Where to Next?

March 16, 2003

My lovely Freya,

When you read this, it must mean my dear father has passed. You must have a lot of questions, and I'm sorry I'm not here to answer all of them for you. Just know as you read this, your father and I loved you with all our hearts, and we only did this to keep you safe.

If I know my dad, he probably told you stories about our family history, but to you, they must have seemed like bedtime stories and sometimes even scary stories. I wish I could say all those stories were made up, but sadly, they are all true. When you turned sixteen, your dreams might have felt more like visions. That's because they are. 

With each year your wolf is locked away, the visions will become stronger, and a powerful feeling will urge you to seek out others like us, but you must resist. It's too dangerous to be around other werewolves. Please believe me when I say it is for your own safety, that is why we sealed away your wolf until now.

Your grandfather should have given you this letter with a vile so you could make the choice for yourself on your 18th birthday.

If you want to keep your life as normal as possible, throw the vile away and even this letter and continue your life as usual. But if you're anything like your father, then the urge to seek others like us is too strong to stay hidden. I just hope there are still others like us left out there. 

If you choose to take the vile, you must find our kind before the bloodsuckers find you. This is very important as the bloodsucker's only goal is to drain you. 

I wish I could tell you this in person: My Lovely Freya, you are a werewolf.

Freya

November 18, 2023 

"What the fuck!" I yell and crumple the letter, throwing it against the wall. I turned 18 six years ago! I guess mother never figured grandpa would develop dementia and totally forgot to give me this letter. Thankfully, grandpa was in the right mind to give this to his lawyer before he completely lost his mind. I just wish he would have told the lawyer to give it to me when I turned eighteen and not after he passed away. 

Holding the vile in my hand and twirling it between my fingers. My dreams, or apparently visions, have been non-stop nightmares that even the pills weren't keeping at bay, at least now I know why. I open the vile and smell the liquid inside, making me wince from the strong, revolting scent, causing me to wonder if maybe it's expired. 

Closing the vile, I set it on my nightstand and pick up mom's letter from the floor to reread it again until I practically have it committed to memory. Standing from my bed, I move over the bookcase and go through the journals my grandpa would read to me as bedtime stories. 

I blow the dust off the journals, which forces me to sneeze ten times in a row. I had never opened them myself, and grandpa never actually let me look inside when he read them to me. As I open the journals, I finally understand why.

They were all handwritten, and from the looks of it, some of the handwriting belongs to my mother. Some of the pages had maps, names of people, and groups with names like Red Moon pack and Silver Springs pack, with the last entry listed as Moon Spirit Pack.

According to the handwriting, the Moon Spirit Pack is supposedly the last pack they had contact with. The pack leader is named Arthur Wright, but there's no exact location where to find them, just that they are located somewhere in the northern hemisphere. 

There's a knock on my door, followed by the sound of the key opening it.

"Hey babe, do you still want to hit up the new club opening?" Jackson asks, throwing the keys on the counter and kicking off his shoes.

"Not tonight. I finally met with the lawyer, and I think some things are going to have to change,"

"Shit. The lawyer, eh? Did the old man at least leave you cash?" Jackson goes to the fridge and pulls out beer, then makes his way to the couch, plopping down on the seat and putting his legs up on the coffee table. 

"No, something better," I say, smiling.

Being around Jackson made me feel almost normal. The nightmares would subside, and while the sex was good, it didn't make up for his arrogance or douche factor that I put up with just so I could sleep.

"Oh yeah, then we definitely should go out and celebrate tonight." He takes a swig of his drink, then stands so he can wrap me in his arms and kiss me with his alcohol-covered breath until I take a step back so he can't touch me.

"What's the matter with you?" Jackson scoffs, cocking his eyebrow at me.

"My grandpa left me my freedom. While it's been..." I search around our shared apartment, "Good. There's somewhere else I have to be, which means I have to go, and this time, when I leave, it will be just me." 

"You're not going anywhere. You can't leave just like that. We've been together for the last six years. Do you expect me to let you go without a fight?" Jackson grabs me by my arm, holding me so tightly I'm sure it will leave a bruise.

"Let me go," I demand, eyeing him down.

I had never been scared of him in the past. That is what made it so easy to move in with him after I put grandpa in a nursing home facility.  We've shared a nice life together, but even he didn't want anything serious, seeming how he never once proposed marriage or even given me a hint he wanted anything more than sharing an apartment. 

When he doesn't release my arm. I jerk away from him, pushing him back and causing him to fumble over his own feet and go through the glass coffee table. While Jackson is cleaning the glass off himself, I rush to pack a bag with basic necessities. Grabbing my camera bag, I shove all the journals into the bag, as well as the vile, and reach into my drawer, grabbing the cash I set aside. 

"You need me!" Jackson yells as I slam the door behind me.

"Not anymore," I say under my breath.

Going to the nearest diner, I order a coffee while pulling out the journals so I can go over each and every one of them to study and hopefully find a place to start looking for the packs. I spent the next few hours researching and was only able to find a starting location in Alaska. 

I go next door to the motel and get a room for tonight while I plan my next move. The run-down motel barely has any access to Wi-Fi, making it take nearly two hours just to book a one-way ticket to Alaska for tomorrow.

Unable to sleep, I grab the vile from the bag and stare at it, contemplating if I should drink it or not. When my alarm goes off, I realize night has become day. Packing up my stuff, I hail a cab and go to the airport. 

Living all the way in Flordia, it will take nearly twelve hours to get to Alaska. As the plane takes off and we fly over the northern states and snow begins to appear on the mountains, do I make the connection I have no clothes for cold weather.  

Managing to fall asleep, I slip into another nightmare,

A tall man with dark green eyes appears before me, holding out a hand for me to take. As I reach out to touch his hand, he disappears into the darkness and is replaced by Jackson, who is covered in blood. 

"What happened?" I call out to Jackson. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he smiles and wipes the blood off his chin.

"Jackson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but you know I couldn't have stayed," I plead to him, but he continues to smile and slowly walks away. 

"Jackson!" I cry out, but he disappears, leaving me standing all alone in the darkness.

"You should have stayed." Jackson's voice whispers. 

I'm awoken by the stewardess and see that everyone else has already exited the plane.

"Are you alright, miss?" The older woman asks, holding a tissue in her hand.

"Yes..." I wipe my face and feel tears on my cheeks, "Thank you," I take the tissue from her hand and get up from my seat. 

I grab my bag from the overhead compartment and sling it over my shoulders. The moment I step out of the airport, the cold breeze shocks me in place. Feeling the shiver down to my bones, I shake it off and look for a cab, getting inside the first one I manage to spot. 

"Where to?" The old man asks.