenly silent, carried by this light imbued with the magic of the moon, her body shaken with slight spasms. Before my amazed eyes, her appearance is blurred.

The storm that was chasing us suddenly subsides. My raven hair immediately falls around my face, and a strange feeling of heaviness weighs on my shoulders. My skin tingles. It’s downright unpleasant. I see less clearly; now I can barely make out the blurred shapes of my friends, whose hands I hold firmly. As if clinging to them hooked me back to reality.

Suddenly, my body gesticulates. I lose control of it. My fingers tense, tightening those of my friends even more. A dazzling glow spreads around Eli and engulfs us. Strikes us down. My muscles contract, their rigidity is painful as if a powerful electric current ran through me.

Are we dying now?

And suddenly. Nothing.

"Six!"

What? What is it again?

"Hmm."

I know that articulating is complex given the hangover I’m paying for, but what was that grunt?

"Six, damn it!"

"But what!"

Shit. There, it sounded more like a roar of thunder than a hoarse voice. What is going on? The familiar voice I hear doesn’t quite reach my ears, but I understand every word of it.

"It worked."

What worked?

I have such a headache...

"We’ve changed..."

I jump to my feet, but something is off. What is this strange posture? And those shreds of cloth right there? But no! Not my fucking Chanel dress!

"Are you proud of yourself?" I say to Eli, before I even saw her, my eyelids still a little glued.

I rub my face. My fingers…

I widen my eyes, and blink several times in a row, hoping to see more clearly. I’m covered in fur! Instead of my fingers, hairy, clawed paws. As for the rest of my bruised body...

"Shit... it worked... I whispered," impressed by the vision that awaits me when I finally see my friends.

"What did you think?" Elinor takes offence and now has the appearance of a good-sized wolf, with a white coat set with silver highlights.

There’s no doubt that it is Eli. Even if she looks nothing like the one I know so well, her look does not deceive me. She has retained this melancholy tinged with defeatism, which is nevertheless adorned with a certain pride. Neeve is as red as a squirrel. Majestic and perfectly integrated into the nature that surrounds us. And, from what I can see of my surrogate body, I have put on an obsidian robe. Not as flattering as a designer dress, though...

"And now?" I asked, a bit lost.

"Now we’re going to the wolves," Eli reminds me, uncompromising.

Since when does she use such a peremptory tone? We are neither her students nor her shrinks! Besides, she doesn’t really speak, since I hear her in my head. Strange, this new ability...

The girls begin to move, which I imitate as best I can. How do they manage to move in this way with such ease? No matter how hard I apply myself, my jerky movements are unnatural. No wolf will ever believe that I belong to them.

Besides, where exactly is it, among the wolves?

But apparently, Eli knows exactly which way to go. A lunar ability, I imagine. She takes us between the trees whose foliage stretches up to the sky, partially masking the last silvery rays of the moon. A cool breeze seeps through the foliage, spreading a smell of peat and mushrooms. I know that my friends are closer to nature than me. There is something, however...

But it’s true, what are my passions? Apart from order and justice, of course...

How can we approach thirty and ignore what, in life, makes us vibrate? The law is more the type to make my little heart flutter. A visceral need to restore balance, or at least try. But the rest? The facts are distressing: except for my friends – and my family, of course, I don’t like anything.

The first light of day appears above the canopy, sweeping away the softness of the darkness. In the middle of a stride, I metamorphose again and regain human form. I go from standing to falling in a few seconds and come crashing down on the prominent roots of a huge chestnut tree. I’m dizzy as my senses explode, hitting me like a boomerang. Everything mixes; the natural odours that I have never perceived with such intensity, the innumerable surrounding noises that ricochet under my skull, distorting my perception and my still cloudy sight. I’m exhausted, and my muscles contract. Bruises cover every square inch of my skin. I feel my stomach and hold back a cry. I hurt everywhere. I am nothing more than pain, and the simple caress of the wind is enough to make me clench my teeth. Not to mention that I’m naked as a worm.

