Melee

by Kristy Tate

  “What about the dog-headed men?” Declan asked.

  “Oh, those guys...they just suffered from indecision. They can’t decide what they want, so they have to remain neither one until they reach a conclusion.”

  “Do you really think that’s it?” Lizbet asked. “They have a choice?”

  “Well, everyone has a choice, right?” Courtney said. She turned to Malcolm. “Are you sure about yours?”

  Malcolm nodded. “I think so.”

  Frustration flashed across Courtney’s face. “That’s not a good enough answer! You have to know what you want for it to be manifested!”

  “I want to be normal again,” Malcolm muttered.

  “Are you sure?” Courtney pressed.

  Malcolm nodded.

  “Okay, if you’re really sure, I’ll meet you at your place at midnight.”

  “Are you okay with my watching?” Declan asked.

  “If you’re considering it for yourself, I think it’s a good idea,” Courtney said.

  Just then a cougar flew through the window, sending glass slivers spraying in all directions.

  Courtney sighed and rolled her eyes. “Shape shifters!”

  A SOMBER MOOD FILLED the warehouse. The slap of water against pylons could be heard through the open window. Courtney lined up a variety of objects—a red candle on a brass stand, a tuft of fur, a knob of ginger—on the glass and chrome table.

  “No skeptics.” She pointed her finger at all of them as she gazed in each of their faces.

  A flicker of dread crept through Lizbet. She didn’t want to change Declan in any way. She loved him as he was. She tried telling herself that he had already changed, technically, and if he decided to go through with this, he would just be changing back to how he’d been before. She’d loved him then, too. But people were born to change. They went forward, not backward. As long as they remained healthy, they would evolve, not revert. Worry knotted in her belly, even though it was Malcolm asking to be reformed, not Declan. Still, it felt wrong to her.

  “Everyone join hands and close your eyes,” Courtney instructed.

  Declan’s grasp was strong and reassuring, while Courtney’s hand felt cold and dry.

  “Boundless courage, ceaseless strength, Goddess heed my name,

  Take him back to where he was before the curse upon him came.”

  Claws scrambled on the hardwood floors and a dog yelped. Lizbet opened her eyes in time to watch a wolf dash through the window.

  Declan chased after him, but he stopped at the sill. Lizbet peered over his shoulder at the dark water slapping the pylons. Any sign of Malcolm had completely disappeared.

  The souls or spirits of the dead are identical with the psychic activity of the living; they merely continue it...the concentration and tension of psychic forces have something about them that always looks like magic.

  Carl Jung

  From Lizbet’s Studies

  CHAPTER 10

  Declan beat Lizbet to the sidewalk. “I have to go after him,” he told her.

  She nodded. Her skin was raised with goose pimples and she shivered in front of him. He wanted to draw her into his arms and whisper in her ear that everything would be all right, but he also didn’t want to lie.

  “Where’s Courtney?” Lizbet asked.

  Declan gazed over the water where a silvery cloud moved faster than the gentle breeze. “I’m not sure,” he said, his voice faltering. He ran his hands down Lizbet’s trembling arms. “Listen, I think you should go.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he placed his finger on her lips.

  “Please. I’ll be faster without you.”

  “But I can help.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd gathered in front of the Wonderlust. Vampires, wolves, witches, sirens...paranormals masquerading as beautiful but dangerous people.

  “The animals—” Lizbet began.

  He cut her off. “Do you see any around here?”

  “No-oo,” she said slowly.

  “That’s because they don’t like werewolves, and because they’re smart. They probably also have a healthy respect for and keep their distance from other...weirdos like me.”

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Declan said. “Please just go home. It’s late. Make sure your mom sees you so you don’t get in trouble.”

  “But what sort of trouble will you get in?”

  Declan shrugged. “We’ll have to see.”

  A BLUE LIGHT FLICKERED through the living room windows, letting Lizbet know that her mom and maybe even her grandmother were awake and watching TV. John’s car in the driveway told her that Declan’s dad was also there.

  Lizbet braced her shoulders and tried to smooth down her hair. She had a feeling that her expression would look as frazzled as her wild curls. It would be hard to look and act normal when life had taken such a sharp turn to the bizarre.

  Monsters congregating in clubs. Vampires dueling with werewolves. Shape shifters. When had this become her world? She wanted nothing to do with these creatures, and yet, since Declan was one of them, she was guilty by association.

  And who was to say she wasn’t the strangest of them all? Until a few weeks ago, she had never heard of the Ollos Verdes, the green-eyed Native American tribe, and she was pretty sure the rest of the world was, for the most part, equally unaware.

  Her feet dragged as she climbed the steps. The sound of canned laughter floated through the window, and she recognized the voices. They were watching Mr. Ed, a T.V. show about a talking horse. To them, and to most people, a talking horse was a preposterous idea. And yet, for Lizbet, she encountered talking horses, squirrels, birds, cats...everything every day.

  She pushed open the door. Elizabeth sat in an easy chair with a quilt draped over her knees. She had her head tipped slightly back, her eyes closed, and her mouth open. Daugherty and John were curled together on the sofa. The laughter in their eyes dimmed as Lizbet walked in.

