Wicked Hungry

by Jacobs, Teddy

  Blaine hands the board to Morgaine, and walks over to the corner of the store, me following him. “So,” he says, “let’s cut to the chase. Who do you run with? How many of you are there? Carolina wasn’t sure.”

  What am I supposed to say? All I can figure out is that somehow Carolina was spying on me.

  “It’s hard to say,” I say, which is true, at least.

  “What I don’t understand is those other two. Like attracts like; that’s the general rule. You go out and change with them around and you’re likely to rip each other apart, all three of you, teeth to throat. Morgaine and me, we’re an exception. Not that my family is very understanding at times. But she...”

  I look at him, waiting for him to continue, but he shakes his head.

  “What am I saying? You’re just a pup, a kid. You couldn’t understand.”

  “I’m not so young,” I say. “And Enrique and Jonathan are my friends.”

  He looks at me, shaking his head. “You’re kidding me, right? Friends? That’s impossible. Change and that cat will kill you. And I’d watch my back with the fox, as well.”

  “They won’t hurt me,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “That’s what you think. Wait until it’s a full moon and you want to tear them apart. They’ll smell it on you. Then there won’t be anything else to do except fight.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “You do realize, don’t you, that a loner is the most dangerous? Who will keep you from harming those you love? And who will protect you if the ghouls come out in force?”

  “Ghouls?”

  “Dead people, brought back to life. They’re very hungry. And very difficult to destroy.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Blaine shakes his head again. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn some things the hard way. How old are you?”

  “Fifteen,” I say. “Just.”

  “Interesting. You can still learn how to hunt, how to control the beast. Wait a few months and it may be too late. Remember, a lone wolf is a dangerous thing. Foxes, jaguars can run alone, but wolves always run in packs. It’s safer to join a group.”

  “Safer for whom?” I ask.

  “For everyone.” he says. “Look, pup, we should get back to your ‘friends.’ It looks like Morgaine is about to strike a deal.”

  “Don’t call me ‘pup,’” I say. “My name is Stanley.”

  “Okay, Stanley.”

  We walk back to join the others.

  Jonathan catches my eye. “She wants twenty dollars for the Ouija board, or...”

  “Or what?” I ask.

  “A favor,” Morgaine says. “I’d like you to help out my daughter. Keep an eye on her.”

  “Carolina?” I ask.

  She nods. “All three of you,” she says. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Dude, she’ll even loan us a book,” Jonathan says. “Full of spells, and information.”

  I look at Enrique, who pulls me aside. “This book could be useful. Who knows?”

  “Nothing comes for free,” Jonathan says, huddling up with us. “If she’s willing to lend us the book, and give us the board, Carolina must need some serious help.”

  “She scares me a little,” I say quietly.

  “Who, Carolina?” Jonathan asks. “Or her mother?”

  “Both of them, in different ways. But Enrique’s right, the book could be useful. And I’d like to have the Whelans on our side.”

  “Our side of what?” asks Enrique, but I don’t know. Maybe his great grandmother will.

  The smoke still burns my eyes and irritates my throat. I cough. Enrique and Jonathan are staring at me expectantly. So are Blaine and Morgaine.

  When did I become the leader?

  “Okay,” I say. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “Thank you,” Morgaine says, placing the Ouija board into Enrique’s waiting hands. “We’re very nervous these days.”

  “About what?” I ask. “I still don’t understand what’s going on.”

  She shakes her head then pulls me aside.

  “Stanley, you’re a handsome young cub.” Her eyes narrow. “You’ve been with one of the sisters, haven’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “My kind leaves a mark... I can see it on your neck and on your hands.”

  “You can see it?”

  She laughs. “To my kind, it’s as clear as can be. I don’t think normal eyes could see the marks, but she’s definitely marked you, Stanley.”

  “Marked me?”

  “Our kind is a very possessive lot. It tells others to keep their hands off.”

  “But why would she mark me?”

