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Numb
     
    Author's
Note: As I write this
note, Alec and Adri's world has grown to include eleven published
titles with another four novels to be released in the next eight
months. Things are chugging along at quite the pace now, but back
when I wrote the original two threads that make up this story, only Broken , Torn and Splintered had been released.
    Numb actually came about because I had the chance to join in a
multi-author promo and agreed to write a short story to be posted on
a website along with several other writers. Back then Alec and Adri's
breakup was still very raw, and I felt like I needed to explore that
more than I'd been able to in Intrusion and Trapped .
    I sat down to
write, and got some unexpected surprises along the way. I knew that
Alec was hurting, but I hadn't realized just how difficult it was for
him to not be able to confide in any of his pack mates. I knew that
Adri and Cindi had been best friends as well as sisters, but back
then I hadn't realized how they managed to avoid all of the sibling
rivalry so common in most families.
    Maybe it isn't
fair to call this a story. It's more like shards of glass that have
been put together into something that looks like it might be the
beginnings of a stained glass window. There are hints in here that
speak to the driving difference between the Reflections and the Dark
Reflections books, and there are some insights into both Alec and
Adri. There are some surprises—like a rare glimpse into the
Paige family, happy and whole—but mostly these two fragments
just contain a lot of pain.
    Adri deals with
her pain by taking solace in a favorite memory, while Alec tries to
confront his in a more direct manner, but really they are both
hurting. That's okay though because trials just make our eventual
victories all the sweeter.
    Adri Paige
The Paige Residence
Manhattan, New York
    Okay, here goes
nothing. My assignment is to write about my favorite winter memory,
and some of the idiots in my class—they call it a track
here—complained that they always have a hard time starting, so
we're supposed to do this stream-of-consciousness thing. I guess that
means I'll just write whatever comes to mind and then I'll axe
anything that I don't want my teacher to see.
    Sometimes it
seems like the first three-quarters of my life is one long winter
memory. Minnesota gets hot during the summers, but for some reason
that isn't what has stuck with me. It's the cold that always comes to
mind when I think of home—only I guess I can't call it home
anymore.
    I remember one
time when we went ice-skating on this lake an hour away from our
house. It was maybe the worst idea ever. The temperature hadn't made
it into double digits all week, but somebody had organized this town
outing there and somehow my dad heard about it.
    Dad stuffed us
all in the car as soon as he got home from work and we drove straight
there. I think we even forgot to eat. Once we arrived, Dad rented
skates for Cindi, him and me and then we went out on the ice while
Mom took pictures of us.
    It was cold, I
mean really, really cold. The
if-I-stay-out-here-too-long-I'll-die-from-exposure kind of cold. It
was a ton of fun though. The ice sucked and there were only half a
dozen other people out there with us. Cindi and I fell down at least
twenty times but Dad just kept picking us up and brushing the snow
off of us.
    We were the
last ones to leave the ice. Mom had even put her camera away by the
time Dad finally made us go inside. It's funny though. Most of that
night is just a blur of laughter and bruises, but the thing that made
the biggest impression on me was the old man running the skate
rental. I think it was a church-sponsored event or something, because
he would have pretty much had to have been a saint to calmly stay out
there waiting for us to get off of the ice.
    We stumbled off
of the ice and sat down next to Mom on a rickety wooden bench. The
old man was there before we managed to get our skates off and