Spirit Tales (The Millennium Wolves AU)
Chapter Thirty-Four

I woke up in the infirmary - so what else was new - wearing my pajamas. My hair was still soft from the preparations for the ball, but any thoughts regarding my looks took an immediate backseat when I heard Tempest uttering out incomprehensible noises inside me. “Tempest?” I whispered, my voice rough with misuse.

She let out a whisper.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, worries - because despite our bashing-heads on a regular basis, I liked Tempest. She was a part of me.

She didn’t respond and kept sobbing in my head. She was crying, and I had no idea Spirits could cry.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Tempest,” I whispered pleadingly, aching to hear her so upset.

You won’t understand, she whispered, her voice so small, so unlike her.

“Try me,” I said determinedly.

She took a deep breath. What happened at the ball shouldn’t have happened, she hiccupped. I shouldn’t have lost so much of my control. It wasn’t intentional. I wanted to keep everything inside, but the moment A-Alton…

“Who’s this Alton?” I asked. He was another voice in my head, like yours, only he wasn’t a Spirit… or was he?”

He’s the ancient Spirit of Time, Tempest whispered miserably. The guy you danced with last night? The one in the green suit? If A-Alton was inside him, it means he must be one of the England family - John, Maxwell, or Ryan.

I tensed. “But…” I bit my lip. “John and Maxwell are already dead, aren’t they? It must be Ryan.”

They’re time-travellers, Angela, Tempest sighed shakily. It could be any one of them, although I have a strong feeling that it’s not Ryan, or John.

“Then… Maxwell? England from The Tales of England and Magnus?” I asked skeptically. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

It doesn’t matter anyway, she murmured. Don’t talk about this with anyone, okay? If the man didn’t want anyone to know he was there, we should leave it at that.

I was hesitant to agree, but eventually I did. “Fine. And now, how exactly did this Alton, the Spirit of Time, managed to get into my head?”

Only ancient Spirits can do this, she said, and Alton is very ancient. He’s one of the Spirits who ruled this world before humanity - and wolfhood - began.

An epiphany landed on me. “So… that’s the reason why he can move from one England descendant to another? I mean, after John England died, he moved to Maxwell, and then to Ryan.”

I don’t know, she said with stark honesty, and I felt she was relaxed now. At least she was no longer crying. I don’t think other Spirit holders ever died before, considering the immortality perk, so no one can test this theory. In fact, only an ancient Spirit like Alton can know the answers to these questions.

I said nothing for a few minutes, trying to digest this information, but when I heard Tempest start crying again, I felt my heart squeezing in sympathy. “Don’t cry,” I said softly, “please don’t. I get that you were scared - “

I wasn’t scared! She exclaimed with indignation. Alton doesn’t scare me! Yes, he’s a very unnerving Spirit, but I recognized him the moment I felt him in my territory, but the fact he made me lose control like that… That what scared me. I don’t want it to ever happen again!

I was very confused. “But you’re the one who pushed me from the beginning to lose control,” I pointed out, “and you’re the Spirit of Chaos. Law and order aren’t part of your vocabulary. So what’s the problem?”

She was quiet for a few moments and then she said with a touch of embarrassment, I don’t like losing control, I like it when you lose control, because it gives me access to control your body. I won’t lie, a burst of sincerity sneaked into her voice, I don’t like the fact I don’t have a body of my own, and that I need to channel my powers through yours. I’ll do anything to get some sort of control over your body, even once, so I could feel free. You don’t know what it’s like to live in someone else’s head all the time. It’s not comfortable, it’s caging, and even though I already got used to it to some point, I still want out. Besides, you don’t know what it’s like when you see and hear things, and the body moves how it wants, and the voice speaking back isn’t your, but another, who speaks whatever they want. It’s not a nice experience.

Her words surprised me. I had no idea that’s what she felt like. We’d never had a heart-to-heart like this before, so how would I know? “If you had my body to do with as you will, would my body change its shape into something else?” I asked, curious.

Yes, Tempest sighed sadly, it would change its shape into how I look.

Another surprise. “You actually have your own looks? You’re not just a disembodied voice?”

Every Spirit looks like something, she explained quietly. The ancient Spirits looked like humans, and nature copied their shapes and pasted into humanity, so their shape was saved even years after they disappeared. Even us, Spirits who’re inside humans, has some sort of a body, it’s just hidden inside of you, and will only come out if and when I’ll be in control and you’ll be here in this head instead of me.

“How do you know all of this?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t know a lot about Spirits and stuff like that.”

I know thing, she murmured. Not much, but I know. It’s like knowing your own name.

She still sounded depressed, and so I decided to leave her be when I said, “I understand.”

