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Elissa Uley

Summary:
20 years ago, Joshua Uley left La Push. Now, Elissa and her brother have returned to find Sam Uley. What do they have in common that could change the pack forever? JacobXOOC, LeahxOOC, T for violence, No Nessie! This isn't JacobxLeah compatible


Notes:


5. Chapter 5

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1190   Review this Chapter

Here you go, the next chapter

Chapter 5

By the end of the flight I was ready to strangle the flight attendant. Every single time I had just gotten into a comfortable enough position to sleep, she was hovering above me asking me in a faux whisper if I needed anything. Finally, after the 9th time, I snapped.

“Yes,” I hissed menacingly and she jumped back. “I need you to go away and leave me alone.”

I tried to control my voice as to not wake the other passengers. My hands were balled into fists in my lap as I desperately tried to calm my urge to punch her in the face. She quickly scurried off, and I knew at once that I was going to become the centre of gossip for the rest of the flight. I was shaking so much that when I tried to pick up the fork on my plate, I dropped it twice.

My brother noticed this.

“Calm down or you'll phase” He warned me, placing a large hand on my forearm. I made myself take a deep breath and count to ten. Afterward I felt infinitely better and the shaking had stopped.

“How do you do that?” My brother asked intrigued at how quickly I had calmed myself down. “When I first shifted, I couldn't change back for 3 days. Afterward, even the slightest thing would set me off. I even punched dad in the face once for calling me a hot-headed nitwit.” I shrugged and smiled, remembering the incident clearly. My heart gave a painful twinge and I ignored it.

“I don't know. I just tell myself to calm down and I do.” My brother nodded thoughtfully.

“Maybe. But you have the most self-control in the Pack. Even more than dad.”

That was saying something. Dad never used to get angry about anything. He was always calm and gentle. But when he did get angry, boy he had a temper. On the day mum died, dad went ballistic, breaking vases and furniture everywhere, going on a rampage. He had run out the door, breaking it, and we hadn't seen him for the rest of the day. When he finally, calmed down he apologised and was upset with himself. That was the only time I had ever seen dad lose his temper and the only time I had seen him cry.

Damien was talking again and I roused myself from my daydream.

“What did you say?” I asked, turning back to him.

“I said: ‘We also have some other powers.' Like the Pack mind for instance we can hear each others thoughts.” He replied. A sudden smirk appeared on his face as I flipped out.

“What!” I yelled. The man behind us in the business suit shushed me and I felt heat flood my cheeks as I realized I had probably just woken the entire cabin.

“Sorry.” I whispered. The man just gave me a withering look and turned back to his book.

I turned back to my brother who had and evil grin on his face.

“Jeez,” he chuckled. I glared at him. “We can only read each others minds while in wolf form. No need to be so scared.” I was no longer angry, instead I was curious.

“Why?” I asked. He shrugged.

“I don't know. Dad thought it was so we could work together more easily. Like a normal pack.” I contemplated the thought for a few seconds.

“Does that mean we have other things in common with normal packs, such as Alphas?” I asked him, my head cocked to the side like a dog, which I thought was rather ironic. Kind of.

My brother nodded.

“Yes. Dad was our Alpha. I was his second in command. A beta, he called it. I supposed I'm the Alpha now.” I nodded. We lapsed into silence.

“So Pack mind, Alphas, anything else I should know?” I asked him, leaning back in my seat.

“Um, heightened speed, strength, sight, smell, hearing. We basically are now hardwired to hunt. Instead of 23 chromosomes, we have 24, which gives us the extra speed and strength.” I hummed in response. I was becoming a pro at non-verbal communication. My brother turned serious.

“Do you know what the things that attacked us were called?” He asked, looking me squarely in the eyes. I shook my head, not saying anything.

“They were vampires.” He replied. I stared at him. Vampires? They were myth and legend. But so were werewolves. After what I had seen yesterday, I wasn't going to dispute their existence.

“What did they want with us?” I asked, my voice deathly low, as if there was one of them on board the plane at this exact moment.

“I don't know,” My brother said. “One of them was going on about his master being happy.” I grew pale, thinking about what the monster –vampire – had said to me.

Now, why don't you stop fighting me and just relax. I'm sure my masters would let me have you as a plaything.

I gulped.

“One of them was going on about having me as a plaything.” I whispered, not meeting my brother’s eyes. A choking sob tore its way out of my chest. My brother pulled me into his arms and shushed me.

“Shh. it's okay. They're gone. They can't hurt us. Shh.” The tears were doing something to me and

I felt myself grow even more tired. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had slept at least half the day and I was still so exhausted.

The flight attendant never came back and I was relieved when I felt myself slip into the dream realm. I tensed for a second, hoping that I wouldn't have another dream like this morning but luckily I didn't dream.

The cold man sat quietly on his throne as the messenger ran up the hall, a silver platter balance delicately in his trembling hands.

“Mmmaaster.” He stammered, holding out the tray. The man took the missive that lay on the tray and sat back, opening it. He read it quickly, one perfectly manicured brow arching.

“And where is Juan?” He asked, his voice deep and cruel. He was old, terribly old. The sound of his voice made you tremor in fear at the very sound.

“Dead. They killed him. Two others got away. “The messenger squeaked. The man rose, and took a step towards the messenger. He raised his hand to slap the man, only to have it pushed back down.

“Patience, brother. Do not shoot the messenger, Kill the one who sent him.” The black haired man who sat beside him said, his voice soft. The man turned and sat back down on his stone throne that was like him. Cold. A cruel sadistic smile etched itself into his stone-like features.

“Yes,” he murmured, steeping his fingertips and watching as the messenger raced down the hall, his grey cloak billowing behind him like smoke. He smirked as the big wooden doors slammed shut behind him.

“Never send someone to do a job you could have done better yourself.”