Blood Curse (Pulse #8) (19 page)

“I know, but we’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and I just think maybe you might be interested in dating some girl. I know Clariss is interested in you.” She looked me over. I could feel her taking in my tall build, my tanned face, and my thick hair. Unlike my father, who was strong and wiry, I was tall and muscular, having grown stronger with each trek to Feyland.

“I am not interested in her, Bree,” I said. “She’s not my type.”

Breena smiled then, her bright eyes lighting up, and her high cheekbones looking more pronounced. “But you’re definitely
her
type,” she laughed. She laughs in that soft and slightly husky voice that is both feminine, yet strong. “I’ve seen her looking at you. Heck I’ve seen how most girls look at you.”

“Like what?” I asked edging closer to her. The way she was looking at me just now brought a flush to my face. She was dressed in a soft green sweater and jeans that hugged every curve of her tightly. At a week shy of sixteen, she had filled out into a woman. At this moment, she looked sexy and inviting. I swallowed and reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.

She turned away and grabbed the nearest pillow off the sofa and hit me with it on the head. “Oh, like she likes you,” she said.

“And that’s a bad thing?” I asked, grabbing another pillow and smacking her side with it. She swerved and landed on the sofa before I made contact.

“No,” she said getting up and taking aim at my chest with her pillow, “It’s a good thing…which is why…” she smacked me again. “I think you should try going out. You’re much too cute to hang out with the school’s loner girl, you know.”

“So I’m cute?”

She shrugged. “Don’t act like you don’t know it, Logan.” She looked away. “Probably too cute to hang out with me, a misfit, a girl who see things other people don’t see…and my dreams…”

“Breena,” I caught her arms, holding her pillow in front. “Please. Stop talking about yourself like that.” I lifted her chin gently up with my index finger until her eyes met mine. “You’re beautiful and smart, you’re better than all the Clariss’s in the world. So what if she has a crowd of dumb followers around her. So what if she has more so-called friends. She may be popular, but does she have your substance? No. Does she care about others like you do? No. She’s selfish, cowardly, and mean-spirited. And from what I can see when she makes fun of you, she has no heart.”

“She’s pretty and dresses well…”

I smacked her with the pillow on her side. “She’s also mean and she gets her followers to attack you…ever since we were kids. Because of what? She’s jealous of you? She sees you as a threat?” I glowered at Breena. “All of that. I don’t like a girl, let alone a person, who puts people down and gets her cronies to put people down, too.” I took a breath, realizing I’m sounding a lot like my father. “Leaders care for their followers. They don’t get their followers to do stupid things that would get them in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Breena raised her eyebrow.

“Yes,” I said, “I believe when you’re mean to people and treat them poorly, it comes back to bite them in the butt.”

“Logan,” Breena laughed. “Okay, so I know how you really feel about Clariss.”

“As a guy, no matter how attractive a girl is, she becomes ugly quick if she’s a jerk, especially to you.”

She reached up and put her arms around me, pulling me close into a warm hug. “Logan,” she said, putting her head on my chest. “You’re always there to protect me. What would I do without you?”

I almost said it then. I almost admitted how I felt about her. That I loved her. But when I looked down at her, her eyes were closed.

I could see she was thinking about something. I inched closer to her, touching her shoulders with my fingers. “Bree, is something wrong?”

She looked up, her eyes serious. “Logan, you and I have been friends for a long time, right?”

“Right,” I said, taking her hand in mine. I felt like a giant holding her hand, which was soft and small with elegant fingers. “What is it?”

“I don’t know who else to tell this to, but you, Logan. Somehow, I trust you, and I know you won’t laugh at me if I told you,” she went on, nervous about whatever she had on her mind.

I dropped her hand and went to the kitchen where I took out a large mug from the cupboard. From having been to her house a number of times throughout the years, I knew where most things were. This mug was Breena’s favorite…the one that was plain white with a rainbow in front. As much as Breena was practical like I was, she was also a dreamer. She believed in rainbows and unicorns, dragons and fairy tales. Did she believe in werewolves, though? Did she believe in werewolves like me who were originally of fairy blood from a mythical place like Feyland?

