Chapter 2
“Box-color!” I blurted aloud not quite ready to accept the fact that I was alone. “I cannot believe I’m going to dye my own hair with box-color.”
I starred in the mirror at the mascara-lined tears drying on my cheeks. The lighting in Logan’s bathroom made the bags under my eyes look like suitcases – heavy, battered suitcases. I quickly looked away, trying to focus on the hair-color instructions instead. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” I mumbled to myself with a smile.
Coloring my hair wasn’t necessary, but if I was going to fake my death I needed to do everything possible to ensure my plan worked. It was a plan eleven years in the making, created out of necessity and hinged on hope; one mistake could unravel it entirely.
Eleven years sounds like a long time but when you’re raising a child that’s racing toward adulthood, even a million years would not be enough. I had been counting down the days, all 4,017 of them, since I made the decision to change both of our lives forever. I knew Xavier would never alter the course of his plan unless I gave him a reason to do so – a reason that made sense. Instead of Logan, I wanted him to take me.
I remember the day Logan was born like it was yesterday. The scene was peaceful and serene. I felt calm. The pain of childbirth was nothing compared to the pain of being born into immortality. And when I heard her gasp for her very first breath, I realized, truly, what love in its purest form was.
She remained swaddled peacefully in the crook of my arm for the rest of the day while Dr. Hanson told Kevin and I the intimate details of Xavier’s history. Xavier’s parents, also werewolves, had unexpectedly given birth to a son. The only difference: Xavier’s mother was already pregnant at the time of her transformation. She screamed out in certainty that she had miscarried when she awoke from her violent transformation in the middle of a bed covered in blood. Hours later, Xavier was born.
On Xavier’s eighteenth birthday, he effortlessly shifted to wolf-form, an unheard of feat – the first shift was often brutal and sometimes deadly. It was immediately apparent something was different about him; the air charged with a new and powerful energy. Within a year, he’d built an empire in London, beginning his reign. He called order to the werewolf world, creating rules to protect, and boundaries to hide our kind. Anything a werewolf could do, he did better. Faster, stronger, smarter in every aspect of what made us unique. Dr. Hanson was certain Logan, only a few hours old, was destined for a very similar path.
I hadn’t seen Xavier for close to fifty years at that time, which was a good thing. The only occasion when Xavier showed up unannounced was when that pack, or someone in that pack, had broken a rule. Usually, said broken rule was when a werewolf shifted in front of a non-shifter which meant death for both.
But on that day, no rules had been broken. Instead, the impossible had occurred and the reigning Alpha was coming to witness his potential successor firsthand and worse, try to take Logan back with him to England.
With much tact, Dr. Hanson convinced Xavier she was better off with her parents for the time being. It was then that Xavier, Kevin, and I made our compromise: On Logan’s seventeenth birthday, Xavier would return for Logan and she would begin her training with him. Until then, she could live with us. For fear of her telling someone about our world – resulting in her own death – we agreed to not tell Logan we were werewolves nor about her fated future.
However, eleven years ago I changed my mind. While Kevin was hunting with the Callahan’s in Arizona, Xavier showed up with Alexander and Raphael to check-in – likely to make sure we hadn’t all ran south in an effort to hide Logan. I introduced him to his heir: a five-year old energetic little girl at the time. She was especially hellacious that day and Xavier wanted no part of it. I teased the Alpha pack about what they had to look forward to when she turned seventeen, to which Alexander and Raphael groaned. It was then that I realized they wouldn’t want the responsibility of a teenage girl, let alone a newborn werewolf. I began to rethink the arrangement Kevin and I had made.
If it was a strong and confident female shifter that they wanted, I was a willing volunteer.
The alarm on my phone chimed, jolting me back to the cold marble floor I’d been sitting on, waiting for the hair color to process. I checked the time: just after eight o’clock.
“Rinse hair until water runs clear… apply conditioner, leave on for one to two minutes… rinse with warm water… style as usual,” I read aloud. “How am I supposed to ‘rinse’ my own hair?” I’d always paid someone to touch-up my color but if I was faking my death, it was best I didn’t have guests over beforehand.
While I began rinsing away the old me, I tried to listen for Xavier and his pack. Even a more seasoned shifter could usually only hear within a two or three mile radius so unless Xavier was standing on my front porch, it was highly unlikely I would hear him before his arrival. These check-ins had become more frequent as we neared Logan’s birthday. His arrival wasn’t scheduled for a few more weeks.
However. Xavier changed his mind. And when an Alpha changes their mind, you change accordingly.
On short notice, I spent the morning preparing for Xavier’s arrival while Logan sun-bathed in the backyard. I tried to send her out for lunch so I could attempt shifting for the first time in years, but she had food delivered instead. I gossiped about a huge private sale at our favorite downtown thrift shop, but she wasn’t interested. As the hours ticked away, I finally suggested she call Brody for the evening, maybe see a movie or grab dinner. They’d been fighting all week, so it was a desperate shot in the dark that surprisingly worked. The problem was, I never got the chance to practice shifting.
