This is just great. Jack got a pack pal mental link from the fusion. What did I get? A fiery temper. Sure, let’s go ahead and blame him. Perfectly sensible way to redirect the guilt train from my epic overreaction.

My journey back to the cabin comes with a pace similar to speed walkers…on speed, I guess. Kneeling down, I rip the shoes from my feet, driving the heels into a poor, unsuspecting tree along my path. The laces drift in the breeze, tiny hands reaching out desperately for assistance. I’m too swept up in my anger to feel badly for the Pine, almost glad whenever they come home, they’ll pass by it. Maybe they won’t come. Maybe they’ll leave me alone to sulk or calm down, while the whole household decides whether or not my threats were idle. Were they idle? Can I do this unimaginable thing? Will I follow through with it if I can?

Pete’s not the only one capable of science experiments. I plan to try one of my own. What harm could it do, removing something small, something insignificant? I’ll weigh out each prospect. Test outcomes. This potentiality is as fresh to me as it is to them. There are a lot of things I’ll need to work out before I wield it as a weapon. An idle threat will become a promise. They’ll have to listen to me then.

Look, I don’t want to hurt them. I love them all too much to truly want to hurt them, no matter how annoyed I am, but why should I limit myself to delicate avenues of persuasion? They’re forgetting a key point, an indisputable fact. It’s my life. Darn right, I’ll fight for it. If I have to fight dirty to win, do I have any other choice?

Sad fact, no one’s coming willingly within gripping distance now. For the first time, my family won’t trust me to show them anything, too afraid of what I’ll take away. Good. They deserve a healthy dose of fear. I’m not fulfilling my hopes and dreams by living vicariously through them. Perhaps their peace is my peace, but I need the chance to explore that, to come to terms with it away from them.

Right, so the phasers are out as test subjects. I need to expand my selection criteria. I could try it on Grandpa or Vera. Tessa or Tommy might participate too. If all else fails, there’s plenty of stray humans. It doesn’t have to be someone who suspects me. Realistically, a stranger would be the trickiest candidate. Secrecy is foremost. If I’m unsuccessful, I’d have to kill someone. That doesn’t sit well with my stomach. I’m not a killer.

If it doesn’t work, then what? I won’t run away. They’ll just chase after me. If not them, Jack will unleash the hounds. There’s no way they’ll let me out of their sight for long. While they’re working on their game plan, they’ll be watching extra closely too. Vanishing isn’t happening, especially with creepy peepers dogging my steps.

This would be a lot easier if not for that blessing. I want it. Need it. Maybe they just need a little time. I can do a little time, right? Yeah, I’m restless and raring to go, but what harm could come from waiting another week. Two tops. If I haven’t changed their minds by then, I’ll have to go without their blessing. Simple as that.

His scent attacks my nostrils when I reach the door. My already accelerated heart rate picks up its pace. His smell is always present in the woods by the cabin. Sometimes by my window. Never stale, never so close as my doorstep, and never, not once over the last three years, in human form. This is a big deal. Epic, proportionately. The scent embracing my senses is that of the man. Not the wolf. The difference is subtle. His wolf smells like campfire, generally. Bonfire when it’s mad. A warm fireplace on a cool evening, snuggled up under a blanket as you watch the flames dance, when it’s happy. This scent? It’s freshly chopped wood. No, it’s sawdust. Glorious sawdust. My fingers rip at the door handle. Not in anger. In anticipation.

Moving swiftly through the house, I inhale deeply. The scent strengthens as I progress. My thudding heart skids to a halt when I find my room empty. Of course he isn’t here. Why would he be? His scent remains, mixed now with oak and stain. Flipping on the light, I sniff hard. This time, it’s to prevent a leak. I wipe my eyes to clear them, reaching for the carefully folded note waiting patiently for me on my new chair. A solid wood replacement for the childhood version he crafted years ago. My fingers trail along the wolves dancing across the seat. This one has a back. Chiselled in striking calligraphy is my name. Aurora. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. It marks an understanding. A shift from child to adult. What does accepting my growth mean for him? For me? For us?

Dear Aurora,

I hope you like this gift.

Can I talk to you before you go?

Jack

I sit numbly for a while, staring blanks at the paper. I must read it twenty times searching for hidden meaning. I do like the gift. How could I not? It’s extraordinary. Clearly, it took him a great deal of time and patience to make. The latter for him would’ve been the hardest. Jack has a fuse shorter than mine, which is really saying something. To be fair, I don’t know anything about him now. Three years is a long time, particularly for a light fire phaser…a full moon shifter. Either. Or. Fire isn’t meant to idle. He’s bound to have changed. Same as I have.

Pain slinks unbidden into my chest, snaking mercilessly around my heart. Constricting. What I did three years ago, what I tried to force on Jack, was somehow worse than the initial fusion. I understand why he bailed on me. He was hoping the distance would absolve the bond. Maybe it did, though I can’t imagine he’d still be creepy peeping if that were the case.

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What exactly does he want to talk to me about? Honestly, that sentence alone should have me doing giddy cartwheels across my stone floor. It doesn’t. Before you go indicates acceptance of my choice. He wants to say goodbye. Leave it to Jack to be the only person in my family not to fight me on this. Why would he? This is him winning his freedom. It gives him an out. He’s the one person I want to beg me to stay. The one person I’d stay for. He’d rather I go.

Crumpling the paper in my fist, I draw my hand to my chest, letting the pain grow. Each beat of my heart becomes a blade slicing through my veins. The shearing cuts work their way to my stomach, then spread out to my arms and legs. The fresh sting of rejection has me remembering the first time he didn’t want me. Who knew the second time would be equally painful?

