A Howl In The Night by Lorelei Sutton (life books to read .txt) 📕

Great. Now I have no one to talk to.

I go into my room and lay down on the bed, sighing as I sink into the plump mattress. It is less than twenty four hours before I have to go into hiding, but even now it seems like an eternity. Night is crawling onto the horizon at a snail's speed, each second becoming an hour.

I want to lose the world, to leave it behind forever. I envy the time when my life was simple and I could sleep without the stress of waking up the next day a step closer to imprisonment by the wolf police.

Alert streaks through my mind when I recall that email from two days ago, one that called for my termination. I haven't even thought about what would happen if I was found guilty by the council. How would they exterminate me? It is almost impossible to kill a werewolf... oh yeah. I'm not a full werewolf. I'm not even a true Spier.

But how can I prove that I am a Spier? I can't even do the most basic of all skills; conjure a spirit spear. And what I can do is very much different from what a Spier does.

My eyesight becomes strained, and I find myself falling into a type of slumber that isn't fully sleep. My eyelids slip downward, and the world turns black before me.

***

There is a sudden squeak, and I am immediately awake. My eyes stay closed, but my heart beats ever faster.

I freeze completely, not moving a single muscle. The small, nearly inaudible noise resounds once more around the room, and I am sure that there is an intruder. My nose detects a slightly flowery aroma, one full of old and graying age. Alert surges through my blood, suspicion in my thoughts.

I slowly open my eyes, aware of the darkness surrounding me. It is darkest of nights, almost as black as when my eyes were closed. Without a sound, I slip onto the ground, my feet making no resounding impact with the floor.

I spot the outline of a small being standing at my closet door, shuffling through my clothes. I creep forward like a snake, slipping across the floor towards my target.

Suddenly, fright stiffens the creature, and it hurries to the door. I lunge for it with amazing speed, grabbing its ankle. Its flesh is soft like a human's skin, yet wrinkled and weary. "What are you?" I ask angrily, "Why are you in my room?!"

A small yelp escapes the strange creature as I grip it tightly, unrelenting. "Nothing, mistress! I am nothing." Its hands reach to cover its face, whimpers escaping it. Alarm evacuates me as I hear its voice, so soft and gentle that I cannot be afraid.

"Don't move, ok?" I ask, and let go of her ankle. I walk over to the light, and reach for the switch.

"NO!" The creature's shriek is plainly heard throughout the whole room. "Please, no bright light," it begs, "it will kill me." I pause with my hand on the wall, staring at it.

"Then how do I see you?" I question it softly.

"Turn on the table lamp," it suggests. I pad over to my dresser and twist the small knob. Soft yellow light floods the room, and I can finally see it clearly.

Large brown eyes are set in a wrinkled, sagging face, with thin lips and a pointy nose. Her smooth gray hair is in a bun, and her small, three-foot form is adorned with a simple dress and apron. She looks like a perfect, yet miniature grandmother.

"I am a phoenae," she says softly, as if the name itself is of the utmost importance. "I work here, for the masters."

Without a word, I open the door and beckon for her to follow. There are small shuffles of movement, and then we both reach a door. I raise my hand to knock, but then my hand freezes. I suddenly realize that I had subconsciously traveled to Xavier's room, and that I was not welcome to him.

Let's try the other door, I think, quickly shuffling a few more steps down the hall. Trying not to be loud, I slip into Jake's room.

The silver-haired man is sitting at his desk, tapping keys on his cutting-edge laptop. When I am barely an inch away from him he swivels in his chair, facing me stoically. "Why are you coming to talk to me at-" he checks his watch, "-eleven o'clock at night?"

"I would like to know what this is, exactly," I gesture to the slender creature in confusion, and Jake's eyes widen. "It was in my closet three minutes ago."

"I guess you were bound to notice eventually, with your newfound abilities," he shrugs slightly, leaning back in his seat. "She is a phoenae, a phoenix-like creature that ages every day, and is reborn every night at 12:00. She and a few others clean the mansion for us."

"They aren't slaves, are they?" I turn to look at the pitiful, wrinkly creature with a frown.

The phoenae's bright brown eyes flash. "No, mistress," she says hastily, "My most gracious masters are helping me and allowing me to live in luxury!"

Jake smiles handsomely. "It is very difficult for a phoenae to get a job and survive, especially since they are very short, have an aversion to very bright light, and go through the aging process at a terrific speed every day. Also, they have an extreme passion for steak, which we have an abundance of."

"And I get to have it every day!" she squeals. I stare as the wrinkles on her face multiply at an incredible rate.

"So, in exchange for protection, steak, and a place to live, they work for us," Jake concludes, turning back in his chair to look at his computer screen once more. The taps begin again, and I turn to walk back into the hallway.