As instructed, I rinsed my hair until the water was clear. Reaching for Logan’s shampoo, my stomach immediately twisted into a deep knot, the familiar scent flooding my senses with memories.
My heart began to race painfully at the thought of missing the next few crucial years of her life. Year after year of immortality we would sooner or later cross paths – as long as my plan worked. I didn’t know for certain, but it was highly likely I would spend the next several decades confined to The Island.
Once out of the United States, staying out of the Hollywood spotlight would be easier. But, once on The Island, no one stood a chance of finding me. In time, I’d be forgotten and could venture back into the world. I hoped.
Kevin and I had only visited Xavier’s territory once. If Xavier wasn’t interested in visiting you, he sent Alexander and Raphael to fetch you. He made it a point to keep tabs on all packs and when the Alpha called for you, you came without protest.
Upon your arrival in London, and depending on whether Xavier wanted to greet you inland or on his island somewhere off the North Sea coast, you were either picked up from Heathrow Airport in a pearl-white Mercedes sedan or were escorted to a black, darkly-tinted helicopter. We were lead to the helicopter.
By the time we boarded, Kevin had to buckle my seatbelt because I was trembling so badly – convinced we had somehow, inadvertently, angered Xavier. Across from us, the Callahan’s had the same wild look in their eyes. It took everything I had not to shift, repeating, ‘do not shift, do not shift’ like a mantra over-and-over in my mind. By the time we landed, I had no idea where we were or if we’d be able to get back to land if we ran. Steep cliffs of moss covered rock dropped directly into the shore as far as the eye could see.
That’s when I realized Xavier was far more gifted than we had ever imagined. He had power to bend the world to his will, the ability to shape his own extravagant kingdom in the middle of the sea.
Though Xavier was forever frozen at the age of eighteen, he embodied authority. Always dapper, he never wore anything less than a tailored, designer three-piece suit – typically Armani these days. Rich, dark brunette hair, toned, tan skin, and his eyes were a piercing shade of bright green. As a wolf, he was menacing: his thick, nearly black fur only accentuating the depth of intensity in his gaze. He was handsome and polished,
but also cryptically charismatic and dangerous. One moment, you adored him, wanted to befriend him. The next, he would stab another shifter in the back with a silver dagger, smiling as they dropped to their death.
He was dangerous – extremely dangerous.
And he was about to pay me a visit.
I stepped out of the shower, a foggy haze of heat scattering through the air, and reached for Logan’s robe and a towel. It was soothing spending this time alone in her bathroom washing my hair in her shampoo and drying off with her towel. It calmed my nerves as if she was right there coloring her hair with me. I wrapped my hair up tightly in a knot and headed for my closet.
I’d pulled several pieces of my jewelry out of Richard’s safe to ensure he got them to Logan. He would do it without realizing it was something I’d planned because he had no idea where I kept all my things, paying little attention to such minor details in his own life. I’d also mixed several pieces in with Logan’s own jewelry while she was sunning herself. She’d discover the pieces after she’d moved and settled in with her dad.
I went to the black section of my closet to find an outfit. It had crossed my mind on-and-off throughout the day to pack a bag. No one, not even Logan would notice a bag and clothing missing from my collection, but I finally decided against it.
As I searched through my closet trying to make a decision, my fingers slid across the black fur Gucci coat Richard had bought me one Christmas. Even though Richard had no idea what I really was, I found it so amusing that when I opened the box, I burst into laughter. He became quite upset and long story short, I’d never worn the jacket.
It reminded me again I should practice shifting before Xavier arrived. If anything about my plan started to go horribly wrong, I might need to fight.
I grabbed jet-black Calvin Klein lingerie and set it on the bench beside a pair of new black leather leggings, black Burberry boots, and a plain sheer black tee –aiming to go dark to match my mood. I started to leave the room when I reached back to toss the fur coat on the pile. It would make for a good conversation piece, I suppose.
As I left the closet, I decided my bedroom would be big enough to practice a shift. Plus, I’d be able to watch myself in the oversized mirror. Seasoned werewolves could shift on a dime, but I hadn’t shifted for years – there was a chance something might break. An image of Logan shifting flashed through my mind – I knew she was going to look flawless every single time.
I released the towel from atop my head and faced the mirror.
“HOLY CRAP!” I shouted.
I ran toward Logan’s bathroom and dove to the floor. Feverishly shifting through the remnants of the box-color kit, “…combine color with processor and mix well… Processor? Which one is the processor? Oh. My…”
There it was. The bottle of processor. Unopened.
I rose to my feet and wiped the condensation from Logan’s mirror with a towel. Wet, golden blonde locks of hair fell around my pale face. My hair was the exact same color it had been nearly all my life, not even a shade darker. Tears began to pool. I’d spent years polishing my plan and the easiest step had just gone wrong.
This isn’t good, this isn’t good.
Andrea L Wells – The Midnight Hour