  She waved, not wanting to interrupt their show.

  “How was your night?” Daugherty asked.

  “Good. We met up with some of Declan’s friends in Seattle. Hung out.” Watched some dueling paranormals.

  Daugherty squinted at her. “Wow. Where’d you get the necklace?”

  Lizbet’s hand flew to the pendant on her chest. She’d changed out of her dress and put it in her backpack before getting on the motorbike, but had completely forgotten about the necklace. “Declan gave it to me.”

  Daugherty blinked. “It’s stunning.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Any special occasion?” her mom pressed.

  “A graduation present.”

  “Huh. Did you give him one?” Daugherty asked.

  “She doesn’t need to give him anything,” John spoke up. “That boy has everything he needs and more.” He cleared his throat. “And where’s my son now?”

  Positive that John didn’t want to hear about Declan chasing after a crazed young werewolf, she said, “I’m not really sure. He decided to stay with his friends. I have to work early tomorrow, so I came home.”

  John frowned at the TV screen. “What friends?”

  “Malcolm and his girlfriend.”

  “Malcolm? The chess guy?” John scratched his head. “I didn’t know he and Declan were friends.”

  “Isn’t that the kid suspected of Jason Norbit’s murder?” Daugherty sat up. “And the guard?”

  An expression akin to terror crossed John’s face.

  “A different Malcolm,” Lizbet said quickly, hating herself for lying so easily. “He’s teaching Declan how to play chess.” And how to be a werewolf.

  Lizbet crossed the room and dropped a kiss on her mom’s cheek. “G’night.” She thought about kissing Elizabeth, but decided not to wake her.

  John and Daugherty echoed their goodnights.

  Lizbet went to bed trying not to worry about Declan.

  DECLAN STOOD BENEATH a
glowing street light. A heavy mist hung in the air and fragmented the light into a shimmery haze. Lifting his nose to the air, he caught a whiff of wet dog tinged with the stink of fear.

  A movement behind him made him glance over his shoulder. Courtney sat on the stone wall separating the sidewalk from the pier below. At first he thought she’d changed out of her blue dress, but then he realized she hadn’t changed her clothes, but just the color of them. Her dress was now a blue-black—a color that blended seamlessly with the night sky. “Any luck?” she asked.

  Declan shook his head.

  She let out a shuddering sigh.

  “How long have you been a witch?” Declan asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. “I think I was born this way. It’s been a...” She paused while she searched for the right words. “It’s been hard on my parents,” she finally said.

  “How so?”

  “They’re devout Christians... They won’t even read Harry Potter, because—according to them—all magic is the work of the devil.”

  “Wow. That’s harsh.”

  “At first, we fought about it a lot.” She rubbed her eyes. “I feel badly about the way I ended things. It was cruel—faking my kidnapping...but I was just so mad. And a part of me still thinks they deserve it.”

  Declan raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue.

  “They tried to brainwash the magic out of me. Sent me to wilderness survival camp where we read from the Bible every day....that’s the thing. They seem to have no problem with Moses parting the Red Sea, or Elijah riding into the sky in a chariot of flames, or a donkey talking to Balam, or...well, you get my point. I could go on and on.”

  “Do you see yourself ever reconciling with them?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I still have family. My grandmother is a witch. I learned everything I know from her.”

  “Did she teach you how to locate someone?”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Courtney’s lips as she shook her head. “You’re the one with the nose.” She looked around. “Do you think we should split up? It’ll be faster.”

  Declan didn’t answer her question because he had one of his own. “How did he change into a wolf?” He gazed up at the sliver of moon. This always reminded him of the grinning Cheshire Cat. “I mean, there’s not a full moon.”

  Courtney cocked her head, staring at him. “You don’t have to wait for a full moon. You can change any time you want.”

  Declan shivered. “Maybe Malcolm can, but I—”

  “Have you ever tried it?”

  “No...”

  “You can control it, you know.”

  “I can?” His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

  “Absolutely. You can control your body. It’s as easy as flexing your fingers.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I know a lot of wolves.”

  “And they can all change when and where they want?”

  She nodded.

  He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have any say in the changes his body decided to make.

  Courtney peeled herself off the wall and came to stand beside Declan. “Just close your eyes and imagine yourself as a wolf.”

  Declan shivered with repulsion. “I can’t,” he whispered.

  Courtney took his hand. “You have to stop hating yourself.”

  “I don’t...” His words trailed away, because he realized she was right. He didn’t hate the person he knew as Declan, but he loathed and feared the wolf inside him.

  “You have to make peace with this gift!” She shook his hand to emphasize her words.

  “It’s not a gift—it’s a curse.”

  “Yeah. And it will be as long as you think it is. But if you can just wrap your mind around the amazing possibilities! Think of all the good you could do!”

  “Good? Are you kidding me? For a while I thought I’d killed Jason. I even worried I had something to do with your disappearance.”

  “If you could learn to master your wolf, you’d find that you don’t have any reason to be afraid of him.”

