“Hello?”
“Hi, Amanda!”
There's an uncomfortable humming from her end.
“It's Mike. You asked me to call you.”
“Oh! Mike! I couldn't for the life of me figure out that area code!”
I've been gone long enough for people to forget my voice? If she saw me, would she still recognize me, or have I been completely erased already?
That's not fair. She did email me, after all.
“I was just wondering if you know where Troy is.”
“Where Troy is?” I squint at myself in the mirror and start to tap my fingers. “I broke up with him and moved to another state.”
“Well, yeah, but he was going on and on about you after you left. He was totally devastated. And then he started talking about finding you and getting you back just before he disappeared, so I thought maybe... You know, maybe he found you.”
“No.” My fingers still against the cold surface of the desk. “How long has he been missing?”
A dark foreboding shadows my heart when she answers. “Almost two weeks.”
My breakfast rolls unhappily in my stomach as I end the call and dash down the hallway to Aliah's room. I rap hastily on the door, my heart racing and my thoughts begging to be wrong.
Tod, showered and in clean clothes, answers my banging almost instantly, the alarm on his face escalating at the sight of me. “What's wrong?”
He moves aside to let me in the room as I shake my head at him. “Maybe nothing. I don't know.”
Aliah is reclined against a stack of pillows. A checkerboard sits on a chair beside her. It looks like she's winning. “What is it?”
“The guy who captured you...” She pales at the mention of him, but nods me onward while Tod sits down and grabs her hand. “Did you see him in human form at all?”
Reluctantly, she nods. “Yeah. He wasn't very nice. I think he's going sort of crazy from being out there.”
Not surprising. “What did he look like?”
“Look like?” She tilts her head to the side, her breathing losing its steady cadence. “Teenager. Tall. Medium build. Dark, spiky, hair. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were, just that they were scary. His nose was pierced.”
Expletive.
“Him?” I hold up a picture of my ex-boyfriend, sighing when she nods a wide-eyed confirmation.
Chapter Twenty-Six
My stomach tries to rebel against me as I grit my teeth and toss Troy's picture to the ground. Tod bends over to pick it up as I start to pace the room, shaking my head and fighting against the feeling of my fingers shifting into claws.
“Who is he?” Tod asks quietly.
“Troy.” The name bubbles up through the hatred to be spat out at my friends. “My ex-boyfriend.”
I wish he was here right now. I'd rip his throat out.
“It's like a movie,” Aliah says. “He wanted a mate, so he attacked his girlfriend.”
“A bad B movie,” Tod agrees, staring at the photograph in his hand.
“Only you didn't change when he thought you should,” Aliah goes on. “So he thought it hadn't worked.”
Tod nods. “So he changed Kim, too.”
“Stop that,” I snap.
“Stop what?” Tod asks.
Folding my arms tight across my body, I glare at him. “Finishing each other's thoughts. There's only so much cute I can take right now.”
“Sorry,” they respond. In unison. They both struggle to hide grins.
Besides, there's a flaw in the idea he changed Kim just because nothing happened to me. “Couldn't he have smelled the difference in me?”
“It can take a while,” Tod replies with a shrug. “If you'd smelled different right away, then Mom would have gotten you up here sooner. He'd probably already given up on you before your scent shifted.”
Right... “I didn't feel human anymore,” I mutter. All the blood lust and the restlessness and the dreams of running in the wilderness, it was pretty obvious to me that something had changed.
Aliah gives me a sympathetic look, but Tod ignores the comment. “Does this help us catch him?”
“Maybe.”
“We're not using for you bait,” he clarifies. “Is there any other way this could help?”
“We could use her clothes,” Aliah suggests.
I snort. “I think he'd guess something was up if he found a trail of loose clothing leading him somewhere. But I may have something else.”
“What?” Tod demands swiftly.
“Perfume. There's this one I wore most of the time we were going out. He really loved it. Enough that I haven't worn it once since I've been here.”
“What's its name? Is it hard to find?”
“No need, I have some with me. There was a travel bottle in my toiletry bag. It came with me because I didn't notice it was there.” I nearly threw it out when I found it. Glad I didn't.
Tod's on his feet. “We need to tell Atherton.”
Aliah starts trying to get out of bed, her eyes latched onto Tod with a fanatic desperation. She doesn't want to be left. But she's having trouble getting up, so she needs to stay put.
“You guys wait here,” I tell Tod, jerking my head significantly toward his beloved. “Take care of Aliah. I'll be back.”
He doesn't look too pleased, but he goes to sit beside Aliah, holding her hand while I leave.
Taking a few seconds to grab the bottle first, I run downstairs to find Mr. Atherton. He's not in his office, but in his living quarters. Vivianne is there too, sitting on a sofa in front of darkened TV. She looks like she might have been crying recently.
