Chapter 28: Briar

brIAR

Oh, holy shit.

Patrick's a motherfucking wolf! A massive, snarling, way-larger-than-normal wolf. This wolf probably comes up to my shoulders it's so huge.

What in the good goddamn is going on here?

People can't change into wolves. Right?

Well, apparently, they can because I just watched it with my own two eyes.

Fucking hell on a stick with Mary on the handlebars. What have I gotten myself into?

In shock, I plop myself back down on the rickety metal folding chair I woke up in. I go to scrub my hands over my face when a burning pain in my shoulder stops me.

That's right. In the craziness of seeing someone magically poof into a wolf, I forgot that I've been shot. Blood is still sluggishly pumping out of the wound. I'm starting to feel lightheaded, but I don't know if that's blood loss or drinking wolfsbane.

Shaking my head to clear it, I tell the wolf in front of me, "I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I've never shifted into a fucking wolf. I'd think I'd remember if I had."

The wolf is kinda cute, honestly, if you ignore the soulless eyes that are all Patrick.

Patrick the not-so-friendly wolf chuffs at me and rolls his eyes. He shakes out his coat before stalking toward me. I brace myself to get eaten, squeezing my eyes shut. When nothing happens, I open my lids to find him simply circling my chair a few times.

Once he's satisfied with whatever he sees on my face, the wolf pads back to Patrick's neatly folded clothes. With another series of painful-sounding bones breaking and reforming, a naked Patrick stands in front of me. I avert my eyes while he puts on clothes because I don't need to see that.

"Of course you haven't," Patrick says like I'm the stupidest person he's ever encountered. "We can only shift into wolves after drinking ritual wolfsbane. It's a rite of passage for eighteen-year-old wolves to drink and shift."

I cautiously look up and am relieved to see Patrick is fully dressed. "I'm twenty, twenty-one in a month. If I'm a wolf like you say I am, why didn't I drink and shift years ago?" I ask, feeling smug about pointing out a hole in his theory.

"I've waited to give you the potion until now in the hopes you'd get stronger and have a better chance of surviving the wolfsbane. Why do you think I beat you? To toughen up your wolf so you can survive the change, unlike other females. No female wolves have been able to shift in centuries. The wolfsbane kills them instead of unlocking their wolves. Females not shifting is weakening our species. If this goes on much longer, we'll either go extinct or be eliminated by vampires, fae, the Knights of Aeneas, or someone else."

My poor little overwhelmed brain snags on the fact that wolves aren't the only magical creature out there. If I am a wolf, I apparently need to be worried about being offed by Edward or Tinkerbell.

Fantastic.

"Why do you think the wolfsbane won't kill me if it kills all the other lady wolves?" I ask, feeling the hope of getting out of this alive slipping through my fingers.

"Because you're the reincarnation of Dido. Did your worthless mother not teach you anything?" Patrick roars in my face. I instinctively flinch back at his anger, tensing for a punch or slap.

When no pain follows, I straighten up and glare at him. "Mama was not worthless! She taught me plenty. She just didn't spend her time filling my brain with outrageous tales!"

This time he does slap me. My head whips to the side from the force of his blow. The sharp smack makes my cheek throb and aggravates the injury on the back of my head. It takes a few moments for the room to stop spinning.

"Don't talk back to me, you sniveling little brat!" Patrick screams before attempting to reel his anger back in. He paces back over to the table before turning back to me.

"I think I'd know if I were the reincarnation of Dido. How can you even know she's reincarnated?" I question. It would be cool if I were, but I'm pretty sure I'm just a regular human that's gotten mixed up in this.

"You'd know if you had access to your wolf. You don't. There's always been speculation that Dido reincarnated. Do you know the true version of the Aeneid where Dido is killed by a potion, not the gods?"

I nod, thinking back to the story Bastian told me.

"I guess your mother did teach you something," Patrick snarks. I don't bother to correct him. "Virgil's version is what the Knights of Aeneas would like everyone to believe. The other one is the true version of events passed down through generations of wolves. Carthage wasn't a human city. It was a refuge for wolves. Dido was Queen of the Lycans."

My eyes widen in surprise, but I don't say anything, too enthralled by the story to speak.

"While all wolves know the story, most don't know what happened after the mage realized Aeneas had tricked her. When the mage found out she was responsible for Dido dying, she reversed the love spell, but she was unable to heal Dido's mortal wounds.

"She did, however, offer Dido a choice. The mage could cast a spell to help Dido die quickly, or she could place a reincarnation spell on Dido, allowing Dido to be reborn to get her vengeance on Aeneas.

"With the love spell removed, Dido could think clearly again. In her rage at Aeneas for his duplicity, she chose reincarnation and suffering a painful death. The mage sacrificed her own life to perform the spell. From that day forward, the first female child born to Dido's line has been her reincarnation."

"But Dido didn't have children," I cut in, confused how the spell could work.

"She did. A girl with her late husband. Dido was pregnant when her brother killed her husband. She hid the pregnancy and her daughter out of fear that Pygmalion would kill the daughter too. After her death, her trusted aides raised her child to be the next queen of Carthage.

