His smile widens. “I had a front row seat to their maneuvers. My uncle had a case in the state so I got to stay there for—I think it was three years?”
“Wait, your uncle had a case that took three years?” I ask, then realize we’re back on the subject of his uncle. It’s surprising how often that’s happened considering what he said last night about not wanting to talk about his uncle.
“Funny you ask.” He takes a long sip of his coffee and then rotates the cup several times in his hands before responding, his eyes down. “He went missing during his mission and was presumed dead for almost a year. I didn’t have any other guardian and the boys at Dreamland didn’t know what to do with me so I just kind of stuck around, learned the ropes, watched the action, and all that. They eventually found my uncle. I guess he had faked his death so he could do some undercover work to locate a shapeshifter ring trying to raise a hydra out in the desert. Yeah. That was a hoot when he finally came back.”
There is no possible response I can give after hearing that story. I can’t even imagine living through something like that—thinking your family is dead and you’re left all alone. Then the fact that Charlie’s uncle did it on purpose makes it that much worse. I can see why the subject of his uncle is a touchy one.
“So, you see being a jerk is actually working out really well for me,” he says, responding to my jab from last evening. “The less people I have to care about, the less I have to worry about them dying or doing something monumentally stupid. You might want to keep that in mind.”
On that cheerful note he takes his cup with him into the barn and disappears. At least that explains some of Charlie’s personality and hostility towards me. He got so mad when I defended Ashley because I didn’t consider who she might have hurt. It’s pretty obvious Charlie’s still hurting from what his uncle did. There’s more than that, though. As I recall, Melody mentioned he has some sort of beef with werewolves in particular, but I guess that’s a story for another time.
Revelations aside, after a quick shower I get dressed, throw on my backpack, and rush outside to drive myself to school only to remember that Hawk took our SUV. Only Jefferson’s 442 and Charlie’s car are here now. I don’t like the thought of asking either of them for a ride considering my current relationship with them both, but I’ll be late if I try to walk all the way there.
The big doors to the barn creak open and Jefferson waves me over.
“Come on,” he says gruffly. “I’ll give you a lift.”
I swallow and hustle over without a word. He pulls out the Green Monster, a sparkling emerald against the snow, and I shut the barn doors behind him before getting into the passenger seat. The first couple of minutes make for an extremely awkward ride. I stare out the window and catch glimpses of Jefferson’s scowl out of the corner of my eye.
He finally breaks the silence once we reach town. “I heard the story of what happened in Duluth last night.”
Oh, no. Here it comes. He must be furious.
“You did good, kid.” He gives a solemn nod.
I stare and clutch my backpack in my arms. “Who are you and what have you done with Jefferson?”
He shrugs and raps his fingers on the steering wheel. “You took initiative. Sure, it could have turned out better but it could’ve been worse, too. You found the girl, you went after a monster, and then you took the right steps when all hell broke loose. I know you don’t do things for show.” He gives me a sideways look. “You do things because you care. Honestly, I think we could use more of that in the IMS.”
I bite my lower lip but can’t stop a smile from spreading on my face. The panic and dread of Jefferson hating me for bailing on the Dasc interrogation lifts from my shoulders.
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”
His scowl deepens. “Don’t go crying on me or asking for hugs.”
“No hugs or tears. I promise.”
“Good. Then tighten your belt and get your head on straight because when Dasc wakes up for round two of interrogations, you need to be ready. And I’m not letting you go in there alone again. I’ll be coming with.”
I’m surprised even though I should have expected it. “But Director Knox said—”
“I don’t care what he said or what he thinks he knows,” he growls. “You aren’t going to do this alone. We’re a team, right?”
My smile widens and I duck my head. “Right.”
The Green Monster rumbles to a stop in front of the steps of the high school. Jefferson pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and starts writing out an excuse for me. He hesitates and points his pen at me.
“What were you out for this time?” he asks.
I clear my throat and mumble, “Diarrhea.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“That brother of yours . . .” He writes in slow strokes, saying the words out loud as he puts them to paper. “Out with the runs.” He pushes the note into my hand and shoos me out the door. “Don’t get into any fights.”
“Make good choices!” I shout back and hustle up the icy steps into the school.
The familiar tangle of students, foot odor, body spray, and lemon cleaner surround me. Everyone’s pulling off their winter jackets and tracking trails of slush through the hallways. I navigate between the quickly moving flow and enter the office on my right. Two other boys are in line ahead of me turning in their own parent notes. I recognize both of them as werewolves. Joe and Nick. The secretary, in a disturbingly bright purple sweater today, scowls at each of us. The two boys brush past me on the way out, nodding in my direction.
“Note?” the secretary asks without preamble when I step up to the counter, and then does a double take to stare at my face. I did my best to cover up my black eye, lacerations, and bruising with makeup this morning but my skills must be lacking.
To redirect her attention to something that isn’t my battered face, I slide over the rumpled note and she looks at it with disdain. To my horror, she calls Principal Tippy over. His long limbs precede him like spider legs as he exits his office and walks over to the counter, adjusting his hairpiece with two fingers. He looks thinner than usual and that’s saying something. Must be because half the student population is werewolves. He takes the note from the secretary with skeletal fingers and lets out an oozing stream of baritone discontent like a gas leak.