“What is it, Michaela?” she asks, her voice raspy but kind.
“I think this will help catch the male all-were.”
I wave the little bottle through the air. The others trade a look. “And that is?” Mr. Atherton prompts.
“My ex-boyfriend's favorite perfume.”
Neither of them look startled, shocked, or even curious about the revelation that I know who's out there. They do look guilty though.
“You knew.” My knees give way, dumping me into the nearest chair. “You knew it was Troy, but you didn't tell me?”
Mr. Atherton sighs. “I thought knowing would make it harder for you just to sit here and wait.”
The wolf has a point. It is hard not to run outside, screaming Troy's name. He came all the way to Alaska to live outside in the cold for me; he'll come to talk to me if I call for him.
And then I can kick his ass.
Except he's a lot tougher than I am. I've never been in a fight in my life. Troy has. And, to my knowledge, he's won all of them.
Vivianne reaches out and places her hand on mine, tentatively, as though she thinks I'm going to jerk away. “We know he wants one of you girls, but we didn't want to scare you. And we certainly didn't want you running off to handle things yourself.”
“Not one of us,” I correct her, telling her about my conversation with Amanda. “She's certain I'm the one he's obsessing over. Even when I pointed out that Kim has wound up in the same school as me, she was sure that if he showed up it would be on my account, because I was all he talked about for days before he vanished. Of course,” I smile faintly, “she was probably also sure he wouldn't have four legs and a tail.”
Lifting the bottle, Mr. Atherton turns it in his hand, studying it. “This is something he would associate with you?”
I nod. “I wore it most of the time we were going out. He bought me a bottle for my birthday and stuff.” I shrug. “That's why I haven't worn it since I came here. It reminds me too much of him.”
Nodding slowly, he starts to smile. “So you think we could trap him with it?”
“I think so. Unless he's gotten a lot smarter than he used to be.”
He thanks me, then sends me away under renewed orders not to step outside of the building unless it's on fire.
I try to just chill, but the urge to go out and do something is nearly overwhelming.
Back in my room, I pick up my phone and dial a number from the local phone book. I think I know at least one person who will relate to how I'm feeling.
“Denali's,” comes a voice. It has the same professional tone as Warren's, but is nowhere near deep enough.
“Is Warren there?” I ask. “It's Michaela.”
I regret volunteering my name when she repeats it and then starts go, “Um...” and “Uh...” Clearly, she's stalling. “No,” she finally recovers. “He's not home. I think he went with his dad. They're trying to figure out what this all-were does all day.”
“Well, when you see him...” And why do I get the feeling she can see him right now? She can't be the one keeping him from talking to me, though. He would hear what she's doing, and he'd object if she was doing it without his permission. So, he just doesn't want to talk to me then. And he's too chicken to say so. “Just tell him I said hi, and that I hope he's alright, and that...” That I miss him more than I want to admit? That the fact he won't speak me to me makes me feel as though I'm shattering into a thousand fragments, each one throbbing in pain? “Tell him I know who the male all-were is.”
“What?” she hisses. I can hear footsteps, then a door closing.
“I know who he is. He's my ex-boyfriend. He turned me. Then he turned the girl he replaced me with. And then he came up here to stalk me. I gave Mr. Atherton some perfume that should help lure him out from wherever he is.”
“You cannot tell that to my son.” The words are frighteningly firm and full of threat, even though they're whispered.
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely perplexed.
“Because-” She cuts off her exclamation, returning to her steady whisper. “You just can't tell him, Michaela. Please?”
The please is so heartfelt I would have to be a complete bitch not to agree.
But I wish she'd explain why not.
I'm still obsessing over this hours later, when someone knocks on my door around five and sends my heartbeat to warp speed even though I know the knock isn't one Warren would use. It was far too timid.
Plus, there's the fact that the guy won't even talk to me on the phone. He's not exactly likely to be visiting anyway.
Expecting one of the foxes telling me it's time for the Lord of the Rings marathon they've planned to start, I open the door with a smile. The smile doesn't falter because I find out I'm wrong, although I'm certain my expression changes.
“Are you ogling me?” Seth asks. “And is that a good thing?” He assumes a look of puzzlement. “I'm not sure if I've ever been ogled before...”
“Oh, you've been ogled plenty, baby,” I assure him with a lascivious leer. Laughing at his expression, I let my face take on a more natural countenance. “Sorry.” I lean against the door frame. “You look good, Seth.” This is an understatement. I don't usually ogle people who merely look good. In a black suit with blue shirt and tie, the leopard looks at least a hundred different kinds of hot. And his eyes...