  A strange sense of ease flowed from Courtney’s words. Declan shook himself and narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The waves of peace and contentment washed over him. “You’re doing something, aren’t you? You’re trying to put a spell on me.”

  She blinked. “No I’m not.”

  He pulled away from her reach. “Yes you are. Stop it.” Feeling like he’d taken one too many Benadryls, he placed both hands on the sides of his head.

  She laughed. “You’re becoming more self-aware already.” She elbowed him. “Come on, let’s find Malcolm.”

  “Wait. If you really think I’m better off as a part-man part-wolf beast, why did you agree to change Malcolm?”

  She smiled at him and comprehension dawned.

  “What did you do?” he asked, his voice and thoughts thick with suspicion.

  She batted her eyelashes. “Nothing.”

  “Yes you did. What was it?”

  She sighed and stuck out her lower lip.

  “Aren’t you worried he’ll do something...hurt someone?”

  She laughed. “Malcolm? He can’t hurt anyone.”

  “But as a wolf he might.”

  “No.” She sounded so sure.

  “How can you know that?”

  “I know Malcolm. Violence isn’t in his nature.”

  Declan felt a stirring of hope. “Do you think that’s true of me as well?”

  “That’s completely up to you,” she said.

  “We should still go and look for him,” Declan said.

  Courtney raised her hand, palm up, and a small blue ball of light glowed.

  Declan glanced around, worried what passersby might think, but they were alone on the sidewalk. He drew closer. Inside the ball, a miniature wolf loped through the woods.

  “He’s going home,” Declan said.

  “I have to stop him!”

  “Wait. Why? Why is going home so bad?”

  “It’s not him I’m worried about. It’s the police.”

  Of course. She was right.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I want to take him to a colony in Alaska. There’s a group of peace-loving paranormals there.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but waved her hands in the air and disappeared in a shimmery puff of silver.

  Declan was alone.

  WHEN DECLAN CRAWLED out of bed the next day, his whole body ached. The sun pouring through the window told him he’d missed most of the morning. His dad’s car in the driveway sent him a warning. He groaned. He was an adult. He could move out. Thanks to his inheritance from his grandfather, he was financially independent. He stayed for his mom. He loved his dad. And he knew that both of his parents loved him and that whatever they had to say to him would be said because they cared and were worried about him. But his body groaned from his night without sleep. Hunger tore at him. And guilt. He hated lying to his parents. But he didn’t have a choice. The less they knew about the paranormal world, the safer and happier they’d be.

  Before he headed downstairs to face the parental firing squad, he stepped into a pair of jeans and padded into the bathroom. He needed to shower, but he needed food more.

  Although Gloria and John were somewhere in the kitchen using hushed voices, Declan could hear their every word while he ran the water to brush his teeth. Even though he didn’t like or agree with the gist of their conversation, he had to admit that being a werewolf had its advantages. When his hunger could no longer be ignored, he made his way to the kitchen. His parents’ conversation came to a stop when he entered the room.

  “Declan, we need to talk,” his dad said as he put down his coffee mug and pinned Declan with a steely glare.

  “I know,” Declan said as he pulled food from the fridge: a carton of eggs, a package of bacon, two red peppers, a po
und of cheddar cheese, a mozzarella ball, a bunch of spinach, an onion, some mushrooms, sausage, picante sauce, a pot of rice, a container of black beans. “You think I spend too much time with Lizbet.”

  His parents exchanged glances while he pulled out a frying pan, a cutting board, and a knife. He whacked his vegetables into small pieces.

  “Lizbet told us you were with Malcolm—isn’t he the kid who killed Jason and that deputy?” Gloria’s voice squeaked with concern.

  “A totally different Malcolm,” Declan said. Sort of. He grabbed a bowl and began cracking eggs into it. “Either of you want an omelet?” He shot his parents a glance.

  Gloria was frowning at him, while John stared at the mass of food on the counter.

  “Good thing your dad left him all that money,” John said to his ex-wife beneath his breath. “He’s going to spend it all on food.”

  After pouring the vegetables onto the frying pan, he silently urged them to sauté faster. Keeping his eyes on the sizzling peppers, he went to the fridge to pour himself some orange juice. He tried not to choke on his impatience to be anywhere else.

  “Hardly,” Declan said. “Oh, I thought I’d try out for the UW basketball team. They have walk-on tryouts this morning.” Knowing this would make them happy, he smiled at his parents’ shocked faces.

  “Huh, that’s great, son.” John cleared his throat. “I thought maybe you and I could go camping next weekend. Would you like that?”

  Declan did some quick lunar counting, because the last thing he wanted was to spend a night in a tent with his dad as a werewolf. “Next weekend should be fine.”

  Gloria rubbed the back of her neck with her one operable hand. “You haven’t been hanging around with Nicole, have you? Her parents are worried about her.” There was a silent “also” at the end of that sentence, but Declan didn’t comment on it.

  “No, but it’s understandable if she’s acting differently,” Declan said. “Her friend is missing, her boyfriend was murdered. Another kid—a good kid—that she knew from school killed a deputy. She has every right to be freaking out. It would be weird if she wasn’t.”