by Sarah M. Awa
“I’m a police detective,” Saddler had explained, flashing his badge. “I take a personal day, my wife thinks I’m at work . . . or, in this case, camping with some buddies for the weekend.”
Chandra had offered to come along and change in the cave with Erickson, but he’d drawn the line there. Two wolves trapped together couldn’t be a good idea. Would they rip each other apart? Would his wolf . . . try anything?
“It’ll be okay,” she’d said, a mysterious glint in her eye.
“How do you know?” he challenged.
A coy smile blossomed on her full lips. “Come to a meeting, and I’ll tell you.”
A meeting? Erickson thought now, memories of her long lashes tantalizing him. Luring him.
His wife had had lashes like Chandra’s. Dark, silky, lustrous hair like hers. There wasn’t much of a resemblance beyond those features, but the way he and Glynnis used to look at each other . . .
A sharp pang jabbed his chest, and at first he thought it was from the tragic memories. Then he realized his transformation was starting.
Soon, all memories and all humanity were gone.
Melanie awoke in more pain than the previous morning. Groaning, she blinked until her vision cleared. The safe room was still pretty dark, but she could make out the scratches and smears of blood on the nearby wall. It looked like almost every square inch of paneling had been gouged.
Suddenly, the raw pain didn’t matter—nothing mattered as much as getting out. Mel grabbed the door and hurriedly snatched the clothes outside. She hardly noticed the new undergarments in the pile, hardly noticed anything as she pulled the material rapidly on, leaving the door open a crack so as to never lose sight of the way out—
Out! Out!
Out to the safety of the Butterfly Room, to fall into dark dreams so much kinder than the mind of the wolf.
She was running through the Pine Groves forest. Everything was dim and blurry, shifting and shadowed. Was it night or day? She couldn’t tell; a thick mesh of branches overhead obscured the sky. The woods enveloped, closing in, pressing down, roots rising to trip her. Fear clutched at her heart, but her legs dragged her along.
The entrance to the cave appeared in front of her. No, stop! she told herself. Don’t go in there! But her feet wouldn’t obey, and she plunged into the deeper darkness.
She navigated the twists and turns, caverns and passages, as if they were a puzzle she’d long ago solved, until her rogue feet brought her to the last place she ever wanted to see again—the room with the crawl space.
Crouching down, she peered inside the tiny tunnel. Two yellow dots gleamed at its far end, and angry growls commenced. They turned into shrieks, howls, and snarls as the beast advanced toward her.
Why wasn’t she running away?!
You are destined for this, a familiar male voice rang in her ears. With shock, she realized the words had echoed out from the tunnel. She could only kneel, rooted to the spot, and watch the beast struggle closer. At last it was near enough for her to catch a glimpse of its face.
Gavin?!
Melanie jerked awake, shivering and shaking. The sheets were tangled around her, and she felt cold and hot and sweaty.
It was him. He bit me! That’s how he knew about me!
Bright sunlight made her curtains glow, and the clock on the wall said it was almost noon. She’d gotten several hours of rest, and after that nightmare, she didn’t want to go back to sleep.
The bathroom was empty, so Mel stripped and stepped into the shower. She spent a long time under the hot, soothing stream of water, trying to calm her mind and wash away the strong emotions the dream had stirred up—anger, fear, betrayal, confusion, mistrust.
A dream isn’t proof, she lectured herself. Don’t attack him when you see him. That won’t help you get answers.
But fingers of dread still poked at the base of her spine. What if her subconscious had deduced the truth?
Half an hour later, she reluctantly turned off the water, then dried off, dressed, and made her way to the kitchen. Cara smiled at her. “Hungry for lunch?”
“Yes. And, uh, thank you for the . . .”
Gavin walked in, and Melanie’s mind screeched to a halt. You bit me! It was you!
His mother’s mouth twitched into a grin, and she nodded. “You’re welcome. Figured you were pretty uncomfortable without them.”
You did this to me!
Cara served them grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, and after lunch, she disappeared down the hall again.
Gavin just kept sitting across from her casually, no big deal. Doesn’t he feel any remorse at all?
Taking a deep breath, trying to keep her voice calm and even, she said, “I know it was you.”
Gavin looked up at the break in her voice. “What?”
“I know it was you!” Melanie repeated, voice rising against her control. “You were the one who bit me! That’s how you knew what happened to me!”
