The Silent Strength of Stones

by Nina Kiriki Hoffman

  “This is much better,” I said.

  Her yellow eyes widened, her eyebrows rising in wounded crescents.

  “Because,” I said, and leaned forward to kiss her, “you know it’s my idea when I do that. You can’t make me if I don’t want to.” Or maybe she could, but we would both know if she used her voice on me. “Don’t you think that’s better?”

  She kissed me again, blinking, then wiped a tear from her cheek. “Okay,” she said. She looked away. She sighed. “I can’t take you home, anyway. That would have been the point. I don’t live at home anymore.”

  “What?”

  “There was a prophecy. My little brother died, and I was going to find out who—I’ve never told anybody about this, but—”

  “Nick,” Evan said.

  I surfaced and looked at him. For a second I wished we had never gotten tangled up with each other. I wanted to hear what Willow had to tell me. I wanted to be my own person for half an hour.

  Evan stood in the shade of the umbrella, his face blank, his poise gone. Megan lay on her back on a chaise beyond the pool. A fashion magazine lay open over her face, and the rise and fall of her chest was slow as sleep. The white blonde of Kristen’s hair spilled over the edge of the neighboring chaise, where she lay motionless on her stomach. Both their bodies looked oiled and tan.

  He was a wolf. He didn’t know how to strike up a conversation. He was my wolf. I might not be an absolute master of social arts, but I could help him.

  I glanced at Willow. “Later,” she said. “It’s all very old news.”

  Taking Willow’s hand, I went to Evan and nudged him with my shoulder. “Come on,” I murmured. I led them around the pool and tossed my towel on the chaise next to Megan’s. I sat Evan down on the chaise, glanced at Willow. She slid her hand out of mine and stretched out on a neighboring chaise.

  I leaned close to the fashion magazine and whispered, “Megan? Hey, Megan?”

  She startled and sat up, the magazine slipping to the ground. “Oh. Jeez, Nick.”

  “The suit looks great.” It wrapped her body in promises, drawing the eyes and heating the blood. I had had no idea she was shaped like that.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts and hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she said. “I feel weird in it.”

  “You look terrific.”

  Kristen stretched her arms above her head, then turned her face away from us.

  I sat down beside Evan. Megan glanced in his direction. Her eyes widened. Her knees came up, hiding her stomach.

  “Megan, this is Evan.”

  “What?” she said, her voice high.

  “This is my friend Evan.”

  Evan held out his hands to her. She blinked, then reached her hand out. He took it between his and kissed it, his lips resting against her skin a moment. I felt like I should nudge him or something.

  Megan’s shoulders shuddered. After a moment she rugged her hand free of Evan’s. “Kind of a mean trick,” she said, her voice low, her arms tight across her chest again, hands buried in her armpits. “I had thought better of you, Nick.”

  Evan looked at me, his face blank except for the worried lift of his dark eyebrows.

  “It’s not a trick,” I said. “Evan’s his name.”

  “So where’s your wolf?”

  Kristen turned her head toward us and pushed blonde hair out of her eyes, stared at Evan, then frowned at me.

  “I can’t explain that.”

  “I don’t think I like you anymore, Nick.”

  “Okay. I can explain it, but you won’t believe it.”

  Evan reached out and stroked the backs of his fingernails up Megan’s arm to her shoulder. She shivered. “I am the wolf,” he murmured. “I like you very much. I wanted to talk so you could understand. But I will go back to being a wolf if you want.”

  She glared at him with narrowed eyes. “Please do,” she said.

  “Not here,” I said to Evan. There hadn’t been any slime the last time he changed, but who could tell? Maybe you only got slime when you were turning from a human into a wolf. I tried to remember that scene from An American Werewolf in London. It was gruesome enough on screen. I wasn’t sure I could stand it in real life. Besides, Kristen was lying there watching everything.

  Evan ran his hand across my hair, then nudged my shoulder, grinning open-mouthed at me. “What have I got to lose?” he said.

