Chosen by night, p.1
Chosen By Night, page 1
CHOSEN
BY
NIGHT
A Teen Shifter Novella
C.C. Bolick
Chosen by Night
Copyright © 2022 by C.C. Bolick
Dirt Road Books
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 978-1-946-08931-1
Cover Design by Fiona Jayde Media
Edited by N.N. Light Editing Services
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Books by C.C. Bolick:
Leftover Girl Series:
Leftover Girl
Secrets Return
Prison of Lies
Illusion of Truth
Fate of War
The Agency Series:
Run Don’t Think
Love Don’t Wait
Fight Don’t Fear
Heart of a Traitor
The Fear Chronicles:
Fear Justice
Fear Power
Fear Darkness
Fear Tomorrow
The Mission: A Bulwark Anthology Book 10
Legacy of Power: Season 1
Legacy of Power: Season 2
Redemption’s Mark
Chosen by Night
Chosen by Night
She doesn’t fear the night, only what she’ll become.
Marilyn never imagined shifters existed or the thrill of becoming a crow as black as the night. After an old curse awakens, this sixteen-year-old must solve a mystery as other teens begin to shift and terrified parents scramble for answers.
Two hundred years ago, this curse started with the moon disappearing and ended with the destruction of their town. The night has chosen Marilyn, and only her closest friends can help. Can they stop the curse, or will she lose everything she cares about?
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
For Mrs. N,
Thanks for all your help with this story
Chapter One
August 1992
Everything changed the day the wolf cried.
Some people might roll their eyes and suggest I imagined the whole event or ask what a sixteen-year-old defines as everything. Others might question if a wolf really can cry or how I’d gotten close enough to see. Anyone else would probably laugh and ask, ‘how many wolves do you know?’
Well, I didn’t know any wolves until that evening, especially not on a first name basis. My gift had always allowed me to sense what animals were feeling, making me an empath of sorts. Not for people, I struggled every day of my life trying to figure them out. But animals… they were my comfort zone.
The jeep’s tires spun, and we slid to the left as Dad took the curve faster than he should have in the rain. Not that he had a choice. Cherrytown, Virginia had turned into a swamp over the last week.
“Hold on,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
We hit a bump which made me yelp and grip the seat tighter. At least he’d put on the canvas top and we weren’t getting wet, though this military-style jeep was built in the fifties and had its weak points. Another hour like this and water would fill the floorboards. Before us, the dirt road angled up and rose higher than I could see as Dad stomped the accelerator. From the stories I’d heard, the Hightowers lived about as far up the mountain as anyone. Like others in our small town, they wanted privacy.
Jeremy Hightower was in my eleventh-grade math class, though we hadn’t said more than a few words to each other. Mostly, he kept away from people and so did I, which gave us little chance to socialize. My dad, however, socialized with everyone in town. As a preacher, he felt it his privilege in life to serve.
Like today. Jeremy’s mother died four days ago, and he and his dad now dealt with the aftermath. My mom made a casserole for them and baked a ham. The smell of crystallized brown sugar drifted from the hot pan in the seat behind us. She didn’t work a regular job like some mothers from school. Mom volunteered and did anything to help people from town alongside Dad. She considered our tiny Virginia town a beacon, always calling her back to the mountains where she grew up.
A break in the trees formed up ahead and a two-story cabin came into view with a set of triangle windows outlining the second floor and standing proud against a mountain. Opposing the windows should have been a beautiful sunset, although the rain had stopped. Light on the horizon glowed along a row of low-hanging clouds and made the sky look as if it was on fire. Hopefully, this meant the rain was over.
Dad parked near the covered wooden porch and I climbed out of the jeep, sinking into mud halfway up my boots. It was one of the few times I was happy to be wearing a dress that stopped just above my knees. Dresses had never been practical while living in the woods, except for days like today when the air felt too humid to breathe or mud was knee-high.
I lifted the casserole and Dad grabbed the ham. He headed for the cabin’s door, sloshing along as Mr. Hightower stepped out on the porch. He hurried down to meet me and took the casserole. I followed the men inside as they exchanged greetings.
The interior of the cabin was all wood, a dark cherry color that felt warm and inviting. A narrow flight of stairs led to the second floor, which only covered half of the house and ended with a railing above us. The rest of the house was an open space that rose to the ceiling, which made a steep peak above the windows.
I started to kick off my boots, but Mr. Hightower shook his head. “We don’t have carpet for a reason. Don’t worry about the mud.”
Mr. Hightower was taller than Dad, enough to make me grin, though I tried to hide the humor as Dad gave our condolences and motioned to me. I whispered, ‘I’m sorry’, which didn’t seem near enough, but Mr. Hightower’s soft words were filled with honest appreciation. This was where words usually failed me. Death was a serious event and Dad had taught me to show respect and understanding during this time. Not pity, for Dad insisted people could smell pity a mile away. Dying wasn’t about feeling sorry for anyone; it should be a celebration of life and all the hearts a person has touched.
