Very Superstitious

by Delany, Shannon

  And I remained a wolf.

  ***

  LUNA

  I awoke deep in the forest, my body aching and head spinning. Whatever was in that potion was strong—strong enough to knock me unconscious for hours from the looks of things. It had been morning when I’d taken my first sip. Now it was near dark.

  I looked down at myself, at my skinny arms and gangly legs. At the stained white dress that had torn up the side. I closed my eyes and attempted a shift. Nothing happened. I tried to think wolfish thoughts. They didn’t come.

  It had worked. I was human. The wolf was dead.

  And I could finally be with Orpheus forever.

  A scared thrill washed over me. I had done it. I had really done it. I had gone against my father and Torrid and the entire pack. I had freed myself from the shackles I’d been chained with for my entire life. From now on, I could make my own decisions. Walk my own path. Choose what I wanted to do with my life and who I wanted to do it with.

  I had to find Orpheus. To let him know. He was going to be so excited when he saw me. When I wrapped my arms around him and finally kissed him like he was meant to be kissed. My hands involuntary flew to my lips, fantasizing about the kiss we would share. The way his warm breath would caress my cheeks, the way his hands would tangle in my hair. The fact that no one would be there to stop us, ever again.

  I imagined the two of us on our wedding day. Just the two of us, and no one else around. No fancy dress or fancy meal or fancy flowers. None of that mattered anyway. The only thing that mattered was him. My sweet, loving Orpheus who had given up everything for me. From now on it was just the two of us, against the world.

  I liked those odds.

  Where was he? I scanned the forest, feeling gimped and helpless without my wolfish sense of smell. How did normal people find each other without it? I guess they had their gadgets—cell phones, computers, GPS. I’d have to go get all of those things once we were settled into our new lives. Maybe we’d even get jobs. Or go to a human school. We’d have to find money somehow—I’d taken some from my father’s safe before I left. But it wouldn’t last forever.

  The sun had disappeared over the horizon, lengthening the shadows in the forest. It was the time of night when creatures in the bushes awoke from their daytime slumber. I walked aimlessly and tried to navigate without a sense of smell. I began to feel a little frightened. As a wolf, the woods had never scared me. I was the predator.

  Now I was prey.

  A howling interrupted my thoughts. I looked up just in time to see a pack of wolves step into my path. Not werewolves. Not my former pack. But real wolves of the forest—with yellowed eyes and snapping jaws. As I scanned their ranks, they regarded me with hungry faces—faces I knew all too well.

  “Go away!” I cried angrily, waving my hands as threateningly as I could. If I could have shifted to wolf form, they would have fled at the sight of me. Our people were two times the size of these animals and twice as deadly.

  But I was no longer a werewolf—just a delectable human snack. And not the least bit frightening.

  I started to run. What else could I do? Not that I thought it would do any good. The wolves would run faster. They’d surround me. Unless I could somehow find higher ground.

  My eyes fell upon a tree in front of me, low-hanging branches teasing me in the wind. Could I reach them in time? I forced my feet to keep moving, pounding the forest floor one by one by one. The breath tore from my lungs and my eyes stung like mad, but I still pressed on. Behind me I could feel the wolves gaining ground—closer and closer and—

  I stopped short. A large wolf sprung up in front of me—seemingly out of nowhere. An Alpha by the looks of him—huge and strong and fierce. Before I could react, he leapt between me and the other wolves—flashing his teeth and staring them down.

  The wolves stopped short, staring up at the newcomer with horrified eyes. It would have been funny, if I wasn’t so scared. They whimpered, and rolled on the ground to show their submissiveness to the new arrival. A few moments later they skulked away all together.

  The giant wolf turned to me, regarding me with solemn eyes. I stared back at him, trying to will my lower lip to stop trembling. Had he just saved my life? Or saved me for his own dinner?

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I begged, hating the weakness in my voice. I sounded vulnerable. Scared. “Please …”

  To my surprise, the wolf bowed his head and lowered his tail. Then he nudged my hand with a wet nose, looking up at me with the most sorrowful eyes I’d ever seen.

  Eyes I recognized, I realized with shock.

