Pale Light

Prologue The first known werewolves were located in ancient Greece, the result of a curse. One man killed and ate a child; his crime was so heinous, no simple punishment would do. So a great king laid a curse on him, turned him into a wolf, so that the predator he was inside would show on the outside. The king was tricked by his advisor, though, and the cursed man took on two forms: his wolf form, just like any other wolf, but with a human’s intelligence and a human form. And in his human form, the man was stronger than any other man; he was faster, his senses greater. The curse had made him not a wolf and not a man, but some combination of both. The second werewolf was an accident. He attacked a woman one night, and she survived, but she had been bitten. The first wolf soon realized that if he bit or scratched a human and did not kill them, they would be cursed too. They would become like him. The wolves ran together at night and lived in tribes by day, in their human form. It was soon found that the children of the bitten wolves were born as werewolves, and the tribes grew and hunted together, with their own rules and laws. Young wolves would be taught to hunt animals, and then on their sixteenth birthday, when they were viewed as adults, they were taken on another kind of hunt. They started hunting humans. In many places, werewolves remained a myth, but in others, people believed—and much like witches, there were trials. The werewolf trials occurred between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries, and then once again werewolves became nothing but stories—grim fairy tales that few truly believed. But although werewolf numbers had lessened greatly during the trials, they were not gone. They simply learned how to hide. There were those who still knew of the werewolves’ existence and took it on themselves to protect humans from the werewolves and other supernatural things—that, for most, only existed in legend, but in fact were very much real. * * * * Joshua Aberhamson knew a few things about life. He was the son of Katharine and Jeremy Aberhamson, both of whom had been killed by a werewolf when he was nineteen. Which was when he met the Jarvi family; they had been hunting the supernatural for years. Henry and Joki had killed the wolf that killed Joshua’s parents, and their daughter, Adelina, had picked up the pieces of his life. Adelina had saved him, and when he didn’t want to go back to his old, ignorant life, she had taught him about her world. She had trained him to be a hunter, and after her parents retired, they had hunted together. Joshua had fallen in love with Adelina, and was lucky to have her love him back. He had lost his parents, but she gave him a family again—a son, Elijah. Two years ago, his wife went on a hunt alone as she sometimes did. She never returned; he’d lost Adelina to some unknown monster. It could have broken him; he was sure it would have if not for his son, so he went on hunting. Elijah is eighteen now, a man, and they hunt together. Elijah wants to hunt alone, to take on his own cases, but Joshua’s fear has been holding Elijah back. He doesn’t want to lose his son, but if he holds on too tightly, he could lose his son anyway. Werewolves kill. Some occasionally, some frequently, but every wolf will take a human life at some point. It’s what they’ve been doing since the moment of their creation. Some they turn, but most they kill. So when he started hearing rumors of a pack that only hunted animals, he didn’t believe it. But the whispers grew. Joshua had been planning to investigate after he found out where this tribe was because he needed to know if it was true. He would have gone to Ohio with Elijah anyway, but they’d ended up going sooner when they’d heard several packs of werewolves were not pleased with the supposedly peaceful tribe. Joshua wasn’t about to let anyone be hunted, least of all a tribe espousing peace and change. “So, what? Are we just going to go up to the door, knock, and ask if they eat people?” Elijah asks as Joshua pulls his car to a stop. They’re down the road a little from the large cabin rumored to house much of the pack. Even from here, Joshua can see lights. It seems even though they arrived unsociably late, the wolves are still awake. “Smart-ass, and no. Normally we’d research the area for disappearances and deaths, but we might not have time if we want to earn them about the attack so we’ll wing it.” Joshua shrugs. He’s been trying to think of what to say to these people, but he hasn’t quite figured it out yet. He’s never tried to have a conversation with a werewolf before. “Let’s go, then.” Elijah dives out of the car before Joshua can give him the go-ahead. He’s always so eager, so much like his mother—the same icy blond hair and bright blue eyes. He’s already tall at eighteen and filling out. He’s a good hunter, coming from a long history of Finnish hunters. “Dad?” Elijah’s voice sounds a little hesitant as Joshua gets out of the car. “What is it, son?” Joshua’s hand instantly goes to the colt strapped to his hip. “Blood, on the ground, still wet.” Elijah holds his hand up above the roof of the car. His middle and index fingers are slick with blood. “Two options—well, three, really: they’ve been hunting animals, they’ve killed a human, or they’ve been attacked,” Joshua says slowly. No use being anything but calm. He learned that a long time ago. “We going in?” Elijah asks. “Nice and easy. Careful. We don’t know what we are walking into here,” Joshua replies. Elijah nods, and they start towards the cabin, the lights blazing out into the dark seeming off now that Joshua knows about the blood. They draw their weapons as they get close, and when Joshua pushes gently on the front door, it swings open. A quick look confirms