"Oh no!"

I try in vain to cover the little fur I have left and my nipples which point in the icy morning air, embarrassed to discover my friends also in their simplest state.

"What? Have you never seen boobs?" Neeve chuckles, more amused than embarrassed by the situation.

She wanted natural, I think we can hardly do better!

"Damn, I thought I forgot something important," Eli grumbles, slapping her forehead with the palm of his hand. "Well, we’ll have to improvise."

"Improvise how? Are you planning on weaving leaves to make us thongs?"

"But who cares, seriously! It has to happen all the time, in a pack. Who gives a damn seeing a few girls frolicking around?" jokes Neeve.

She’s serious, right? I don’t care what the locals think, it bothers me!

"What are you doing here?" a man’s voice suddenly thunders.

And shit. The moment is well chosen to receive visitors.

"We…" Elinor begins, pivoting towards the author of this interruption.

But she is immediately cut off by the newcomer, a not-bad-looking guy who seems proud to show off his abs and other moulded attributes in tight pants.

"No one is allowed to hunt on our territory."

"Really? Does it look like we’re hunting here?" I got carried away.

This guy doesn’t even seem to realize we’re naked in front of him. Is he blind or what? Maybe he’s not interested in women, though. Anyway, all the same, if he said "hunting", the spell is working. Even in our human form, he takes us for wolves.

Elinor squeezes my wrist, telling me to be quiet.

"We belong to a northern pack. We would like to meet Bretton."

He observes her, surprised, before bursting out laughing. He stops quickly to better examine my friend. Something inside her catches his attention. Judging by the wrinkle forming on his forehead, the guy looks preoccupied. How can you blame him when you come across three naked women in the woods?

"Meet Bretton?" he said. "Which?"

"The Alpha."

"For what motive? No, don’t answer. It’s clear that you don’t know Cooper," he sneers, visibly amused by our request.

"We have to meet him, though," Eli insists.

The man squints. He sniffles again. He feels us. Shit…

"Jake! Come see! I just found three wolves who want to meet Cooper!"

"Hello, ladies," greets the famous Jake, a handsome man with blond hair. "Unfortunately, Cooper is not receiving at this time."

This Jake’s suspicious gaze roams our bodies. Neeve’s seems to intrigue him a little more than ours.

"Who are you?" he asks, suspicious.

"They say they come from a pack from the North," replies our first interviewer.

"What pack from the North?"

Yeah, that’s right, Elinor. What northern pack? We should have thought of these parameters before throwing ourselves into the mouth of the wolf. Wow, nice formula!

"If I’m not mistaken," Elinor replies, "what are you, Betas? Mid-ranked wolves. I know that even in North Carolina, no wolf has to answer to the fucking middle ranks. We want to see the Alpha."

Jake and the other guy smile at this line from Elinor, who impresses me with her poise.

"As I said earlier," Jake replies again, carefully articulating each word as if he were dealing with morons, "the Alpha isn’t receiving. But rest assured, he’s well supported. Follow us."

"Are we taking precautions?" wonders his sidekick

"You’re right! Forgive us, but we’re going to have to…" Jake indicates, pointing to his eyes. "The exact location of our lair must remain confidential to strangers. You understand, I think? Do you also do this, in the packs of the North?"

We nod vaguely. We thought we had hit rock bottom, but now we are trudging through the forest, naked and blindfolded.

I can hear Eli cursing and Neeve giggling, each time she catches the arm of our companions. I admire her ability to find the positive in every situation.

After an infinite time, the ground becomes more regular and hard under my feet: we are no longer progressing in the undergrowth but on cold stone slabs. The temperature dropped. An uncontrollable shiver runs up my spine. We are suddenly shaken as if we were in the basket of a hot air balloon. There is no longer a breath of wind here, not the slightest sound coming from nature. Just a succession of rattles and metallic shocks, bouncing around us. So there is a building hidden in this forest?