  “Orpheus?” I cried. I threw my arms around his big, fuzzy neck, squeezing him as tightly as I could while burying my face in his warm, soft fur. He looked so different—I hadn’t recognized him at first. How had he gotten so big? It was as if he were an alpha or something. I shook my head, not caring how it happened. I was too happy to see him.

  Eventually I pulled my face away, meeting his eyes with my own. “Thank God you found me,” I said, the words tumbling from my lips. “I was so lost. And those wolves were going to eat me and …”

  I trailed off, watching him look back at me with sad eyes. Why wasn’t he shifting? Maybe he thought the wolves might return?

  “I’m so sorry about before,” I told him. “I was a fool to think I could live my life without you. My life is nothing without you.” I gave him a hopeful smile. “I left them all. I went to the witch, just like you said. I asked her to kill the wolf. And she did.” I looked down at my stained dress. I looked a mess, but I knew he wouldn’t care. “We’re free, Orpheus. We can finally be together.”

  I waited, breath caught in my throat, for his reaction. I looked to see the joy I knew I’d find in his eyes.

  Instead, to my surprise, I saw only horror and dismay.

  “What?” I demanded, fear gripping me tightly. “What’s wrong?” I studied his face. “Shift and talk to me!” I begged. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

  But he didn’t shift. And he didn’t speak. He only lifted his head and howled a mournful wail that seemed to echo through the forest. Tears sprung to my eyes at the tragic sound.

  “Orpheus? Please! You’re scaring me!”

  He lowered his head, his big yellow eyes brimming with tears.

  “You can’t change back, can you?” I said slowly, realization dawning on me.

  He shook his head mournfully.

  “You’re stuck like that. As a wolf. Forever?”

  He nodded.

  My heart broke. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, as if my life depended on it. I didn’t know what to do. What to say. What had he done? And why?

  Then, suddenly, my eyes caught the blackened blood caked to his fur and it all became clear.

  “You asked the witch to make you an alpha,” I concluded, feeling as if I was going to throw up. “Instead of a human. So you could protect me.”

  He didn’t have to answer. I already knew I was right. I’d given up my wolf half to be with him. He’d given up his human half to save me. And now we were broken. Two halves that could never become whole.

  We sat in the forest for a long time, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, we fell into a hopeless sort of sleep. When we awoke, the sun was peeking through the trees. I stared over at Orpheus—still in wolf form—my heart tearing in two.

  “What now?” I asked, half to myself.

  He didn’t answer, of course, just took my hand in his jaw, gently, so as not to pierce me with his fangs. Then, he pulled me to my feet. Together, we started walking, silently through the forest. It didn’t take me long to realize where he was leading me. To the nearby town. The human town. Stopping at the outskirts, Orpheus released my hand and nudged me with his snout.

  I stared down at him, horrified at what he was suggesting. “But what about you?” I cried. “I can’t leave you!”

  He gave me the saddest look I’d ever seen, then slowly shook his head. I knew what he was trying to
say without needing to hear the words. A town was no place for a wolf, just as the forest was no place for a girl. But he had promised to keep me safe. And Orpheus always kept his promises.

  “I love you, Orpheus,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks like rain. “I will always love you.”

  He licked my hand with a rough pink tongue—a far cry from the kiss I’d imagined we’d share, but unbearably sweet all the same. Then, he took a step back, turning away and heading toward the forest.

  Before he vanished, he turned back to me one last time, meeting my eyes with his own. As I watched him, frozen in place, he gave me one, last wistful smile. A smile to hold onto during the lonely nights to come.

  I smiled back at him. It was all I had left to give. And then we both walked away.

  Kaitlin’s eyes dart to the clock on the wall, then back to the webcam. Cutting it close.

  “That’s all the time we have, Mrs. Martin,” she says. Her mind is screaming, but her voice is serene, honeyed. Always the chatty widows when my schedule is tight. She makes a mental note to give Astra a piece of her mind the next time she calls.

  Kaitlin draws a placid expression from the deep well of her world-class poker face. The smile spreads across her face effortlessly. “Embrace the light, find your path, and be your future. Have a blessed day.”