  “Don’t, Evan. Honestly. People will see you. It might upset Megan and Kristen. Adam might see you. He spies on people a lot. Could get your whole family in trouble. And somehow I have this conviction that everybody will blame me.”

  “I’ll protect you,” he said.

  “Please.” I would have put my persuaders into it, but I wasn’t sure how that would work, considering he was technically my master. It occurred to me that Evan didn’t know I could use my voice that way, and perhaps it was just as well.

  “My lady fancies me a wolf, Nick,” he said. “Now be quiet.”

  My tongue lay still in my mouth. I put my hands over my nose and mouth to mask the sound of my breathing, which made it sound louder. I held my breath.

  He cuffed me on the arm. “Not that quiet.” I gasped and started breathing normally again. “Megan, do you promise if I go back to being a wolf you’ll still like me?”

  “If you’re the same wolf I met at the store, sure. You’re adorable.” A second after she said it, she flushed bright red.

  “Good,” he said. He glanced toward the office where Adam Lacey had vanished. I looked too. No sign of Adam. Evan stood, stepped out of his trunks, handed them to me, lay on the ground between the chaises where he couldn’t be seen except by us and then puddled, shimmering as though seen through mist, his blond human form melting down before his pale wolf form firmed into itself. It was very fast and there didn’t seem to be any slime involved.

  Megan clapped both her hands over her mouth. Only a faint voiced gasp came out. Evan sat, head cocked to one side, looking up at her. Kristen had jerked upright when Evan lay down, and now she sat staring, her hands gripping the edge of her chaise so tightly that her knuckles showed white through her skin.

  “Faskish, Evan!” Willow said. “You spit on our ancestors!”

  Megan slowly lowered her hands from her face. “Nick,” she croaked, “tell me I’m dreaming.”

  I didn’t know what to tell her; it was just as well I was still being quiet, as per Evan’s last order. I dropped his swimsuit and looked down at him.

  “This was a mistake?” he said.

  I shrugged.

  “You told me it would be,” he said.

  I lifted my shoulders, dropped them, sighed without sound. Strange how this silence felt safe in some new way, when I had learned lately to consider my voice my protection of last resort.

  “What’s he saying now, Nick?” Megan said, her voice raw as though she had swallowed screams.

  I smiled at her and stroked Evan’s head. It was still softest between his ears. He closed his eyes a moment and let me just stroke him, then looked up at me. “What do you think? Is she going to be okay?”

  I looked at Megan. “Nick?” she said, more urgent. She gripped my arm, stilling me in mid-stroke. Beyond her, Kristen was breathing in short pants, her eyes fixed on a place where Evan no longer was. Worry stained my thoughts.

  With my free hand I gripped Evan’s muzzle, pointing it up toward me. When I was sure I had his attention, I tapped my throat twice. For a moment he was puzzled, then said, “Oh! Damn! Don’t let me do that to you again, Nick. I wasn’t thinking. Talk all you want.”

  “He thinks maybe it was a mistake,” I told Megan. “Kristen?”

  Her eyes didn’t shift. Her knuckles were still white.

  I stood up and went around Megan’s chaise, sat down beside Kristen. I touched her cheek and she turned to stare at me. “Kristen? Listen,” I said, and felt heat in my throat and mouth. Evan would find out about the voice trick, but this was more important than b
eing secret. “Listen,” I said again. It came out weighted with persuasion. Kristen blinked and focused on my face. Her breathing deepened and smoothed. “It was just a trick. A magic trick. An illusion. Okay?”

  She blinked three more tunes, then nodded, her hands relaxing from their death grip.

  “Pretty good trick, huh?” I said.

  “Boy oh boy,” she said. “You could take that show on the road.”

  “But Nick, you said—” Megan began. Evan licked her leg. “Hey!” She pushed his nose away. “But, Nick—”

  “Ruh!” Evan said, nudging her thigh.

  She looked down at him and her face crumpled. “Nick—Evan—” She stroked his face, buried her hands in the thick fur on his shoulders.

