Chapter Two

The sun sets. Captivated, I watch its buttery haze disappear behind the clouds in pretty shades of blue, purple, and splotches of gold. It reminds me of the sunsets back home at Falls Quaker and briefly takes my mind off being stuck in Rome, Georgia. I glance at Al’s bed and wonder what the next few weeks hold for me. Al went for a run two hours ago. She hasn't come back yet.

I dial Israfil’s number, and it rings at least five times before his voice booms on the line, asking me to leave a message he will return. I hang up and dial his number again. This time, an annoying woman’s robotic voice tells me my call is forwarded to voicemail.

No, he did not! Did he just ignore my call? Fuming, I try again. The annoying robotic lady, who I now want to strangle as much as I want to strangle Israfil, repeats the same infuriating message. I’ll try him again later.

If boredom could kill, I’d be digging a hole in the backyard where they could dump my body. I only brought a handful of clothes, so unpacking what perfectly fits in my bag seems like a futile idea. I've already spoken to Anna, my best friend from back home, and managed to avoid talking to her mother. Anna’s mother brings a whole new meaning to the words “rival enemies.” Unfortunately, because Anna's mom is a siren, and both Israfil and I are werecreatures, she by default considers us enemies. I mean, I get that sirens and werecreatures have been fighting and killing each other since before the universe was dust, but I've known Anna and Israfil since we were kids. I would never harm either of them. Granted, I've had times when I wanted to strangle them for being annoying, but I doubt their lineage had anything to do with those urges. Truthfully, I would kill anyone who tried to hurt them.

Despite her repetition of the words “I'm fine,” Anna had sounded morbidly down, which made me feel guilty for not being back home in California with her. I should be there for her. The dork causing her depression, Israfil, isn't answering my calls. The two of them are more than just friends—they're my family. They are also in love and refuse to admit the fact. Before I left, Anna finally made a move and asked Israfil out, only to have it blocked by her mother, who forced Israfil and his dad out of town before he and Anna could have their first date. Sirens have a lot of say in our world. They and copper are the two things that can easily kill a werecreature, so we avoid both whenever we can.

Anna's mother hates Israfil because he's a werepanther. The sad part is the poor schmuck has no clue he’s a werepanther. Israfil’s father has kept him ignorant about his lineage. The man figured out a way to keep Israfil’s inner animal muted, meaning Israfil has never experienced turning into a werepanther or hearing the thoughts of the panther he shares a body with. I wish someone had done that for me. Being a werecreature means always having to control violent animalistic urges and ignoring the inner voice of an opinionated beast you share thoughts and a body with.

I think of Israfil and his lack of knowledge about the world he plays such a major part in and wonder why his father’s keeping their supernatural background from him. The world of werecreatures is a fairly close-knit realm. Although they may not all like each other, just about everyone knows everyone when it comes to the wereroyals. And for Israfil’s father, a king, to not only separate himself from our world, but to separate his son from their heritage is beyond me.

My mother’s told me Israfil’s dad withdrew from the supernatural world when Israfil’s mother passed. But she wouldn’t tell me any more details on the matter or what exactly killed Israfil’s mother. Because copper and sirens are the two things most lethal to a werecreature, I’m willing to bet she was murdered and did not die during childbirth, even though it’s the story Israfil’s father told human officials. Sadly, it’s also what he told his son. I don’t understand why his father won’t tell him the truth, and I can’t fathom how he could allow his son, the prince of the werepanthers, to be so oblivious to his heritage. Israfil’s knowledge about our world is nonexistent and consistent with the humans’ fictitious versions they write and make films about.

Most humans’ movie versions of werecreatures aren’t too farfetched from the truth. Despite their belief that werecreatures need full moons to change, or that we have to be temperamental, we can actually shift at will. Though it’s likely to see a werecreature whose emotions are heightened to lose control and transform.

What most human fictional stories tend to miss is our origin. We are derived from powerful beasts known as the forbidden animals. The forbidden animals resemble the average lion, panther, wolf, and hyena, among other members of the animal species. But these creatures are at least three times their size, move in flashing speed, and are immeasurably more powerful than the average wildlife in the animal kingdom.

These forbidden animals were created by a shaman. Although already powerful when they first encountered the shaman, the forbiddens were hunted by humans who sought to kill for sport. After losing countless family members to the attacks made unfair by their opponent’s weapons, they agreed to work for the shaman in exchange for power and immortality that would shield and allow them to protect their families.

The shaman turned these already resilient animals into indomitable predators by casting a spell that transferred part of his power into them. In exchange for their power, the forbidden animals agreed to obliterate the shaman’s enemies, eliminating the risks that came with going into battle himself. After decades of conquering the shaman’s rivals, the forbidden animals felt they fulfilled their end of the bargain just as the shaman fulfilled his, and wanted to return to their sanctuary and live in peace.

Drunk with power, the greedy shaman refused to part with his army of immortal annihilators. He threatened to kill every last one of them if they didn’t serve him. Mutiny was inevitable as the forbiddens fought against the man who sought to enslave them, and with great effort they killed him. After their victory, the forbiddens lived in peace in an ethereal sanctuary that a local witch—a former enemy of the shaman they had spared—created for them.

My ancestors, the first werecreatures, didn’t come about until more greedy humans, who craved and seized power whenever they could, discovered them. These humans injected themselves into the supernatural world, demanded favors, and threatened to expose any supernatural who declined to give in to their demands. Not willing to risk the safety of their families, most mythical creatures except the forbidden animals gave in to the demands of these men—a group derived from a race that destroys and enslaves what they fear or can’t control.

Claiming that the forbidden animals posed a threat of the unknown to their wellbeing, the humans attacked them with intentions to cage and use them. They failed. When the battles against the forbidden animals took place, countless humans’ lives perished. The cluster of humans that didn’t perish during combat got infected by the bites of the forbidden animals. The bite gave the humans the ability to transform into the specific animal that bit them. It also made us what we are today—werecreatures.

After being shunned by the forbidden animals who considered these mutated humans abominations, the werecreatures moved on. In time, they learned to adjust to their new abilities. Because they could turn humans into werecreatures using the curse of the bite, most of them turned their families into werecreatures. Others separated themselves from the humans they once were altogether and formed secluded societies within their ranks.

Kings were appointed, and new civilizations were built. With time, they discovered they were immortals but not indestructible. There were many supernatural entities who could cause them harm; however, the ones most lethal were and still are the sirens. Something in their biological makeup gives them the power to wield a force that can incinerate us at will. Many werecreatures who have faced sirens compared the pain of their injuries to having your innards set on fire—and others compared it to being drowned with acid.

Someone's loud whistling snaps me out of my thoughts. I wheel around and catch Al grinning like a Cheshire cat. She has on a black mini skirt and a tiny tank top with enough glitter to outshine a room full of disco balls. “We're going out. You and me.” She points a finger at me. “We're headed to a nightclub, so I need you to change into something that doesn't scream ‘I am a nun on my day off.’”

I want to point out nuns don't take days off from their vows of virtue or attend nightclubs, but another glance at her disco-ball shirt tells me it's a moot point. “Give me five minutes.” The second she leaves me alone, I grab my duffel bag and empty its contents onto the bed. I end up putting on a red halter-top, jean shorts, and a pair of black knee-high boots I got for my sixteenth birthday last year. I run a brush through my long, wavy black hair and apply the shimmery pink lip gloss my sister, Marja, insisted I should always wear. Thirty minutes later, I somehow end up following Al, who yells, “See ya, suckers,” to Freya and Sebastian as we exit the house.