“Take a seat,” I said, gesturing at the large comfortable sofa in the living room in front of the television. “I’ll be right back.” I heated up some water and placed a chamomile tea bag in the mug, dousing it with a spoon and adding a touch of honey. Cooking was something I enjoyed, and I loved cooking for Breena, surprising her with some new creation once in a while. I walked into the living room where Breena was sitting, her legs comfortably curled up on the sofa. I handed her the cup of tea and sat down next to her, putting my cup on the table by my side.

Breena inhaled the scent of the whiffing steam and smiled. “You added a touch of lemon!” she said.

“Good nose,” I said touching her nose with my finger. Though she was not a wolf like I was, she did have a stronger sense of smell than other humans. I think it was because she and I played often in the woods. “So spill. What are you thinking of?”

Breena put down her mug, took my hand, and led me upstairs to her studio where she liked to paint. She opened the studio and there in front was a painting of a beautiful golden palace where sunlight and flowers splashed the colors of summer across the canvas. I stopped and stared, unable to believe how detailed, how accurate her painting was.

It was a painting of the Summer Palace, which Breena would not have known. How could she have known it without having been to Feyland?

******************

From then on, Breena would tell me of her dreams. They were becoming more vivid every night, her dreams of the Summer Palace, her dreams of the Winter Prince…dreams of her dancing with him at their wedding day in a golden palace. I knew of this Winter Prince, Prince Kian, only because my Father and Grandfather had instilled in me the politics and hierarchy of Feyland from an early age. Prince Kian was of the Winter Fey, the son of the powerful and beautiful Snow Queen. Like his mother, I was told he was devastatingly attractive, alluring enough to attract mortals to their death. One kiss from the Snow Queen, and mortals would die a painfully chilling death. Unless the mortal was strong enough to withstand the kiss.

Although I have never met him, he was known to be a deadly fighter and just as exquisite as his mother. From tales around Feyland, women found him handsome, charming, yet arrogantly cold. At the moment, I did not care how women found him. All I cared about was that the girl of my dreams was having dreams about this prince every night, and painting them afterwards.

I did not know enough about my Wolf Fey nature and Feyland to tell what her dreams meant. Was she the chosen mortal for the Snow Prince who will kiss him and then perish upon the kiss? Did he sought her out across dreams, across the Crystal River, to attract and entice into a chilling frozen death like a siren calling lovers to a watery grave? Breena’s dreams were becoming more and more vivid as the days counted down to her sixteenth birthday. I felt helpless as I watch her believe in the dreams as though they were real, only to find her waking up and stare at the painting of the Snow Prince with a look of awe and tenderness.

I needed to speak to my father. I needed to go back to Feyland. Unlike the other wolves from Feyland who traveled back and forth between the Land Beyond the Crystal River and Feyland, I was the most “humanized” because of the amount of time I spent in Gregory rather than Feyland. That would change one day when I become the Wolf Prince, like my father, who now mainly resided in Feyland. Instead of dreading learning about my Wolf Fey heritage, I had to go back, embrace it, and learn all I could about it…for the hope of saving Breena from the Winter Prince.

Chapter 3

The Wolves of Feyland

F
ather
had asked me to attend one of the official meetings of the Wolves with him. He came over two days before Breena’s sixteenth birthday, which I had planned to celebrate with her by cooking her favorite dishes. I had also written a song for her, which I have been practicing for a few days. It was my attempt to be romantic. For her sixteenth birthday, I planned on finally kissing her and telling her how I felt about her. And with that, I planned on telling her about my secret.

All that changed when Father came back from Feyland. He had an urgent look on his face as we embraced and got ready to go. “Logan,” he said, “Be on your lookout. The usual ways are not safe. Since the last time you were here, a few things changed.”

“I was here last month,” I said. “What could’ve changed between then and now?”

Father had a grim look on his face. “The war between the fairies have escalated. The Summer Kingdom has captured one of the Winter Kingdom’s royals, and the Snow Queen is furious. She has her Winter Knights patrolling all the lands, including our forest, ready and eager to take prisoners.”

