The Wandering Wind: Chapter One

Content Warnings:

The Wandering Wind is an urban fantasy story that includes content some might find uncomfortable. I will list as many warnings to ensure you are aware of what you're getting into. This story contains mentions of death, mentions of childhood abuse, violence such as Hunting vampires and the like, blood and gore, and family violence.

Summary:

Jo clenched the steering wheel. Her fingers were beginning to cramp after countless hours of being on the road. They hadn’t stopped to eat or drink since they left that rundown motel in Arkansas. It wasn’t anything new for her. Jo had spent a good portion of her childhood working for the sake of her family’s reputation. The Chasseur name carried with it a heavyweight, the weight of centuries and the weight of ancestors both famous and infamous.

Although to be fair, only a specific kind of person would have recognized it. The supernatural kind of person in the supernatural kind of community. It had been instilled in her since childhood that being a Chasseur was the most important thing she could ever exist for. And Beth had been the one to instill it.

Jo leaned forward and stretched her lower back. The dashboard clock explained the heaviness tugging at her eyelids. She fluttered her eyes as she gazed out past the headlights into the darkness that had settled hours ago. She reached over and rolled the windows down, letting the cold night air gush into the car.

The frigid wind must have hit Beth hard as she shifted awake in the passenger’s seat. She reached up behind her and grabbed hold of the headrest, stretching her muscles with a groan. “We nearly there?”

"Thirty minutes out." Jo sat up a bit straighter, hoping that the change of positions would relieve some of the pain nibbling her upper thighs.

Beth leaned forward to get a glimpse of the large interstate signs that passed by. “Pull over. I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

"I'm fine. We’re almost there." She pressed her back against the hard seat, stretching her fingers until they cracked before curling them around the wheel again.

"You've got school in the morning." Beth didn't have to take a look at Jo to know that she was annoyed by the statement. "So, unless you want to fall asleep during class--"

Jo let out a harsh and bitter laugh. "Seriously? It's three in the morning and you're lecturing me about school? When the hell did you start caring about my grades?"

"I don't." Beth pressed her elbow into the center console, her attention fully on her niece. “But I need you at your best tomorrow.”

“For school?”

Beth shot back bitterly, “This is a Werewolf town. That means Werewolf kids.”

“You want me keeping an eye on them, is that it?”

“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly. "I'm setting up a meeting with their leader in the morning. I want you to find out who their kids are just in case we need leverage."

Jo strangled the wheel, pressing all of her annoyance and anger into it. Beth was ten years older than her. Sisters by name only. They shared the same parents. The same blood ran through each other's veins. But Beth had been a mentor and a trainer before she was ever an aunt. Jo had a long list of broken bones, bruises, scars, and more especially, nightmares thanks to her “mentor”. She never questioned it, never questioned why Beth had thrown her into the training pit at a young age. She knew exactly why. She didn’t want to end up like their parents… When their parents died, she had told Jo to dry her eyes and swallow her fear. Chasseur Hunters never cried.

The cold air was beginning to gnaw at her skin. It wasn’t quite winter yet but the icicles clinging to the wall of Ozark cliffs along the roadside proved otherwise. It was almost eerie the way the cliffs towered on either side of the road. Dangerous.

She focused her attention on rolling up the window, choosing to calm her emotions before a fight broke out. Jo took the first exit towards Sugar Tree. She had no plans to respond to Beth's request. They both knew well enough that Jo would agree to it. They were Chasseur Hunters, after all. They did what they had to in order to protect the civilians who lived so ignorantly unaware.

"Whatever happens, do not engage in a fight with anyone." She threw herself back against the seat, groaning with annoyance and exhaustion. Despite how draining the trip was to them, Beth wouldn't have shown it and she expected the same from her younger sibling. "I don't need them to have an excuse to not work with us."

"They called us in," she grumbled under her breath, still laced with the remnants of her irritation. "Why would they suddenly not want to work with us?"

Beth was silent for a moment and Jo felt the intense stare burn into her skin. "You don't think that maybe, just maybe, they might actually want to kill us?”

Jo pressed her lips thin, their edges taut as she desperately tried to focus on the road ahead. "Why are you so determined to believe everyone is trying to kill us?"

She shot up in her seat, brows raised high on her forehead.

"Nevermind! Forget it." Jo threw a hand in the air, a poor attempt at a surrender. "Forget I said anything. Can we just not fight? I don't have the energy right now."

Her mouth opened but whatever heated argument she had was swallowed painfully. Beth turned her eyes out onto the large town of Sugar Tree. It was probably the largest Werewolf town they’d been to before.

Jo felt the stress claw and knot across the top of her skull and deep into her eyes. She was worn out from an array of emotions that assaulted her the entire journey. She never questioned Beth. She didn't intend to question her. But to say that she wasn't emotionally tired... It would be a lie. She'd give anything for a vacation. She'd give anything to be blissfully ignorant of the monsters that haunted the shadows.

Then again, ignorance got people killed. She didn’t want to end up like her parents, she didn’t want to be murdered in the middle of the night. It was their death that brought Beth home. She showed up just in time for the funeral and asked rather coldly if Jo “wanted to end up like them”.

