#sofprompt

She’s nineteen and innocent, carefree, happy when her world is torn upside down, her pack viciously torn apart by an undead vampire. She’s never known her blood family, only the pack of her God, Apollo. She’s been raised by them, a human among wolves, learning habits and quirks from those around her. She never feels like an outsider among them, not even on nights of the full moon when they shift into full wolves and roam the island they call home. The day her world turns upside down seems like any other, until she enters the pack house to find Effy, dear sweet little Effy, being drained of all her blood by a vampire. She screams and screams as she does everything she can to fight the vampire off. To this day she isn’t sure how she survived, perhaps it was luck, or perhaps she had actually wounded him when she stabbed him with a silver knife. All she remembers after that is sobbing as she clung to her pseudo-family’s bodies, and a dream of her God choosing her for a new destiny.

 She’s twenty-one and scared, still learning, still hopeful when she meets another Heroine for the first time. She’s older and friendly, takes Tori under her wing and teaches what she knows. She warns her of the dangers and reminds her of the perks of their life. They work well together, saving innocent lives and killing creatures that got out of control. They never stay in one place too long after they finish a hunt. Tori never asks her mentor how she came into the life and never offers her own back story. They prefer it that way; the less they know about one another then the less they will be attached or so they believe.  Tori realizes how wrong they were when she has to put a bullet in her mentor’s head after she's turned and loses control and kills innocents. From that day on Tori swears she won’t let anyone else into her heart; that is the real danger of the life of a Hero or Heroine: love.

 She’s twenty-three and closed off from everything when her obsession with her pack’s killer nearly gets her killed. She hasn’t let anyone into her heart since her mentor, she’s shown up in towns, saved innocents, and blown back out before any attachments can be made. She’s back on Lundy Island for the first time in four years just to grab some things she’d left behind before hitting the road again when she realizes that her pack’s killer is just across the water in Devon. She forgets everything her mentor taught her about planning and gathering information and goes after him with a mind full of blind rage and vengeance. She corners him in an alley draining another young girl of her blood, she hisses in rage because of how much the girl looks like Effy would look if she’d lived. He laughs when she attacks, tosses her around easily, and beats her mercilessly with his fists and taunts of her pack’s death. She screams her throat raw as she continues to get up and fight him, sobbing brokenly as he leaves her lying in a pool of her own blood, saying she’s too pathetic to even kill. She drags herself back to her hotel room to shower and bandage herself up, throwing her clothes away and drinking herself to sleep she vows to avenge her pack.

 She’s twenty-five and flirting more and more with death every day when she finally gets her vengeance. Every creature she’s hunted, every innocent she’s saved hasn’t kept her from wanting to end her own miserable existence. The only thing that keeps her from ending it all is the thought of avenging her loved ones. She’s in Hong Kong when she finally upholds her vow; the grin on her face as she finishes off her pack’s killer is equal parts vicious pleasure and anguished rage. Instead of cornering him like she had done before he corners her. She’s in a bar scouting out the shapeshifter she’s hunting, when suddenly he’s there in front of her. With a taunting smirk he orders them a drink and toasts to those who’d fallen in the endless war of the supernatural. She grits her teeth and downs her drink in one go. She is well aware of the eyes on them, they are both aesthetically pleasing to look at, it’s only natural that they would draw attention. She doesn’t put up a fight as he leads her outside the club, though her guard never drops. She’s ready for the slam against the building and throws a vicious right hook at his jaw. The fight is gritty and not over as quickly as she would like. Finally though she manages to bury her silver stake into his chest, narrowly missing his heart, he laughs at her, blood spilling from his lips as he points out she missed. She grins a vicious, yet anguished, grin and pulls out wire for a garrote. He struggles as she wraps it around his neck, but he stands no chance with the silver stake still in him. She plants one heeled boot on his back and presses down as she pulls back on the garrote. She sends a prayer up to Apollo, thanking him for the strength for her mission, praying that her pack has peace now, as she burns the vampire’s corpse. She kills the shapeshifter the next day and leaves town. She doesn’t know what to do with herself now, though she still can’t seem to bring herself to end her life though her mission is done.

Tears burned in her eyes and her throat felt thick as her eyes adjusted to the minimal light provided by moonlight filtering through the small window. She looked back at her father, one pleading look, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze fell on her worst nightmare. Nikita hated small spaces. She hated that trunk. The way he helped her inside, the way she felt like she couldn’t move, felt like she couldn’t breathe. The sound of the chains heavy over the top were the worst. All she could feel was pain and her body was fighting her, she wanted to tear everything apart. Nikita always screamed. She wanted out. Her throat turned raw as she cried and fought, but he never let her out. There was pain and there was fear and her heart beat wildly, then there was nothing.

