Wicked Hungry

by Jacobs, Teddy

  “Stanley,” he says. “Enrique.”

  I just stare at him. Enrique nudges me. But I don’t get it. Who is this person?

  “Frumberg,” says Enrique.

  “I figured I’d find you two together. Safety in numbers, right?”

  We just stand there. I can’t believe this is Gary Frumberg. He looks so different. It’s not just the spiked hair and the black eye shadow and the piercings. It’s not just that he seems to have gained another thirty pounds. He seems less innocent, somehow. Did I do this to him? Enrique is tensing up next to me, and the smell of cat fills my nostrils.

  “Long time no see, Gary,” I say, trying to act tough. “Watch out or I might growl at you.”

  Gary shakes his head. “You still think it’s funny. It’s not funny. I know what you are, Stanley. Probably better than you do. And I’m not afraid of you anymore. There are plenty of other things to be afraid of.”

  He looks back behind him.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask him.

  “Vampires. Werewolves. And worse. A lot worse. Maybe it’s the pills. But who’s behind the pills? We’re all in danger until it’s sorted out. Until then, I’ve got friends. And Bane here. And I’ve got a plan. You and your kind aren’t going to mess with me anymore.”

  Then he does something peculiar. He pulls something out of his pocket. It’s a knife. But there’s something about it that makes my skin crawl.

  “You can feel it, can’t you? I took this from my mother’s flatware set. It’s sterling—you understand?”

  I shake my head.

  “Silver, you idiot. That’s what you feel now, and what you’ll feel, if you try to hurt me. If Bane doesn’t get you first.”

  “Are you threatening my friend?” Enrique asks, one hand in his pocket. He must have his hand on the figurine.

  “I’m just warning him. If I were him, I would feel threatened—you’d be crazy not to, with what’s going on. And soon it will be so much worse.”

  It’s not what he’s saying but the silver that makes me shiver, the silver knife still in his hand. The hair on my neck stands up and my fingers clench. There’s this pain in my mouth, and a little growl comes out.

  Suddenly the pit bull is barking, in a frenzy, pulling against Gary’s chain, and Gary pulls back, but the dog keeps growling and snapping at my face. I growl and nip at its neck, but pull back at the last moment. There’s something wrong.

  Gary regains control, and I fight to control myself. Why didn’t I bite? What’s different about this dog, how is this animal from other pit pulls? No, I realize, it’s not the dog. It’s not Bane.

  “His collar,” I say. “There’s something about it.”

  “Silver spikes,” Gary says, nodding. “Keeps him safe from the lot of you.”

  “Not from me, though,” says Enrique.

  But now it’s my turn to reach out and grab Enrique, holding him back.

  “Hold on,” I say. “What’s this about things getting worse? Who’s been telling you stuff?”

  But Gary Frumberg just crosses the street with a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says. Then he lumbers off. I realize I’m still holding Enrique, and when I turn to look at him, his eyes are different, again. Cat-like.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  He nods. “But we need to find out what’s going on. I need that board. Let’s go find that shop.”

  Chapter 21: NATURAL MAGIC

  Is it my imagination, or is it even colder? It’s certainly darker. It’s too early for sunset, even in New England, but the clouds have rolled in and there’s that smell of wet earth all around us, over the muskiness from Enrique and me.

  “I love that smell,” Enrique says. “It makes me want to go run in the forest.”

  “It smells better than cats.”

  Enrique grins. “Much better than wolves.”

  “Are we almost there?” I ask him.

  “According to the map, it should be a few more blocks north.”

  Something about Gary Frumberg still haunts me. Not his bigger size, not his regained confidence, not his dark spiked hair and piercings. Not even his pit bull. What was he carrying? In one hand was the dog leash. Iron links. Or steel. I’m beginning to get a feel for different metals. I finger my brass belt buckle and it feels safe, safer than the iron fence that we’re walking past. I don’t want to touch that fence, although nothing feels like that silver on the dog’s neck, the silver in Gary’s outstretched hand. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

  But there was something else, something else in his other hand. A bag. But what about the bag? Something special inside of it. And what was written on it?

