Silver-White (The Great North Woods Pack #1) (7 page)

Matthew slapped Evie’s back, a little
harder than she appreciated. “We’ve missed you,” he said.

“We have,” Erica said, and she pushed
her sharp-cut black hair from the eyes as she smiled at Evie.
After laughing,
her face was less stern.

Matthew stepped away, headed for the
chicken platter at the large table’s center. The two girls stepped into the
great room and sat by the fire.

“Where do I start?” Evie said, trying to
find a way around the tension. “It’s good to see you.”

“Don’t bother,” Erica said. “What do you
want to know?”

“Okay,” Evie exhaled.

“Is it real? Yes, it’s all real.”

“What about you?”

“Am I a wolf?”

Evie nodded.

“Sure I am,” Erica said. But no sooner
had she said the words did her shoulders sink. “Well, not exactly. I know all
about it, and Grandpa’s been working with me a lot lately, teaching me how to
focus my mind. I’ve felt the shift start … I know I have. It’s good progress
for seventeen.”

“That’s good,” Evie said, though she
really knew very little.

“I’m not far behind you.”

Evie smiled as big as she could, until
she was right on the edge of appearing fake. “How long have you known about all
this?”

“A couple of years now. Part of our
homeschooling is preparation for the changes. Lots of warnings and lectures. Some
history too. It’s just, whatever. They all love to make such a big deal about
it. God, it’s been a nightmare hiding it from you, though. At least that’s
over.”

“Yeah,” Evie said. “Sorry. You’ll have
to fill me in when we have a chance to go off by ourselves.”

“I get sick of it sometimes,” Erica
said. “Really, I was happier when I found out about my new car.”

Evie’s face brightened. “That’s right;
I’ve only seen pictures. Is it here?”

Erica shook her head and frowned. “Mom
and Dad made me ride with them.”

“Well, you’ll have to take me for a spin
before I go home.”

Erica raised her eyebrows. “Home? Wow, they
really haven’t told you much, have they?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just started turning, Red. I doubt
you’ll be leaving here anytime soon. Grandpa won’t wanna let you out of his
sight for the next month or two.”

“That’s impossible,” Evie muttered.
Thoughts of home were suddenly rushing through her mind.

“If you’d come in August like we all
expected—”

“I’m sorry,” Evie said. “I wanted to be
here. I—”

“Whatever. If you had come, you’d know
everything by now. Grandpa was going to start preparing you this summer. Since
your mother’s dormant and your father wasn’t a changer, even Grandpa didn’t
know what to expect from you.” Erica raised her eyes to Evie’s hair. “Then this
happened.”

Evie dropped her eyes momentarily to the
hair resting on her shoulder.

“You’re a Snow, Evie, like Grandpa,” Erica
went on quietly. “You were one of his favorites to begin with; you’re an even
bigger deal now. Why do you think he flew his jet down to get you back here so
fast?”

“I didn’t know,” Evie said quietly. “I
didn’t know any of this.
Snow?
And since
when does Papa have a
jet?
Last I
knew he couldn’t handle his cell phone.”

Erica appeared on the verge of haughty laughter.
“You’re only here a few weeks out of the year, Red. Grandpa’s a lot more than
the quiet farmer who took us horseback riding as kids. He’s just very good at
hiding what he really is.”

Evie turned her head and looked at her
grandfather across the room. He was smiling at his place at the head of the
table, his family surrounding him like a patriarch.

“Yes,” Erica said with a heavy sigh,
drawing Evie’s attention back to her. “I admit it … I was jealous. You were the
talk of the pack last night, which I’m still not a part of. It’s all I’ve heard
about since I woke up this morning. When I saw the white hair, I felt a little
…
ugh
. Of what it represents, I mean.
It’s a big deal with the old folks. Don’t think for a second I actually want
it.”

Evie looked back to her cousin. On top
of the shock of her family story, she’d never imagined anything could come
between her and Erica. Granted, they weren’t around each other on a daily basis,
but rivalry had never been an issue between them; they were too close to
compete. “I’m sorry, Air,” she managed to say.

“Don’t be. You won the lottery. I’ll get
over it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m
not thrilled with the white hair.”

Erica smirked, appearing slightly less
irritated. “It’s only obvious from up-close,” she said, and followed her
statement by making the
da-da-da-da
theme from The Adamms Family.

Evie smiled. She didn’t know what else
to do.

More relatives soon poured into the Ludlow
house. In all there were seven sets of aunts and uncles, with at least one or
two cousins per household. The large great room overflowed.

The oldest cousins were in their
thirties now, with their own houses and small children. In addition to the
smallest second cousins, several of the youngest first cousins were of
elementary school age. On the other end of the spectrum, there were two great
aunts and uncles: Papa Joe’s sisters and their husbands. The only relatives not
present were the handful kept away on “business,” which struck Evie as strange
considering that the majority of the family worked for Papa Joe and his various
businesses in and about Ludlow.

Despite her mixed feelings, Evie greeted
everyone with smiles and hugs. She was accustomed to being the center of
attention each summer. To a degree she had always enjoyed that attention,
appreciating the fact that she was loved and missed. But the attention that
night was of a different kind. For her, the gathering lacked its typical home-coming
comfort.

The wolf topic was kept vague for the sake
of the smallest children present, but each older relative congratulated her
rather than simply greeting her. Evie smiled each time, expressing thanks
through somewhat gritted teeth. It was good to be there, good to see them all,
but it all felt strange—like she’d been awarded a trophy for a race she hadn’t
actually won.