“How many absences has this been, Ms. Mason?” he asks and clears his throat loudly. “The runs was it? Bit of bad seafood perhaps?”
I press my lips into a thin line and need a second to collect myself. I’m going to strangle Hawk.
“Bad shrimp,” I say as unsarcastically as possible, which doesn’t really work.
“Last week it was a toothache.”
“I had to get a filling replaced. Came loose apparently.”
“The week before that it was scarlet fever.”
“I got it from my uncle.”
Principal Tippy starts snapping his fingers together and his face screws up tight in thought. “And the week before that it was . . . it was . . .”
“Taking care of your dying uncle,” the secretary chimes in unhelpfully.
“That’s right,” I say, taking it in stride. “That was when he had scarlet fever.”
“Oh, that’s right,” the principal says and snaps his fingers loudly in my face. “And what else was there, Doris?”
The secretary holds up a hand and starts counting off fingers. “Your pet rabbit died and you had to give it a proper funeral, you had to bail your uncle out of jail, you sprained your ankle, your house caught fire, and—this is my favorite—you were hit by a semi!”
Out of all the ridiculous excuses, the one they find hard to believe is the only one that’s actually true?
“I lead a difficult and danger-ridden life,” I say without flinching. It’s certainly true, and yet they are more likely to believe scarlet fever and bailing “Uncle” Jefferson out of jail than chasing after a fresh
werewolf, breaking up wolf fights, or tracking down a vampire.
Principal Tippy clears his throat again. “I’ve made a call to the truancy officer. You’ll meet with him in a couple of days to explain this difficult life of yours. Your brother as well.”
“Sounds swell.”
“I do hope your brother is here today.”
“Oh, no.” I hold a hand over my heart. “I’m afraid he’s come down with a case of the runs as well.”
“I thought you said it was from bad shrimp.”
“Yeah, he ate the leftovers last night. Now, is it okay if I head to class? I can’t wait to discuss Hamlet in first period.” I give them a big encouraging smile but they aren’t having any of it.
Thankfully, Ashley flies into the office at that very moment to come to my rescue. She trots in through the glass door in a bright red t-shirt boasting a slew of comic book characters and pushes a bottle of something dark purple into my hands.
“Phoenix, oh thank goodness!” she squeals in true Ashley fashion, her blonde ponytail bouncing in her excited motions. “Are you okay? I got you some prune juice. That’s supposed to help right? I’m so glad you’re feeling better. We should get moving before we’re late for English. Oh!” She spins about to face the principal as if she’s just noticed him for the first time. “Good morning, Principal Tippy! How are you today?”
“I’m fine,” he says, a crease between his eyebrows. “And you?”
“Fantastic! Well, we better get going. I’ll see you during third period to copy those reports, okay? Great, thanks, bye!”
She roughly grabs my shoulder to turn me around and push me through the glass doors. We hustle down the hallway and pause in front of my locker. Ashley is grinning from ear to ear.
“Thanks for that,” I say and stuff my backpack into my locker.
“Oh, that was exciting,” she whispers. “Like an undercover mission to break you out of jail.”
I laugh. “Throw on a hood and cloak and you’re a regular ol’ vigilante.”
“I know, right?” She bounces on the balls of her feet and shakes her hands in excitement. “Hawk told me you were out on business and I needed to help cover for you.”
“Well, that was thoughtful of you two. And, uh, you can have your prune juice back. You realize it’s used to ease constipation not diarrhea, right?”
“Oh, actually this is grape juice.” She takes the bottle from me, cracks it open and takes a sip. I slam my locker shut and we walk together to first period English. “But, on a side note, did you—” She glances both ways down the hallway. “Did you guys find anything on that vampire?”
I give a single humorless laugh and make a circle motion about my face. “Courtesy of sir jerk vampire.” Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops open. “He’s on the run but we’ll catch him. Don’t worry.”
“Are you okay?” she breathes and shies away from the wounds on my face as if they might start spurting blood at any second.
“Simply fantastic.” I roll my shoulders and release a sigh.
Ashley puckers her lips and glances around the hallway awkwardly like she’s searching for a change of subject in the yellow lockers around us. Eventually she asks, “How’s Hawk doing?”
“Hawk’s fine. He’s out on business today.”
She scrunches her face up and twists the bottle of juice between her hands. “So, he’s okay?”
“Yeah. He didn’t have the pleasure of getting beat in the face like I did.”
“No, I mean—well, I mean after yesterday . . .”
My face tucks into a frown. “What are you talking about?”
She tosses up her hands as if it’s obvious. “He was acting defensive all day yesterday and then got into a big fight with Matt. I’m pretty sure he got detention. He didn’t tell you?”
Chapter 11
I’m a heartbeat away from texting Hawk when the bell rings. Ashley and I rush into English at the same moment and practically dive into our seats. Our teacher scowls at us but doesn’t call us tardy. She moves to the front and starts up a discussion about Hamlet but I tune out. I try passing a slip of paper to Ashley to figure out what happened with Hawk yesterday but I’m caught the second I reach out. The teacher clicks her tongue at me, shakes her head, and keeps an eye on me the rest of class, forcing me to wait for information on my brother.
