Chapter 62: Story

Callista.

I wake up in an office room with a moan.

“Oh, Goddess…” My head throbs so much and my mouth is dry as parchment. I try to move my limbs but to no avail. My whole body feels heavy yet floating at the same time, a common feeling after regaining consciousness. This is not a new experience to me by now, given how many times I’ve been knocked out over the past few months, but I’m getting really tired of it.

As my vision focuses on my surroundings, I realize that I’m in a rather nice office. There’s a plush carpet under my feet, and a sturdy desk in front of a large book cupboard that covers an entire wall. The books are neatly lined behind the glass panels of the cupboard. I sit in front of this desk.

I try to move my legs, but I cannot. I look down, the inclination makes my head hurt more.

I’m bound to the chair.

“What the hell…” I mutter.

Memories come back to me, and I remember how three men chased me through the city. I remember separating from Jenny and toppling a bookrack in the bookshop over the man with a scarred face. I remember his lackeys apprehending me and someone hitting me on the back of my head, rendering me unconscious.

Great. I’ve been kidnapped.

Again. By were-creatures. And yes, I consider my being taken from Leighwen pack to Rexellen pack to be a kidnapping because no one bothered to get my permission.

If it were humans that took me, I’d feel better. But those men were not human. Rather, they were supernaturals like me. Were-creatures. And not wolves at that.

The door opens and in walks a man. He’s bearded with blonde hair and is as large as my captor, who follows behind him. The blond man sits behind the desk as the scarred man stands behind him. They both stare at me contemplatively. I silently glare back, waiting for them to tell me what the hell was going on.

“So,” The blond man says, “This is the one you talked about? She doesn’t smell like anything except human.”

The scarred man remains silent for a bit. “Not to me, Alpha. I still smell my dead mate on her.”

The blond man was an Alpha? Then the scarred man must be his Beta or Gamma.

“How very interesting,” The Alpha replies, “What’s your name, girl?”

“Who are you?” I ask instead. After having gone toe to toe with the werewolf Alpha King himself, I don’t feel as intimidated by higher ranking pack members anymore, regardless of their were-race. “Why’d you bring me here? What do you want from me?”

“I’ll answer all that once you tell us your name.” The Alpha folds his hands on the table, waiting.

Should I tell them my real name and the fact that I’m not a human?  No, that’s a stupid idea. If they treated stealers with the same contempt as wolves did, I’d be handing myself into another prison. They seem to believe I am human, and I am going to stick with that.

“Sharon,” I settle on a random name that I’d heard, “My name’s Sharon. Now tell me why you kidnapped me.”

“Well, Sharon, my Gamma Edwin here tells me about how you saw through his glamour.” The Alpha replies conversationally, “How long have you had the sight for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie. ”Who are you people?”

“She’s a runway, Alpha, she doesn’t know about the supernaturals,” Edwin instructs his Alpha.

“I see.” The Alpha says, “Tell me, Sharon, are you a Christian?”

“No.” I say, “I believe in the Goddess as my family did. They were a cult.” I lead on with that story. I don’t know if there are humans who actually believe in the Moon Goddess, but I try to take a chance.

“How very interesting. We should pay this cult a visit one day. Anyways, you’re aware of the Moon Goddess. See, while God gave life to humans, the Moon Goddess gave it to a whole different kind of creature.” Says the Alpha, “And they were called the supernaturals. Long ago, humans knew about these other races. But eventually, they started a war with each other. Humans and supernaturals constantly tried to conquer one another, to struggle for power. This led to a massive bloodbath.”

I knew the story, but I try to look like I'm listening intently.

“The Moon Goddess grew tired of this constant power struggle,” The Alpha continues, “So one day, she manifested in the middle of a battlefield and decreed that all knowledge about the supernaturals will be erased from the memory of the humans and that no supernatural creature will reveal themselves to humanity ever again. And so, from that day onwards, we lived hidden from the human world. The humans forgot who we were, and we created our own civilizations in glamoured bubbles, made by witches to hide from them. Thus, we survived our inherent need to annihilate one another.”

“This is insane,” I try to act my part, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Supernaturals like what? Werewolves? Vampires?” I snort. “Yeah, right. So, why did you kidnap me then, if you're 'supernaturals' and you can’t let humans know about your existence?”

It’s surprisingly easy to think as a human. The supernatural world must sound so weird to humans.

“ Ugh, she won’t answer, Edwin, if you may?” The Alpha gestures at the Gamma, who leans away from the book cupboard.

“Tomorrow, the full moon rises in the sky,” says Edwin, “And those in our pack who’d reached eighteen years of age would gather around under the moonlight to become one with the bear that resides in their soul.”

Bear.

These were werebears.

Oh, fuck me.

Werebears and werewolves hated each other. Why? I had no idea. But it had been so for centuries. One species saw the other as a threat, and therefore, lived far away from one another. A wolf entering a bear pack or vice versa was forbidden, and the crime was punishable by death. Packs had gone to wars over trespassing sometimes.

“So? What’s that got to do with me?” I ask, trying not to show how shaken I am by the new information.

“See, there’s a century-long tradition in the werebear community,” The Alpha gets up and walks around the table. “To commemorate a certain massacre of werebears done by the hands of the humans.”

The hair on my neck stands straight as he stops right in front of me.

“Massacre?” I repeat in a quiet voice.

“In the early 18th century, a battalion of humans raided a werebear community on the day of the full moon, using their coming of age ceremony as a distraction. This community had been the largest on the continent, and they killed hundreds of youths that day, innocents who’d attended the ceremony.”

He leans on the desk and looks down at me, “So, in order to commemorate the genocide and to remind our youths why we should never try to be friendly with humans, each year on the day of the ceremony, we offer the blood of a human to the Moon Goddess.”

“B-blood?” I sputter, “How much?”

“Oh not much,” He grins, “Just 5 liters. Which is, pretty much all of it.”