"It’s this way," Jake guides us in a sly tone.

They suddenly grabbed my wrist, while pushing me in the back.

A snap sounded, followed by the characteristic click of a key turned in a lock.

"Put this on!"

Something touches my legs as I hear a door slam. I take off the blindfold and discover that the three of us are locked up in a jail cell from another age, extraordinarily ugly outfits piled up at our feet. Some kind of dirty beige fatigues and a matching tank top. Poorly cut pyjama vibe. As for the underwear, they are optional in wolves. Awesome!

"Remind me what the plan was?" I grumbled as I put on the clothes, as rough as straw and impregnated with a terrible musty smell.

"Oh, it’s okay," Eli grumbles, annoyed. "Who would have guessed that they would imprison their own kind?"

They indeed have a special sense of hospitality. A cell with silver bars, desperate scratch marks on the walls, and a view of a dark, cold stone hallway, not quite what I had imagined when I left the loft last night. Well, I hadn’t imagined anything, and especially not having to wear these horrors… Luckily, we didn’t plan to last forever.

"What now," Neeve wonders.

"We’re still not going to wait for someone to open the door for us? When are we getting out?"

"I think you don’t get it, Six. We’re captives and we cannot escape. And if we refer to the plan which consists of not being detected by the sorcerers who want to murder us, then this situation is ideal. At least no one can find us."

Funny way to look at the situation.

"But how long are we going to stay here?" I sigh, discouraged.

I who hate immobility, here I am served. The three of us are sat in a gloomy and cramped jail, where the only possible activity is to wait for time to pass. Absolute horror, supreme injustice! But Eli is right. I still remember the fear I felt when the sorcerer wanted to kill me in the courthouse bar. A shiver seizes me. I’m crying. I, who is the voice of wisdom, in normal times, I collapse. How could our lives have changed in such a short time? Why us? My thoughts, stormy, jostle in my mind. Whereas yesterday Neeve and I reassured Eli, now it is me who is the subject of all their attention. The girls press up against me and wrap their protective arms around me.

"I’ll be fine, Six. You’re a Shadwe, you’re afraid of nothing."

"Hmm…"

"If I had had any pills, I would have given you one, you know…"

For Eli to offer me such a thing, she must really pity me.

"Say, do you think there are bugs in this cell?"

The prospect of crossing paths with a rodent sends shivers down my spine. What the fuck will become of us?

Time flies and drags on. Deprived of light, and the slightest information concerning the duration of our captivity, we pass the time by alternating hugs, naps and vain suppositions about the future. Days and nights seem to have passed. Or maybe just a few hours. How boring... Fortunately, thanks to Elinor’s spell, we now have the night vision of wolves. This faculty is rather practical, in the current circumstances. Not that we can examine in detail the place where we are, but, at least, we can discern the forms in what seems to me an eternal darkness.

Again, I doze off thinking that we haven’t made much progress. As if we were finally taking stock of the latest events. Witnesses of a suicide, and survivors of three attempted murders, transformed into wolfs. Wolves… Pathetic.

A few hours later "well, I think "my mind goes blank when a creak tears me from my dreams. Someone opens the hallway door.

Next to me, the girls are still sleeping soundly.

I straighten up, curious to find out the origin of this noise. Although, it doesn’t matter, as long as it breaks up the monotony that devours us. From the half-open door filters a ray of light that dazzles me. I have to frown to keep my eyes open.

"Bring him."

Well, we’re not the ones they’re coming to see. But having company might distract us a bit.

Shadows are drawn on the wall. They stretch and come towards us. Two figures appear in the doorway, two well-built men dragging a third in poor condition.

The third one only lets out a plaintive groan, laced with fierce pain.

The colossi are approaching. Despite the darkness, I can make out their muscular silhouettes, their determined movements and the bloody mass they drag behind them.