that the lock is broken. So it’s option three: the attack has already come. Joshua heads in first. Elijah will have his back; he and Adelina trained their son well. The cabin’s a mess, and the smell of blood is thick in the air, the taint of iron filling the room. There’s blood on the floor, blood on the upturned furniture, and as he moves into the room, Joshua spots a severed leg under a table. These people weren’t just killed—they’ve been butchered. Joshua is moving deeper into the room when he hears a faint noise coming from another room. He signals to Elijah, and they move as quietly as possible to the next room. At first, Joshua can’t see anything, certainly not anyone capable of the damage he’s seen in the cabin. “Dad.” Elijah points to a bed in the corner of the room. Joshua moves closer and crouches down slightly, and there under the bed is a teen, younger than Elijah. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re not the people who did this. Can you come out?” Joshua tries to coax the boy out, but he doesn’t move. From where he’s standing, Joshua can see a flash of bright green eyes and a tangle of messy brown hair. Joshua suspects the boy might be a werewolf, and he has never really dealt with a werewolf child. The werewolves Joshua has encountered were adults—killers who deserved to die, who he killed. Joshua isn’t sure what’s going on here, but his gut is telling him that right now, this kid, he might have the potential to be a threat one day, but he isn’t yet. Right now, he’s just a frightened kid, and Joshua doesn’t know what to do. But before he can act, Elijah is kneeling down close to the bed. “He’s just a little lapsi,” Elijah says softly. Joshua isn’t as good with his wife’s native tongue, but he still recognizes the Finnish for kid. “Hey, I’m Eli. I’m here with my dad, Joshua. We won’t hurt you. Can you come out? It’s safe.” Elijah’s voice is gentle; he’s probably better with kids than Joshua could ever be. He’s been a good dad, he thinks, but he’s not been around many kids other than his own. Elijah words seem to do the trick, because the boy starts to edge out from under the bed. As soon as he’s out, he backs away to the bed and pulls his legs up to his chest, but not before Joshua sees the claw marks on his chest. Five long ragged slashes and blood stains in the t-shirt he’s wearing. Joshua looks him over as best he can from this distance, and he can see cuts and bruises. “Hi, what’s your name?” Elijah asks. He moves closer and reaches out slowly, trying to get the wolf pup to lower his legs. “Jayden.” It’s practically a whisper, but it’s loud enough to be heard. “How old are you, Jayden?” Joshua asks, because he still doesn’t know if this tribe has been killing. Jayden looks young enough that he shouldn’t have had his first kill, anyway. “Fourteen.” Jayden hardly looks at them as he answers, but it’s enough to confirm Joshua’s thoughts about the boy’s age. “Are you hurt? Can you tell us what happened here?” Elijah asks gently. “I…they came…other wolves. I was doing my homework. Is everyone dead? I think I passed out.” Jayden’s hand goes up to his forehead, and under the messy tangle of his chestnut hair, Joshua can make out a large bruise and a deep gash. “We haven’t found anyone else. But you didn’t say if they hurt you. Can I take a look?” Elijah asks. He’s as well trained in first aid as some medical students. They avoid hospitals when they can. “I tried to fight, but the alpha ordered me to hide after I got hurt. I…You don’t say no to the alpha,” Jayden explains, but he finally moves his legs enough for them to get a clear look at his chest. The cuts are deep enough that they might require stitches, and if he passed out, he probably has a concussion as well. Joshua can see a lot of smaller injuries that a werewolf like Jayden will be able to heal quite quickly. “We’ll have to do something about the cuts on your chest. Do you hurt anywhere else?” Elijah asks. “Does your pack have a doctor they use?” Werewolves avoid mainstream doctors as much as, if not more than, most hunters do. It would be hard to explain to an ER doctor how a fourteen-year-old got his chest clawed open. “We had a tribe member who was a doctor, but he was here, so I don’t know…” Jayden trails off. He looks like he’s in shock, maybe, his green eyes big and wide, but he’s not crying or hysterical. Joshua has been around kids who have lost someone before; he’s even been around kids who’ve lost people in traumatic ways, but not a werewolf child. “Are you hurt?” Elijah presses, probably wanting to change the subject. “My arm and ribs,” Jayden says quietly, and Elijah rolls up his shirtsleeve. Jayden, who seems like he’s in shock, allows Elijah to do what he likes. There’s an ugly black bump near his wrist, breaking the straight line of his arm. “Broken,” Joshua determines, even from where he’s standing, and Elijah nods before moving to lift up Jayden’s shirt. The whole left side of Jayden’s rib cage and stomach is stained purple and black. The bruising is bad enough that Joshua thinks they may have to worry about internal injuries and bleeding, as well as broken bones. Elijah stands up, leaving Jayden’s side. Joining Joshua a short distance away from Jayden, Elijah says in soft tones, “I can probably treat his injuries, but we need to get him out of here before the cops show.” “Why do I think you’re suggesting more than patching this kid up?” Joshua asks. “His family is dead. He has no one, and we can’t just leave a werewolf kid to be put in the system. He can’t be adopted by humans who don’t know who or what he is.” Elijah looks so earnest, his eyes big and pleading, and Joshua knows his son has a soft spot for kids. “You want us to take in a stray werewolf?” Joshua asks. “He hasn’t killed. This tribe was doing