  “We mark our lovers, and we mark our...”

  “What? Your what?”

  “Our food,” Morgan whispers, her eyes thin slits.

  “Your food?”

  She shakes her head as we turn back to the others and hands me the book. “I’ve said too much. Watch over my niece, and we’ll try to watch over you as much as we can.”

  “Can’t you at least tell us why Enrique is changing into a jaguar and Jonathan into a fox?”

  “The pills bring out what’s hidden under your humanity. Those who don’t have anything else would turn into little more than...a zombie.”

  “A zombie?”

  “Yes,” she says. “A half-dead person, ready to be controlled by the unscrupulous.”

  “Like the Seelie and Unseelie?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I very much doubt they would have anything to do with it.”

  “There’s so much we don’t understand,” I say.

  Blaine frowns. “Some of the answers you seek are in the book. Perhaps Carolina can help you find others. But I must warn you once again: being clanless, as well as clueless, is very dangerous. Are you sure you won’t join us, Stanley? We could watch out for you.”

  “And what about Enrique and Jonathan?”

  Blaine shakes his head. “Jaguars and foxes have no place among us. The Whelan clan is only for our kind, Stanley, your kind.”

  “Then we’ll look out for each other,” I say. “Jonathan and Enrique will watch my back.”

  Morgaine sighs. “Blaine is right about like needing like. You can’t change your friends by staying with them. Only with a clan will you ever feel at home. Not to mention the danger to all of you...”

  “We’ll take our chances, thanks,” I say once again.

  “So be it,” says Blaine. “But look after our daughter.”

  We nod.

  Blaine hands us a small, heavy book. It looks older than my grandfather. The cover is dark, inlaid with thick gold letters. I see sigils on the cover and on the spine of the book. But at least they aren’t silver. Jonathan takes the book and opens it. “Wow,” he says. “Is this what Frumberg took?”

  Morgaine shook her head. “He’s no shapeshifter. We lent him another tome, for those who would do magic and protect themselves from your kind. He fears shapeshifters above all. Be careful with him—I’m afraid he could do something desperate.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “No,” Blaine Whelan says. “As we talk, night falls. You must all be off to your homes. Just be wary in the dark. Soon it will be time to run.”

  Time to run? What does that mean? And dark outside already? How can he tell? In here, the gloom is only pierced by the glowing sigils on the walls.

  Morgaine smiles one last smile and opens the door back into the front part of the shop. Someone different is working at the cash register. She looks really familiar, and it takes me a moment to figure out why. It’s Carolina, and she’s reading this graphic novel—at least I think that’s what it is. But when I look at it out of the corner of my eye, it seems to change and look more like the black book I have in my hands.

  Except that when I look down at my black book, now it looks like a graphic novel, too. But when I look at it out of the corner of my
eye, it’s the black book again. A SHAPESHIFTER’S ELEMENTARY GRIMOIRE: Of interest to the young werewolf and other shapeshifters of all kinds.

  What’s going on? It must be some kind of protective spell to keep unfriendly eyes from seeing that we have magic books. But that’s not everything; where else did I see something like this? A book that shimmered as I looked at it from the side? Piper. In his office. What is an assistant principal doing with a magic book?

  Then Carolina smiles at me, and suddenly everything else fades away. There is just Carolina and the forest.

  I am lost and running, forever, with her.

  Chapter 23: BACK TO REALITY

  Jonathan elbows me, hard, in the ribs.

  “What?” I say, confused.

  “Dude,” Jonathan says. “The girl is talking to you.”

  “Who? What, you mean Carolina?” I ask, blinking.

  Enrique snorts.

  Jonathan nods. “She just asked you a question.”

  “I’m sorry?” I say, looking at her again. Her emerald eyes are huge, and they speak to me of the wild. But I try to focus on her lips instead.

  “It’s okay,” she says, smiling. “I was just asking if you found everything you were looking for. But seeing what you’ve got there in your hands, you probably have what you need to start.”