Soft white light shined from over the bar, and I studied the shadows of Mr. Hightower’s face. His chestnut brown hair was thick with unruly curls that fell past his shoulders. The jagged ends merged with a beard of a similar shade that was trimmed and shaped to meet at a point halfway down his chest.
Mr. Hightower cleared his throat. “I heard you’re in Jeremy’s class.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
His sad eyes drifted back to Dad as if too tired to push for more information. The men talked about the service and I walked to a fireplace facing a stone chimney that rose to the ceiling between the two massive glass triangles. Other windows surrounded the first floor, making me jealous of all the natural light they must have on a sunny day. Our trailer only had half this many windows and no spectacular mountain views.
On a shelf over the fireplace were pictures of Jeremy and his parents. The latest with Jeremy was a photo taken along the edge of a creek. He gripped a fishing rod and his amber eyes held a glow as he laughed, a light almost foreign for the boy who hardly said a word at school. His brown hair, thick and curly, fell to his shoulders. The beard he wore was shorter than his father’s but made them look as if they belonged together.
Those pictures with his mom were my favorite. I’d talked with her often at the hardware store the Hightowers ran downtown. Dad was always trying to fix a leaky pipe or mower engine by himself; Mom loved to tease him about being cheap. Mrs. Hightower and her husband called Dad their favorite customer, she with her warm smile and he with a straightforward ‘it should work’ or ‘no, that’s a bad idea.’ Neither lost patience with any customer, especially someone who needed as much help as Dad.
I put the picture I held on the shelf and walked back to the kitchen. “Is Jeremy here?”
Mr. Hightower shook his head. “He walked into the woods, just before the rain stopped.”
The pain in his voice shook me. I couldn’t imagine what losing my mom would feel like, though Jeremy knew well. Some part of me wanted to reach out to him. “Can I walk outside and check on him?”
Dad glanced at a window that showed trees behind the house. “Don’t go far, Marilyn. You don’t know what’s out there and it’s getting close to dark.”
“Your daughter is safe in our woods.” Mr. Hightower turned to Dad. “Nothing will hurt her.”
Still, Dad gave me a sharp glance. “I’ll be careful,” I said. “I’ll stay at the edge of the woods.”
With his nod, I walked outside and around back of the house. The peaceful woods called to me, with wide tree trunks rising high above my head; despite Dad’s worries, I’d never feared animals within any part of the forest that stretched up the mountainside. The clouds along the horizon had receded farther and shades of orange and pink glowed on the trees. If this was one of Dad’s usual visits, by the time we left here, the night would be clear and filled with stars.
A motion in the brush caught my attention. White fur from a rabbit zipped by my feet. Immediately, I felt the animal’s fear as it rushed away, but also what felt like relief. Maybe after days of rain were over, life could go back
I found a path that led up the mountain, through tall fir trees with overgrown branches of dark green, and dense underbrush. Briers tugged at the hem of my dress. Thankfully, the leather boots protected me up to my knees. A breeze rustled my hair. The air, smelling of mud and plump blackberries twined within the briers, was turning cool for the first time that day.
A redbird took flight between branches above my head, its call breaking the calm. I tried to get a sense of how the bird felt, but the animal propelled itself higher at breakneck speed.
I’d known about this connection with animals since wandering into the woods at six. One of the neighbor’s dogs found me before darkness hit. I was terrified, but I knew the huge yellow dog that nuzzled my face wanted to comfort and help me. Running my fingers through her fuzzy hair calmed my fears, and I followed her back to the safety of a yard where people called my name. My parents’ relief was clear on their faces, but I never told them about my connection to the dog.
I never told anyone about my gift.
Like that day ten years ago, light was fading fast from the sky, though I felt none of the terror. Another sound caught my attention as a shadow moved beyond several thick bushes. I picked up my pace, approaching as the animal stopped and turned to face me. Frozen, I could do nothing but stare at the magnificent wolf with his head bent down.
A wolf. I’d lived in Cherrytown all my life and never seen a wolf, never heard of one in the woods this close to a person’s house. But it was beautiful—he was beautiful. Unsure of how I knew, I felt this had to be a male wolf.
Thick brown hair surrounded the masculine face and trailed down his back in waves of chestnut brown. The black nose lowered almost to the ground. Anyone else might have thought this wolf was preparing to attack his prey, but I knew the pain he felt didn’t indicate any danger to me. I felt a cloud of sorrow surround me as the air thickened between us.
His eyes lifted to meet mine, soft, amber-colored eyes that seemed to glow. A single tear slid from one of the unblinking eyes and trailed down his face. The truth hit me with a rush of emotions, and I put a hand over my mouth. This wasn’t a wolf that found its way down the mountain. This wolf had a name and a reason to cry.
