Chapter 9

The wolf swings his head low, staring directly at me with intelligent yellow eyes. A wind ruffles the thick fur around his neck. He’s long-legged, rangy, with powerful jaws and a granite-gray pelt tipped with black.

“Dad,” I say in a strangled voice.

He glances at me, then follows my gaze out the window. His eyes spring into surprised circles. He bolts from the couch and into the garage, the door slamming behind him. I’m halfway onto my feet by the time he’s back inside, carrying his favorite shotgun, slipping rounds into the magazine with a silky clicking noise.

“Damn gick,” Dad mutters, as if he’s talking about nothing more than a pesky dog.

He racks the shotgun, and my heartbeat jumps at the cha-chink.

“Dad,” I say, but before I can say be careful, he’s out the door.

I glance out the living room window. The silver wolf pricks his ears. Our eyes meet, and then he turns tail and melts into the trees. I run outside right as a shotgun blast shatters the evening. Birds cry out and flutter skyward.

I stand beside Dad, breathing a lot harder than I should be. We stare into the forest.

Finally, Dad says, “Go back inside.” He racks the shotgun again.

I stare at the spent shell on the ground. “Where are you going?”

“The barn. Check on the cows.”

“Dad.”

“Inside. Now.”

I grab his elbow. “Don’t go out there alone. That’s the wolf who bit me.”

He stares at me, his blue eyes as sharp as ice.

“I’m going with you,” I say.

I don’t flinch under the chill of his gaze, and at last he nods. We walk together as the sky darkens, our shoulders bumping. I grit my teeth and keep scanning the shadows, but I see no sign of werewolves. When we reach the old red barn, Dad unlocks the door and peeks inside. The cows shuffle and moo, their hooves kicking up sawdust.

“Hmm,” he says softly, lowering his shotgun.

I retreat from the open door, knowing my scent will scare the cows. I turn my back on Dad, facing the darkness. The moon rises like a rotten silver fruit, oozing juice onto the land. A shiver scuttles down my arms. A wind blows my way, filling my nose with the scent of arriving rain, lichen, leaves… and the faint, wild, musky smell of wolf. I clench my toes inside my shoes, tense but unsure where to go or what to do.

A hoarse whisper, close to my ear. “You know you don’t belong here.”

My head snaps to the right, and I’m staring into the dark eyes of him, Randall, the werewolf. He’s naked; he must have transformed seconds ago. A fist clenches my guts. Words choke my throat. You want to fight? You here to kill me? Get off my land, gick. Get out of my life.

Randall jerks his head in the direction of the moon. “It’s almost time for you to go.”

I glance up and the cold light stabs me, shivers me. Randall stands and watches.

“Brock? I think the cows are all right.” Dad’s voice, close behind me. “Brock?”

I look over my shoulder, at Dad stepping out of the barn, and look back at Randall. He’s gone, vanished like smoke in the wind.

“Yeah.” I cough. “Good.”

Dad squints and scans the moonlit forest. “See anything?”

I open my mouth, shut it, shake my head.

Dad holds his shotgun at his hip and ruffles his hair with his free hand. “Inside.”

I wait until he starts walking before I head toward the house. Randall’s whisper echoes harshly in my ears. You know you don’t belong here. It’s almost time for you to go. I slam the door as if I can shut my fears outside.

~

Monday afternoon, I shovel rotten leaves from the clogged ditch beside our driveway. Wind rattles the trees, sprinkling new leaves onto me. I grimace and keep digging, but I’m liking the sweat and hard work.

Footsteps slap the pavement. I glance down the road.

Oh, Jesus.

Cyn jogs nearer, her hair bouncing in a high ponytail, the white wires of earbuds snaking into her pocket. I quickly glance over her skin, looking for any scratches or bruises, and find a thin slash on her cheek. Oh, shit. Did I do that to her at the bonfire? I look away so she doesn’t think I’m checking her out like a creep.