When I finally see his features, I cringe. His face is swollen, smeared with dried blood. I thought wolves had a natural ability to regenerate. Why is this one in such poor condition? His wounds must be fresh. Impressed, and a little disgusted despite everything, I however cannot take my eyes off this disarticulated body that our jailers have just thrown there, in the cell right next to ours. Without his wounds, I’m sure this wolf must be a handsome boy.

He makes a movement that tears a new moan from him. His lip splits, and a scarlet pearl escapes from it to crash on the stone. It’s unbearable to witness such suffering without being able to intervene, without being able to relieve their pain!

I can’t resist giving him a comforting word:

"Courage. It’ll be OK."

Stunned to hear a voice address him gently, he jumps and opens his eyes, despite his eyelids swollen with blood, revealing his pupils in almost total darkness. Faced with the beauty of these shimmering emeralds, everything else disappears. I immediately forget my fears, the interminable wait, his wounds, his complaint, his pain. Mine too, to be locked up like a criminal.

There, in that gaze of the aurora borealis, I can no longer distinguish anything other than his soul.

"Hell of a shit!" I said out loud as soon as I woke up, before putting my hands over my mouth.

But shut up, Neeve!

My voice caught the attention of the two men who just threw a guy in the cell next to ours. My gaze falls on this new prisoner. He took a lot, poor thing. However, what looks like a smile appears on his swollen features, while his eyes are anchored in those of Sixine. I remain subjugated for a moment by what I believe I am witnessing. Their attention to each other seems to materialize in an invisible thread that stretches between them, binding them as time stands still during their mutual contemplation. I feel a heat rising in my chest. What I see fascinates me, pierces me, and even… breaks me. Six is frozen in front of the young man who never takes his eyes off her.

"Who are you?"

I am torn from my thoughts by a deep, dark voice. My eyes lift to the two ebony-skinned, burly men standing outside our cell. I sketch a smile by reflex, then purse my lips, not knowing how to answer this question. Besides, why is he only asking me?

I feel Elinor moving beside me. My saviour!

"Is that it? Are we free?" she asks, her voice still sleepy.

One of the two men bursts out laughing and nudges his sidekick. Both look alike. Shaved heads, black eyes, handsome. Their dark skin spreads over long, firm, bare arms. They both wear a white T-shirt and blue jeans for one and grey for the other. I guess the thickness of their thighs moulded under the fabric of their pants.

The one who hasn’t spoken to me yet looks at me and sniffs the air, as if breathing me. His head lifts. He closes his eyes.

"Jake’s right," he said hoarsely. "They are not like other wolves. Their smell is..."

"You surprise me!" I say when I get up.

Damn, they’re really big. I’m three heads shorter than them. Though Deep-Voice is a little bigger than Hoarse-Voice. I continue, refusing to be distracted:

"Considering the rotten rags that you have kindly lent us, we’re not likely to smell like roses!"

"You can take them off," Deep-Voice suggests, his pupils widening as they lock into mine.

Hoarse-Voice laughs. Normally, I would have enjoyed this banter, especially since – damn it – these guys are true works of art! But their snide tone annoys me. Because, yeah, I’m in a bad mood. I just woke up in a shabby, damp cell in the middle of who knows where and I’m wearing smelly clothes.

"So? Who are you?" asks Hoarse.

"And you, who are you?" I retort.

"A beta male," Elinor says behind me.

I turn around and look at my friend. She’s shaking a little and has her head tucked between her knees.

"How do you know that, Eli?"

"Eli?" says Deep-Voice.

Shiiiit…

"And you, what’s your name?" asks the other. "Rags?"

I turn around and plant my hands on the bars, which I grip with all my strength, before feeling an excruciating burn under my palms. I pull them off with a grunt. No magic, no magic, no magic. However, I would like to show them that you can’t make fun of me with impunity when I’ve just woken up! I’m so pissed off by this turn of events that I don’t even notice my claws growing. I feel a taste of metal on my tongue. My canines are out, damn it!