“Jeremy?” I whispered.
His shock registered along with the trove of feelings coursing through me so vividly, I couldn’t turn them off. I didn’t know how to feel my own fear—at least I should be feeling fear while standing face-to-face with an animal who could rip flesh from my bones.
This wolf was really a sixteen-year-old boy, crying because he lost his mom.
Feeling his emotions brought my sympathy bubbling to the surface, so strong I bit my lip to keep from shouting. I’d never felt anything this intense with any animal. I reached forward, wanting to touch his fur as I had with the dog years ago.
The wolf retreated and bared sharp white teeth in the last of the light. His snarl became a low, rumbling growl that belted from deep within. He turned and raced for a cliff at the edge of the mountain, high above a valley. I followed, unable to let him out of my sight. I’d heard stories over the years about shape shifters, even read books on the subject. Nothing prepared me for facing this truth.
A boy who could become a wolf.
If I was anyone else, I wouldn’t have believed. A person turning into an animal? Sounded like something out of a book. But I could feel him. I knew this was Jeremy.
I panted as more briers caught my dress, and I stumbled over a log. My ankle turned in my boot and I cried out and landed on my knees. Mud soaked into my dress as I sat back on the ground. Had I broken my foot, or at the least sprained my ankle?
Hot tears ran down my face as I tugged at the zipper on the side of my boot. I’d wanted these knee-high boots for months before convincing Mom they were worth the fifty dollars Dad refused to spend. Now they felt like plastic glued to my skin.
Water seeped through my dress and into my underwear. More tears stained my face. How would I get out of here?
“Jeremy,” I called. “Please, help me.”
The forest was silent until a low howl. Night had fallen, leaving me in near darkness. I pulled my dress close to my knees and tried to sit up. Maybe I hadn’t walked as far into the woods as I thought. Maybe I could get back even with pain shooting up my leg.
A calloused hand grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I glanced up in shock as Jeremy looked down at me. This was the form I’d always seen him in at school, and from the pictures earlier. He wore dark overalls, probably camouflage, but the light was too low to make out the color. His amber eyes, which still seemed to glow, assessed my foot.
“Can you walk?” His voice was low, almost the growl he’d used earlier.
I stared at his face, so close and yet I could barely make out his features beyond the eyes. Now that he was a person again, I couldn’t sense how he felt. With his hand under my arm, I allowed him to prop me up as I put pressure on my foot.
“Think it’s broken?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.” I flexed my toes and tried again to put pressure on my foot. This time it wasn’t as bad. “I can try to walk if—”
Before I could finish, Jeremy scooped me into his arms and started toward the house. I tried not to cling to him and the fact my clothes were soaked meant he could probably see through them. At least it was dark.
He walked in silence, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. I put an arm around his neck to keep from moving in his grip. The warmth from his body felt comforting in a way that surprised me. His beard brushed against my shoulder, but he mostly kept as much distance between us as possible. Above us, birds called out from the trees as if the forest had come to life. Sounds came from all directions as the business of finding food after the rain began. Between the tree branches were openings where stars appeared.
“This is my favorite time of night,” he whispered as we reached the lights of his house. Jeremy sat me down gently in his backyard. “Why weren’t you scared? That wolf could have attacked you.”
After applying the minimal weight to my foot and determining I could walk the rest of the way, I looked up at him. “You wouldn’t have hurt me.”
His eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“You were sad. You weren’t going to attack me.”
“But… how did you know it was me?”
“I felt your grief.”
Jeremy stared at me for a long moment. “You can feel what I feel?”
I shook my head. “It only works with animals. I don’t know what you’re feeling now.”
“Confused.”
Confused was the right word. “How did you shift into a wolf?”
“How do you know what to call it? I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. When I get angry or sad…”
I put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
He pulled away and headed for the door with a square window of light. “We should get inside.”
My head spun at the thought of Jeremy knowing my deepest secret. A secret for a secret meant I also knew he was different. Jeremy led me through a laundry room with a pile of dirty clothes and handed me a towel from a folded stack on top of the dryer. As I wiped mud from my arms and surveyed the yellow dress, now the color of dirt, I followed Jeremy into the kitchen where Dad stood talking with Mr. Hightower.
Dad stopped talking the second he saw me. “What happened?”
“I fell over a log,” I said. “Into a mud hole.”
He glanced over Jeremy whose front was covered with mud. “Marilyn hurt her ankle,” Jeremy said, “and I carried her back.”
Hearing my name on his lips felt strange. “It’s not a big deal.”
Walking over, Dad dropped on one knee and insisted I sit at the round wooden table carved with pictures of wolves. I hadn’t noticed the intricate designs before, but the patterns were beautiful. “I think you’ll be fine,” he said after examining my foot.
“I told your daughter she would be safe in our woods,” Mr. Hightower said with a low growl, a sound like his son had made. “I’m sorry if I was wrong.”
