Larkin smirks. “Yeah, he got a bloody nose and—”
I smack the wall. “That’s right!”
She wrinkles her nose and forehead. “What’s wrong with you?”
Fanning my face with my hand, I draw a deep breath. I’m too young for hot flashes, right? “Nothing is wrong with me.”
“Uh, duh! You are so not yourself right now.” She looks to Bennett and Jasper who both nod, agreeing with her.
“Maybe I’m just tired of all this.” I point the dining room. “Maybe I just want to go home, watch some Netflix, and eat some ice cream.”
“We’re lactose intolerant,” Jasper says. “You’ll pass gas for days.”
“They make soy!” I snap.
He recoils, stepping behind Bennett who glares at me. “Yeah, you’re totally normal today,” Bennett says.
“Fine, maybe I’m a little grumpy,” I mutter. “Between the headaches, nosebleeds, and nearly getting eaten by wolves, I feel entitled to a night off from the McGregor burden.”
Larkin’s mouth drops open. She points at me. “She’s finally cracked.”
“Whatever.” I reach for the door when Magnus comes round the corner.
“Enough stalling, kids. The food is getting cold and my mom is not happy tonight.” Magnus motions for us to follow him into the dining room. He stops suddenly in the doorway, glancing back at us. “Haven’t you ever wondered why she forces you all to make bread?”
Larkin snaps a bubble. “Family tradition. We might be young, but we’re not stupid.” She pushes Bennett toward the wall. “Well, he is a little. It’s the steroids.”
Bennett’s face turns beet red. “Shut up, Larkin.”
“See, roid rage.” She laughs until Magnus cuts her off.
“You have to make the bread because you aren’t cursed like the rest of us. You still have magic. I mean not your full powers because you aren’t sixteen just yet. But you have enough latent power to help the rest of us. The bread you make has magical properties that helps lessen the curse.” My uncle looks me straight in the eye.
Air wafts into my mouth as my jaw has nearly unhinged. Cursed? Magical bread? What has he been smoking? My heart races, and blood pounds in my ears.
Magnus lets out a belly laugh and turns to Larkin. “Did you see her face? She nearly believed me.”
Jasper frowns, chewing on his rubber stick. Larkin musters an awkward chuckle while Bennett shoves his hands in his pockets and scowls.
“You’re not funny, Magnus,” I say, slowly. Anger pricks at my skin.
“Come on, Candy, you’re the one that I can count on to be a good sport.” There’s a question in his eyes. Why is she pushing back?
“You mean I’m the one you can count on to be a doormat.” My vision colors red. I’m not sure why, but I hate Magnus.
He looks to my cousins, only they’re all staring at me.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, kid.”
“I’m not a kid!” I roar, with my fists at my sides. I want to throw Magnus to the ground and pummel him so hard; I can taste the rage coursing through my body.
What is wrong with me?
The dining room door opens and Uncle Patrick appears. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, the kids are fine,” Magnus replies.
“Actually, he was teasing Candy again, and she snapped,” Jasper says, putting his chew in his pocket. “I don’t blame her. I couldn’t handle it either. Is dinner ready?”
Uncle Patrick grabs Magnus by the arm, dragging him into the room. “You know what tonight is. Stop poking the bear.” His voice is quiet, but I can still hear him.
“I’m sorry,” Magnus twists his arm free and breaks away. He heads for the far end of the room where Grandpa keeps the liquor locked up.
“Come along, children,” Grandmother motions for us to enter. “It’s getting late. You must be starving.”
“Yes, we are. Can we order pizza?” I ask.
Did I just say that? Seriously, I need to spend less time with Larkin.
Grandmother gives me a disapproving glance. We follow Uncle Patrick into the dining room, each taking our assigned seat around the massive table meant to seat thirty.
The dining room glows with light from the five crystal chandeliers that hang from the ceiling and from the candle centerpieces. I imagine Guinness has a record for longest dining room table in the world, and I’m positive my Grandmother’s mahogany table could be a contender. It runs almost the complete length of the room, though only a quarter of the table has place settings now. The dining room has doubled as a ballroom for many charitable events all in the name of keeping up the pristine McGregor image.