"Hey, Rags, don’t get upset. We’re just asking questions."

"Fuck you and your questions! We asked to see the Alpha, not the minions."

Hoarse laughs.

"And what do you want with the Alpha?" Deep asks, not rising to my bait.

Good question…

"It’s none of your business," I said, a little hesitantly.

The two smile when they see this flagrant lack of confidence. I’m a fucking open book… My eyes turn to Sixine, who in these circumstances would be the ablest to defend our case since Elinor seems to be in trouble. Except that Six is still hypnotized by the guy with the handsome, busted face. OKAY…

"Okay, that’s enough," thunders Hoarse, putting on gloves. "You, the girl with white hair who made a strong impression, you will follow us. Get up!"

I pale and block my body in front of Elinor when they haven’t even entered the cell yet.

"If you touch her, I’ll rip your balls off with my fangs!" I yelled.

I’m crazy. What is wrong with me? I feel Elinor fidgeting behind me as our two jailers laugh out loud. I turn around and see my friend’s head banging against the wall behind her. She opens her mouth and a whitish foam gushes out. Her canines point and retract, as do her claws. Then she starts scratching her face. I throw myself on her to keep her arms outstretched.

"Eli’s fucked up!" I shouted. "Six, Six! Come and help me."

But by the time Six reacts, one of the two guys has already intervened. Whore!

"What’s wrong with your girlfriend?" Deep asks.

I ignore his question. Elinor is shaking like a leaf. She’s having a withdrawal crisis. It’s not the first time, except in wolf mode, it’s still super impressive.

"Neeve…Neeve…Neeve…" she repeats.

"Oh, so you’re Neeve, aren’t you?"

Shit again… Damn, how bad are we to preserve our anonymity! Suddenly, I remember that our surnames are very well-known in the region. Elinor’s father is the leader of the coven in North Carolina, and Sixine’s uncle is the one in Virginia. The Mona, Shadwe, and Foris families are ancient, so wolves and vampires cannot ignore their existence. They must not learn our surnames, under any pretext. Seeing that Elinor seems to have pretty much calmed down and that Six is now with her – while keeping an eye on the handsome guy next door, I get up and face the two body-builders who make me want to slap them so much with their mocking smiles.

"I’m Neeve Wild. She is Sixine Fog, and this is Elinor Night…"

Yeah, that just came to me. Class or what?

"… We are wolves from the North."

"Which north?"

"The North. Beyond the wall."

"Did you think this is Game Of Thrones?"

Shit, he knows.

"In Canada!"

"Which pack?"

I swallowed a little.

"The pack of… Maple."

It’s so bad that I want to cry.

"Maple?" repeats Hoarse. "In Canada?"

"Yeah."

I’m sinking… Neeve…you were never the mastermind of the trio… it’s true. And Six who is living her crush while Elinor plays a psycho addict. Great, girls, no really, that’s great.

Dark cocks his head. He smiles, revealing captivatingly bright white teeth. Then his gaze turns to Hoarse. The latter nods as if validating a silent remark from his friend. His lips curve in turn, and then both observe me with a lustful gaze. I wish I could say that this attention leaves me cold, but damn, it’s quite the opposite. The blush rises to my cheeks, my stomach tenses, my chest tingles, my brain ignites and my heart skips a beat. I run my hand through my tangled hair, embarrassed by their obvious interest.

"Do you have anyone up north, Neeve?" Hoarse whisper.

OK, so it’s not my imagination. Is he flirting?

"No."

Of course, I responded tit for tat. For what? The question arises… or not.

"Anyway, you would feel if she’d been marked, Emmitt," Dark said.

"I know, Tyler. I’m trying to make conversation here," whispers the one I now know is Emmitt.

