Chapter 10 I AM The Authority
Chapter 10 I AM The Authority
Ginger’s POV:
No.
No, no, no, no, no!
This wasn't supposed to happen.
I hurry back to the hockey rink where Katelyn and Grayson are both now enduring a very difficult shift, wanting to help, but unable to do much for either of them.
Katelyn is on all fours, fingers elongating, claws protruding. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to hold back her transformation. But that only increases her torture.
“I can feel her coming,” she groans, jaw tight. “She wants control.”
“Who?”
“Nala… My wolf.”
Okay, I might need some back up here.
I step aside for some quiet, grabbing my phone from my varsity jacket. The screen flickers to life and I hit the speed dial.
A steady ringback tune fills my ear. Static. Electronic.
Come on, pick up. Pick up. Pick up.
“Ginger?” Mom says, unsure at first. Then her voice melts into one of relief. “Oh honey, I’m glad to know you're okay. After what happened with Roman and the Xenoias, I had been worried you’d gone on to do something bad to yourself.”
I blink. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I understand how all this must be taking its toll on you. I mean, your life has taken a huge turnaround within the past forty-eight hours. First me then your brother?” she exhales. “It's a lot to take in.”
Katelyn shouts, “Wolf threatening to come out here!”
She’s right. Given the circumstances, my teen-life crisis doesn't exactly make for good phone talk.
My mother's in the middle of asking who's in the background when I cut her short.
“Look mom, we can talk about this later. Right now, we’ve got a situation.”
“What kind?”
“It's Katelyn,” I say. “And Grayson... They're both phasing into their wolf forms.”
“At the same time?”
“Yes.”
“Dear goddess..” she mutters. “Where are you?”
“At school,” I clarify. “The hockey arena.”
“Have any of you been seen by a human?”
“Not exactly…”
“Ginny.” Her tone is testy.
“Just get here, please.”
“I'm on my way.”
I tuck the phone in my pocket and return to the duo behind me.
Grayson's less man than wolf at this point. And Katelyn? Let's just say she won't be feeling anything other than pain for a while.
A sound from the main doors makes me jolt. Like someone's jacking it. I turn towards it, eyes widening at the sight of a bruised and battered Jayden standing there. He had managed to find a hockey stick; courtesy of Grayson, to stick in the door handle. Holding off whoever's on the other end.
“Is this thing jammed or something?” I hear Svenson, our portly janitor in his mid-to-late forties say.
He fiddles with the lock, keys jingling as he tries to peer into the room. “Someone there?”
Shit. He's probably here to close the arena for the night.
“Change of plans,” I announce, staring at the two werewolves in front of me. “I need you both to make a run for it.”
Katelyn—who by now has given into her silver-eyed wolf; Nala—just gives me a blank stare.
While Grayson’s wolf, a black Yukon Arctic known for its strength and endurance levels, lurches at me with his claws, eyes wild.
“Hey!” I flinch, bracing for his bite.
But Katelyn, or, well, Nala steps in. She blocks his attack with her body, keeping him from getting to me. He tries a few more times, ferocious as ever, but then he starts to calm down, rubbing his mane against hers.
The action is oddly affectionate. From this angle, they almost look like mates.
My stomach twists.
Svenson pounds on the doors, spurring me to action.
“Katelyn, please. If you're in there, you have to convince Grayson to come with you. The longer you stay here, the higher the risk of exposure,” I say. “Svenson’s going to burst in here any minute. You've got to leave.”
Nala seems to get the gist.
She twists away, getting his wolf's attention, then she walks forward. Sure he's following, she breaks into a sprint, disappearing out the way she came.
His wolf moves to follow, but then he turns to look at me. And I think I see the faintest glint of recognition in his eyes.
Before I can process it though, he's gone, chasing after her.
Svenson storms in just as they leave. And he does not look happy.
“Care to explain what you're doing, Miss Mikaelson?” He stares at me, arms crossed. “Why you locked the doors?”
I squint my eyes, confused. “I didn't…”
But Jayden isn't vertical when I glance back.
Oh no.
I rush up the steps, dropping to my knees beside him. “Jayden?”
His breathing is shallow. Beads of sweat have formed on his head. He looks worse for wear.
“My God,” Svenson says. “What happened here?”
I turn, already cooking up a lie that won't put anyone in trouble—but it isn't me he's looking at.
His eyes are on the wall not far from us. Mouth open. Hand scratching his head like he's trying to understand.
There's a spiderwebbed dent the size of a head embedded in the concrete. Glancing down, I trace the source to a smashed hockey helmet. Grayson's. That must have been what made that crack earlier.
“All I can see is a cheap drywall, faulty equipment, and an even faultier staff,” my mother says, crouching down. She kisses my forehead. “You have no idea how happy I am that you're okay.”
I hadn't even heard her come in.
“Wish I could say the same for him," I say.
Svenson comes closer. “Mrs. Mikaelson.”
“It's Miss. I'm not married to anyone just yet.”
She feels for Jayden's pulse. “What happened to him?”
“He got into a fight with another jock,” I explain, hoping she gets my memo. “He didn't win.”
Svenson’s eyes narrow with suspicion.
“What was he doing here? Soccer practice ended a while ago.”
“He was… with me.”
Even without looking, I can feel his disapproving frown.
“Let’s get him to a hospital,” Mom says, and I move to help Jayden up—when Svenson decides to block our path.
“Now, I'm sorry Miss Mikaelson, but I can't let you do that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I only saying that because this happened on school grounds, I am under obligation to get a detailed report on what occurred here.”
“For the authorities right?”
“Yes.”
“Well I AM the authority, Paul.”
“What?”
She pats her hair, flashing her engagement ring.
“Mr Blackwood my fiancé, as you can see, owns the controlling shares in this infrastructure you call a school. Not your toasty principal, or your admin,” she says. “Now, I won't tell you what to do. But if you want to keep having the means to provide for your family, I suggest you choose your next words wisely.”
I blink. Well, I’ll be darned.
Roman really did a number on my mother. She's
beginning to sound like him.
Svenson seems to realize his chances against unemployment are at an all-time low, because he steps aside.
“Of course, ma'am. Pardon me.”