  She closes her laptop and her smile vanishes, discarded like an old piece of gum. With a quick hand, she jots an entry in the notebook on her desk.

  11/01 8:30AM-9:30AM - Gloria Martin

  A twinge of regret creeps into her thoughts as she thinks of Mrs. Martin’s dead husband and fixed income. Kaitlin is a luxury Gloria Martin couldn’t afford, their weekly appointment a burden just short of too much to bear. What does she have to sacrifice to keep this habit? Groceries? Medicine? A warm enough house in the winter?

  Kaitlin curses herself and shakes off the guilt. Somebody’s going to take her money. Might as well be me.

  The legs of the chair creak against the hardwood floor as Kaitlin pushes back from her desk. She grunts at the heft of the backpack she slings over her shoulder.

  “Thursday, you are far too heavy,” she mumbles.

  She hustles downstairs into the dated but inviting kitchen, a relic of yellows and browns. The smell of bacon fills her nose and sends her stomach into a boisterous rumble. A full spread is laid out on the counter next to the stove, a breakfast for two big enough to feed a small army.

  “You know I’m off pork this month, Gram,” she says with a frown.

  Her grandmother sets a plate and silverware down on the well-worn kitchen table. “Nonsense. A growing girl like you needs protein.”

  “I’m nineteen. Pretty sure the only growing I can do now is out.” Kaitlin looks down at her stomach, which has developed a noticeably convex contour over the past few months. Hello, freshman fifteen.

  Gram looks her up and down, her jaw set with worry. “You’re skin and bones.”

  Kaitlin scoffs. “Hardly.”

  Gram pulls out a chair at the table. “Sit and eat something.”

  “No time. I’ve got Anthropology of War at ten.” She grabs a piece of toast off a plate and gives Gram a kiss on the cheek. “You can feed me all you want tonight, okay?”

  Gram plants her hands on her hips, unswayed by the prospect of an evening spent stuffing her granddaughter to the gills. “You have a gift, honey. I don’t know why you’d waste your time with war.”

  Kaitlin rolls her eyes. “We can have a nice philosophical debate about mass human conflict and alleged gifts. Tonight.”

  “Go then, busy girl. But don’t forget an umbrella. Channel Eleven says it’s supposed to rain cats and dogs.”

  Kaitlin smirks. “Did the trained meteorologist actually say ‘cats and dogs?’”

  Gram smacks her on the butt with a dish towel. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

  She grabs an umbrella from the stand by the door. “I am. See you tonight.”

  ***

  The brown faux-wood top of a utilitarian cafeteria table absorbs an angry punch.

  Kaitlin sits in the university’s student center, staring daggers at her laptop screen. She holds her phone in a death grip, tight to her ear.

  Dairy State Credit Union

  U.S. Checking 0204

  Current Balance: $24.12

  After the second ring, a perky voice comes on the line. “Thank you for calling the Mystic Readers Connection, this is Astra, how may I help you?”

  Kaitlin sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “Astra. It’s Kaitlin.” Her words are clipped.

  Astra’s smoky voice drops the formality. “Hey, girl, how’s it going?”

  Kaitlin drums her knee with the fingers of her free hand, her knuckles still smarting from the ill-conceived punch. “Not great. This isn’t a social call. I’m looking at my checking account right now, and it’s not good.”

  “What’s the sitch?”

  “The sitch, is you haven’t paid me. Again.”

  Kaitlin hears the clicking of long fingernails on keys as Astra looks up her account.

  “Did you submit your billing on time?”

  Astra’s slightly elevated voice and sincere tone might work on someone else, but Kaitlin isn’t falling for it. When life has handed you a heaping plate of intuition, seeing through false concern and poor acting is child’s play.

  Kaitlin clicks on the folder marked Weekly Billings-MRC. “You want me to re-send you the worksheet? Time stamp on it says six oh three a.m. on Sunday the twenty-eighth. That’s about eighteen hours ahead of the deadline for this week’s reconciliations.”

  “I am aware of our deadline, Kaitlin.” Astra says, her voice flat.

  “And you’re also aware that this is the seventh time this year I haven’t gotten paid on time.”