This time, I’m entitled to two carnivorous smiles that set me on fire. If they were handsome before, with their miles of muscular arms, now they are to die for.

"But now’s not the time to dwell on her," Tyler says.

Emmitt pulls out a bunch of rusty old keys and is about to slip one of them into the lock of our dungeon. His hands are gloved to avoid touching the bars. Well seen. The blood that was bubbling earlier in my veins suddenly leaks from my face. I understand from his look his intention to seize Eli. I place myself in front of her again, as the tall black man, as prodigious as he is attractive, enters the cell.

"Sorry, Rags," Emmitt says, "we’re not taking you."

I glare at him and pull out my claws. It tingles my fingertips, but it’s instinctive. Eli’s spell is impressively effective.

"Hey, take it easy, Neeve," Tyler whispers to me, stepping a little too close.

Emmitt slips behind him, then faces me, towering over me as well. The two lean over my head and sniff me.

"I like your smell, Rags," Emmitt whispers in my ear.

I flare up, but I stay planted in front of Eli, who gasps behind me. She must have understood what was going on. Six finally seems to emerge from her torpor.

"Leave Neeve alone!"

She is standing, all claws and fangs out. Except it’s not me they want. The two men don’t even turn to Six, letting their gaze still wander over me. Then Tyler pulls off his gloves, puts his hands on my shoulders, and pushes me out of his way. His touch causes an electric shock in me that paralyzes me. I almost gasp as I’m pushed to the side without difficulty. The strength of the two men far exceeds mine.

"No!" I shout, as my hand is about to land on Emmitt’s cheek.

With a nimble gesture, he grabs my arm. His fingernails grow and his eyes light up with a golden glow. I get scared. He smiles at me as he shakes his head.

"Come on, Rags. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?"

"Maybe so," Tyler remarks.

Six pounces on the latter. Her legs wrap around his waist. The guy named Jaxson lets out a cry of rage despite his obvious weakness, while Tyler wriggles out of Six’s embrace with no difficulty. He even propels her through the cell, and my friend’s head hits the cold stone. She faints.

"Six!" I yelled.

"Cowards!" groaned our cellmate.

"Oh, shut up, Jaxson!"

Suddenly, Elinor lets out a terrible cry. She shakes her head and scratches herself again. Blood beaded on her cheeks, on her neck. I rush at her but am held back by Emmitt, who pushes me back unceremoniously. Tyler grabs Elinor’s hand to pull her up.

"Leave her!" I shout.

But my plea goes unheeded. Tyler and Emmitt each grab an arm from Eli and prepare to leave the cell. I don’t know what to do, so I respond to my instincts.

"Take me instead."

They royally don’t care about my request and go through the door.

Then they’re gone, leaving me gasping and worried for my friend. Darkness reappears.

I stand, leaning on my chair, the one that sits on the dais, that of the Alpha of the Bretton pack.

I’m the Alpha of the Bretton pack.

I am the one who links these wolves, the one who protects them, from others and themselves, the one who submits them to make them stronger.

But am I? Recently, I doubt. Everything. About me, about this position I inherited, and about each of my decisions.

"Cooper," a young wolf calls out from the bottom of the steps in front of me. "What is going on?"

I look at Masha for a moment. She’s beautiful, and proud, in her skin-tight leather outfit. Her tangled brown hair cascades down her back like an indomitable mane. Behind her, other wolves, my warriors, stand motionless. They all stare at me, a glint of expectation in their bright eyes.

I am proud of them. Of my wolves, too. The Bretton pack is strong. Powerful. Undefeated. Till today. But I’m afraid it won’t last.

However, I cannot confide my fears to them. I have to be confident, and sure of myself. So I answer her with a powerful growl, which I raise from the depths of my guts and vibrate in my throat until I see them bend their necks in front of me, all of them. They must not guess my doubts.

Because I doubt, yes. For the first time in my life, I wonder if I did the right thing. I think back to Jaxson, my brother, this Omega. Why are we born so different? What is this insubordination which remains, despite all my efforts, in my brother’s heart?

