Volume 1: Wolfsbane. Chapter 1: The Move and the Menace

In California at 2 a.m., while the rest of the world was lost in sleep, a heavy moving truck lumbered down a pitch-black road. Its headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the frigid air. Following closely behind was a small car carrying two people toward a new life on Aliso Canyon Road. Aside from the rare, lonely flash of a passing vehicle, the world outside was a void of deep shadows and the jagged silhouettes of hills.

In the driver’s seat, Melissa kept a firm grip on the wheel. Her black hair was pulled back tight, her blue eyes fixed on the winding pavement. Her only jewelry, a silver bracelet, glinted rhythmically in the dashboard light. Beside her sat her seventeen-year-old son, Tyler. He had inherited her dark hair and blue eyes, though his hair was grown long and partially hidden under the hood of a blue sweatshirt. Leaning his head against the cold glass, he stared out at the dark blur of passing trees.

As they slowed to navigate a sharp turn, a pair of dim, yellowed headlights appeared in the side mirror. An old, boxy sedan—a vintage model from the seventies—rumbled past their small convoy. Its engine emitted a low, throaty growl that vibrated in Tyler’s chest. He watched its taillights flicker and vanish around a bend, leaving them alone once more with the dark silhouette of their new house looming in the distance.

"Tyler, are you okay? You haven't said a word since we hit the highway," Melissa said, her voice soft but heavy with concern. "I know you’re missing your friends, but you’ll make new ones here. I promise."

"I’m fine, Mom. You don't need to worry," Tyler muttered.

"How can I not worry? You’re my son."

Tyler gave a sharp roll of his eyes, turning back to the dark window. "I know that."

"You know your father’s friend lives just down the road," she continued, trying to brighten the mood.

"He has a son—Dylan, right? I remember you two used to get along pretty well. I know you liked hanging out with him."

"Yeah, so?" Tyler asked, his voice flat.

"So, he and his dad are coming over to help us move the heavy stuff. He can show you around the neighborhood."

Tyler pulled his hood lower over his brow. "Okay, can we just stop talking for a bit? I want to sleep."

He checked his phone. The screen’s glare was blinding in the dark cabin: 2:10 AM | Monday, Aug 27.

He jammed his earphones in and clicked on the car radio. For a few minutes, the music was a shield, but it soon cut out, replaced by the crackling, urgent tone of a news bulletin. Tyler’s eyes flew open as he listened to the grim report.

"...the latest on the investigation for this Monday, August 27," the announcer’s voice was tinny but grave. "Authorities have confirmed the discovery of a body with horrific injuries, including deep scratches and bite marks. The victim’s face was severely damaged, making identification difficult. Police are searching for the family of a missing girl, approximately 5'5", wearing a blue shirt. If you have any information..."

Tyler clicked the radio off. The sudden silence in the car felt much heavier than before. He turned to his mother. "Mom, Dad’s friend... he’s on the force, right?"

"Yeah, Robert is a sergeant. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. Just some news about a murder. I got interested in the details."

Melissa shuddered, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Are you serious? I don’t know what's interesting about that. It's terrifying."

"I know you get scared by this stuff, so let's stop talking about it," Tyler said, leaning back. "By the way, when is Uncle Robert going to get there?"

"He lives just a block or so from the house. There’s still some time before we arrive, so you can sleep. I'll wake you up."

"Okay, sounds good."

He closed his eyes, but the image of those "scratches and bite marks" lingered behind his eyelids.

When he finally woke up, it was 5:15 a.m. The sky had turned a bruised purple, and the morning air was crisp and biting.

"Tyler, wake up and help me," Melissa said, already standing by the trunk. "Robert and Dylan are coming to help us."

Tyler climbed out of the car, stretching his stiff limbs. "So where should I start?"

"Help them with the heavy lifting when they get here. I’ll go inside to clear some space and start cleaning."

"I got it," Tyler replied. He began moving smaller boxes to the edge of the garden, pausing to stare at the house. It looked different in the dawn light—old and full of secrets. A few minutes later, a Jeep Wrangler pulled into the gravel driveway. Robert, dressed in his police uniform, stepped out with Dylan, who wore a light shirt and jeans.

"Uncle, you're here!" Tyler called out. "Thanks for coming to help—you too, Dylan."

"It's nothing, son," Robert said, folding his sleeves up to his elbows. "We’ll get you moved in first, then we’ll talk. Dylan, help him out."

The next few hours were a blur of heavy lifting and the rhythmic thud of boxes hitting floorboards. Once the truck was empty and the house felt more like a home, they sat together for a quick breakfast. Exhaustion finally took hold. Robert left for his shift at the station, while Melissa retreated to her new room. Tyler and Dylan, too tired to even find their beds, crashed on temporary mats in the hallway.

As Tyler’s eyes grew heavy, he thought about his new life and the strangers he would soon meet. Before he could dwell on it, he drifted off, murmuring a final thought to the empty air:

"Welcome to the new house, Tyler."

...*************...

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