Morning light didn’t reach her. The next day, Nikita woke to total darkness and she was sore. The worst part was that she was alone. Time held no meaning in a situation like this. All she could do was wait. Wait and wait and hope that it went by fast, but it always felt like an eternity before her father returned and brought her out. Anyone that looked into Nikita’s life would think she had it all. Sure, she had no mother, but she had a large house, she had nice clothes, she was popular, and her father had money. Nothing was wrong with her on the outside, but the truth was that she was terrified of what she was. Whatever she was. She didn’t even know. She just knew that whatever it was, whatever was inside of her, it had the potential to kill and that was something that could never happen. As unconventional as it was, Nikita liked the trunk in a way. It kept her safe. It kept her from killing anyone or hurting herself.

The slow slide of the chains against the trunk’s top alerted her from the haze her mind fell into. Nikita wanted to call out, but her throat was still too raw, too sore. There was still little light once the trunk had been lifted. She should have been excited when she was given freedom, instead the teen recoiled. She hissed. Her eyes fell upon an unfamiliar man standing before her looking ready to kill.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, voice hard.

“I could ask you the same thing, but I doubt you’d answer. Get up. Get whatever you think you need. We’re leaving.”

Brown eyes simply stared at a pair that seemed to match her own. She wanted to be angry or frightened, but after the initial shock wore off, there was this pull of her body to his. She felt like she knew him. Stiffly, the girl rose from the trunk, ignoring the offered hand and stepped out carefully. Her limbs were still in pain and her body felt nothing at all like her own. Not once did she take her eyes off of him though. There were questions that she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t form the words. It’d taken too much effort just to rasp out the few words she had all ready spoken, but the brunette wasn’t worried. It was always like this, but in a few hours she would be completely healed. Things always happened like that.

Following the man up the stairs, Nikita was hit with a wave of stench. It was thick and pungent and made her want to vomit. The force of it physically brought the girl down to her knees. She heaved, but he seemed unaffected. What was that?

“Death.” He stated calmly. It was if he were reading from a textbook. All around her it smelt of decay and festering, but there was something familiar laced in with it. Something she knew. Her eyes widened and Nikita fought that sick feeling to scramble to her feet, running through the house as it grew stronger and stronger until she came across a body.

Her lip trembled, her body shook, and denial set in. “No.” She whispered. “No. No. You didn’t. What is this. Am I dreaming? I have to be dreaming. This isn’t – you wouldn’t… What did you do?” She turned to the man who was right behind her though she hadn’t heard him approach. “What did you do?” Her voice turned hard, just as her father’s had the night before. “What did you do to him?” She screamed, but it was obvious. Her father’s body lay on the floor, blood pooled around and it was the only thing that marred the pristine sitting room. Four clean gashes lay in his chest, the skin split and sagging to the side and blood had stopped flowing, bone and muscle tissue and shredded limbs all visible. His eyes were still open. The shock evident within them, but all signs of life were gone. “Daddy. Dad. Please, no. No.” Falling to her knees, Nikita crawled to his side her hands hovering over him as if unable to touch and all she wanted to do was break down and cry.

“Don’t touch him. You don’t know what that man did to you. Why would you weep for him? He kept you locked up. He never told you what you were. He did you from us. Do not cry for that traitor!” Despite herself, Nikita listened. What was going on? Why couldn’t she just get away from him? Something he said hit her though.

Dry eyes fell on the man as she turned slowly. “What do you know about him? Or me? Or anything? Who are you!”

“Just get your things, Heather. We are going home.”

“Heather? My name is Nikita. And you’re psychotic. This is my home. That was my father. You killed my dad. Why the hell would I go anywhere with you? I’ll scream. I’ll call the cops.” She wouldn’t though. She didn’t yet have the energy for that and she was still recovering from whatever had happened last night.

“Your name is Heather Mathilde Antoinette Chevalier. You are a werewolf. A Royal Werewolf. You are also my sister and I am taking you home. That man was not your father, he was a traitor. He was your kidnapper. I didn’t want to have to do this, but as your Alpha, I am commanding you to do as I say and get your things and come with me. Maintenant.”

Nikita stared at the man as she tried to process everything he said, but she honestly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Nothing made sense and he had to be crazy, but it was as if her body was not her own and the teen found herself doing exactly as he said.

Riding into town, the brunette took in the surroundings. The town seemed quiet, still. She hated it all ready. There was an ominous feeling that hung in the air and it reminded her of that stench she’d smelt coming up from the basement. Beacon Hills smelt like death. “I have a bad feeling about this place.” She whispered. The man – her brother – Antoine (what should she call him?) leant over and placed a comforting hand on her knee. The girl jerked in reaction and with good reason. She still didn’t trust him. He seemed to take the message and removed his hand as quickly as he’d placed it upon her. “Don’t touch me.” She hissed. “Don’t ever fucking touch me.”