something special, something different. We should give him the chance to keep going with that. We leave him to fend for himself, he could end up being a killer like every other wolf we’ve met,” Elijah says, glancing back at the boy. “We kill his kind, Elijah. What makes you think we’re equipped to keep him on the right path?” Joshua has spent years killing werewolves, training his son to do the same. From the moment werewolves became more than a story to him, they became the enemy. “We can’t kill him. He’s innocent. He’s a kid. And we can’t leave him,” Elijah says firmly. Joshua looks at Jayden again. He’s young and lost, hurting from more than just his injuries. He’s lost his parents, maybe siblings, who knows? A whole tribe gone and he’s all that’s left. Joshua might be a hunter, a little hard hearted at times, but this kid, something about him just tugs at Joshua’s heartstrings. He isn’t a soulless man: he’s a father; he was a husband. And he could be a part of something here. “Okay, we try this out. We try taking him with us. But if he slows us down or gets in the way, we won’t be able to keep him. And if he shows any signs of being a danger to humans, we’ll have to take care of him.” Joshua doesn’t want to have to kill a child. The thought alone makes him feel a little ill, but he’ll do it if he has to. He wouldn’t want to put that kind of weight on Elijah. He wouldn’t ask his son to kill this boy, but he has to know that Joshua will if he has to. “Okay, that’s fair.” Elijah nods, and then he goes back over to Jayden, crouching down beside him. “Hey, Jayden, you’re going to come with us, okay? We’ll take you some place safe, and I’ll patch you up.” Elijah keeps his voice gentle, his hands more so as he touches Jayden’s arm with just his fingertips. “Come with you?” Jayden frowns. “You can’t stay here alone. People will come eventually, people who don’t understand what you are,” Elijah explains. “But you don’t know me. Why would you take me? Why are you even here?” Jayden scowls. It seems he’s shaken off some of his shock. “Don’t be afraid, but we’re hunters,” Elijah says, and Jayden’s dark green eyes widen. “We heard about your tribe, how they didn’t hunt people, and we wanted to see that for ourselves. We heard other packs were coming after yours. We came to warn your pack, but we were too late, and I’m sorry for that.” One child might not be able to change things, but it’s a start, a sign that things don’t have to be as they always were. Werewolves can change. “I-I don’t know if I should trust you,” Jayden says, showing himself to be a smart kid. Joshua wouldn’t trust them either if positions were reversed. “I promise, if you don’t give us a reason to, we won’t hurt you,” Elijah says calmly, not fazed by the young wolf’s lack of trust. “How would I give you a reason?” Jayden asks hesitantly. “If you killed someone, hunted a human, ate them,” Elijah explains. “Ate them?” Jayden pulls a face, so clearly disgusted that Joshua doesn’t believe it’s faked. “A lot of werewolves, they eat humans when they kill them. Didn’t your pack tell you about that?” Joshua asks. “They said we were different, that we didn’t have to be like other tribes, that we didn’t have to hurt people, but they never said other wolves ate people. Why would they do that?” Jayden looks like he really doesn’t understand. “Some people, and some werewolves, they kill because they can, no real reason,” Elijah replies. “So you’re going to come with us, okay?” Elijah asks. “How do I know this isn’t a trick? Hunters don’t help werewolves.” Jayden seems more wary of Joshua than Elijah, maybe because Joshua is bigger, more intimidating. “We help people who have been attacked by the supernatural. You’ve been attacked; your pack has been taken from you. You deserve our help.” Joshua finds he really means it. Maybe he’s making a huge mistake here. He could be putting himself and his son at risk, but deep down inside, he feels like he has to help Jayden. “You can trust us,” Elijah adds. “Okay.” Jayden nods. Elijah stands and takes Jayden’s hand, helping him get to his feet. He’s a little unsteady. He’s clearly taken a beating that would kill most humans. Hopefully, Elijah’s skills will be enough to patch Jayden up. They have to walk back through the cabin—past the c*****e, the blood, all that is left of the tribe that had lived here. Jayden is as pale as a white cotton sheet by the time that they get outside, and Elijah reaches out a hand to steady him. “It’s all right. It’ll be okay,” Elijah promises. “They’re dead…all of them. How is it ever going to be okay?” Jayden asks, and he looks at Elijah as if he might hold all the answers. Joshua wishes one of them did. Any words of comfort he can think of seem hollow, but still, he has hope that Elijah’s promise—that life will be okay for this boy—is not a false promise. Elijah puts his arm around Jayden’s shoulders, and a part of Joshua freezes at seeing his son so close to a werewolf. He knows too well the violence that lives beneath the surface of werewolves. “I lost my mom. Dad lost both of his parents. The hurt doesn’t just go away, but living with it isn’t impossible,” Elijah says gently, and Joshua doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being proud of his son. Jayden nods slowly and lets Elijah lead him to the car. Joshua follows behind them, hand on the butt of his gun in case anything is waiting in the dark for them. But it seems like the werewolves that attacked here are gone, and they make it to the car without any trouble. Joshua has a feeling as he gets behind the wheel of his car that something big is happening here. Taking in a child would change anyone’s life, but two hunters taking in a werewolf child? Yet keeping him alive seems important, like it could change everything.