Why wouldn’t Hawk mention he got into a fight? We tell each other everything. The few times I’ve tried to keep a secret from my brother, he found out the same day anyway. Secrets between us are pointless. Maybe he didn’t tell me because it had something to do with his wolf half. I hadn’t been around to keep that part of him at bay. He doesn’t have the benefit of the serum like every other werewolf in town. They can all go about their lives as normally as they please. Not for the first time, I question why Hawk so adamantly refuses to take the serum. I know he has his reasons but he’s never told me the whole story.
Huh. I guess there is one secret that’s always been kept between us after all.
I tap my foot and rap my fingers anxiously throughout the class and the second the bell rings, I pull Ashley to the side.
“What happened with Hawk?” I ask in an undertone. “He was being defensive how?”
She shrugs and fiddles with the corner of her notebook. “He seemed stressed out, and I heard Matt kept making comments.”
“What kind of comments?”
“Oh, you know Matt. He’s always a jerk. He was just being rude in general. Some gripe about the soccer game and how Hawk’s a big shot and needs to be knocked down a peg. Then at lunch Matt said something to Hawk and he snapped. He tossed his tray and went after Matt. Some of his friends held him back so Matt didn’t get his butt kicked, but still.”
“Do you know what Matt said to him?”
“No, I was sitting at a different table.” She bounces on her feet again, nervous this time. “Then he just kind of kept to himself and didn’t want to talk to anyone after that.”
A pit forms in my stomach. I wasn’t here for my brother when I should have been. I glance around the hallway looking for Matt.
“When I find that punk—”
Ashley grabs my sleeve and scowls. “You’re in enough hot water with the principal. Don’t go picking a fight, Phoenix.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t care about school, Ash. They can do whatever they want.”
“Well, I care!”
“And I appreciate that.”
She sniffs haughtily and holds up her chin. “Come on. We have to get to our next class.”
We retreat to our separate lockers to exchange our textbooks then head together to second period. Sociology is a lot different than it used to be. Mr. Webster is gone and sitting in a penitent cell in Underground for his part in Dasc’s scheme. In his place is thin, narrow-faced Mrs. Leech who, incidentally, sucks the fun out of everything.
I sort of nap through class and then perk up for third period. Ashley and I part ways as I head for biology, a class I share with Matt Jones—my target today. On my way into the classroom, I bump into Peter. He readjusts his glasses and gets a better hold on his textbook which is hiding a comic book sticking out between the pages.
“Peter, hey,” I say and tap him on the shoulder before he moves away. We had gotten off to a bumpy start when I first came to town, but after he found out I work for a secret government agency, he’s been more than happy to be my personal snitch for any werewolf not toeing the line.
“Hey!” he says. “You were gone yesterday. Are you okay? You look like you took a beating.”
I lean in closer, look both ways, and say under my breath, “I was out on business.”
His face lights up like a fire sprite burning down a house. “What were you—”
“You know the rules.”
“Oh, right. It’s classified.”
“That’s right.”
His face falls but he quietly asks, “What can I do for you, Agent?”
“What do you have
on Matt Jones?”
Our heads automatically swing to where Matt is sitting in the middle of the room, playing around with a microscope, and accidentally breaks a glass slide. He pushes the broken slide towards his friend and points to his buddy when our teacher looks over. Peter and I both roll our eyes and focus on each other again.
“I’m ashamed to call him one of us,” Peter says under his breath.
I pat him on the shoulder. “I hear you, buddy. Now, what do you have for me?”
“Just the usual. He’s been picking on everybody and everything. Although, he did get into a fight with your brother the other day.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
“What do you know about it?”
“From what I gather, it was sort of an alpha challenge. That’s a werewolf thing, right?” He scrunches his nose in thought as if he doesn’t know. Of course he knows. He’s a werewolf. When the disease is strong, it makes werewolves long for some kind of pack order, but with the serum that doesn’t happen. At least, it shouldn’t, but throw all those werewolves together in high school and what looks like forming a pack is really the same system of teenagers forming groups of friends or cliques—there’s just a lot more fur.
“So Matt wants to play alpha?” I ask.
“Yeah. Like Mr. Krushnic.”
All curiosity runs out of my veins to be replaced by something much more powerful—survival instincts and a rush of anger. Anybody trying to replace Dasc a/k/a “James Krushnic” is on a very dangerous course and one I can’t allow. Talk about adding to my plate. Worrying about Hawk, vampires, selkies, and Dasc himself is starting to wear me out.
“Well, what started the fight exactly?” I ask.
“Jason.”
I blink. “Jason?”
Peter nods. “Matt’s been picking on him a lot lately when you guys aren’t around. I mentioned this to Hawk a while back. He didn’t tell you?”
No, he didn’t. I try to keep the frown off my face as I say, “We’ve been busy, and we’ll work independently on jobs sometimes.” It’s not true but I can’t instill distrust in the werewolves around town. They need to believe we’re hard-working, trustworthy IMS agents.
The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2) Page 15