My eyes grow soft as I look at the strange creature with the gentle voice. "What’s your name?" I ask, my words as smooth as honey flowing through my lips. Even if she is a big ball of wrinkles, I feel the urge to be nice to the only girl I have seen in the mansion.

"Danae," she says shyly, smiling up at me. Her teeth are shiny white and perfectly aligned, which doesn't seem to fit her current appearance. However, something about her unnatural grin is enchanting, making me feel more comfortable. I smile back.

"Danae, you don't have to clean for me," I tell her firmly, "I can do that myself, unlike these incompetent werewolves." I return to my room, flouncing back on the bed. Danae hurries in also, protesting furiously.

"But Mistress shouldn't have to do such a thing... cleaning is only for the servants!"

"You are not my servant..." I look at her plainly, "I do not have servants." I do not think I can bear having a servant, when I was practically a servant myself to Ms. Penn not too long ago. Also, I hate it when I leave my shirt on my chair to wear the next day only to find that it is missing when morning comes.

"But-"

"Leave," my voice now oozes with command, "and don't come back here to clean again." She shuffles outside, closing the door behind her. My head flops onto the pillow, swirling with new ideas and thoughts. First werewolves, then Shifters, and now phoenaes?! How many other creatures are out there that I don't know about? Obviously Xavier was lying to me when he said there were no other supernatural species out there.

My eyes will not close this time.

The night edges away as I shift and sit up in my bed, thinking about everything.

***

Hours later, my door swings open and Ray walks in, smiling grimly. "Good morning..." he surveys my cross-legged form, "or not. Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"I just couldn't sleep last night," I slide out of the bed, looking into the mirror. I pull my incredibly long ruby red hair into a ponytail, and turn to face him. "I just found out who was stealing my socks every day," I say dryly.

He laughs, a genuine grin dancing across his features. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you about that."

"Well, anyways..." I stare at him, "what do you want?"

"For you to get ready," he says, "we will leave in a couple of hours." He holds out a small drawstring bag, printed with the word Moonlight.

"Where are we going?" I inquire wonderingly. I stare into the small pouch, wishing for it to be one of those magical ones that fit a whole closet into a tiny space. When I was officially an orphan, everything I owned could fit into that one bag. Now I have so much... stuff I can call my own. Stuff I don't want to lose for fear of having nothing again.

"Okay," I stare at it resignedly, and then back up at Ray. "How long will this last?"

His face turns stone still, resolute. "We will probably, if we avoid capture at all, be in hiding for a very long time."

It is then that I realize just how serious our situation is.

"I'll get ready," I take a step back and sit back down on the plump mattress, dazed. Ray seems to sense my hidden dismissal and slips outside into the hallway.

I lay the pouch beside me and stare around the room, looking at my various possessions. What should I bring and what should I leave behind?

After a second of pondering, I grab my emerald ring from the bedside table. It isn’t needed to keep me safe because I have really bright green eyes now, but the fact that... he gave it to me makes it truly worth a spot in my bag. I would wear it, but it seems to symbolize the good times we have together, and those are the times I don't want to remember right now.

"Mistress," a small, gentle voice whispers from the hallway. My head shoots up as I see an unfamiliar phoenae peering into my room. Her ebony hair is long and wavy, surrounding a heart shaped face. With big, brown eyes and ruby red lips, she seems to be very young.

"Who are you?" I ask sharply.

"Danae, Mistress," she replies respectfully, "may I come in?" I stare at her beautiful features with suspicion. She looks nothing like the grandmother I saw last night.

"I... look different in the mornings because I am a phoenae," she cautiously continues when she notices my confusion. I suddenly realize that this was what Jake was talking about when he said phoenaes go through the aging process very quickly. It is hard to believe that this short, yet amazingly slender woman will morph into an old, wrinkled one by night's end.

"Come in," I wave my hand slowly, and she comes by my side. She looks at the bag, and a frown appears on her face.

"Are you leaving?" she asks softly. I shake my head.

"No, we are just going to play a little hide and seek," I sigh, casting her a glance to see if she bought it. Danae dubiously returns the look.

"Let me help you pack," she takes the pouch and holds it tight in her little fingers. The phoenae slips to the closet, viewing it appraisingly.

"What makes you think you can help me pack?" I say in a rather brusque manner. She ignores me, looking through my clothes. After about ten seconds, Danae pulls out a shirt and a pair of jeans, along with a moderately thick jacket. I gasp when I realize that those three articles of clothing were my favorites out of them all.

"Wear this," she hands me the jacket, "in case you get cold."

"How did you know?" I ask wonderingly, fingering the soft fabric. She smiles, the same glitteringly white teeth shining at me.

"The person that does the laundry knows a lot about