by R A Watt
Jermaine smiled and tried to do a scary impersonation. “Maybe . . . maybe it was . . . the werewolf of Santa Isadora!”
We both started laughing, although I was more nervous about the fence than I let on. My phone buzzed; it was a text from Kevin. He was at my place. I showed it to Jermaine, and we raced back to the house.
Chapter 19
The girls arrived on their bikes just after six, and Rachel had an apple crisp that she and her mom made. I was in charge of the burgers. Or, at least, cooking the frozen patties we had.
Things were different with Sybil. She was just as cold to me. But at least now it was like we’d talked, gotten things off our chests. She was honest with me, and I was half honest with her. That little chat seemed to make things slightly better.
We ate the overcooked burgers, had some apple crisp, and decided to forgo a movie and instead play a card game they all liked called Salad.
It was one of the best nights I’d had in a long time, finally feeling like I had new friends and a sense of belonging. The lingering glances and occasional touches to my shoulder from Rachel didn’t hurt, either.
Our little group of five misfits was odd, but we worked well together, except for Sybil, of course. But even she seemed to soften a bit as her competitive side emerged and she got the best score of the night.
As nine thirty rolled around, Sybil checked her phone and announced she and Rachel had to go.
Rachel frowned, “We have to be home before ten.”
We gathered the cards and stood up from the table. Jermaine kept twitching his head, looking at me funny. “So, we gonna escort the girls home?”
“Huh?”
Jermaine shook his head at me. “The bikes. It’s dark. Should we escort the ladies home??”
Oh, now I got it. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
Sybil looked back as she put her shoes on. “We’re fine. We don’t need your help.”
As I walked over to find my shoes, Honey was jumping around me. “Nah, it's good. The guys are staying over, and it’s not like we have to be home or anything. We’ll drop you two off and be back before ten.”
Rachel smiled and winked. “Our knights in shining armor.”
As the five of us on our bikes approached the center of town, we stopped, and Jermaine suggested he and Kevin would drop Sybil off, and that I could see Rachel home. Then we’d meet back in ten minutes at the town center.
Sybil tried to protest, but Rachel cut in. “Great idea, Jermaine.”
Rachel and I drove down the center of the road, slowly weaving back and forth, chatting about nothing in particular until we arrived at her place. I got off my bike, deciding I’d walk her to the front door. I was sweating a lot more than the cool evening suggested I should be.
The lights were off as we neared the front door. I kept thinking her dad was probably watching us in the dark.
“Why are all the lights off? Parents go to bed?” I asked.
Rachel shook her head. “No, they’re out. They’re at a fundraiser.”
My heart started beating too fast again, palms instantly sweaty.
“Oh, do you want me to come in and wait until they get back?”
Rachel laughed. “Very subtle, Teavan, very subtle! But I’m not that kind of girl, you know.”
Ugh! That wasn’t what I meant at all.
I could feel the heat in my face. “No, no! I don’t mean it like that. I meant so you wouldn’t have to sit alone and all.”
She winked at me. “I know, I just like making you blush, and it’s not hard to do.”
Phew.
“Oh, okay then.” I stood there awkwardly, hands in my pocket. “Well, thanks again for coming, and please thank your mom for that apple crisp. Tonight, it was . . . it was a lot of fun,” I said, and I meant it.
“I agree,” she answered, opening the front door as I made my way toward the porch steps. “You know, Teavan, you can’t come in, but if you wanted to, you could give me a tiny kiss goodnight?”
My blood pressure instantly rocketed up again. I hated that the blood vessels in my face could so easily give away my emotions.
Despite the immediate dry mouth, I shyly walked over to the open door where she held it. I leaned in to kiss her perfect, olive-skinned cheek. At the last second, she turned so our lips met.
I closed my eyes instinctively and held my lips against hers, never wanting that union to end. It was like an incredible current of electricity flowed back and forth between us, and I could smell the freshness of her hair and light perfume again. It was a moment I would have drawn out forever had she not slowly pulled back.
