The True One

Chapter 29

Verity

When I was younger, before the Grammy nomination, before fame, before I could have possibly dreamed werewolves were real and that I had some sort of strange power linked to them, I dreamed of something else: I would use my voice to change reality. At the time, my reality consisted of a house with a crumbling foundation, a father whose grief made my own transparent to him, and a gaping hole in our lives that my mother used to fill.

Ms. Lewis, my nineth grade choir teacher, had been the one to instill in me that notion that something that is inherently our own, can be transformative when shared.

"You are the characters in your own fairytales," she'd tell us, earning several eyerolls by some of the more cynical teens in the room. "Find your voice, control your own narrative. Decide in which direction you want your story to go."

By fourteen, I already knew a happily ever after was more of a fantasy than anything Tolkien could ever think up, but the idea that my voice could change the course of my life story stuck with me. I thought about it each day when I sat down to the keyboard my dad had bought for my birthday two years previous. I wove it into the lyrics that I penned in lavender glitter notebooks. I channeled it when I sat in front of my phone, recording myself playing and singing for the first time.

My voice can change reality.

I manifested my own story, through determination and a stubborn rejection of whatever roadblocks stood in my way. And it led me here, to a stage in Las Vegas, where, if I closed my eyes, the hypnotic roar of the crowd could carry me over the pages of my life story until I landed in a stone castle built into the cliff of a mountainside, or to an ancient Grecian temple on the shores of the Mediterranean, or to the middle of an old growth forest where the noise of the crowd made way for the chaotic chatter of forest creatures.

When I got it in my head to do something, nothing was going to stop me.

My voice changed my reality. And now, I intended to use it to change everyone else's too.

I opened my eyes and stepped out onto stage, letting myself adjust to the brilliance of the spotlight. As the band started to play the intro to my first hit, Hole in My Heart, I let my body sway to the rhythm, stepping forward to join Macy and my other dancers in our synchronized movements until it was time for me to sing my first note.

I would follow you if I could

If you'd wanted me to

If you'd said, join me

How could I resist?

But you left no forwarding address

I searched for a message

That you never sent

You left me only with a hole in my heart

A hole in my heart

The whole of my heart

Wishes you'd return to fill it

The whole of my heart

Knows you never will

The crowd sang along. From the perusal of internet forums, I'd gathered that fans assumed I'd written this piece about some boy who'd dumped me. I never corrected them. The pain of my mother's absence was one I struggled to share with anyone. Even now, with my plan to reveal a very personal part of myself, I still couldn't imagine saying out loud, "that was written about my dead mother."

The crowd quieted. I turned from the blinding light to see Alek's face offstage, complete with wrinkled forehead and dimple-less grimace, staring at me in concern.

I'd said that out loud and been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't realized it. Macy, who'd been standing behind me, nudged an elbow into the small of my back.

"You okay, Ver?"

I cleared my throat. Maybe today was the day I revealed all my buried secrets, not just the one I had planned on.

"A lot of you have speculated on which boy I wrote that song about. Several of you even scoured my high school yearbook imagining which of my classmates broke my heart." I swallowed. "But that song was never about a romantic relationship. It was written to help me heal from my mother's death. And in case you're interested, I'm still working on that."

The crowed began to murmur. Someone yelled "We love you Verity!" and the roaring commenced. Everyone wanted to make an orphan feel better, I figured.

Macy nudged me again. "Next number?"

Emboldened by the huge truth I'd already spoken, I shook my head. "Not yet."

I was on a role now.

Verity.

The voice shot into my head with enough force to jolt me.

Get out, Alek. I put a layer of bricks between our minds, but he broke them down.

I know what you're about to do and I'm telling you... don't.

No more secrets, no more lies.

This isn't a movie, Verity. There are real life consequences to what you're about to do.

This is my story, Alek, not yours.

You don't think it's mine too?

If you want to rush onto stage to do what Norvin trained you your whole life to do, I dare you to try it. It's you against thousands of fans... and a wolf.

I'm not going to hurt you, but please think about it!

The crowd continued to rumble. My band gave me nervous looks, not sure if I was going to collapse or go catatonic the way I had at my last concert. Macy asked me if I was feeling sick but by that time, I was too into the moment to respond to her or worry about the fact that Janene was motioning me from off stage, her arms waving around for me to get on with the show.

That, I could do.

It took only a moment. I absorbed the spotlight like it was the sun and I was standing in an alpine field soaking up its warmth.

The boom of the audience exploded. Screams, shouts, claps, gasps—I had to steel myself against the onslaught of sensations as I stood in wolf form next to my human body. I passed a long tongue over sharp fangs. The humans closest to me smelled of body odor and fear. Sheri, my base player, stumbled backwards and let her instrument clatter to the stage floor as she made a hasty exit.

"The fuck?" Macy said, still behind me. "You have a pet wolf? Where did that... what's going on?" Her voice raised with every word.

Off stage, Janene grabbed Alek's arm as she spoke to someone on her phone, her eyes darting frantically between me and my wolf.

"There's nothing to fear. Let me introduce you all to someone special to me," my human voice spoke to the audience. I pointed to my wolf head. "This is me. My true self. A wolf made manifest."

You shouldn't have done this. Alek's voice echoed in both wolf and human brains. I can't control what happens next.

Ignoring him, I raised a hand and paw simultaneously. Assuming now that this was all part of the act, the audience cheered.

"Don't hide who you really are from the world," I told them. "Let it out, and you will change reality."

____

Author's note: Well, the cat's out of the bag. Or rather, the wolf's out of the popstar's head. What now? Why does Verity think this will be a good idea and why does Alek think it's the worst thing she could have done? Who's right?

I want to thank Monrosey for the character art. She is amazing and definitely captured Verity's spirit. I have a few more from her that I will be incorporating into chapters as well. Thank you, my friend!