Chapter Twenty-Three

Se Venire.

The notion of coincidence was tossed out like soiled underwear. For hours the group sat around looking at the picture that was quite clearly Se venire carved into Catherine Chester’s back. The woman had managed to etch the letters repeatedly, but using a mirror as her guide, the calligraphy was backwards.

Years before the lycans had taken control of New Haven, before Marta had stabbed her brother and before the forest made the first strike against the Foster family interests, a warning of Se Venire was present.

He is coming.

Darwin retreated to his old habits of burying his emotions. Outwardly, he wanted those around him to view him as strong; unmoved. The reality was he longed to be cocooned in his room, smoking weed and drinking, sinking away from the world. Avoidance was easier than confrontation.

Inside, he was beginning to panic.

Mary was Marta. He conceded that. Marta came home with the intent of seducing her own brother and becoming impregnated by him—which she apparently succeeded in doing. Whatever grew inside of her was growing rapidly and was clearly Se Venire, the same thing that Slade had warned of.

Darwin had been warned, but it was causing a conflict within him. Marta had been touched by the underworld at some point. She was not lycan, and it seemed possible she would not become one. She was something else.

If the underworld had touched her, why did his masters warn against her?

One truth existed that Darwin accepted. Slade was correct. There was a barrier between the two worlds and it was somewhere in the woods. Slade had also been correct in his belief that the more werewolves there were, the weaker the barrier between the two worlds became, at least that appeared to be the case.

The forest had something in it as far back as the night his brother Zack had seen a werewolf kill their father. The forest was full of trickery and capable of making people believe whatever it wanted to. It was obvious—the woods and what existed beyond the barrier were getting stronger.

Darwin had never worn the hat as leader like he would now. He had been the dictator, with his followers loyal to him as long as the flow of blood and meat continued. Defeated, and no longer caring what happened to him, Darwin had excused himself from the others only to make the solo journey back to what he believed was the gate. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he arrived. Part of him was angry and wanted answers. Another part of him, the part buried deep inside, wanted to know why he had seen Steve and been able to feel his touch.

Darwin arrived at the double-humped rock with the base camp still erected nearby, completely abandoned. He walked around the rock, remembering the camping trip from his youth. He struggled to remember the night he had blocked out, or forgotten.

It was here where the forest first began. Was it that night?

Darwin marched a short distance into the trees near a large maple that he remembered his brother had hidden behind before disappearing. At the edge of the clearing, in daylight, the scene was unremarkable.

“What did you see, Zack?”

Years later, there was nothing left to see. The ground was green and nothing had been disturbed. Darwin had hoped being in the presence of the location would trigger his underworld cave session, but nothing happened.

The barn owl squawked from above, “Whooo!”

“Hey Hootie!” Darwin yelled. “You’re up early!”

The owl bobbed and weaved his head as though he was watching something. The owl scoped with his big eyes ready to swoop in for his meal. Hootie said nothing more, only watching Darwin from above with his beak open.

“I’m here!” Darwin shouted to the still forest. His voice was quickly swallowed.

Three quick tones of monk blew through the woods at a distance. Darwin froze for a moment, his heart exploding in his chest releasing adrenaline that chilled his feet. What beckoned him frightened him. If they wanted him, they would take him. He had no plan, nothing beyond confronting whatever was waiting for New Haven.

He would do what he had never done before. He would stand up for himself and the people around him. He would cast off his fear and fight until there was no more fight to be had. It was a battle Darwin was prepared for. In his heart, he already sensed something was wrong; that he hadn’t been told the entire truth.

I’m a fucking pawn!

He turned and left the maple tree and began running into the woods, towards Tim. He sprinted with no intention of stopping. He would keep moving until he found them or they took him.

If they wanted the fucking gate open they should have just asked!

Past the killing fields of Jason and Tina and onwards to the last place he had seen Tim; it was familiar and yet changed.

Where is the skid mark?

Standing in what he believed to be the spot, Darwin caught his breath and looked around. There were more poplars and the shrubs. The branches and leaves ruffled with each passing second, thickening the foliage. The clearing had scrapes on the ground and two disturbed rocks, but it still didn’t seem right.

Darwin knelt down and touched the earth, hoping something would happen. He traced his finger through the small groove that had been left by his friend. It was as close to Steve as he could be and it pierced his heart.

“Where are my clothes?” he mumbled.

Picking up the rock he could see the blood stain on the underside; it seemed small and out of proportion considering the damage he had done to his hand.

“This is the place.”

“Whoa!” The monks blasted through ground, causing a light vibration in the sandy soil but not enough to rouse Darwin’s attention. He stood up, partially scared but more apprehensive. It was time…it was near. The atmosphere soured like vomit inside a greenhouse and Darwin’s skin became sticky with unease.

Another rumble from the belly of the Buddha jarred the ground. Darwin scanned the forest in every direction looking for the Monet effect but he could see nothing. The monks were everywhere and growing in strength and volume.

“I’m ready!”

Still, nothing more than curdled air and the driving sound existed.

The worst part was the not knowing of what was to come.

Darwin had sunk past his calves before he had noticed. The ground all around him had softened and pulverized in a large circular pattern to a fine powder that he was now settling into. Instinctively, Darwin tried to take a step only to find his feet completely immobilized, putting him off balance and forcing his body over into the sink hole.

The earth hardened its grip with each inch Darwin seized. He went limp, allowing the trumpeting monks to over-take him. Darwin disappeared from the real world, closing his windows as the grains of sand dried the crooks of his eyes.