  “Give me a minute, Megan,” I said. “Kristen, you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “Thought you were a little…sleepy,” I said.

  She yawned. “Now that you mention it…edge over, Nick.”

  I slid off the chaise and she stretched out, resting her head on her hands, and fell asleep.

  I stood, breathing hard, holding my hands down and away from me as though I were ashamed of them, even though I hadn’t done anything with my hands. That had been too easy. What if I started doing things like that to people just to be mean, just to play with them, just because I wanted something from them, just because I could? If only Evan had stayed his wolf self I would never have had to face this situation and act on it.

  But all these things had happened. I looked at Kristen, her face slack and innocent. Her chest moved up and down in the slow breath of sleep. I turned to stare at Evan. He stared back, then blinked and grinned. “This just gets better all the time,” he said.

  Willow sat hunched, scowling and hugging her knees, beyond him.

  Megan looked at me. “Did you put a spell on Kristen?” she asked.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “Guess you could call it hypnosis.”

  “Are you going to put a spell on me?”

  “Are you so upset you can’t think straight?”

  “I think I’m going crazy.”

  “Well, when you know instead of think, and if you want me to, I’ll—I’ll hypnotize you too.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t. That’s really creepy, Nick.”

  “You said it.” I went around and sat down on the chaise facing her again, my shoulders slumping forward. “So what do you want to know?”

  “Was it really a trick?” She looked down, realized she was petting Evan, let go of him.

  “I don’t know how he does it.”

  “But—I mean, he was a man, and then he’s a wolf, and—I mean—is that real?”

  “I don’t know: I think it’s real.”

  I remembered that Evan had had to do a mind trick on me to get me to accept this change, but Megan seemed to be working this out on her own.

  “This is a werewolf?” Megan said, touching Evan’s shoulder.

  “Naw,” I said. “Has nothing to do with the moon. Besides, does he look like some ravening beast?”

  “Ruh,” Evan said, and licked Megan’s leg again.

  “Stop it! You’re weird!”

  “You taste like coconut,” he said.

  “Must be the tanning oil,” I said. “I wonder if it’s poisonous?”

  “Tastes good,” he said, licking her arm.

  “Eww, stop it!” She pulled her arm up out of range. “I mean, if you’re really a dog it’s okay, but if you’re a guy pretending to be a dog, there’s—that’s disgusting.”

  “It’s confusing,” I said. “I think he’s really both! He’s been a wolf for three and a half wolf years. I had problems with it too.”

  Evan jumped up; put his paws on my shoulders, and pushed me flat on the chaise, then licked my face. “I think I’m more calm about it now,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

  “Tell her I like her,” said Evan.

  “He likes you,” I said.

  “She sure tastes good. Tell her if she wants I’ll turn back into the other form for her.”

  “Yes, but pick a better place?” I said.

  “Tell her.” He stared down into my eyes.

  “He says if you want him to he’ll turn back into his other form.”

  “Do I really want a boyfriend who’s a dog?”

  “It sounds different if you consider that he’s a wolf,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if the connotations were better. “Besides, he’s probably lots of other things.”

  “That’s supposed to be reassuring?” Megan said.

  I laughed. I had forgotten how she might take that, but now I remembered what Evan had said about chihuahuas and poodles. If he could turn me into those things he could probably turn himself into them, too. Spooky thought. Snakes—he’d mentioned snakes. What else could he accomplish? Owls? Seals? Bats? Elephants? What about—a different human being?

  “Maybe he’s got a career or something. Maybe he’s got a future on the stage. Maybe—” I thought about what I had seen Willow’s family doing since I had discovered them. None of it looked like anything you could make a living at. Maybe this was the wrong line of reasoning to follow. Or maybe they could make a living off whatever their magic was, only in some weird way I couldn’t even imagine. Magic food? Magic money? Magic life-forms that didn’t need what I assumed all humans needed? I felt the itch to spy on them growing inside me again. I hadn’t seen the men do much, or Aunt Elissa—had only observed her torturing me, basically. I didn’t even know what the boys had been doing when I watched them. If I could get Lauren alone again I was pretty sure I could find out a lot from her.