My gaze leaves my pack assembled in our den. Only torches on the walls light up the place. Here, no modernity. Here, we reconnect with our deep nature, our lycanthropic nature.

I examine my hands, whose knuckles are still stained with my brother’s blood. I had no choice, I couldn’t let him get away with it without a violent sanction. But, by my ancestors, what did it cost me?! Each blow to his flesh was like a blow I inflicted on myself.

Jaxson, when will you stop provoking me?

But what is done is done. It’s my job as Alpha to maintain discipline within the pack, and I won’t back down.

Nor will I shy away from recent incursions into our territory. Because I didn’t just beat my brother today. I worked the same way on this scout and these two wolves from Virginia, who were looking for I don’t know what. On them, I didn’t hold back my blows or my anger. They have served as my outlet, and I silence the shame that whispers within me. An Alpha should never have doubts. Should never lose control. I had never lost control before… Jaxson. Especially since by attacking them, I was trying to obtain information. And in this, I failed; I’m no further ahead.

I must have lost myself in thought because the pack in front of me raised their heads.

"Cooper, what are you going to do with your brother?" shouts a middle-aged wolf at the bottom of the huge cave.

"Yes, what are you going to do?" they all resume in chorus.

"Let him be condemned to exile!" some scream.

"He is unmanageable! He will only bring us trouble!"

"Yes, let’s do it!" vociferate others.

A veritable cacophony rises now, and the migraine extends its painful tendrils under my skull. I shouldn’t show Jaxson any mercy, but I’m not going to have a choice. His actions are dividing the pack, and I can’t tolerate it.

Suddenly, the double doors of our lair open with a crash, letting in Jake, one of my Betas. I hold back a sigh of relief. I probably just gained a few precious minutes to delay my sentencing.

But the wolves are not silent on the passage of Jake. So, again, I growl, showing my powerful canines. I growl so loudly that everyone crumbles to the ground, and even Jake struggles to move towards me, bowing under the power of my authority.

With a strange, almost unhealthy pleasure, I watch him struggle to reach me. I almost shame myself, exulting in exercising my power in this way when I feel so helpless in the face of the looming crisis.

When Jake finally reaches the bottom of the steps of my dias, I loosen the net of my Alpha power a little. That he can deliver his message, at least.

"Speak, I’m listening," I told him in a voice dark as my thoughts.

"Cooper," he gasps, "I just came back from the first dungeon where I brought the meal to…"

"Who?"

"Wolves. Three strange wolves found in the forest. They said they wanted to see you, and we locked them up in the meantime..."

"So what? Are they a danger?"

"I…I don’t know. Their smell is strange, and..."

He hesitates. Jake is one of my best lieutenants, his finesse has always been invaluable to me, he knows how to discern my moods like no one else. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Masha, his ally, looking at him, worried.

"And what?" I growled.

"They say they come from the North."

"Why didn’t you bring them to me immediately?"

"We thought… we thought locking them up, for now, was the best thing to do. We know that... you were busy with other responsibilities, and seeing what happened with Jaxson..."

I let a moment of silence pass and reflect. But I also see that Jake is sweating profusely. He is afraid of displeasing me. He fears that I will apply on him the same methods that I used on my brother. Good, very good. This is exactly what is needed for a pack to work. Moreover, I am grateful to him for not having added those three wolves to my problems. As if I had only that to do!

"You did well, Jake," I reassured him. "I have always trusted your judgement. Bring one of them to my office. I will try to find out more."

Hoping that I don’t have to use the same methods as with my previous victims.

"Come in."

Tyler and Emmitt walk into my office, dragging a shapeless, moaning mass behind them.

"What is that?" I growled.