The rest of the ride was silent and every few minutes Nikita would shift restlessly. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like it at all. Nothing would have pleased the teen more than to turn around and go home to the people she knew and loved. This place was so unfamiliar and werewolves existed. Werewolves? How could she be a werewolf? Those things only existed in movies and books, right? But it made too much sense; the animal inside of her, the dangerous thing that crept beneath her skin. Something about the gravity of hearing she wasn’t human, though, did something to the teen. Leaning against the window, Nikita let her thoughts take over as she drowned out everything else hoping that wrapping herself up in something she knew would make everything less scary.

“Antoine, you fool.” Came a cold voice when Nikita stepped out from the car. There was a woman she looked like him in ways, but then again he looked like the teen in ways and that meant the two females looked alike and it was all too much.

Antoine raised his hands, though Nikita wasn’t quite sure if it was a sign to stop or a sign that he was surrendering. “We’re all together, Jacqueline. That is what is important. Pack sticks together.”

“Look around you, brother, this isn’t a pack. She doesn’t want this. I don’t want this. You took us from our lives.”

“I brought us together!”

“You were selfish! Even Adelina has her doubts. What sort of pack is this?” Green eyes were ablaze with something that Nikita could identify with: the looked of a trapped wild animal that wanted to be set free. “You did this for yourself and I will not pat you on the back as if you did a good job.”

Idly, as she watched the two fight, she noted that their accents were heavy and from the name he’d told her, the girl decided they were French. But she wasn’t French. She’d never been to France, didn’t know anything about the language, and she hated baguettes. How the fuck was she supposedly from a family from a land she didn’t know anything about or want anything to do with? When she turned her attention back to her supposed siblings, it was at the sound of the front door slamming. Concerned deep brown eyes looked to Antoine as he stood shaking his head and rubbing his temples, letting out a low sigh. Nikita remained silent, but their eyes met for a moment, her filled with distrust and anger and hurt, before she walked into the house in the same fashion as her sister.

Outside, she could hear Antoine cursing, the sound of metal crunching, and more swears.

Balmy summer air made her skin turned sweat slicked and there was a sticky feeling that made the teen crave an air conditioned room. Her eyes were dull as she looked at the girl around her age, Adelina, who was evidently a witch. A powerful witch by what she had been told in her impromptu Royal Werewolf 101 with Antoine after he’d told her everything on their trip to Beacon Hills, California. He’d told her about how Solomon Bennett was not her father. In fact that wasn’t his name. He was born Rafael Dupont and he was the emissary to the Chevaliar family before he turned on them. Their mother, who she had always thought died giving birth to her, had lived for many years looking for Nikita, but never found her. Antoine stumbled across them because her father had fucked up, but even in hearing the whole story and learning what she was, there was no comfort to be found. Nikita loved her dad. He’d locked her in a trunk once a month for seventeen years, but he never did anything that a father wouldn’t do for their child. He loved her. He gave her everything that he could and she would never be able to hate him as Antoine seemed to.

“You should give them a chance. They’ve been looking for you for years. Even if Jacqueline won’t admit it, she’s always wanted to meet you.”

Nikita glared up at the girl, her elegant face and her wise words delivered in perfect English if not for the accent. “I’m regretting helping you with your English. Vous commencez á faire trop de sens.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Adelina’s lips. “And your French is starting too sound too good as well.”

Comfortable silence passed between the two before the witch spoke once more. “You’ve been here for weeks, but you have barely spoken to Antoine or Jacqueline and you only ever speak to me at school. How are you, uhm, fairing?”

She sighed and Nikita hated the way she sounded so much like Antoine when she did it. Random things like that kept popping up. The way she frowned was the exact same way Jacqueline did. She liked to eat the oddest combinations of foods that just so happened to be Antoine’s favourites as well. They all had a weird habit of rising before the alarm they set and walking straight to the kitchen for a glass of water and this actually ended up with them all dazedly clambering around one another and causing a slight collision each and every morning. Those little similarities as well as the physical ones of their looks kept combining and compiling and Nikita hated to admit that they were becoming comfortable with one another. She was slowly starting to let them in.

“I’m fine.” She answered honestly. “It’s not so bad. I’m still getting used to… all of this. It’s weird. I never really thought that I’d be a… werewolf. A Royal one at that. There’s so many rules and it’s a lot at once and Antoine just keeps asking too much of me and Jacqueline isn’t asking anything of me at all. I don’t know how to handle it.”

Adelina made a noise of agreement before replying. “You’ll figure it out. You’re like them, even if you don’t think so. Are you scared?”

Nikita knew what she meant. Was she scared with the impending full moon. The girl had never had to deal with this. She had no idea what it felt like to shift, she had no anchor, and once it came, Nikita knew she was going to be wholly unprepared even with her brother and her sister and Adelina there.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I’m fucking terrified.”