  A logo of some kind. It hits me just as we arrive in front of the store.

  Because there, on the dark glass pane, is the same logo, white paint on a black background. A weird fairy with pointed ears and an evil smile.

  “Does that look familiar to you?” I ask Enrique.

  Enrique shrugs.

  “It was on the bag, Enrique.”

  “The bag?” he asks, dubiously.

  “Frumberg’s bag,” I say quietly, because someone is opening the door.

  Jonathan has a shopping bag in hand, just like Frumberg. He lets the door close behind him. “Dude, am I glad to see you two,” he says.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Ever since I talked to Carolina, I’ve wanted to come check it out. I bought some Japanese herbal tea,” he says, then lowers his voice. “You know, they have weirder stuff than tea here.”

  “What do you mean?” asks Enrique, but I’m getting a funny feeling already, just looking at the store.

  “Just look at the door, at the windows,” Jonathan says. “Squint a little. The door handle has silver sigils all over it, and the glass, too. The whole glass display case is like one big sigil made up of other sigils.”

  “What’s a sigil?” I ask.

  “It’s a magical mark. For protection, like warding, or to warn you if someone’s coming.”

  “What does a health food store need to protect itself from?” I ask.

  “Well, these sigils keep out zombies, ghouls, minor demons, you name it. Even vampires or werecreatures intent on harming anyone inside.”

  “You believe this stuff?” I ask him. “And what are werecreatures?”

  “You know—werecats, werewolves, werefoxes, werewhatever...”

  My eyes are drawn to the door handle. “I don’t like silver. And these sigils make my hair stand up, too.”

  Enrique shrugs. “Silver doesn’t bother me, but I don’t like these signs. When I look at them, I can’t see straight.”

  “Cool,” says Jonathan. “That is so cool.”

  Enrique shakes his head in exasperation. “Look, we need to get inside.”

  “What’s the rush?” Jonathan asks.

  “I need to buy something, and I don’t like standing out here.” Enrique looks up at the sky. “It looks like rain.”

  “Smells like it too,” says Jonathan. “But it also smells musky. You people take a shower lately?”

  I glance at Enrique. How much did Jonathan know?

  “We had a little run in with a big goth freshman and his pit bull.”

  “Frumberg?” Jonathan asks.

  We nod.

  “Looks a little different from the last time we saw him, huh?”

  I nod. “Talk about a makeover.”

  Jonathan laughs. “You shouldn’t joke, dude. That guy is into some seriously scary stuff.”

  “Like what?” I ask, curious, looking around to see if anyone is listening. “Did you see something?”

  Jonathan nods. “He was in here. And he wasn’t buying herbal tea up front. Or vitamins. He was in back buying up all these weird daggers, pentagrams, and old books.”

  Enrique clears his throat. “Am I the only one who feels like we’re being watched? We need to get inside.”

  I look at Jonathan, who shrugs. “You want
me to tag along?” he asks.

  I nod, but Enrique shakes his head. I pull Enrique aside. “Look at him, man, can’t you see it? Can’t you smell it? That he’s one of us?”

  “One of what?” Enrique asks. “One of our friends?”

  I want to just give him a warning bite on the ear. I catch myself growling, but I see that Enrique is kidding. “Okay, he’s one of us,” he says, as thunder sounds off in the distance. “He looks kind of like a...how do you say...a zorro?”

  “A fox,” I say. “Like in Perfect World.”

  “Yes. A fox, like in the game. So let’s go in together.”

  But the sigils are glowing now in the growing darkness.

  “Sure,” I say. “Great. But I’m not touching that door.”

  “I’ll do the honors,” says Jonathan, and he pulls the door open for us both.