Just before nine the last of the remaining
family said goodnight. Uncle Earl, Aunt Ruth and Matthew filed out; Erica
stopped in the doorway.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Evie said
hopefully.

“I’ll be working at The Kitchen all morning.
Maybe we can do something after.”

“Okay, I’ll swing by and we can make
plans.”

The two girls hugged. It wasn’t the
warmest hug in history, but it wasn’t entirely heartless either. Erica stepped
out and Evie closed the door. Her mother and grandparents were gathering by the
fire place in the great room. Evie joined them, curling up on the end of one of
the large leather couches.

“It’s good to see everyone,” her mother
said, “isn’t it?”

Evie nodded.

“Are things okay with you and Erica?”

“I’m not sure,” Evie admitted.

“Just be patient with her.”

“Erica’s a proud one,” Papa Joe said.
“Very eager to prove herself. Very impatient. She’ll view this as you beating
her to the punch.”

“And like Matthew said,” Janie added, “she’s
clearly a little jealous right now. It should smooth over in time.” She smiled.
“She’s not the first of us to be a little high-strung.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Evie said,
glancing around at all their faces.

“No you didn’t,” her Grammy Evelyn said
promptly. “But you’ve sure got it, haven’t you?”

Evie stared back at her a little less
than appreciatively.

“Don’t fret,” the old woman said softer.
“Growing pains never last. Erica loves you.”

“Yes,” Papa Joe agreed. “Rivalry is a
strong instinct, but the love of family, the devotion of the pack, is stronger
still. I’ve watched Erica closely; I don’t see lasting trouble with her.”

Evie said nothing else. Though she’d
slept most of the day, she felt drained now of what energy she’d recouped. For
a second the thought crossed her mind to mention Erica’s statement—about how
long her grandfather would expect her to remain in Ludlow. But staring into the
flames dancing within the deep-set fireplace, she felt herself fading, and the
thought never reached her lips. Lulled by the dry warmth, the soft play of
light and the low crackling of the flames, Evie was soon sleeping.

-5-

The great room was dark. Only coals
remained of the fire as Evie sat up on the couch, suddenly awake. She’d been
dreaming of a strange and beautiful music that was both exciting and haunting
at once. And as consciousness returned to her, she could still faintly hear
that music.

Throwing off the blanket that had been
laid over her, Evie stood and surveyed the dark house. As her eyes adjusted to
the low light, she knew for sure that she was awake, not dreaming; she pinched
her arm, wincing at the proof. But still she heard that strange music—the distant
songs of wolves in the night. Sometimes lone and other times in union, their
melodies quickened her pulse and made her insides dance like no instrument on
earth.

Their music grew louder—or closer. As
she stood listening, every bit of learned sense, every remembered fairy tale told
Evie to fear such sounds. They were the soundtracks of nightmares, and their
sources: the sharp-toothed, demon-eyed embodiments of evil. The child remaining
in her wished to run upstairs, jump into bed, and pull the covers up tight. The
weary part of her wished simply to go back to sleep. But also there was another
side of her emerging, a newer segment of her personality that she could only
comprehend in small portions, but a side that held great sway over the rest of
her.

Evie stood motionless in the dark, at
war with herself. This new side of her did not revile the unknown—the typical
human reaction. It longed for those cries from the dark, feeling drawn
irresistibly to them. Hearing beauty where others heard threat, it desired to
see the wonderful creatures that made them, beyond the fog of dreams, clearly,
with waking eyes. More so it desired to join them.

She looked to the shadowy wolf on the
mantel. Dreams and stories could take her only so far, she suddenly knew. If
this was not a joke, if this was truly her life, in that moment Evie wanted more
than anything to be near those others. To live in their world. To feel what
they felt. To share in their songs.

Stepping softly to the sliding glass
door, Evie peered out into the night. As she did, a long, lone howl sounded
from the darkness—then another, and then several together. Instead of turning
away as part of her felt compelled to do, she gripped the wooden handle firmly,
and slowly pushed the heavy glass door open.

The night was brighter outside than in,
alive with all the small sounds of the rural world that thrive in darkness.
On her
face the night was clear and fresh and inviting. At her back the house had the
feel of a tomb in comparison—dead air and hollow silence.

When it seemed the battle had been lost
by her rational side, that the last traces of her resistance had been
squelched, Evie stepped through the doorway and closed the door quietly behind
her. With only socks on her feet, the boards of the porch felt cold. In the
distance she could hear the tops of the trees moving in the small wind; all
around the crickets made their noise. And standing against the porch railing, she
waited, scanning the vast sky that was free of all light pollution, listening
for the next lines of those songs from the dark.

She was not kept waiting long. The next
howls came from the very fringes of the tree line. With no walls and only open pastures
separating her from the singers, Evie felt a cool twinge shoot through her. Not
a shiver of cold or of fear—a shiver of wonder. Her heart rate continued to
climb, and though the night around her was crisp, her insides grew warmer by
the second.

“I hear you,” she whispered after a
beautiful, solitary wail, which she somehow felt certain was a call laced with
questions. Her head was turned up to the sky, her ears pricked, waiting for the
next lines. But instead of the next line of a melancholy song, she heard next a
sound far too close for comfort. From directly behind her a sudden swishing
sound sent her spinning on her heels. As she whirled and faced the house, a bright
shape flashed into her line of sight. It was her grandfather, robed in white, suddenly
standing just this side of the glass door.

“It’s time,” he said in a low, serious
tone.

“N—now?” Evie stuttered. He had appeared
so quickly, and her nerves were so on edge, that he had startled her.

“Now,” he answered coolly. “Do you
understand how young birds learn to fly?”