Okay. She’s not going to stop. She’s going to jog right past…

Cyn sees me and slows, tugging the earbuds out. “Brock.”

I raise my hand in a feeble wave. “Hey.”

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Me?” I stand like a criminal in the glare of a cop car’s lights. “When?”

Cyn gives me a ferocious glare. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” She usually doesn’t swear, so I know she’s really going to rip into me now. “Bonfire, Saturday night. You, smashed out of your mind. Me, followed into the corn maze.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say, even though I don’t know that for sure.

“Oh, really.” Cyn throws back her head and laughs. “I should have called the cops on your ass. Any other girl would have.”

I clutch the shovel in both hands and stare at the ground. “Is that…? The scratch…?”

“What?”

“On your cheek.”

“From a tree.” Cyn narrows her eyes. “Can you really not remember?”

I shake my head. My stomach curdles like I’m going to puke.

“We ran into each other later.” She speaks in an intense murmur. “You were even more smashed at that point. You kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ over and over. I couldn’t get away from you, and then you got even more stupid.”

I don’t even want to know.

“You tried to kiss me.”

A jolt of surprise yanks my gaze back to her face. She’s staring straight at me, her face blazing, her eyes glittering.

“I was drunk,” I say, keeping my voice flat. “So were you.”

She jabs her finger into my chest. “Has it occurred to you that even when I’m totally smashed—which I wasn’t—I might not be interested in kissing a disgustingly drunk ex-boyfriend?” She says this all in one breath.

“Cyn, I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ve been taking this drug—”

“You’re doing drugs now?”

“No. It’s a prescription.” I heave a growling sigh. “Lycanthrox. Keeps me human, but I’m not supposed to mix it with booze.”

Her fingers tighten around a fistful of my shirt. “Don’t fuck around with shit like that.”

I crack a smile. “You must be pissed. That’s a lot of swearing for you.”

“Don’t think it means I care.”

“Bullshit.”

Cyn says nothing, her eyes sharp, her nails pinching me through my shirt. We lock gazes; I can’t look away. Only then do I realize she’s shaking, holding on to me to hold herself upright, and the sharpness in her eyes must be fear.

I close my hand around hers and gently pry open her grip. “Cynthia.”

She curls her fingers around mine—involuntarily, it seems—then yanks away with a glare, as if to prove she doesn’t want to touch me. I step back from her like I don’t care, but I know we’re both only pretending.

“Saturday night…” I hesitate. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“About?”

“Me.”

Cyn flashes me a burning look, then tucks her earbuds back in. “Maybe later.” With that, she jogs away, her arms swinging, legs pumping.

It’s all I can do not to run after her. But I don’t know if that’s me, or the wolf.

~

I dutifully take my Lycanthrox and avoid looking at the phases of the moon. It works until Wednesday, when the merest glimmer of moonlight sends me crazy with the desire to tear my clothes and leap outside and bite something.

I lie in bed, sweating, the curtains shut tight. An owl hoot-hoots outside my window, followed by the yip of a fox. I remember a yellow-eyed owl hanging around the werewolves. It always seemed to foretell the arrival of some sort of gick.

The owl hoots again. It must be in the tree outside my bedroom window.

“Damn bird,” I mutter.

I haul myself off the mattress and trudge to the bathroom. It’s darker there. I fill a glass with icy water and swig it down with two more pills of Lycanthrox. What happens if you OD on this stuff? Hell, I don’t even care.

A spasm in my gut doubles me over. I gasp and clutch the sides of the counter. The pain fades, and I blow out my breath. The bathroom doesn’t seem so dark anymore. I can see myself in the mirror. I tilt my head and my eyes flash orange.

Shit. Got to get out of here.

I pace in the bathroom, my bare feet slapping the tiles. Maybe the cellar? No, that would mean walking through moonlight. The roots of my teeth itch, ready to become fangs. Bones in my fingers and toes have been aching for a while now.

Two full moons. I can do this. I can totally beat this transformation.