  Who knows what I expected, but it looks like a normal health food store, one where there aren’t too many customers so they mostly just have herbs and teas and vitamins. But here they don’t just have health stuff; there’s a magic side, too, to Natural Magic. They have books about Wicca, some decorative armor and weapons for sale. The blades are kind of cool looking, but you know they aren’t real; they aren’t balanced for fighting. They’d look cool on a wall, or for Halloween, maybe. There are sticks of incense and bottle after bottle full of herbs and powders and tinctures of all colors and descriptions. For all that, the store is smaller and cleaner than I expected, and there’s just this one guy at the register who looks like he just graduated from college. Blaine and Morgan are nowhere to be seen.

  “Can I help you?” the guy asks.

  But when he sees Jonathan, the smile freezes on his face. Then he sees Enrique and me.

  “Oh,” he says, and goes back to reading a comic book. “You can show them the way.”

  Jonathan leads us to a door in the back. There’s just a small sign on the door that says “Supplies – Serious Enquiries Only.” But the door—there is silver all over it, and sigils. Runes. As I walk closer, there’s a metallic taste on my teeth; the hair stands up on my arms, on the back of my neck. And the smell. A territorial smell that makes me want to change right now and start ripping things to pieces.

  I’m not going in there, no way.

  “Stanley?” Jonathan asks, one hand halfway to the door handle. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just fine.”

  Enrique and Jonathan exchange a look.

  “Maybe you should wait out here for us,” Enrique says. “Me and Jonathan, we can handle it.”

  “I said I’m just fine,” I growl, my whole body stiff.

  “Dude,” Jonathan says. “It’s no big thing. Just relax.”

  “And don’t touch the door,” Enrique says.

  Jonathan opens the door, and Enrique walks in, me right behind him. There is a gut-wrenching feeling as we walk through, and then we’re in.

  It’s dark and dank in here. Like we’ve entered another world, like the walls are made out of hard packed earth instead of drywall. There are herbs being burned too, and I catch a whiff of one that makes my throat burn. I cough.

  “Wolfsbane,” says a woman walking up behind us. “It’s supposed to protect us from angry enemy werewolves. I find it kind of irritating, myself.”

  She smiles at all three of us and I just barely avoid her eyes.

  “I am Morgan,” she says. “But in here you can call me Morgaine.”

  She looks just as beautiful and longhaired as she was at Carolina’s party, but now there’s a pentagram around her neck and bracelets around her wrists. Her bare arms are covered with tattoos. Or are they sigils drawn on her skin? They seem to glow and move in the dim light.

  I can’t hear the storm outside anymore. This seems like a very bad sign, somehow.

  “It’s very quiet in here,” Enrique says.

  “We are completely soundproofed, cut off from the world as you know it,” Morgaine says. “Here, no one can hear you scream.”

  Enrique and Jonathan freeze up next to me. The air is suddenly muskier, and Enrique makes a low growl.

  Chapter 22: MORGAINE AND BLAINE

  Then Morgaine laughs, and there is a man behind her, balding with circular spectacles and a frown on his face. “Hi, Stanley, Jonathan, and friend. I’m Blaine Whelan,” he says. “I’m sorry, but Morgan likes her bit of fun with newcomers to the store.”

  “Is she really High Priestess in my mom’s coven?” I blurt out.

  “Yes,” Blaine says, “And I’m a werewolf.”

  I stare at him, but then he’s laughing, too. Was that a joke, or what? Enrique glares at me, and Jonathan too.

  “I am many things,” she says. “As you are, too; I can tell just looking at you. But tell me, boys, what are you looking for? What can I interest you in? How can I help you?”

  “We were looking for something,” I say. “Enrique and me.”

  “And what is that ‘something?’”

  Looking around, I recognize nothing. There are herbs, and bottles full of colored liquids. And lots of very old-looking books. But nothing that looks like the board that Enrique described.

  “Un Tablero. De Ouija,” Enrique says. Now it’s my turn to stare at him. Sometimes Enrique is like this—he forgets what language he’s speaking. But Morgaine seems unfazed.

  “A Ouija board? We might have one of those around here somewhere.”

  Blaine nods. “I’ll take a look in back.” And he goes through another door.