“But the Wolves are neutral in this war. We do not take sides,” I said, echoing what I heard Grandfather had said throughout the years. “Don’t they know that…these seasonal fairies? We don’t care about their war,” I said.

Father nodded. “That’s what we hope, but since taking over our Forest and land, forcing us to find food elsewhere, our people are urging Grandfather to choose a side – Winter or Summer. The Wolf Fey are outnumbered by the seasonal fairies, but if we choose a side, we have better chances of survival and of preserving our lands.”

“Is Grandfather ready to choose?” I asked as we came nearer to our home in Feyland.

“One of the other clan is forcing him to decide,” Father said firmly. “Balthazar is his name, this wolf challenger.” Father looked at me then in all seriousness. “Watch your back with Balthazar. Do not trust him. He doesn’t know the word ‘loyalty’ if it bites him in the butt.”

I laughed at Father’s words. It was funny coming from a lawyer who was also a werewolf. I now towered over my father, but he could probably outwrestle me any day.

“So he can be bought at any price, I take it,” I said.

“Winter Kingdom, Summer Kingdom, Pixies…you name it. Balthazar can be bought, and now whoever bought him wants to use him to get to your Grandfather.”

“Not if I can help it,” I said. “I’ll watch Balthazar during the meeting. Don’t worry.”

My father smiled and reached out his hand to pat me on the shoulder. “That’s my boy. You have the makings of a king, you know.”

“Well…” I said. “And so do you.”

Father laughed, and then we shifted into wolves, running as fast as we can through the unconventional routes of Feyland, over a fjord and across the land nestled between the Summer lands and Winter lands, a patch of land covered with trees, with stretches of grass and lakes in between. Here in the Forests of Feyland, the Wolf Fey ruled. Here in the forests, the Wolf Fey called home.

Chapter 4

The Chase

F
ather ran first into the clearing and into the trees where a cave was hidden in the mountains. He was immediately greeted by other wolves, welcoming him back into the clan. Father shifted back into his human form and walked out to signal for me to join him. I ran as fast as I could, thinking I should make the clearing and the trees fairly quickly, but as soon as I made it halfway across, a large shadowy shape sprang out of nowhere.

It was a Minotaur aiming its large bull horns straight at me as he rushed like a football player out at me.

“Run!” Father yelled, transforming himself back into a wolf before springing towards me.

I sped up, running until my legs ached and my lungs burned, but the Minotaur was faster. In a moment, he had grabbed hold of my hind legs, tackling me down to the ground. I twisted my head behind me, trying to sink my teeth into his monstrous face. I was lucky, my sharp teeth made contact and I could taste the coppery taste of blood on my tongue as I crunch down harder, trying to tear flesh away from his face.

The Minotaur roared in pain, loosening his grip on my legs, just enough for me to leap out from under him. In human form, I was large, built like a gladiator. In wolf form, I was larger. But under the Minotaur, I was dwarfed in size. He was more bull than man, and I had only made a small dent in stopping him. In a minute, he had stopped wincing and had started running towards me again.

The trek to Feyland was a long and hard one, and I was in no condition to begin another run, but as I saw the fierce red eyes of the Minotaur flying fast at me, adrenaline took over. That and anger. I could keep running until I was exhausted and then fall prey to the Minotaur or I could face him.

I decided to face him.

He was still running towards me when I stopped, and when he was a few feet away, I sprang up at his throat, baring my fangs as wide as I could and bit down hard until I heard bone crunch and tasted hot pulsing blood run down my mouth. I had his throat in my mouth in one second, and in the next it was ripped out of him.

The Minotaur did not have the breath to scream his last scream as he fell down on the ground like a cut tree, dead.

I was panting softly, taking the gruesome scene in as Father and a pack of wolves showed up, panting and out-of-breath. How far did I run, I did not know. But I was now near a running stream. I walked over to the stream, placed my muzzle down into the cool water and washed the Minotaur’s blood away. As I bent down again to take a drink of water, I saw the reflection of four men – all tanned, muscular, and handsome. My Father, Grandfather, my older cousin Jacob and his friend Paris. I shifted from wolf into human boy again and turned around.