“Bike safely, Teavan,” she said with a wink, and her own cheeks flushed.
My first real kiss, and with Rachel Denning.
Not just some random girl at spin the bottle.
With a skip I hopped down the steps to her sidewalk in one leap and strode happily to my bike, breathing in the fresh night air; the sounds of crickets all around.
Up until that point, it was the best night I could remember in a long time.
Chapter 20
As I meandered the streets on my bike toward the town center I wondered if I should tell the boys about the kiss. Or keep it between Rachel and me.
I was grinning from ear to ear; totally oblivious to my surroundings, when out of nowhere I got knocked off my bike from behind. I tumbled and fell as my front tire turned and crashed in the middle of the street.
My palms were scraped and bleeding from the pavement. I sat up, shook my head, and looked around. The night was quiet, and there was nothing nearby.
I knew my tire caught something, but I could swear I’d been pushed from behind, though I hadn’t been paying attention.
“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone there?”
Crickets.
I stood and pulled my bike up, warily keeping an eye on the dark shadows between the houses for any movement. There was rustling nearby, and I was hit from behind and knocked to the ground again before I could spin around.
Rolling over, I looked up to see Bruno Vincent standing under the streetlight with a fiendish, shadowed expression on his face.
He stood straight with his arms crossed as I came to my senses.
“Look who’s out dropping his favorite girl off, how gentlemanly of you. Is that a New York thing?” he asked, circling me on the pavement.
I shook my head, wanting to buy some time to get my phone out. Maybe try to run. He could tell what I was thinking. “Don’t bother, Gimp. You’ll never outrun me.”
That stung.
I stood up, noticing that my elbow was bleeding as well.
“M-my dad,” I stuttered. “He’s just over there, waiting for me.”
Bruno shook his head. “Don’t lie. I know he’s out of town, and I saw Rachel’s parents were at the community center. She’s all alone. Why didn’t you go inside? Do you think I should head over there after, maybe pay her a visit?”
He had been watching us. My fear turned to fury, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and my face went red from anger this time. “Don’t say that,” I warned him.
“Or what? Let’s see. Sybil isn’t here, and Jason Kemper isn’t here. Who’s going to defend you this time?”
I hoped Kevin and Jermaine would come riding to the rescue, but thought better of it. They were probably hunkered down at the park bench, hoping I was getting invited inside to hang with Rachel longer.
I lashed out. “Just what is your issue? I don’t get it. I don’t even know you. Why do you have it out for me? What family history?”
He smiled, slowly walking circles around me.
“So, you seriously don’t know?” he asked suspiciously.
“No, Bruno. I seriously don’t know.”
He nodded as if he was thinking, if that were possible for such an ape. “Well, kid, I owe your family some . . . retribution as they say. Payback. You see, your grandpa killed my brother. And he tried to kill me.”
I shook my head. �
�No. That’s not true. My grandpa wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Yeah, well, he did. He killed my brother in cold blood, and I saw it. Shot him. He came after me, but I escaped.”
“But . . . but, why would he want to kill your brother?”
Bruno smiled. “Oh, who knows? He thought he knew everything, that guy. Said we had bad blood—tainted blood. That we were animals, and if we couldn’t be trained we needed to be stopped.”
“Animals?” I felt a shiver at the thought, my brain flashing back to the conversation with Mrs. Leclair. Almost not wanting him to answer it.
“Well, he called us a lycanthropic mutation. But I like to think of us as just plain old werewolves,” he said with a wolfish grin.
My eyes were seeing stars; I fell to one knee, nearly losing consciousness. “Is this some kind of weird joke you have with Mrs. Leclair?”
His head twitched and tilted. “Mrs. Leclair? Why, what did she say to you?”
Rubbing my face, trying to see if I was dreaming, I said, “Well, she said that. She said that you and your brother were werewolves, and that my grandpa was involved in policing them. I wondered if it was some town joke.”