  I nod. “Really, I think we have plenty to keep ourselves busy.”

  “Look,” she says. “If you need any help, call me.”

  “But I don’t have your number,” I say, feeling stupid.

  She takes a pen and writes seven digits on a post-it. “Here. You can have my cell. It’s a prepaid my dad bought me when we moved here from Salem.”

  Her fingers brush my hand as she gives me the paper. Her fingers are warm, hot even. I pull out my cell phone and add a contact: “Carolina, 737-9872.”

  We are almost to the door, when she calls out again. “Hey, it’s nasty outside. Take these plastic bags.”

  She hands them to us, and Enrique’s Ouija board and our grimoire go into the bags.

  “Thanks,” I say. “That was really...nice of you.”

  My face feels hot now. What is wrong with me?

  “No problem, Stanley. And hey, call me anytime. My parents and I are horrible insomniacs. Real creatures of the night.”

  “Will do,” I say, waving like an idiot.

  “See you tomorrow,” Carolina says, and then we’re out the door, into the rain.

  How come we couldn’t see or hear the storm inside the door? Even looking at the door gives me the creeps. The silver sigils move as I look at them, or is that the water running down the door? Lightning flashes, but I still can’t see through the windows or the glass door. Enrique and Jonathan huddle next to me, Enrique holding the Ouija board flat to his chest.

  “Dude, I wish I had recorded that on camera: ‘That was really...nice of you.’”

  “Are you mocking me, Jonathan?”

  “No, man, that was awesome. You were like, wicked suave wolfman on the prowl.” He brings his face up, and makes this little howl.

  “All right,” I say, “You can shut up now. I feel better.”

  “You feel better?” Jonathan asks. “Because with this rain, my friend, you sure don’t smell any better.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Enrique says. “Jonathan is right. You smell like wet dog.”

  We run home, fox, wolf, and jaguar, three friends, together.

  Chapter 24: A SLEEPOVER AND A ‘RESEARCH PROJECT’

  The plan is to meet in Enrique’s room after dinner. Jonathan lives like three blocks away, but we figure his mother will let him come over. She likes Enrique and me, or it sure seems that way, the way she fusses over us. Let me tell you, a couple of hours of watching anime and playing games at Jonathan’s house, fueled by his mother’s cookies and chocolate milk, can turn any teenager into a dangerous monster.

  But tonight we’re meeting at Enrique’s. His mom is just as bad – she gives us Mexican sweet bread, pan dulce, and these Mexican Coca-Colas that are sweeter and more syrupy than the American ones. And they come in these cool retro glass bottles. Playing Guitar Hero in Enrique’s room with a stomach full of Mexican Coke and sweet bread is also a lethal combination.

  But tonight Guitar Hero is not in the plan. I can’t wait to look at the grimoire with my friends, and I know Enrique wants to consult the Ouija board. And I want to run. It’s Jonathan who comes up with the brilliant plan.

  Sleepover.

  My parents are not thrilled at this last-minute idea. They’ve heard a lot about the importance of not being enabling parents, which, of course, contradicts everything they used to believe as hippies. So they feel bad saying yes, and they feel bad saying no.

  Unfortunately, though, they’ve discovered the m-word. The dreaded maybe. So tonight, when I tell them about a sleepover at Enrique’s house, they tell me maybe that’s not the best idea.

  It’s time to get creative with the truth. Not tell a lie, exactly, but phrase things in ways that will please my post-hippie parental units.

  It’s time to be persuasive.

  “Mom,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes.

  “Dad,” I say, making excellent eye contact.

  By now, they are both shocked and listening fully.

  “Yes, son?” my parents ask me together.

  “It’s Halloween,” I say.

  They nod.

  “It only happens once a year. And I know in the past I’ve always trick-or-treated with Josh and you, Mom, or helped you, Dad, pass out the candy. But I’m in high school, now.”

