Page 30 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
“He’s back.”
Another hand shoots up and icy fingers wrap around my ankle, yanking me toward the grave. I dig my fingers into the dirt and cry for help.
I land on the floor with a thud and air rushes from my lungs, leaving me breathless for a few seconds. Heart beating against my chest, I sit and kick the covers off, staring at my ankle. I can’t see anything, but I can feel the cold grip of the hand on my leg, almost as though it actually happened and it wasn’t another nightmare of my twisted past.
The alarm clock on the bedside table reads four fifty in the morning. I sigh and run my hands over my face, pressing my palms into my eyes and trying to erase the memory. It’s no use.
There’s no getting rid of that night Mom revived Dad or any of the weeks that followed. No matter how much I wish I could burn the images from my brain, they’re stuck and won’t budge. Meditation never worked. The only thing that did was alcohol, but I know how dangerous that path is for me.
I can’t take the chance. Aunt Lou and I worked so hard to overcome my bad habit of washing away those memories with cheap vodka. It’s safe to say she got a heck of a lot more than she bargained for when she took me in.
My chest pangs at the thought of her, and I rub my palm over my heart. I miss her. Refusing to let the tears which are threatening to fall win, I toss the sheet and blanket on the bed and change into a running outfit, throwing on a jacket since it’ll be cold. I slip on socks and the new running shoes, grimacing when I realize they’re not broken in.
Oh well. No time like the present.
I don’t know if there are rules about when you can come and go, but I don’t give a damn. They don’t control me. Using the thought as motivation, I slip out of my room and down the stairs. There’s no one around. The front door opens without an alarm sounding, and no one comes running to stop me. I exhale and step into the night.
Summer mornings in Washington are always crisp, and seeing as it’s not even five in the morning, I’m happy I wore the jacket. I start off at a slow jog, running toward the gate. Once I reach it, I turn left and keep close to the wall. This property is huge, so I’ll turn around before I reach the forest and hopefully stay out of trouble.
Since I’m literally living with wolves, I doubt there’s anything out here I can’t handle. Unless someone tries to eat me.
The sun is rising so there’s enough light that I can see where I’m going and avoid any big holes. I pick up my pace, and soon enough, I’m breathing hard and all of my thoughts turn to keeping my legs moving. One foot after the other. Nothing matters except the steady beat of my feet hitting the ground. Unzipping the jacket, I slow and pull it off, tying it around my waist before continuing. I’m about halfway done with my usual three miles if my judgment is right. I start to turn but a large bird lands a few feet in front of me. I skid to a stop, slamming my hands against my thighs and gasping.
“What the hell?” I ask, knowing full well the bird can’t respond.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this school is trying to kill me. Between the incident at the gate and this damn bird, I’m heading toward an early heart attack.
The bird hops closer, chittering at me.
I stand and place my hands behind my head, taking a few slow breaths to calm down. My heart is fluttering, and I can’t focus until I get my nerves under control.
With another chitter, it flaps its very large wings and lands a few inches away from me. I take an instinctive step back, widening my eyes when I realize it’s the same type of bird that tried to attack Carter.
No, the same golden eagle.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, shaking my head. “And now I’m talking to eagles.”
Giving the creature a curious once over, I wave goodbye—yeah, I know—and turn to finish my run. I’ve taken one step when I hear a throat clear.
“Raven.”
I spin on my heel and stare at a real and verynakedAdler. Snapping my eyes shut, I wait a few seconds before opening them.
Nope, he’s still there.
He’s wearing his signature smile; a small tilting of his lips. “We need to talk.”
“What are you doing here? How are you…” I trail off.
Oh no.
Not him.
“You’re the eagle? You’re a shifter too?”
He nods, running his hand over his beard. “I’m a changeling.”
“A changeling.”