  You can hear him rummaging back there. Morgaine smiles at us and it’s really hard to avoid her eyes. “So,” she says. “Are you all homeschooled?”

  “No,” I say. “We go to Lansfeld High School. We’re all freshmen.”

  “That wasn’t the type of schooling I was referring to. Have you been trained?”

  I look at Jonathan, then at Enrique. They both shrug.

  “Trained?” I ask.

  “Well,” she says, “just look at you.”

  “Look at us?”

  “Are we ignorant, or just in denial?” she asks me, looking a little cross.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Morgaine sighs, pouting with full dark red lips, and the room fills with unhappiness. Suddenly, comforting her seems like the most important thing in the world. Anything she needs to know, I’ll tell her. “Kids today,” she says. “Know nothing, want to know nothing. Just want to watch television and play games.”

  Blaine comes back in then, carrying a dusty box. “Morgaine,” he says. “I think they’ve been taking Eternal Cleanse.”

  He looks at us, and we nod.

  Morgaine’s eyes narrow. “No wonder you have no idea what’s happening. Do you even know what you’re putting in your body?”

  “I read the label,” I say.

  “You read the label?” Morgaine asks. “What does it say?”

  I pull out the bottle from my pants, and watch Enrique and then Jonathan do the same.

  “Well?” she says. “What does it say?”

  “Not what I remember,” I say.

  “This room is protected from enchantments,” Blaine says. “Come on, read it.”

  “‘ETERNAL CLEANSE’,” I read aloud. “‘Feeling human? Your humanity getting you down? We can’t promise miracles, but these pills have rid users of their peskiest human natures. We promise you’ll be surprised by the results.’”

  “Well, are you?” Morgaine asks.

  “Are we what?” I ask.

  “Surprised by the results.”

  We are all silent, then.

  “Those pills aren’t made for humans,” Morgaine says. “They’re meant for halflings. Or werefolk. I wish I knew who gave them to you.”

  “Zach,” Enrique says. “It was him.”

  “Yes, but how did he get them? Their sale is tightly regulated. Only the highest of the Seelie and Unseelie courts have access.”

  “Seelie and Unseelie courts?�
� I say.

  “You really don’t know much of anything, do you?” Morgaine asks.

  “We came here to find out what is going on,” Enrique says. “We want to know.”

  “They are the two courts of Faerie,” Morgaine says. “The Seelie and the Unseelie. They balance each other out, but—”

  “Should we stop taking the pills, then?” I interject.

  “It’s too late for that. Once we find out who is behind them, perhaps we will find a cure. Until then, you have no choice. But you wanted a Ouija board, is that right?”

  “And we’d like some more books on magical creatures and magic,” says Jonathan. “Like dudes who turn into wolves, or chicks that suck blood and are all cold and icy.”

  “Or people who turn into other animals,” Enrique says.

  “And run wicked fast,” I say.

  “And get wicked hungry,” Jonathan says.

  I look at the two of them, and they nod. So Jonathan knows.

  “I already told Jonathan here that there are many things written in books that are completely false. Just plain made up to confuse the ignorant.”

  “We’ll take our chances,” I say.

  She looks at me queerly then, her eyes scrunched up. But I avoid her gaze. Her voice is hypnotic enough. “You speak for your...friends, then?”

  I look at the two of them.

  “Stanley, dude, you are the boss,” Jonathan says.

  “He is my leader,” Enrique says, nodding. “How do you say it? His wish is my command.”

  “Whatever,” I say. “I’m not the boss of anyone.”

  “You may surprise yourself one of these days,” Morgaine says.

  I shrug.

  “We have some books that could help you,” she says. “They’re expensive, but we might be able to make you a deal.”

  “So,” Enrique asks, pointing at the dusty box in Blaine’s hands, “is that the Ouija board?”

  Blaine nods and smiles at us. “Morgaine, let me talk to Stanley here alone for a moment, man to man, while you bargain with Enrique.”

  I look at Enrique, who kind of shakes his head. Then at Jonathan, who raises an eyebrow. What’s the harm, though, in just a little talk?