"Dido's daughter and the rest of her line knew of Aeneas's treachery and Dido's quest for vengeance. Their pursuit for justice for Aeneas's cruelty is the reason for the long-standing feud between Carthage and Rome. That and Aeneas's obsession with finding a way for humans to have magic," Patrick finishes casually, like he didn't just tell me one of the wildest stories I've ever heard.

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say to that.

"Let's say I believe you about this whole reincarnation thing," I start, not convinced he's telling the truth. Curses and spells seem like make-believe. To be fair, I'd have said the same thing about shifting before Patrick showed me. "If I am Dido's reincarnation, why don't I know about it?"

Patrick lets out a long-suffering sigh, like he can't believe I'm this dense. "It's been prophesized that one of Dido's line will be the key to unlocking shifting for female wolves. As such, Dido's line has been hunted to near extinction. Your mother must not have told you to keep you safe, not that it worked."

Things click into place as he talks. "That's why my mom was with you, wasn't it? You found out about Mama being part of Dido's line and threatened her, didn't you?" I ask, voice rising as I finish.

"Ah, so you're not as much of a moron as you seem. Yes, I did blackmail her. Do you know how much money you'll make me as the first female wolf to shift in centuries? I already have buyers lined up," he tells me casually.

I shudder in revulsion at the thought of being sold to someone. The trickle of fear in my chest tries to grow into a raging waterfall, but my grief over my mom smothers anything else I feel.

"If your mother didn't agree to marry me, I'd reveal to the whole world that you are Dido's reincarnation. Your mother couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt, so she married me."

Anger flares bright in my chest. Patrick destroyed mine and my mom's lives. For what? A slim chance we'd fulfill a prophecy?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I scream at him from my chair, unable to move my limbs enough to get up. "Did you poison Mama with wolfsbane?"

"I had her drink the potion, yes. Unfortunately, she was too weak to survive. Such a waste," he says passively, like my mom dying was a mere inconvenience.

I let out a wordless scream full of anger and pain. He killed my mom to cash in on a stupid fucking prophecy that clearly isn't true anyway. Tears slip down my cheeks as I think about how senseless her death was. If it weren't for Patrick's greed, my mom would still be here.

"That's right. Get angry. It will pull your wolf to the surface." Patrick's eyes light with a feverish gleam at the prospect of getting what he wants.

Unfortunately for him, I'm pretty sure I'm dying. My mouth and face are numb and tingly. My heart is beating sluggishly, and my breaths are coming in short pants. My stomach is also cramping, and I feel like I'm going to puke. All sure signs of wolfsbane poisoning.

I can't help the small smile that plays on my lips. If I'm going to die, at least I can spite Patrick as I go.

"What are you smiling at?" Patrick demands.

I shake my head in response, refusing to give him my words. He huffs and begins to pace the room. It takes him around half an hour to come to the same conclusion I did. I'm dying. His grand plan failed.

Serves him fucking right.

"No!" he screams as he flips the metal table like it weighs nothing. He storms toward me. I'd be scared if I could feel anything. Instead, I feel floaty and numb. It's great.

Patrick grabs me by the scruff of my neck and shakes me. "Shift!" he shouts, spittle flying in my face. When I don't do anything other than blink, he roars and flings me into the wall under the window.

I land hard on my arm. I hear a snap and brace, expecting the excruciating pain of a broken arm. When I feel nothing other than mild discomfort, I smile slightly. Wolfsbane is apparently a great anesthetic. That or my nerves are beginning to shut down from the poison.

I don't feel much of anything as Patrick breaks my body with furious kicks and punches. Retreating into my mind, I go over the plans for mine and Ava's future house. Sadness tries to creep in that I won't ever get to hold my little sister again, but I push it away.

I'm in the middle of decorating my room in my mind, which conveniently has a bed big enough for four people, when a strange gurgling sound yanks me out of my fantasy.

Slowly prying open my heavy eyelids, I look around the dimly lit basement to figure out what the sound is. On my next inhale, I realize I'm making the sound. It's the sound of my lungs desperately trying to get air in past the blood seeping out of my mouth.

Glancing down the best I can on my side, I search for whatever injury is causing it. I quickly jerk my gaze back up when I see how ruined my body is. Bile tries to work its way up at seeing my mangled skin, muscle, and bone, but I force it down. I'm morbidly impressed at how many bones Patrick managed to break in his rage.

Casting my gaze around the basement, I don't see him anywhere. I don't hear anything, either.

Hopefully he left so I can die in peace.

Air gets harder and harder to come by as I lie there panting. After what could be a few minutes or a few hours, blankness starts creeping in. I flutter my lids shut, ready to let the darkness consume me.

My heart pangs with regret at leaving Ava. I send a quick prayer up to the universe that she'll be okay. I have everything in place to make sure she is, but a prayer won't hurt anything—not that any of my prayers have been answered before. Maybe I'll get lucky this time.

As I let my consciousness slip away, I swear I hear Bastian call my name. That's impossible. I still try to claw my way back to the land of the living to see him one last time, but I can't.

Accepting defeat, I let myself drift off into the peaceful embrace of death.