Files pile up in front of me, scattered sheets of paper, scribbled maps… When did I sign up to stay locked between four walls? My gaze leaves my two Betas to drift towards the large window on my right. Admittedly, we live in the heart of an underground network of caves, but my rank allows me to occupy this room on the side of the cliff, and I can only rejoice in this tenuous link that I still maintain with the outside world.

Sighing, I get up and stretch. I just want to run to the forest, soak up its colours, its smells, and the life that abounds there. I’m a wolf. Not an administrator or a paper pusher. My jaw and fists clench, but I take it upon myself. The pack needs me to sacrifice myself for them and assume my role as Alpha.

"She’s one of the wolves we found in our forest, Cooper," Tyler replies, lowering his head.

It always makes me laugh to see a big guy like him mark his submission with such enthusiasm. I know I can trust him. Just like his cousin Emmitt, by the way. That’s why I chose them. I rarely get people wrong. Well… that’s what I thought, until Jaxson.

"What did you do to her!?"

"Nothing," Emmitt immediately defends himself. "She’s having some sort of seizure, I don’t know what’s wrong with her."

Intrigued, I approach the poor sobbing heap on the ground, between my two Betas. Before bending down, I smell the ambient air. I only smell familiar scents, and yet...

Suddenly, my whole body tenses. There’s something... abnormal about this wolf. Granted, she’s not from our pack, but...

I have to be clear about it. I jerk Tyler and Emmitt aside to drop to my knees beside the pitiful creature. Despite my almost irrepressible urge to smell her, my hands hesitate slightly before landing on her tattered clothes. But who gave her such rags?

However, instinct is stronger than my compassion. I grab the wolf by her long, almost white blond hair, the likes of which I’ve never seen before, to reveal her face. My breathing quickens again. Beneath the filth, the black furrows dug by tears and strange red scratches on her cheeks, I discover a face that I guess is adorable. She opens one haggard eye, with swollen eyelids… I double over under the force of her gaze as if someone had just punched me in the stomach.

What is happening to me?

An impetuous desire roars through my veins. The idea of dismissing Tyler and Emmitt to satisfy my impulses, there, like that, on the floor, comes to me. I also feel their bewildered gaze resting on me. They’re not used to seeing me like this, panting and kneeling beside a female.

Control yourself, damn it. Now is not the time to lose control...

Slowly, teeth clenched, I lean towards the wolf. In her neck, I see a vein, blue in her creamy skin, throbbing. Her scent fills my nostrils.

No… No, I can’t crack now. Not for a stranger. Not for that pitiful thing...

Mixed with my burning desire, a wave of anger washes over me. Why is this happening to me now? Why is this happening to me?

But this wolf is not of my pack. She is nothing to me. And her weakness should only inspire me with contempt.

Yet, despite these ideas whirling around in my head like a furious wind, despite my vain attempts to recover my sanity, I lean over and over again, until my face brushes the back of her neck, which I hold in my clenched hand. I can’t help it, I can’t help it. The skin of this creature is calling me. I know what that means, but I don’t want… I don’t want… My nose digs into her soft hair, and I lose myself. I drown in its scent and sink into the unknown.

A terrible fear twists my entrails, at the same time as an absolute certainty. Before even knowing who she is, even before knowing her name, even before knowing where she comes from, I know that I will never leave this wolf again.

She is mine, forever, and I am hers.

But the moment I realize I’ve bound myself forever, the wolf I’m holding in my arms rears up, as if in convulsions. Her eyes roll back, and a whitish foam borders her too-pale lips...

After desire, anger and fear, despair overwhelms me. I can’t lose her now. I won’t bear it.

Because now I’m sure. I’m far from done with her.

I raise her in my arms, and hold her against me, hoping to calm her irrepressible tremors. She weighs nothing. Her heart beats against mine, like a panicked bird. I am painfully aware of her smell, but also of the seriousness of her condition.

Running as fast as I can, I rush out of the room and into the depths of our lair. I have to find our healer. I won’t leave her until she’s out of danger.