  “You don’t want to spend Halloween with us anymore?” my brother asks.

  I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s just that Enrique and Jonathan are my best friends. They’re kind of like the only friends I have.”

  “What about Karen, or those girls from last night—Meredith and Carolina?” my father asks.

  “Male friends, Dad. Not girlfriends.”

  “Are Karen and Meredith and Carolina your girlfriends?” my mom asks, a big smile on her face.

  “Stanley has a girlfriend?” my brother asks.

  You see the type of thing I have to put up with? But it’s worth it if I get to look at the grimoire and see Enrique use that Ouija board.

  “Wow,” Dad says. “Our son has grown up.”

  “Our Don Juan,” my mother says.

  “Don Juan,” Josh says. “Don Juan, Don Juan, Don Juan.”

  “Shh, Josh,” my mother says. “Let your brother talk.”

  “As I was saying,” I say, “Enrique and I ran really fast today, and the track coach wants us to be on the track team!”

  “Your knee, Stanley,” my mother gasps.

  But my father shushes her. “How fast?” he asks eagerly.

  “Forty-eight seconds for each of us.”

  “Wow,” my dad says.

  “Stanley is fast?” Josh asks.

  “Very fast,” my mother says.

  “Wow,” Josh says.

  “So we need to do research together, and we also wanted to run and trick-or-treat together. It’s an important part of our training.”

  “The trick-or-treating?” my mom asks, looking confused.

  “The running,” I say.

  “Maybe,” my father says.

  “Maybe,” my mother says, nodding.

  “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all,” my father says.

  “Maybe your father is right,” my mother says.

  My parents seriously need some assertiveness training.

  “So I can go, then?”

  “As long as you finish all your homework over there,” my mother says.

  “Honey,” my dad says. “He’s got the whole weekend. And anyway, how much trouble can he get into next door?”

  My little brother runs off. From the other side of the house I hear him calling out for his cat: “Max. Max! Max! Where are you?”

  In my room I stuff clean clothes into my
backpack. In between them goes the grimoire, still wrapped up in its plastic bag. It’s hard to say why it’s remained unopened since we came back from Natural Magic. Maybe I’m scared to find out what’s between its pages.

  I call up Enrique.

  “Bueno,” he says.

  “It’s me, Stanley.”

  “You coming over?”

  “Yeah, my parents finally agreed to it.”

  “Then get off the phone and get over here. You’re wasting my minutes.”

  “Hey, my minutes, too.”

  “I don’t see you working to earn yours.”

  “You sound upset,” I say. “What’s the matter?”

  “Can’t talk right now. Just get over here soon, okay?”

  He hangs up on me.

  I put the phone in my pocket and my backpack on my back. Outside, it’s a dark and stormy night, perfect for what we have in mind. Or perfect for a bunch of trouble.

  For a moment, I wonder if maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe it would be better to have a talk with my mother about what’s going on instead of talking to Enrique’s dead great grandmother.

  But enough maybes. I’m starting to sound like my parents. My mom loves and understands me, and she believes in magic, but if I told her I was a werewolf, she would love me and understand me all the way to the mental hospital. Then she would ask for the most natural treatments available, and if I could take herbs instead of pharmaceuticals.

  But I wouldn’t see my friends anytime soon, if ever.

  Now she’s waiting for me at the door.

  “You’ll call me, if you need anything?”

  “I’ll just open the window and shout over to our house.”

  She smiles. “I know it’s just next door, but still...”

  “Mom, I’m fifteen years old. You act like I’m a little baby.”

  “You want me to keep you here like Josh?”

  I shake my head. “I meant to say that I appreciate how you treat me like a teenager and not like a little kid.”

  I hear a soft, tentative meow down below me, but I’m paying attention to Mom. I’m afraid she’s having second thoughts now.

  She smiles again. “There you go, that’s what I call growing up. See you, and don’t stay up too late.”

  “We’ll be fine, Mom, don’t worry.”