I feel Elissa's panic before she starts thrashing. "Elissa." I sit up in bed and try to catch her flailing limbs. "Liss, it's okay. It's me. It's Calla." I say, in an attempt to comfort my best friend.
There is no response from her other than her scratching and kicking at me. I struggle with her for a few minutes, trying to wake her. I straddle her body and hold her hands above her head. Her eyes are closed; she's still dreaming.
"Liss, wake up," I say, willing her to open her eyes.
"Wake up!" I finally yell. She shakes her head from side to side and starts mumbling something under her breath. I try to catch the words but they are in Latin. A spell. Before I can react, my hands start burning like I am holding hot embers.
"Ouch! Fuck!" I drop her hands and crouch at the end of the bed, clutching my blistered palms.
"Calla?" Elissa's voice shakes like she is on the verge of tears. "Oh my God, Calla! I am so sorry!" The girl crawls to where I am sitting and tries to look at my palms.
I pull them away from her so she can't see the damage she's done. "It's fine, Liss, seriously. I'm fine." My hands are burning slightly but they will heal. I am worried about her more than anything, she has never done something this bad.
"What happened? Did I-"
"I know you didn't mean to," I say. I start to feel a slight warmth radiating over my burnt hands. I look down and see the skin is only slightly pink, the blisters gone. "See? Look. All better." I show her my hands and try to smile like everything is fine.
The truth is that nothing is fine.
Elissa's night-terrors started a few months ago out of the blue. The first time it happened, she woke up screaming bloody murder. I got such a fright that I shifted into full wolf form before I was even out of our bed. The terrors have started happening more and more frequently in the most recent weeks, and it takes me longer to wake her up. I am scared that one night I won't be able to wake her up before she does something neither of us will be able to recover from.
"Calliope, what am I going to do?" She sobs, falling into my lap. Tears are streaming down her face, soaking my pyjamas.
"Shh. It's going to be okay," I try my best to soothe her but that question rotates in my mind over and over.
What am I going to do?
The mood in the flat this morning is tense. Elissa hasn't looked at or spoken to me since her night-terror. After I managed to calm her down, she took her pillow and the spare blanket to the couch where I found her a few hours later fast asleep. Now she is sitting at the kitchen table with waves of self-hatred rolling off of her. Every time I have tried speaking to her she flinches as if I have hit her.
I don't know how to fix this. I don't know if this is something that can be fixed.
I look at the clock. Two hours before I have to be at work. I choke back a laugh. How am I supposed to go to work when my best friend looks like she's ready to throw herself out of our second story window?
I grab my box of cigarettes off the counter and pick my coffee mug up. "I'll be back now," I say to Elissa. She nods without looking at me. I sigh and leave the room.
It is a crisp morning, I can see my breath when I breathe out. I put my coffee down on the stairs and search my pockets for a lighter. I must have left it upstairs. "Fuck," I say, frustratedly.
As I turn to go back inside, I hear a voice behind me. "Need a light?"
I turn back, startled, cursing my preoccupation. I should have noticed him standing there. The man is smirking at me, as if he can pick up on my irritation. "Here," he says, holding out a silver lighter for me to take.
For some reason, I am wary of him. His stance is casual, relaxed but there is something about him that also tells me he is ready for anything. His hands are in his pockets and his eyes are on me. His eyes. They are light grey, a colour I have never seen in eyes before.
He clears his throat, making it obvious he has caught me staring. I feel my cheeks warm. "Uh, thanks," I say, stepping closer to take the lighter from him. Our skin touches.
It is as if an electric bolt has gone through me. I jump back and hastily light my cigarette. I hand his lighter back, making sure not to touch him again. He raises an eyebrow. "So, where are you from originally?" he asks. His voice is smooth, casual.
I try to pick up on his emotions but I can't get anything from him. Either he is blocking me or he is very difficult to read. "Oh, here and there." I don't recognise this man, so I don't want him knowing anything about me. I take a long drag from my cigarette and exhale slowly.
The stranger wrinkles his nose. "You know, you really shouldn't smoke."
I snort. "And I should care what you think because...?" Just then, the wind changes direction, blowing his scent towards me. I freeze. He is a werewolf, a powerful one. Which means he knows that I am one too. Shit. I am just hoping that he doesn't know about Elissa.
"Anyway, thank you for the light and the advice." I drop my cigarette on the floor and put it out with my shoe. "I appreciate it, but I can't stay and chat."
"Wait," he says, grabbing my arm. A growl escapes my mouth and I push him to the floor. He puts his hands up in surrender and as he does his shirt sleeve moves. I can see a wolf tattoo with a spiral symbol just above it. My heart stops for a second.
"Don't touch me," I say, my voice more a growl. I turn on my heel and walk up the steps to the communal entrance without looking back. As soon as I am out of his line of sight, I bound up the stairs and throw the door to our flat open.
"Elissa!" I run to the kitchen and I cry out with relief when I see my friend standing over by the window. I pull her away and close the curtains. "Are you okay? Did he see you?"
"I'm okay. Calla, listen," she says, grabbing my arm. There are tears in her eyes. "I have seen him before. In my dreams."
I put my arm around her shoulders. "Do you know who he is?"
"No, but I thought you were going to rip his arm off back there," she says, wiping her eyes.
"I couldn't," I say.
"Oh please, Calla, I've seen you take down rogues twice his size without even breaking a sweat." All the fear has left her voice.
"That's the thing, Liss," I say, taking her hand. "He isn't a rogue."
"What?"
"That, that tattoo he had on his arm, above the one of the wolf. That's the sigil of the Counsel. Elissa, he is a member of the Counsel."
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