Wolf Song (Wolf Singer Prophecies Book 1)

I found the wolf song moving. Like it resonated with me somehow. "The wolves...helped?"
Zorah looked like she was going into her head space. "Yes, they helped. They used to be our guardians, before they were destroyed. Whatever the reason for them being here, I'm glad that they were timely.”
I had a feeling on why they may have been close by.
“The wolves drove the Skolls away, and that was when we noticed that we’d been attacked. From the inside." Zorah could no longer continue, whatever emotion she held back gripped her throat.
I wanted to shake the information from her. The knot that I held in my stomach uncoiled as the anger grew inside of me. "Tell me what this has anything to do with the abduction!” My voice was clear with conviction and purpose and I wanted my words to permeate into the very fiber of her being.
Zorah stood straight and still, her eyes glassy and unfocused as she addressed me. “AEGIS activated their spies. There were spies among us. One moment, they were our people, laughing and talking, and the next, they were like robots. Unyielding as they picked up our own and left.”
I blinked. “Who? Why? Where?” I didn’t know which I wanted her to answer first. “And you two were talking about my father. Why would they want him anyway? And how did they not see him if you all were so distracted?”
She bit her lip, and it was fascinating to see the normally stoic Zorah St. Clair upset. Silent tears spilled from her eyes. "I’m not sure child, maybe he wrapped himself in spells, but he had been overlooked when they had been trying to find him.
There was something else, though. Words that she kept behind her teeth, not allowing them to spill forth.
I needed those words. “There something else you need to say?” No Ms. Zorah. No Ms. Mayor. I didn’t know who this woman was, and I didn’t feel like lending her anymore respect until I did.
Her lips curled back as if straining against telling me. “The preacher...he’s not your father." Her breaths came in gasps, as if she exerted herself physically.
I looked at her like she was crazy. “I lived with the man my entire life. There are pictures of him holding me as a baby. Why are you lying?”
"He is your dad, that's true enough. He's the dad of your heart, but he isn't your father. You share no biological kinship with him."
Memories of childhood swam through me. How once upon a time, my dad taught me to ride a bike. He taught me to play hide and seek. He taught me to shoot. And he taught me the word. My mom taught me to draw and to cut and to create something from nothing. How were they not my parents?
I hadn't been able to hear much of anything after that announcement and there was a loud ringing in my ears. I had the vague notion of people talking to me, but all I felt was this blessed numbness.
Someone put tea in my hands. The dandelion and chicory blend was supposed to be like an imitation of the coffee that had once been so prevalent in the world Before.
And then I realized who had done it. I had come back into myself by degrees and I was staring at a pair of honey-golden eyes. He was talking to me. "Soleil? Are you here with me?"
I nodded along with him and as I did I realized that he was talking again.
“Soleil? Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?” he asked.
I finally answered. "Creed. You're called Creed."
He smiled and I realized that he had a little dimple in his left cheek. Just a slight indent. I dipped my finger into it and giggled. "Is this something that's part of you or something you made up?"
He looked at me, a furrow in his brow. "What did I make up?"
I just waved him off. I didn’t have the strength for that part of the conversation. Then, as if something snapped inside of me, my head cleared. "Okay, I know that you can't say anything to me, and clearly the St. Clairs can’t seem to say anything either, but someone has to be able to tell me something.”
Creed looked me straight in my eyes. “That is exactly what we planned on doing. And we have the perfect person.”

I needed to sit outside. The church basement had started to feel small and awful. There was nothing quite like finding out that everything you were sure of in life was basically a lie to make you need fresh air.
Creed sat beside me. "That was a lot to take in. I didn’t want that for you."
He had mentioned that he and Osiris, whoever that was, had planned a way for me to talk to my dad. The conversation with the St. Clairs kind of preempted that plan. "You could say that." I turned to him. "You knew, didn't you? All this.” I gestured with my hand to indicate the rest of the town. “You knew all about it and couldn’t say anything. My dad. Any of it."
He sort of nodded, but was more like a shrug. "I still can't say."
Damn. So whatever hold he had on him was still there even if I knew what was going on. "So, you can't elaborate any more than she could?"
Creed shook his head. "No. More's the pity. Not that I could anyway. I don't know much about your dad’s time with AEGIS, and all that went on there."
I looked at him curiously. "Then why are you here?"
"We're here because we were here from Before." He looked at me meaningfully.
I blinked. “You…and your pack. They survived the reaping?”
“I wouldn’t say survived. But yes, there were enough of us that were able to hide and lay low and be a shelter for other shifters. Hide from AEGIS and the Reapers.”
The way he said it made them