My uncles are seated according to age, with the oldest sitting closest to Grandmother at the head of the table. Without my father here, Uncle Patrick—Bennett’s father—is the oldest. Next to him sits Larkin’s father, Uncle Daig, and next to him sits Jasper’s father, Uncle Brandan. Uncle Samuel, Uncle Peter, Uncle John, and Uncle Magnus round out the rest of our dinner party. Some of my uncles are named after Irish saints at my grandmother’s insistence. Maybe she figured Shakespeare was wrong; there really is meaning in a name.
Larkin, Bennett, and Jasper sit across the table from their fathers. There’s an open seat to the left of Grandmother where my father should be.
“Since Davin isn’t here, it seems only right that Candy take his place.” Grandmother nods to me. I shuffle over to the chair, sitting down and unfolding my napkin in my lap, feeling woefully under dressed and stained.
Grandmother has changed into a long, brushed crimson evening gown made out of sateen and taffeta that makes a rustling sound every time she moves.
No one speaks as we pass plates, filling them with stew and bread. I take a bite of the bread. It tastes slightly metallic. Was Magnus really joking about its magical properties?
“How is school going, Larkin?” Grandmother asks.
In my peripheral, I see Uncle Daig flinch.
“Things are going well, aren’t they, Larkin?” her father says with a nod.
“Sure. I mean, I got detention last week for skipping class again, but otherwise things are awesome.” Larkin grins and then slurps her stew.
Grandmother puts her soup spoon down. “Larkin, your Aunt Claire sits on the board of that school—”
“I know.”
“Well, do you know you’re a McGregor and with that comes certain expectations?” Grandmother says.
“She knows what’s expected of her, Mother.” Uncle Daig loosens the tie around his neck.
“I do and since I’m not the golden child—”
“Larkin!” Bennett cuts her off. “It’s Candy’s birthday. Give it a rest already.”
She rolls her eyes, spooning up stew instead of insults.
“Larkin is doing better than she’ll let on, Grandmother.” I say, forcing a smile. “We’re actually thinking of running for student council because it’ll look good on our applications for college. Right, Lark?”
She shoots me her best I-hate-you smile before turning to Grandmother and nodding. “That’s right. I am all about going to college, getting out of Sequim Falls, and attending art school in Europe. Oh wait, that’s Candy’s dream.”
My smile fades. I’d kick her under the table, but she sits so far away she might as well be in another zip code.
Grandmother sighs, looking past Larkin and out the window on the other side of the room. I look too but all I can see is a full moon that seems to be getting bigger by the hour.
“I think art school sounds great,” Magnus says, tearing into the bread. “I mean the parties are probably lousy, but the food will be good.”
“Yes, college abroad does sound lovely,” Uncle Samuel agrees. He shoves bread into his mouth. It’s winter and he’s sweating. Uncle Samuel is always sweating.
“We don’t go away to college,” Uncle Brandan says quietly.
“What?” I say.
Surely, one of my eight uncles has gone a
way to college. Chewing on my bread, I run through each of their college alma maters.
No, they all went to schools no more than an hour away. The bread lodges in my throat. I gulp water, breaking out in a sweat. And my uncles have always come home for the once-a-month family dinners. That’s more than being a close family. It’s just weird. Even Magnus, the resident black sheep of the family, has stayed close to home. Why?
Uncle Patrick clears his throat. “What your uncle means is that there are plenty of good schools nearby. McGregors tend to stay close to home, so we can help with the business. Everyone does it. You four will too,” he says.
“But why?” Jasper asks. He wants to go to M.I.T. He’s talked about nothing else since he was six-years-old and discovered robotics.
“Well, we all have obligations to the company,” Uncle Patrick replies. “The McGregor family is the lifeline of the corporation. We are involved in every aspect of its functions.”