It had been nearly seven years since that night. Jo was older now. It would be her seventeenth birthday in two weeks if the Chasseurs bothered to celebrate such things. Thanksgiving was the day before and all they had eaten was a meager meal in an old diner tucked away on some winding back road.

"There." Beth tossed a hand towards the window. Trees were overgrown along the roadside and even without the overhanging branches the street sign was just barely viewable on the corner.

Her body sighed with relief. She slowed the vehicle down and made the turn, easing along the rocky dirt road in search of the small house they had rented out. She repeated the numbers in her head, 247, and eagerly looked for it in the passing mailboxes. Jo almost passed it, slamming the brakes and swerving the car down another gravel road.

"Grab a set of clothes and leave the rest. I'll unpack in the morning." Beth was already snapping up her things from the backseat.

Jo stopped the car a short distance from the house just in time because her aunt was already throwing open the door. "Beth." She didn't bother looking at her. She was too busy locking her eyes onto the yellow reflective irises that glinted on the porch. Five people, perhaps six. Werewolves, Jo corrected mentally, admiring the way their eyes mirrored the speckled night sky. It was an admiration she would never admit to Beth aloud.

Jo stepped out of the vehicle and stood behind the driver's door, head held high as the Wolves stepped off of the porch towards them. She noted where each of them stood and considered the weapons that pressed against her skin. She had a dagger on each leg, a gun holstered at her side, and her sword was stowed in the back seat. She considered Beth's words earlier. This seemed like an ambush but perhaps, if they were lucky, it was a greeting instead.

"Elizabeth Chasseur?" A female stepped ahead of the group, unwavering in leaving the safety of her pack. "I wanted to introduce myself and my family."

Beth peered over at Jo, almost casting a look of cynical disregard. She rolled her attention back to the pack. "We're here to do a job—"

"And we will stay out of your way." She glanced over her shoulder, motioning one of them forward.

He was carrying an object of some kind, silver and glimmering beneath the light of the crescent moon. Jo’s hand twitched towards her gun. She couldn't quite discern if they were carrying a blade or something far more dangerous.

"But, surely, we can still be kindred neighbors." The Wolf brought the item closer and it was then Jo could make out what looked like an aluminum pan with a plastic lid.

Beth remained steady even as the pan was exchanged. She peered down her nose through the plastic lid. "You brought us cinnamon rolls?"

"That is what neighbors do." She motioned a hand out over the pack. "My children wanted to make a show of peace. My youngest son is in high school." She finally directed her attention towards Jo, resting her eyes as if she had been waiting all night to look upon her.

Jo felt a shiver run down her spine but she suppressed it. She clenched her fingers and let her nails bite sharply into her palm. Jo barely managed a glance at her children but she tried to take in some of their features. They were a mismatched group of differing ages and races. Not her biological children, she assumed.

"He would be more than happy to—"

"My niece can handle herself," Beth spat, ending whatever suggestion the Wolf mother could provide. "The trip here was long. We'd like to get some sleep."

The Wolf kept her eyes on Jo. Her smile was still strong, perhaps even widening. "He leaves for school around seven-thirty. He can show you where everything is." The group moved towards the wintry woodland and she too slowly began to join them, her steps precise and elegant.

Beth slammed the car door shut and marched up the path to the house. She said nothing. They may have arrived as a show of peace but their presence would not be seen as such by Beth. She was a Hunter first and foremost. The enemy knowing where she slept was blasphemous in her eyes.

Jo grabbed her bags from the back seat and headed inside. The house was warm. One of the Wolves must have turned the heat on and she swore she could smell the smoky aroma of a candle having been blown out.

She dropped the bags recklessly at the foot of the stairs and crept through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Unbelievable," Beth muttered, dropping the aluminum pan onto the counter. "They turned the heat on for us. Stocked the fridge."

"And baked us cinnamon rolls." Jo popped off the plastic lid and smelled the slight tang of the cream cheese icing tangled together with the cinnamon spice.

Beth spun sharply on her heel, brows pinched together. "You're not going to eat that. It could be poisoned for all we know."

"Well, if I die..." Jo threw open a few drawers in search of a fork. She lifted it into view mostly for the sake of annoying her aunt. "You'll have a good reason to kill them, won't you?"

"Moron." Beth pressed the heel of her hands into her eyes. "I'm going to sleep. And you should too."

"Yeah, yeah." Her enthusiastic mischief faded away. "School."

Beth pointed her fingers at Jo, suddenly remembering the conversation from outside. "You are not going with that... mutt. I don't trust him. I don't trust any of them. I'll drive you. We'll find another solution later."

She dug out a huge scoop of one of the rolls, not bothering to find a plate. With her eyes locked on Beth, she took the excessive bite into her mouth, a silent challenge to authority. Beth was aware of the challenge but she kept the rest of her comments quiet. She left her young niece to enjoy the sweetness of the sugary dessert.

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Author's Note:

Thank you for reading the first chapter of my upcoming web novel. If you're interested in reading my published work check out a book promo giveaway I'm involved in on BookFunnel. You have a chance to get not only a copy of my book but also books by other authors. So if you're a fan of romance and fantasy, take a look!