“Where the hell are they?” After a long night of serving drinks to an increasingly rowdy weekend crowd, all Mira wants is to go home and change out of her work clothes and feed Baloo. Untying the apron she’d left on without thought, she throws it with little regard through the driver’s side window, and glares at the five stacks of pizza-filled boxes untouched in the back seat. This isn’t even her shift, but their newest bartender Ivy had pleaded to get the afternoon off, and Mira had owed the redhead a shift since February. Also, as someone who would do anything dangerous on a simple dare, this seemed an easy task with five hundred dollars attached. Now, however, with the chilling sound of an owl in the distance and the daylight mostly faded? Perhaps she’d underthought not asking someone to come along.
Another ten minutes past, a phone call to the bar to confirm the customer didn’t call about their order, and a text to the group chat to confirm this isn’t some sort of prank, Mira kicks off from where she leans on the car and sets out into the night towards what appears to be little more than an over-sized shack in the distance. She’s halfway there, stomping through the dead grass when a large branch snaps behind her.
“Hello?” The lack of response leaves her with a long sigh. The door to the building is wide open, so whoever’s lurking in the darkness is clearly this rich asshole of a customer. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay? The Lyrids are out, and I have far better plans for the evening than delivering your pizzas.” No response. “Are you fucking serious?” She storms over to the shed door, hand sliding into her pocket for her phone. Her next insult about not being afraid to kick their ass catches in her throat when she reaches the door. It is not the hanging by one hinge that leaves her pulse increasing tenfold, but the large claw marks on the interior of the door.
A life long abandoned and no longer missed, the Diaz family were renowned for their hunting of supernatural creatures. She’d spent a year at the Academy, too many years before that being forced to memorize the vulnerabilities of vampires and werewolves, being berated if she didn’t awake at sunrise each weekend to practice combat with a stake, and yet... What good is the knowledge of identifying a creature and its weaknesses when she is alone and unarmed? She still drank vervain-infused drinks once a week, but it wasn’t like she kept silver bullets in her car to not be able to explain to her friends.
Leaves crunching echo in the distance, too close. This time, a chill runs down her spine as Mira tries to text “help, wolf”.
It’s wishful thinking, as it would take far too long for any of them to get to her, and she’s unsure any of her friends are proficient at battling a werewolf, and there is no more warning than a low growl before the werewolf in question charges. She barely manages to duck out of the way of its lunge, and as it barrels into the shed, she slams the nearly broken door on it and takes off sprinting.
It’s too dark now to see the direction of the car, and this time when Mira tries with shaking hands to call her friends, it isn’t to ask for help, but to say... what? Too many words bubble up as the wolf breaks out of the shed. Would she tell Elya that her softness was like coming up for air in a life where she was only allowed sharp, jagged edges? That a simple plant was the first time in over a decade Mira wished she could belong somewhere long enough to learn to what it was like to have a home? This time when it charges at her again, she’s armed with one of the fallen branches, swinging with all her weight. The phone is already abandoned as the wolf stumbles from the hit, and Mira only glimpses the screen brightening with a returning call. The creature’s angry now, ripping the branch from her grip with his maws and snapping it in half. Fear racks her brain, pollutes her common sense, and she dives for the phone, as if it is a lifeline disguised.
Would she thank Mylene for being the sibling she’d never had? For finding her that day in an abandoned street and deciding they’d fight the world together? Or for giving Mira a chance at a normal life?
It’s this thought, and the shocked acknowledgement that her scraped palms are healing before her eyes, that reminds Mira of her flames. When the wolf swipes at her, she manages enough concentration to catch her hand aflame, burning its right paw before crackling out. Its anger is unforgiving, slamming her hard with its body into a tree just out of reach of the phone, and Mira’s scream as claws dig into her skin echoes across the forest. Had she traded away her powers to live a human life, only for this sudden end?
Her skin is struggling to repair itself when gnashing teeth catch on the necklace she hasn’t removed since her birthday, and as she watches with disoriented vision as the wolf shakes its head, sending the miniature Nike flying out of her line of sight, she tries to stand with renewed effort, tries to kick at its canines.
If she survived for even one more moment with Lucian, what would she confess? That since she’d almost lost him six months ago, she’d had the unfortunate realization that he’d gone from worst annoyance to someone she’d be devastated to lose? That waking up in his arms a month ago was like being home at last, and that she’d had to flee from her own plan’s horrific backfiring? That chasing him would be dangerous and foolish and most likely unwanted, but in another life where she could afford to be selfish, she’d choose him without hesitation?
When claws shred through leather and pierce her heart, an action too final for her body to recover from, her last thoughts are still frozen in the comfort of a pair of familiar blue eyes.