I glance over at Bennett, who pushes stew around his plate, saying nothing. Maybe he already knew that staying home for college was a family rule.
“Um, I don’t have any obligations and absolutely nothing to offer the company, which is why I’m going to Sarah Lawrence,” Larkin says, slamming her fork down on the table.
Grandmother jumps at the noise, still focused on that moon.
“Larkin, now is not the time,” Uncle Daig says.
“Why not? I mean this is a family dinner, right? Shouldn’t we be able to talk about family issues?” she asks.
“I don’t see why we can’t go away to college,” I say, setting my napkin on the table.
“We need you here, Candy,” Uncle Patrick says.
“Why?” Larkin and I ask together.
“We can’t go!” Bennett blurts out.
“Bennett, don’t,” Uncle Patrick’s voice has a warning tone to it.
“Come on, dad, they’re going to find out soon enough,” he replies.
“Not now, son,” Uncle Patrick speaks through clenched teeth.
“Is there cake?” Uncle Samuel asks, pushing his empty bowl forward. “It’s not a birthday without a cake.” He smiles hopefully.
Uncle Daig shakes his head. “We talked about your cholesterol, Sam. No cake.”
Uncle Samuel’s smile disappears and his face darkens. “I’ll eat what I want.”
Grandmother’s face says otherwise. Uncle Samuel sits back in his chair, arms crossed and lips puckered.
“I’ll come back on breaks and during the summer to help with the business,” I say.
Yes, I’ll come back after I see the world and experience love—real love. The kind that makes your heart stop and feel like you’ll die without it. The Ryan kind of love. I’d give up my trust fund for a date with him.
“Children, you can’t leave for college for several more years,” Grandmother says.
Jasper raises his hand. “I’ve skipped two grades. I could enter M.I.T. in the fall. I’ve already submitted my application.”
“You what?” Grandmother turns to Uncle Brandan who shakes his head.
“My son is brilliant, Mother. He deserves to chase his dream and frankly, one of us should.”
“That’s amazing, Jasper,” I say. “You’ll get in.”
Larkin groans. “Of course, he’ll get in! The question is will you let him go? The answer should be yes. Let him leave the co-dependency and be free! Besides, it’s not like you can chain us up in the basement and keep us here forever.”
Uncle Peter drops his drink at the far end of the table. Shattering glass is the only sound in the room. The color drains from Grandmother’s face.
“Sorry,” he says.
Grandmother turns to Jasper’s father, with pink cheeks. “Brandan, I thought we were all in agreement,” she says with a ragged breath. “The best thing is for the children to stay close. It’s how we protect them.”
“From what?” Larkin asks.
“You don’t want to know,” Bennett says.
“What is with you?” I say to him. “What do you know that the rest of us don’t?”
Uncle Brandan stands up, yanking off his tie. “We agree on nothing. I wanted to go to Notre Dame, remember? But she said I couldn’t and you sided with her. Provisions could have been made, Mother.”
Who is her? Provisions? What?
“I don’t know what’s gotten into all of you tonight. You’re discussing things in front of the children that shouldn’t be discussed.” Grandmother sets her napkin on the table, turning to me. “There are so many things I had planned to say tonight but time has gotten away from us with your accident and everything—”
“By the way, shouldn’t someone have called the police about that? Doesn’t Harold have family?” Larkin asks.
Uncle Patrick taps on the table. “I took care of it. The situation has been handled.”
“What? Like you bribed the cops or something?” Larkin says.
Uncle Patrick doesn’t reply, shooting a pointed look at Grandmother instead. She pushes her plate aside though the only thing she touched was the bread.
“I’m afraid there won’t be time for cake tonight. The children will have to go soon,” Grandmother says, staring out the window again.
I don’t understand her fascination with the moon or why she’s suddenly in a rush for us to leave. Even for this family, dinner has gone off the rails.
“How are we supposed to get home without Harold?” I ask.
“I can drive,” Bennett says.
“You don’t have a license,” Larkin replies.
