Aiden Beaks's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

The wolf stayed. It sat beyond the pool, blue eyes fixed on the house. Aiden watched it through the cracked glass. His uncle was gone, but this thing had not moved. He could not tell if it guarded them or waited. He needed an answer before dark. Aiden pushed the red gate open a crack. He stepped out barefoot onto the cold stone. Ethan grabbed his arm. "Don't," he whispered. Aiden shook him off. He knelt slowly, one hand out, the way he had calmed the snake and the men who wanted to hurt him. If the wolf let him touch it, he would know. The wolf rose. It took one step toward him. Then its ears snapped back. It looked past Aiden, past the house, at the sky. Aiden turned. Above the black trees, a dark funnel churned down from the clouds. The wind hit him hard enough to sting. The wolf spun and ran into the woods. It was gone. Aiden had no answer at all. He scrambled back through the gate. The wind followed him in. The old hinges screamed, and the gates banged wide behind him. He hauled the front door shut and threw his weight against it. Wind slammed the wood again and again. Somewhere upstairs, a branch punched through a window. Glass rained down inside. "Ethan," Aiden called. "Help me hold—" He stopped. Ethan sat curled against the wall. He was shaking. His teeth chattered, but his face shone with sweat. Aiden pressed a hand to the boy's forehead. Hot. Burning. Ethan's torn clothes were soaked through from the rain outside the broken window. Water pooled under his shoes. Tears slid down Ethan's cheeks. He did not sob. He just let them fall, staring at the door as the storm beat against it. "It sounds like him," he said. "The banging. The man who kept me." Aiden left the door. He knelt in front of the smaller boy. He worked the wet shoes off Ethan's feet, then peeled off the soaked shirt and jeans. Ethan let him, too weak to help or fight. Aiden found a heavy cloth draped over a gothic chair and shook the dust from it. He wrapped it around Ethan's thin shoulders and pulled it tight. "It's not him," Aiden said. "It's just wind. I'm here." He sat close and held the blanket closed with both hands. The storm screamed outside, but Ethan's shaking slowed. His head dropped against Aiden's shoulder. The fever left his skin pink and slack. Aiden watched the shuddering door. The wolf was gone, and he still did not know its purpose. But that no longer mattered most. Ethan was sick and helpless, and the safe corner of this house was no longer safe. Aiden held the boy tighter. He needed medicine, dry warmth, and someone who could help. He would have to leave the drive's safety behind and find a person he could trust.