Unbearable.

“Focus, Heather. Focus.” Jacqueline’s voice sliced through the pain, but the teen couldn’t get a grip on it.

Shattering.

“Pick something. Pick anything. Just find something that anchors you!” Antoine was no help either.

“We’re here, Nikita, we’ve got you.” Adelina. Nikita recognised Adelina, but it wasn’t enough.

Her body was rearranging. No one ever said it would hurt this much. Was it always like this or was it because it was the first shift she remembered? The full shift of a Royal werewolf where her bones were rearranging and her teeth were falling out, forced out by long, fanged ones. Her skin was sprouting fur and the sickening crack and shift was driving her mad. Nikita couldn’t listen to what they were saying. She had no anchor. She had no control. The shift kept on. Her nails were disposed of much as her teeth were: pushed out by claws and she screamed as her eyes were forced out as well. She squeezed her eyelids shut and then everything stopped. Opening her eyes, her vision was different. Slowly, tenderly, Nikita moved to a mirror and stared at her reflection. In the mirror was a large black wolf. The girl was in there somewhere, the human part, but something in her mind just snapped at the sight. The wolf could hear the cries of it’s pack, but ignored them and kept on. Busting through the door, running down the street, going and going till soft forest floor was beneath her paws, Nikita just kept going. She needed to run away. She needed time alone. The animal inside gave her no other choice.

For a moment, everything was calm. She was in her natural state, she wasn’t a danger, and things felt right for the first time in seventeen years. That peacefulness only lasted for so long. A twig snapped behind her and the wolf’s ears perked. Something primal, feral, lethal rose inside of her and though Nikita knew it was wrong she couldn’t control it. She couldn’t control anything in her life it seemed.

A faint orange aura surrounded the boy that the wolf turned on. Vaguely familiar, he was placed as someone in one of her classes that she had never spoken to. He was forgettable. He was in her way.

Stop, she thought. Don’t do this. This is why he locked you up.

The boy scrambled back, tripped over a fallen branch, tried to push himself away, but the wolf didn’t care. The wolf and the girl were separate and the girl had no control.

She could hear him scream, but she didn’t care. All the female wolf wanted was to bite and attack because she was scared and everything was a threat. Her teeth dug into soft flesh and listened to his cries, but he was the enemy. She tore at his soft tissue and his organs and soon the boy went limp and that threat was gone. Finally she had peace. Finally she could just be.

In the distance, a loud roar had the wolf cowering soon after her small victory. She whimpered, her head coming to rest on the mutilated body as she lay down.

“I’m a monster. I killed him. It’s all my fault.”

“Sh, no. No, it’s not your fault. You lost control. It happens.”

“I killed him! I-I’m… I should be locked up. This is why he kept me locked up. You have to do it next time. You have to lock me up.”

Nikita hated the water that sprayed on her body and how Jacqueline held her as she cried. It was all too cinematic, them clothed soaked from the shower head as her sister had used the water to help snap her out of her state once they’d finally forced her to shift back with Antoine’s Alpha roar. Having to feel like this, finally remembering everything, Nikita missed that trunk that had become her worst enemy and her best friend over the last seventeen years.

“Jacqueline, I don’t want to hurt anyone. Please don’t make me do it again. I can’t do it again.”

“We won’t let it happen. We’ll work harder. Listen to me, Heather. Look at me.” The elder Chevalier held her sister’s face in her hands, forcing the girl to make eye contact. “That was not you. It happens to the best of wolves and it will never stop happening. You cannot hate yourself for an accident.”

“I don’t want it,” the teen sobbed, closing her eyes because it hurt too much to look at someone else and face reality. “I don’t want this. I want to go home. I want to be human. I can’t do this again!”

Human. She’d never been human, but Nikita craved it. She wanted the normalcy; she wanted to be far from this life. She wanted to just be a regular girl, not the one who had blackouts once a month because a witch that had kidnapped her took her memories. Not be the girl who sprouted a fur coat and killed her classmates. Not be a wolf with piercing blue eyes, the sign that she had killed an innocent.

Jacqueline kept trying for all she was worth. “You are home. We are your family. We are pack. You and Antoine and Adelina and I, we are something stronger than just family. We won’t let you fall, but you have to trust us. You have to let us in as well, Heather. If I can accept that, then so can you because we seem to have acquired the same stubbornness from our mother.”

Shaky, unsteady breaths kept spilling from her lips along with broken sobs and Nikita kept shaking her head and feeling guilty. She felt so fucking guilty. “I want it back.  I want my old life back. Please don’t make me do this again. Please.”

“You can do it. It will be easier. You’ll find an anchor; we’ll make sure of it. Antoine wouldn’t let that happen again. And neither would I.”

Jacqueline was helping, she really was, but Nikita wanted something above all. She kept wishing over and over in her mind just for one thing.