“Oh, so you did know,” he sneered.
“Yeah, but I thought she was nuts.”
“Well, she is nuts. But she’s right. Those two self-righteous pricks thought they could police everyone; they thought they could act as judge, jury, and executioner. Do you think it’s right, Teavan, that when they thought my brother was bad they just had a right to kill him? He was only seventeen.”
Thinking about that, I shook my head. It did seem wrong, no matter how bad someone might appear. They should have let the police deal with it.
“I guess not. They should have involved the cops,” I answered. “But I don’t know what he did.”
“Well, yeah, I guess it gets a little gray since my dad is the sheriff and all. But either way, he made the decision that my brother—part of my family—had no right to live, and that his word was the law.” With these last words, Bruno’s voice cracked; he wiped his eye with his arm.
Standing again, I was breathing heavily, not sure where this was leading. “So, what can I do then to help make things right?” It seemed like our honest discussion was making some progress toward a resolution.
Bruno began to laugh. “What can you do? Well nothin’. It’s more about what can I do. Hub Laurent took my brother away from me; he was my blood, my best friend. My dad, he’s a hard man, but my mom is still busted up about it. She’s always crying, looking at his school pictures. So unless you can bring him back to life, there’s nothing you can do. Only what I can do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Make things equal. See that your family suffers as much as mine has,” he said, eyeing me up. “I’m guessing, then, if this is all new to you, then you don’t have the gift. Or the curse, as your grandpa would say.”
Surprised, I asked, “Me? The curse of what?”
“Bein’ a werewolf. Just like your grandfather was.”
Chapter 21
“What? That’s a joke.”
“Believe it. I saw Hub change. Why do you think he felt he needed to police the ‘tainted ones’?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. What about Mr. Leclair? Was he one?”
“No. But he was in the know. Those two were thick as thieves, runnin’ round acting as executioners when they felt like it,” he seethed. His fists were clenched and his was jawline tight; his body was quivering, sweat on his forehead glinted in the light. “Your grandpa was old, but he was strong, believe me. I tried to fight fair; I wanted to enjoy putting him down in our lupine form, but I couldn’t do it. When we took out Mr. Leclair, he had a pistol with two silver bullets left. Your poor grandpa, he was crying like a baby when I held the gun to his head. He was on his knees, begging for his life.”
“What?” I spun around. “You killed him?”
Bruno looked surprised. “Well, of course. That was the least I could do. He got off easy since I had to use a bullet,” he said with a laugh. “I mean, I did change and enjoyed mauling him up after, but unfortunately the bullet is what did it.”
Seeing only red through my teary eyes, I thought of that woman who once lifted a car off her child using the super strength of adrenaline. I could feel it coursing through my body, feeling like I could pick up a car. Like I could beat Bruno with ease.
I charged, my fists swinging. They connected to his shoulder and we wrestled to the ground, except he quickly got the upper hand and sat on my chest with my arms pinned down. “Now, that ain’t no way to fight, kid. Is that what people do in the big city? Just start swinging when the other guy ain’t lookin’?”
Struggling to get free, I twisted with everything I had, but his grip was like an iron clamp. And he was so heavy. The energy drained from my rigid body. He was smiling, leaning over me, our faces about twelve inches apart. He sniffled and horked a big gob of spit, then opened his mouth and let it drip, the thick mucus slowly stringing down and then dropping between my eyes.
I screamed out, “Get off!!”
Bruno jumped off as quick as a cat, stood back, and let me get up. “Okay kid, I can fight fair, unlike you. Now let’s face off squarely, like men this time.”
“I’m not going to fight you,” I hissed at him, wiping the spit off my face.
Bruno was shaking, the muscles in his arms and neck corded and tense in the glow of the streetlight. Despite the brisk evening air, his shirt gleamed with sweat and his breathing was getting heavier. His eyes bored into mine, though they weren’t quite focused. They turned black, the shaking got worse, and he gripped his chest in pain and howled. “No!!”
