Chapter 22: Visions. Visions
Opening the cabinet as I found myself behind the stool, I saw him pulling out a book. A black leather book, its edges gilded and a silver crescent moon shimmer on its front cover.
“I read it here before about a case. Your case, Cassidy, is rare. Extremely rare.”
“Yes, it is. I’m obviously aware of that.” Zarion drew a breath and Elliot’s eyes and mine met, a silent nod reflected that he’s very much aware that Zarion was aware of that too. Elliot flipped the pages of the book, written in a language I did not bother to understand. Not even a single try.
“What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material.
I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.
“So?” The impatient Zarion challenged the healer.
“In order to reject an Alpha, she must be in a werewolf form,” Elliot explains. Zarion glances at me, but I brushed him off as I pretend to be busy studying the bizarre graphics on the page. “The process of turning into a werewolf is dangerous and a fifty-fifty percent chance of success—survival,” Elliot continued. “She must be bitten by an Alpha during a specific full moon, which will happen in the next few months. So if we do this—really do this rejecting shenanigan—we still have an ample amount of time to prepare.”
“Who’s Alpha we got?” Zarion asked.
Elliot looked at me, “Do we have someone else?” He doesn’t like where the conversation is going. Him washing his mouth with the use of his hands is the sign of that. He turned his back to both of us as he rested down his hands on the living room table.
“Only a former or current Alpha could do that.”
“Good,” the seriousness in Zarion’s eyes twinkled. “As long as it’s not Alpha Brandon, I’m good.”
“Who’s going to do it?” I still asked Elliot, unaware and unsure if I am taking the right hint of this conversation.
“Who do you think you have, little girl?” A smirk lit up his seductive face, and I froze to where my feet were plastered. He walks towards the kitchen and explores Elliot’s contrivances and instruments. “You…” I realized, and the bastard of an Alpha nodded as he folded his arms across his chest, leaning his back on the table.
“I suggest you still stay in this place for the meantime.”
“And what about you?” He looks away from me and sighed, “I’m still going to find the witch—”
“You can’t do that!” I put both of my hands on my waist. “There’s no such thing as witches.”
“I can do that, Cassidy. I’m still going to protect you, whatever it costs.” He turned to face me and I frowned since I don't know why the hell he became protective so quickly. “And another thing, witches are real. Our existence—werewolves’ existence—proves that.”
“I know, but—” Think, Cassidy. Think! He should stop finding the witch and his mate. What should I reason out for him?
“Just focus on her, Zarion.” Elliot interrupted and he flashes a grin at me when Zarion wasn’t looking. “No matter what happens, protect this human at all costs.”
“Why?” Zarion asked and both of them glanced at each other with knowing looks. “Listen, I saw something…something—” Elliot shook his head as he paused. “What did you see?” I cut him off, my eyes squinting at his face as I took a lounge on the couch.
Elliot’s lips quivered and his fingers started fidgeting. “I saw you dead and cold, body parts ripped and chopped off.”
“Who did that to her?” Though his voice seemed serene, I could feel Zarion’s rage when his bass voice reverberated in the corners.
“Rogues.” Elliot only said that once. If I’m not mistaken from my grandmother’s childhood stories, rogues are werewolves that have left their pack to live on their own in the wilderness. Rogues typically flee because they dislike their Alpha or pack. They declare that they do not wish to be ruled by anyone else since they listen to no one—never listened to someone. They are in charge of their own lives. When rogues meet up with other rogues, they either kill them or stay together and establish a ‘flock’ of other rogues. But if you use the term pack, they will certainly gut you alive since it is an insult to them.
Furthermore, rogues traveling in groups are uncommon. They frequently band together for a short period of time to rebel against and attack a specific pack. Alphas, in particular, are despised by pack members. If they catch a rogue, the policy is usually to send him straight to the pack prison, if not to kill him on the scene.
”There's a war coming, Alpha Zarion,” Elliot declared. Anguish possessed me with that statement. The latter turned to me and bile threatened to spill from my mouth. “And I saw it clearly in my vision that you’re going to die during the process of rejecting your mate.”