I breathe out steadily, releasing every bit of air from my lungs, beginning my calming exercises. I will not hyperventilate.

Inhale slowly through my nose. 1. 2. 3. 4.

Hold my breath. Focus on counting. Nothing else. 1. 2. 3. 4.

Exhale with purpose, air out the mouth. 1. 2. 3. 4.

Pause and hold for the final count. 1. 2. 3. 4.

After a few repetitions, I straighten the paper, moving it to the vanity counter. My penmanship is shaky, the tingling in my fingers making it hard to write. It has to be done quickly because even my box breathing won’t save me this time. I’m about to suffocate myself straight into unconsciousness. Lightheaded as I am, will I make it to the bed?

Jack,

The chair is great.

I have nothing to say to you.

Sincerely,

Aurora

I fold the paper, forming it into an airplane. After rubbing it across my hair, I open the window, heaving it as far as possible. It drifts out of view into the surrounding trees. Good job, me.

The pressure in my heart seems to expand with each beat. I dig my fingers into the sill to keep from crying out. It migrates from my chest to my lungs, combusting into a roaring fire when I catch the scent of something more appealing than my anger or sadness. Jerking myself through the window, I follow the hypnotic smell.

I’m only a kilometre into the woods when I see the dog. A giant Italian Mastiff. Its pitch black colouring matches the night. The hair on its back lifts, a growl bubbling up its throat. Its bleeding, which is what caught my attention. I may not like the taste of blood, but my energy well has different ideas. It wants the energy saturating the air around us.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I try to rationalize what I’m doing. Taking this energy will help calm me. It’ll garner me control enough to evacuate the scene prior to the owner finding the dog. It’s hurt. Might die anyway. If my emotions weren’t a hot mess, walking away wouldn’t be a struggle for me.

The dog growls louder when I kneel beside it, placing my palms on its chest. It waited too long to bite me. Not that biting me would do it any good. Nor will the paws and claws struggling to get free succeed. I’m too strong. From my palms, the extraction needles first pierce my skin before burrowing deep. There’s a quiet yelp, followed by even quieter whimpers, then nothing. The only sound remaining is the slight slurping noise coming from my palm straws as I drain it to dregs.

I stand to survey the damage, wiping my hands on the dress. Yeah, there’s a bigger problem here than my ruined dress. What I missed in my rush for relief was the man, who must be the owner, standing frozen downwind of me. When our eyes meet, his grow wider, glowing in the moonlight from all the exposed white. He’s paralyzed. His horror shakes me to my core. I caused that. My bad.

I’ve gotten myself into some trouble. I’m supposed to eliminate any witnesses. I won’t let my loss of control harm my family. They’ve worked too hard to mask their presence to have me ruining everything. That leaves me two choices. Either I try to use my gift to remove the memory, or I kill him. Easy pick. Memory wipe. Hands down.

A surge of pity washes through me as I draw closer. His body is shaking violently. I could just snap his neck here and now. Throw him over the ravine. A hiking accident. He tripped over some unseen rock in the dark. Poor soul lost his dog and was searching for it in the middle of the night. A tragedy. No, this doesn’t need to have that kind of ending. I can fix this. I can strip his memory.

Tentatively, I place my palms on his cheeks, letting my gift project into him. His heart is beating almost as rapidly as mine. Once the visions work their way into his brain, confusion clouds his sight. I explore the channel I’ve formed, searching for the end connecting to his mind. When I stop my projection, the tube remains, hollow now. I try blowing into the empty channel like a water hose, hoping for reverse flow. Nothing. No change. My gift is a giving one. It doesn’t work in reverse. I groan in frustration. I’m drawing a blank. Blanks. That’s it. I’ll shoot blanks. While I can’t take the memories, perhaps I can overwrite them. A blank canvas.

When I extend my gift again, reaching the end of the channel, I touch the closest memory. I see me seeing him, my eyes as wide as his. From this perspective, outside looking in, it’s like images on a touch screen. I can move them forward or backward, rearrange them, but not delete them. I start firing blanks, overwriting them with nothing. His shaking slows gradually until it stops completely.

Thankfully, I’m not hearing words. The images are bad enough. I see me hovering over the poor dog, feeding from it. I blank it out. The further back I scroll, the harder it is to stop. I see the man chasing after the dog through the darkness, stumbling more than once. Blank. The dog breaking free of the leash and running into the forest. Blank. The man walking the dog. Blank. The dog growing from a puppy. Blank. The man getting the puppy. Blank. I’m taking more than is necessary. This is far, far more than mental intrusion. This is invasion, yet I can’t stop. I’m compelled to continue firing.

The sound of a twig snapping under someone’s foot breaks my concentration, so I let go. He falls to his knees, a look of bemusement glazing over his eyes. In their reflection, I see the phasers moving to form a half circle around me. Behind them are the wolves, pacing back and forth nervously. Surprise, surprise, no Jack.

“Rory?” Mom whispers, too low for the human to hear.

It’s a question. She wants to know what happened. I’ll give them the full recount once we’re away from this place. First, I need to gauge my success. “Grace?” I redirect.

“He won’t remember,” she confirms. “I don’t understand it. He doesn’t remember a thing. Not even that he had a dog in the first place.”

The wolves take this at face value, padding off into the forest. I sigh in relief. As I back away from the man, who’s speaking gibberish at my feet, I feel the opposite of an adrenaline rush. A wave of exhaustion spreads through me so strongly I can’t fight it. I fall not seeing who catches me. I’m in a deprivation chamber. There’s movement, gentle rocking, then nothing.