Uncle Patrick pulls his car keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Bennett. “Candy can drive. She turns sixteen in a couple of hours, and she’s the only one with a learner’s permit.”
“But Dad—”
“Now that we have transportation sorted out, such an important occasion deserves a toast,” Grandmother says, standing up. Lifting her wine glass, she smiles but in a painful, forced way.
“In two days’ time, our dear Darby turns sixteen. While some cultures may celebrate fifteen as coming of age, we celebrate the sixteenth year of life. Darby Candice McGregor, your family welcomes you into adulthood. We are here for you as you grow and become the woman we have always hoped you would be. Please raise your glass and—” A shrill whistle pierces the air. The glass in Grandmother’s hand shatters, cutting her palm. Blood spills down her arm and onto the white table cloth. She grips the table, blood dripping from her ears. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”
My ears ring, making my brain feel as if it’s about to explode. Covering my ears, I survey the room. Bennett, Larkin, and Jasper stare with wide-eyes. They can’t hear the sound. If they could, they’d be in agony like my uncles, grandmother, and me.
It’s just like the whistle in the woods.
My grandmother knocks her chair to the floor, doubling over.
“Grandmother? What’s wrong?” I ask.
She turns toward me with glowing yellow eyes. Her hands have sprouted hair, and she’s torn her dress at the sides.
“You have to get out of here,” she growls.
“I don’t understand,” I say, standing up and putting weight on my injured foot. The pain is gone.
I scan the room as I back away from the table. My uncles are on the floor, writhing and screaming. They’re blocking the door, the only way out.
Larkin, Bennett, and Jasper get up from the table. We move to the east corner of the room, huddled against a wall. The noise grows louder, sending vibrations through my skull. My stomach churns, causing cramps that make me double over. “What is that?” I scream.
“I don’t know,” Larkin says. “But look at the moon.” She points out the window.
The full moon is at the highest point in the sky. We turn at the sound of a low growl. Uncle Samuel is on the floor. He has paws and a tail.
And he looks hungry. Really, really hungry.
Blood spills from my nose. The room swims before my eyes. One-by-one, my
uncles scream, howl, and shift into wolves. I drop to my knees, not believing the scene before my eyes. The car accident must have caused a concussion. It’s the only explanation for what’s happening. Maybe if I close my eyes and go to sleep—my head is just so heavy—I’ll wake and everything will be normal again.
It wasn’t folklore. The wolf curse is real.
In a heartbeat, everything goes black.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Candy! Candy!” Larkin shrilly calls to me through a dark tunnel.
“What?” I mumble.
Something heavy sits on my head. I check my skull with my fingertips. It’s just my brain, which feels like crushed melon. Moaning, I rub my eyes. Every muscle and bone in my body aches.
Larkin’s voice is panicked. “We’re in the middle of a crisis here!”
“What’s going on?” I murmur, trying to convince my eyes to open.
“Well, my dad turned into a wolf, which is crazy because we don’t even have a dog. He’s allergic to them, and now he’s a freaking wolf! And if you don’t get up, there’s a good chance we’re going to be eaten by our own family!”
I blink rapidly to moisten my dry eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. It can’t be that bad.”
Larkin’s been eating Magnus’s special brownies again. I’m sure of it. The piercing sound continues to echo through my ears and stab my brain.
A wolf howls close by. But that can’t be. I’m inside. Animals belong outside. The sound reminds me of a wounded animal left to die.
Wait—how can there be wolves inside Grandmother’s dining room?
My eyes fly open and I sit up with a jolt. I didn’t have a nightmare. I count eight wolves—a pack—roaming the room.
But how?
“We have to turn off that sound,” I say with a hoarse voice.
“You mean that faint whistle? It’s almost like a kids’ toy.” Larkin says, cowering on the floor next to me.
If she had nightmares about the boogeyman before, they were nothing compared to the real-life horror show playing out around the dining room table. Grandmother’s favorite china plates are smashed. Chairs are broken into piles of sticks. At the far end of the room, night air blows through a shattered window. Blood drips from the jagged glass.
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