  “I’m sure it’s a simple clerical error. We’ll get it straightened out as soon as we can. Monday at the latest.”

  Kaitlin begins to tally the automatic withdrawals looming over her account, her blood pressure ticking up with each checkmark. Sixty bucks for the phone. One hundred and fifty for her eight-year-old pee-yellow Mini Cooper, affectionately known as the Wee Mobile. Eighty bucks for insurance, a hundred for cable and internet.

  And they’re all going through at midnight.

  At least I set them up for the second instead of the first. “If I don’t see a pretty big bump in my funds by five o’clock—today—you can find somebody else to handle Viola Montgomery tonight.” She hangs up without giving Astra the chance to respond.

  Kaitlin storms out of the student union into the torrential rain. The wind is out of the northwest, bringing a biting promise of winter from the Canadian plains. Dead leaves dance across the sidewalk as cold rain slaps Kaitlin’s face. Standing under the entryway’s awning provides little shelter while she struggles to open her heavy umbrella.

  Another student trudging up the sidewalk speaks up. “At least it’s not snowing, right?” He seems completely unfazed by the deluge, with only a backward baseball cap to protect him from the elements.

  She appraises his shorts, flip-flops, and frat boy hoodie—sleeves pushed up to his elbows—with scorn. “Yeah, great,” she growls, finally snapping her umbrella open. “Lucky us.”

  ***

  Kaitlin is chased into the kitchen by the rain and the wind, which howls in the wake of the slamming door. Goosebumps break out on her skin. She stands on the floor mat, drenched and dripping, not daring to move. Messing up Gram’s scrubbed and polished linoleum is not an option, no matter how many decades old it may be.

  Gram looks up from her coupon clipping. “Oh, honey, let me get you a towel. Stay right there. And close that, will you?”

  Kaitlin looks down at the umbrella. “I’m taking it upstairs to the bathtub to let it dry out. It’s wet on both sides,” she calls after her grandmother, who’s gone upstairs to the linen closet.

  “You close it right now, young lady!” Gram screeches as she comes down the stairs. “Y
ou know how I feel about that.” She hustles back into the kitchen, a stack of towels in her arms.

  “We mustn’t upset the gods of ancient Sumeria,” Kaitlin teases. She snaps the umbrella closed.

  “You know perfectly well it’s Egypt, young lady.” Gram hands Kaitlin a towel and takes the umbrella.

  “And spilling salt upsets the gods of ancient Utah, right?”

  “Quite the comedian, fresh mouth. Why do you always tempt fate?”

  Kaitlin looks up at the ceiling, smirking. “Please forgive me for my disrespect, King Kamehameha.”

  Gram’s eyes narrow. “That’s Hawaii.”

  “Right, you’re talking about Ra.” She pantomimes cheerleader moves. “Siss boom ba.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Thirty-six twenty four, I don’t even know the score.” Kaitlin throws her arms in the air and poses.

  “That’s enough!” Gram snaps. She makes the sign of the cross with a trembling hand.

  The smile fades from Kaitlin’s face. Her arms drop to her sides, her invisible pom-poms discarded. Her socks squish and drip as she slowly moves to the table. Eyes trained on the floor, she peels off her jeans.

  The pain of old, unhealed wounds fills the kitchen in an oppressive silence.

  “Gram,” Kaitlin finally says, her voice soft, “We’ve been over this. Mom and Dad … it was bad luck and bad weather. That’s it.”

  “I don’t need a reminder.” Gram points to the old green wall phone, its long cord trailing down the yellow, floral print wallpaper. “I remember the call I got on that phone like it happened yesterday. I remember every second of that night. Rushing to the emergency room. The doctors stitching you up while you screamed for your mother. How were we supposed to tell a seven-year-old girl her parents were gone? You were orphaned, and we lost our only child.” Tears fill her eyes. “You have no idea what that’s like. And with your grandfather gone now, you’re all I have left.”

  Kaitlin stands and pulls Gram into a hug. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Gram squeezes her granddaughter, then pulls back, wiping away tears. “Yes you are. Upstairs to get dry clothes before you catch pneumonia.”