As I stood and watched, Bruno Vincent was changing. His arms were getting longer, and with each deep breath his chest expanded and didn’t contract until his shirt began to rip at the seams. His face twisted and he snarled as he grabbed at it and fell to his knees, groaning.
I should have run, but I couldn’t stop looking.
His body stopped shaking, and his breathing became more regular while his chest and arms slowly shrank back to normal. I was stunned, my eyes wide in terror as he finally looked back up, trying to catch his breath.
“You’re lucky, kid, that was close,” he said, then coughed. “Sometimes when I get upset, it just creeps up on me, and I can’t control it, especially if the moon is near full. Once I’ve changed, I don’t have much sense anymore.”
I shook my head, back and forth, stuttering, “Th-that’s impossible . . . this can’t be true, this is just another bad dream.”
Bruno fixed his shirt, looking at the stitching that had torn then up to me. “Unfortunately for you, it isn’t just a fairytale. The boogeyman is real.”
Something jarred my memory. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“It was you, that day on the road—you chased me to the neighbor’s.”
Bruno smiled. “Yes. You realize I could have caught you, right?”
I shrugged, thinking back to the chase.
“I just wanted to scare you. Make life a little less relaxed for you,” he said.
“Please, Bruno, I need to go,” I pleaded, my lip quivering as I realized the extent of the situation. “I had nothing to do with whatever my grandfather did; we weren’t even close, ask anyone.”
“Well, you should hope you do have your grandpa’s curse, ‘cause otherwise your gimp leg will be the least of your problems. And when I’m done with you, I’m going to Rachel’s to pay her a visit,” he said, then winked at me.
Images of this monster creeping outside Rachel’s door filled my head: her answering the door with a smile, thinking it was me, as he attacked her. Rage flooded me, and I flung myself at him once again, punching as hard as I could, deciding if I had to I would gouge his eyes out.
There was no honor here—only life and death.
Except Bruno was too strong. He was inhumanly strong for his size, and he
kept laughing to induce more anger in me, blocking my punches and my hands as they reached for his eyes. He wrenched my right arm up behind my back. I screamed as red-hot pain flooded through my arm and into my shoulder. Then he pushed up even harder, and I heard and felt an internal snap as my arm broke.
It was unbearable, and I fell to the ground, limp. My right arm dangled, throbbing. My eyes were full of not only tears of anger, but tears of pain now.
“Whoops!” He laughed, then kicked me from a kneeling position to the ground. “That was for my mom.”
I rolled over, trying to alleviate the agony, trying to get my arm at an angle to soften the pain. “Bruno . . . my arm. It’s broken, I need a doctor,” I cried and gnashed my teeth.
“My brother didn’t get a doctor. And neither do you.”
He leaned over and grabbed my collar with his left hand, then punched my face with his other. The warm, coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, and I did the best I could to curl up into a ball. My whole body was hurting, in more pain than I thought possible.
Only it wasn’t over yet.
Bruno grabbed my left arm and dragged me off the street and over the sidewalk, into the darkness between two houses. He dropped me there, like a ragdoll. Faintly, I could see him grab my bike from the road, carry it over, and throw it farther into the darkness.
“You want some more?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I held up my good hand in defense. “Please, please, Bruno . . . ”
He smiled. “Okay then, Teavan, let’s shake on it.” He reached out, pretending to shake my outstretched hand, only he grabbed it lightning fast and twisted it with a quick jerk.
More searing-hot pain spidered through my other shoulder, and I heard similar internal crunching sounds again as my left arm fell limply to the ground.
Bruno leaned over, holding my face roughly between his fingers and keeping me sitting up. “Don’t worry, kid. I won’t kill you. I want to enjoy this process, so that’s all you get for now. I was kinda hoping it might spur something in you, but I guess not.”