  I said, “Hey, maybe he’s going to college.”

  The thought of that staggered me as soon as I mentioned it. I imagined Evan in an MBA program and grinned. Imagine Evan wearing a suit and tie. Or how about law school? A guy who broke rules all the time and refused to obey authority. A laugh escaped me. No, definitely the arts. I could see Evan covered with clay, throwing pots he would personalize with a paw print.

  “Hey!” he said. “Think I couldn’t do college?”

  “I was just trying to figure out what your major would be,” I said. I wondered what my major would be if I could ever get away from Sauterelle. It had never occurred to me to think about college. My primary goal had been just getting away—at least, getting away from Pop and the store. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to leave the lake and the forest. But if I did go—yeah, detective work. I’d figured that out a long time ago. Where did you study to be a detective? Something I should probably detect pretty soon.

  Even though my feet were set in cement here.

  Evan owned me, and that meant more than I had ever suspected. If anybody could get my feet out of cement, he probably could, if he were correctly motivated. But for the first time I was sort of worried about Pop. How would he manage without me? Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he’d have to sell the business, even though it was his dream to run it. Maybe he’d have to hire somebody. He couldn’t afford that…could he? The one thing he never let me do was the books.

  But I had the inventory in my head. I could extrapolate from what he paid to what he charged. I could do that kind of math if I really wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt me to know.

  “I was good in school,” Evan said.

  He was still standing half on me and glaring down at me with fierce yellow eyes. His breath was hot against my face and smelled as if he had been chewing mint.

  I’d never seen him defensive about anything before. Must be a sore spot. I filed that for later and said, “I never said you weren’t. How would I know? It’s not something we’ve talked about yet.”

  He rested his head on my chest. “I was good in school,” he said, “but I haven’t gone since I left the Hollow.” He moaned. I stroked his head.

  “Akenar,” Willow said. Her voice was relaxed, more fond than condemning, but I could tell it wasn’t a nice word.

  “Wurf,” said Evan. “I didn’t see
any human future, so why bother learning anything new? Animals don’t need school…Little did I know I would find people I would be interested in.”

  “What are you guys talking about now?” Megan asked.

  “School,” I said. “If you’re really going to be her boyfriend, it would probably be better if she could understand you,” I told Evan.

  “No, only family members and fetchayim and those with the gift of tongues can understand me,” he said. He lifted his head, cocked it, and looked at Megan. “Fetchayim. You think—?” He took his paws off me and sat on the pebbled concrete of pool skirting, studying Megan, who seemed to have forgotten she was embarrassed by her swimsuit and sat cross-legged on the chaise, gripping her toes.

  I felt a stab of cold in my stomach. Scared for Megan’s sake or just jealous? Or something else? A small wordless feeling from somewhere deep inside flashed through me in a dazzle of white sparks and orange splashes and was gone.

  What language was that? Who, inside me, spoke it?

  “Nick told me why it’s a bad idea, fetching someone you might love,” Willow said.

  “He did? When?” asked Evan.

  “About twenty minutes ago, when we first got to the pool.”

  “How many fetchies can you kilia, anyway?” I said, hoping I was being obscure enough. I couldn’t remember the real words they had used.

  “Fetchies!” said Evan, and laughed. He licked my hand. “Fetchies!”

  “No limit,” Willow said.

  “Fetch? Kill? Are these the kind of dog commands you people use?” asked Megan.

  “Or, I should say, one is limited by how much one can control. How much,” Willow said, “or how many.”

  “They’re not dog commands, Megan,” I said.

  Speaking to Evan, Willow went on, “Nick said if you get it mixed up with romance, you’ll never know how the other person really feels about you.”

  “As kolestyani, I could just ask Nick how he feels,” said Evan, “and he’d have to tell me.”