Chapter 41: Duck, Duck, Holy Fuck

"Say it again," Maria repeated. Her voice had changed. The golden retriever was gone. What replaced it was a goddamn wolf raised in an Alpha’s house. "Say whore one more time. I want to make sure I heard you correctly before I tell my brother exactly what you said about the woman he wants to buy."

Celeste rolled her eyes. "This is the dumbest conversation I’ve ever been a part of. You’ll see."

"I don’t see any Alphas coming over to check on you," Maria stated. "The last two ignored you, actually."

"Really?" Celeste said, unimpressed. "You’re both so sheltered, you don’t know how the world works. Tell them, 7709. What are you?"

Nova faced forward, ignoring Celeste.

"I SAID. TELL THEM. WHAT ARE YOU?"

The priestess clapped her hands twice and rounded on Nova. The timing could not have been better because there was no chance in hell Nova was going to call herself a whore for Celeste Starborne.

The clearing grew quiet, outside of the rain that had died down slightly.

The priestess didn’t speak. She was looking at Nova like Nova knew what the fuck she wanted. Nova did not know what she wanted.

Every eye was ping-ponging between three points: Nova, the sacred flame pit that was cold and dark and very much still a pit, and the priestess.

"Re-light the sacred flame, 7709," an elder ordered, loud enough that it cut over the rain. It was the one who’d told her to go back to her spot earlier. His tone was about as expected.

Nova looked down at her hands then back at him.

"She doesn’t control it," Maria explained to the clearing at large, her tone suggesting this was obvious and everyone should catch up.

A full-body what do you mean she doesn’t control it rippled through the crowd.

"You’re telling me a girl who scored the highest in intelligence can’t figure it out," another elder cut in.

Nova blinked. Technically they acknowledged that by inviting her to this part. But they never announced her scores out loud.

"I’m happy to try, Elder. Could I borrow a match?"

Somewhere behind them, a draftee made a sound. It could have been a laugh. It could have been a cough. It spread, rippling with the specific energy of thirty women trying not to laugh at the same time and all of them losing.

"A match," the elder repeated.

He said it like an adult echoing a child: not laughing yet, not spanking yet, just holding the words up to the light.

The problem was Nova was dead serious. That was her best idea. If someone had a lighter, that would be better, but the odds of that were lower. The elder was not prepared for sincerity.

"Yes, Elder."

"No girl, we want you to light it with your—" the elder cut off mid-sentence, struggling to find the words. "Light in the same manner you did it with the torches."

"Just close your eyes for a moment," the priestess said, as if she hadn’t just called Nova an abomination and was a nice, normal lady. "Center yourself, and the flame will come back."

Nova gave a nod. Closed her eyes. Visualized the fire coming back. She pictured it hard, with full concentration. She pictured flames. She pictured the pit. She pictured fire in the pit.

"Did it work?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"No," the entire crowd answered as one.

The priestess nodded encouragingly, as if she was a supportive mentor.

"Lift your arm, child. Direct your energy towards the pit."

Nova lifted her arm.

All the torches blew up at once. An entire pack ducked together, sixty wolves going down like a poorly paid flash mob. One Beta grabbed his neighbor. The neighbor grabbed some random wolf. The random wolf grabbed air and looked like an idiot.

The fire pit did absolutely nothing.

"Come here," the priestess beckoned, waving Nova towards the hill with the enthusiasm of a woman who had deep-throated a holy-hammer and had now changed her mind. "Come, come. Stand by the flame."

Nova walked up the hill in the borrowed cloak that was doing the heavy lifting on warmth because it was easily thirty-five degrees and dropping. The rain had soaked every wolf in the clearing and even the ones with supernatural body heat were looking miserable. A Gamma near the front had his arms crossed so tight he was hugging himself.

Nova reached the pit. The priestess positioned herself on the opposite side and began moving her hands over it in slow, holy windshield wipes, palms flat, fingers open, pouring in "energy" that was either ancient or the exact horseshit you invent when the rabbit is dead and you still have to finish the show.

"Like this," the priestess instructed. "Feel the flame within you. Let it rise."

Nova stuck her hand over the pit. That was as far as she was willing to go. She held it there. She concentrated. She felt absolutely nothing except cold air and the faint smell of wet ash.

The pit remained a puddle.

"Feel deeper," the priestess said, which was the spiritual equivalent of have you tried turning it off and on again and was exactly as useful.

Nova felt deeper. She didn’t know what the fuck deeper meant. But sure.

The priestess grabbed Nova’s other hand and pricked her finger again, harder than the first time, which was an achievement because the first time had already been excessive. Blood dropped into the soggy pit.

It landed with a very small, very anticlimactic plop.

Nothing happened. The blood mixed with rainwater and ash and became part of the puddle. The most sacred puddle in Helix history. Consecrated twice now.

Two thousand wolves watched a drop of blood sink into mud and the collective disappointment was so thick it could have been spread on toast.

An elder on the panel pinched the bridge of his nose so hard his knuckles went white.

"Can someone just give her a damn match?"

The clearing went still. Every wolf pulled the face you make when Grandpa drops an f-bomb.

The elder holding an umbrella produced a matchbook from an inner pocket with the calm efficiency of a man who had packed for every contingency including divine failure.

He walked up the hill, and covered her with his umbrella.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Don’t thank me. They don’t work if they get wet." He handed her the matchbook. "Have you lit a match before, 7709?"

Nova blinked at him. That was a fair question. She had spent her life in silver cuffs in a manor and fire-starting was above her clearance level.

"No," she said.

Behind her, a thousand wolves exhaled as one, a single coordinated are you fucking kidding me that could’ve snuffed the torches if those torches weren’t powered by Nova.