Actually, his eyes aren't nearly as gorgeous as they should be considering how well the clothes set them off. They're too worried.
“What's wrong? You're not nervous about Sarah, are you?” I don't know his date, but I can't imagine her being in any way displeased with him.
“No,” he responds quickly, sounding absolutely certain of the truth of the denial.
His eyes move into my room, then to the hallway, where people are running around frantically trying to finish last minute preparations, then back inside. I take the hint, scoot out of the doorway, and wave him inside, closing the door behind him.
Patiently, I wait.
He leans against my desk, picks up Wolfgang from beside my computer, staring at the plush wolf dully. He puts him down again and looks at me. “I'm worried about Sam.”
Worried about Sam?
“Why?” I sit down on the edge of my bed and peer at him. “I mean, other than the whole Bryce thing.”
His hands grip the edge of the desk. “Do I need something other than the whole Bryce thing?”
“Well, yeah.” I watch him closely, but his body isn't betraying much and his face is hidden. “She's hurt, but she's not going to fling herself off a glacier over it. She'll cry, she'll mope, she'll eat too much cheesecake, and then she'll get over it.”
He lets out a long breath. “But she will get over it?”
“It's just a crush, Seth.”
“Are you sure?” He asks this with a slow measure that makes me think he's placing a great deal of value in my answer.
“Pretty sure.”
Standing so still he looks like a statue, he takes a few long moments to think about this.
“Alright,” he breathes eventually. His eyes finally leave the floor and meet mine. “But you'll watch after her? Just in case she needs it?”
“Of course.” My smile is small, but hopefully reassuring. “Although, Samantha Fox isn't nearly as fragile as you're implying.”
“I know. It's just...” His head shakes, letting his unbound hair swish with the movement. “When Bryce started on about that bear yesterday morning, and I saw how much it hurt her... I don't know how I got out of there without trying to kill him.” He falls silent for several heartbeats, then glances reluctantly at his watch. “I have to go. Commitments, you know.”
“Yeah. Commitments.” I don't have any idea what else to say.
I watch the door for a while after he leaves, wondering what just happened. There's never been any evidence of anything between Seth and Sam before, but that certainly came across like more than friendly concern.
When the sounds of people in the hallway die down and I'm pretty sure everyone who's leaving has left already, I slink from my room to go down the rec room, where I find the two younger Foxes at the foosball table.
“What are you doing here?” Scot asks, sounding affronted.
I shrug. “I've never been into dances. It would have been a bother, going all the way to Anchorage to hunt for a dress, then having to wear it and do makeup, then having to force myself to get through a dance....”
“Is that girl code for no one asked you?” he interrupts as his sister shoots a goal. “Because if no one asked you, then the boys here are just plain stupid.”
Smiling at the kid, I shake my head. “Thanks for the sentiment, but several people did ask me.” Like half of the freshman class. They seem to think I'm heroic. “I honestly didn't want to go.”
Toni drops the ball in. “Besides, there's no reason to tie yourself to one person for the whole night. It's better to go stag anyway.”
She tried to sell this to her sister earlier. Sam didn't buy it. Unlike me, she had a dress and had been looking forward to going before Bryce's little bomb dropped. I don't know that he needs to die for it, but I wouldn't mind it if Seth roughed the bear up a little.
I wasn't going to tell Sam about the leopard's visit to my room, but she looks so forlorn cuddled up in an armchair with a tub of Ben and Jerry's clutched in her little hands that I find myself spilling the news within minutes of the opening credits.
“You're kidding,” Sam hisses when I'm done.
Holding my hand over my heart, I pledge, “May God strike me dead if I'm lying.” I grin and lower my hand. “I tell you, he was really worried about you. He wouldn't go until I promised him, like, a million times not to let you wander out onto the tundra and die.”
Sam stares at me by the flickering light of the television. “Seth?” she hisses. “We are still talking about Seth?”
“Yes! Seth!”
“Seth who goes to school here? The leopard? The one with the luxurious if bizarre hair and gorgeous eyes that delve into your soul and a body that's to die for? The Seth who could have any girl in this school, except for Amber and possibly - stress on the possibly - Aliah? That Seth?”
“What do you mean possibly Aliah?” Tod asks from where he lays on the sofa, his arm draping possessively over his mate, who promptly pinches him and then draws the arm tighter.
<
br /> “Yes,” I say, ignoring the interruption. “That Seth.”
“You people are talking over the movie,” Scot complains.
Toni smacks at her brother. “But, what they're saying is more interesting than hobbits.”
“You'd make them shut up if they were talking over elves.”
“Hello! Only because Legolas is almost – almost – as gorgeous as the guy they're talking about. I mean, have you met Seth?”
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