She got all quiet, and I could feel her pondering everything that happened. Tempest never pondered. In fact, Tempest had never been depressed, or honest, crying.

The infirmary door opened then, and I looked to the entrance. To my shock, I saw Charlotte entering the room, her hair twisted into curls around her round face, and her watery eyes staring at me, expressionlessly. “Good,” she sight, relieved, “your goons aren’t here now.”

“Goons?” I asked, even though I had no desire to talk to her.

She nodded. “The wolves you’re now hanging out with. Jane suggested I come at night, when they must be asleep, and that’s what I did. Jane’s smart,” she added, as though I didn’t know that.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my body feeling cold now. “I thought you were through with me.”

She stood next to my bed and stared at me with a strange look. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay…” I murmured, trying to understand where she was going with it.

She took a deep breath and dropped the bomb. “I… I think I saw Brock.”

It took me a few seconds to realize what she was saying and when I did, disbelief settled in. “And what did make you think you saw a dead kid, exactly?” I asked brutally, not caring as she winced.

“At the mall,” she blurted, looking anywhere but at me. “I was at the mall with Hazel, JAne and Ethan, and… he was there.” She lowered her gaze, as though she knew how absurd that sounded, too.

“You’re well aware it’s impossible,” my hands curled into fists, my voice sharp. “There’s not way in the world you could see him. Brock’s dead, Charlotte. I saw him die. I ‘murdered’ him, remember?” I couldn’t help the venom, pain and sadness to enter my voice.

Charlotte flinched farther. “I know what I saw,” her voice was a mere whisper, “I know I saw him. I know!”

“How exactly did you recognize him, then?!” I snapped, unable to hide the anger in my voice. “Because according to a simple calculation, he should be nineteen now, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t look the same as when he was twelve!”

“He had the same black hair and green eyes, Angela!” she shouted back, tears in her eyes. “He was as pretty as him, as beautiful, and I felt what I’ve always felt when I saw him - the love I feel for him, the love you never even bothered to try to feel, even though he’d love your more than he ever loved me!”

“Stop talking nonsense!” I roared, tears spilling down my face before I even noticed. “There are thousands of people in the world with dark hair and green eyes, Charlotte! Why do you think he’ll be at some mall in some stupid city?!”

“It was him, Rosangela!” she screamed back, falling down to the floor from agony, her shoulders shaking from her uncontrollable sobs. “It was him! I know it was him! I loved him! I still love him! It’s him!” her voice was full of yearning, full was hope and desperation, and I couldn’t not relate with her, because I wished every night he was alive, that he was really here, among the living, and that I was dead instead. But Charlotte was talking bullshit. She was delusional. I saw him burning up before me eyes. I saw him dead!

“Go away,” my voice was low, quiet, but rose once again. “Just go away.”

She looked at me with a torn look. “Angela - “

“Get out of here!” I screamed. “Go and take your fantasies and delusional ass far away from me! Don’t try to stir more chaos in my emotions than there already is! Don’t try to come back into my life again! I’m so much better without you and without how you made me feel! Stop trying to hurt me! Brock is DEAD! He can’t come back to life just because you decided! Even you aren’t stupid enough to think so! So get your fucking ass and go the fuck away!”

She looked at me with horror, shaking from crying, and at that same moment the infirmary door opened again and inside Apollo, Strider, Fred, Sally, Maria, Albert, Cora, Samantha and Greg entered. They must’ve heard our yelling, and when they Charlotte on the floor near my bed, and me with tears in my eyes, they paused.

“Please listen to me,” Charlotte ignored them, her voice small, shaky and pleading. She took my hand in hers. “Please believe me. I saw him, I swear to you. I saw him…”

The tears were unstoppable by now. “Go away,” my voice was a whisper, “get out of my life, Charlotte. Just get out.”

“Angela…” she cried.

I took my hand from her grip sharply, holding it close to my chest. “He’s dead,” I said flatly, “he was burned to death before my eyes. I was there. You said what you had to say. Now piss off before I don’t know what I’ll do - and I did enough damage in the past twenty-four-hours as it is.”

Charlotte didn’t say another word. She rose onto her shivery feet and ran out of the infirmary, ignoring the wolves who stood there and watched us. Once she was gone, I put my head in my hands. “Go,” I said quietly, my voice cracking, “I want to be alone.”

Silence was my response, but I knew they were still there. “Angela…” Apollo started but I had no strength to deal with them right now.

“I’m all right,” I lied, lying back down on my bed and pulling the blanket on top of me, turning on my side so my back was to them and they couldn’t see the tears flowing like a river down my cheeks.

I heard them leaving, and once I was alone again, I broke down completely and cried all night.

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