Gavin jerked back, but he’d evidently expected something like this, because he said, “No, Melanie. It’s—”
“You BIT me!” Melanie interrupted, her voice rising to a shriek without her meaning to. “You DID this to me!”
“Melanie—”
“Don’t LIE to me.” When had she gotten to her feet? “I SAW you. DON’T LIE TO ME!”
“I’m psychic,” Gavin said.
Melanie blinked and gasped, momentum lost. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, this wasn’t one of them.
“I was here last full moon,” Gavin said. “You can ask my mom; she came with me.”
“Of course she’d stand up for you . . .” Melanie said, but the wind had left her sails, and she found herself collapsing back into her seat. “But I saw . . . I . . .”
Had a dream.
Melanie, you idiot. It was just a dream.
But I saw . . .
Melanie buried her face in her hands, hiding the tears streaming down her face. Hadn’t she run out of tears yet?
“Sometimes,” Gavin hurried to explain, as if explanations would calm her, “I see the future. I get these visions. My grandma had them too. She said it’s the ‘second sight’ from our Welsh blood. Anyway. The night before that volleyball game, I was brushing my teeth and I looked in the mirror and saw myself at the game. I’m not really into sports, and I wasn’t planning on going. But then I knew I had to.
“See, the visions are always important. They’re never wrong, either. I thought there would be something I was supposed to learn or someone I was supposed to help.” He looked down at the floor and muttered, “But I was too late to keep you from getting bitten in the first place.” Scowling, he slammed his fist on the arm of his chair.
The heat of his sudden anger dried Melanie’s tears, and she stared wordlessly at him.
“Why didn’t it warn me a month earlier?” Gavin whispered. Gold flashed in his eyes. “I would’ve gone to Pine Groves and done something to make you leave.” Melanie had to lean forward to hear, “No one deserves this.”
Silence stretched, save for the birds twittering outside. Clouds shifted; light played across Gavin’s face and revealed blond highlights in his hair.
Mel struggled to believe his unlikely story. She’d learned of werewolves’ existence less than forty-eight hours ago. Now psychic powers were real too?
Recalling his brief seizure-like episode in the gym lobby helped, and she asked him about it. “Was that another vision?”
“Yeah. That’s the one that showed you in the cave getting bitten.”
“Oh.”
Even if he’s lying and he did bite me, he sure seems to regret it. And it wouldn’t have been on purpose. His mind was gone; the monster had taken over. He couldn’t help what he did.
Besides, he saved me. He didn’t have to do that.
The hollow, empty feeling was back, consuming her chest.
“I always kind of assumed I was the only one with this curse,” she heard Gavin whisper. There was loneli
ness in his voice and weary defeat in his slumped shoulders.
“But what about the wolf who bit you?” she asked gently. “Don’t you think he or she is still out there somewhere?”
“Oh. I guess you’re right,” he said. “I was so young when it happened, though, not really aware of what was going on. The memory has faded so much. All I know is, I don’t have a clue who the person was because I never saw their human form. They’re probably long gone—probably don’t even know what they did to me. So they left me alone in this, and I never had anyone who truly understood.”
Melanie felt the urge to lean forward and put her hand over his, but she restrained herself.
“Not that I wanted there to be others suffering this way,” Gavin went on. “I would never wish this curse on anyone, Melanie. Believe me. I wouldn’t do a dumb, reckless thing like transforming in a cave with no guarantee I wouldn’t get out and hurt people. That’s why I have this place.”
She nodded. After a long moment, she said, “I believe you.” It was true for now, at least.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
The room was warm and filled with the scent of cinnamon. The whistle of wind through the trees outside was low and soothing. Clouds moved back over the sun, and the resultant dimness lulled Melanie. She thought of returning to the Butterfly Room and taking a nap, but didn’t care to have any more nightmares. She sat up straighter and tried to dispel her drowsiness.
“One more night here,” she murmured to herself. Then she asked Gavin, “Today’s Monday, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We missed our classes today.”
“And we’ll miss them tomorrow too. Crap.” She tried to remember what assignments were on her syllabuses for this week. It’ll probably be okay. I’m caught up on my homework, but I need to finish a couple of reading assignments. I won’t let myself get behind.
An image of Pam’s worried face floated into her mind. Her best friend was probably going crazy in her absence, chewing her manicured nails or pulling out her carefully coifed hair.
It could still be Pam.
Melanie couldn’t tell her.
9
Warning
October 18–19, Waning Gibbous Moon
The next morning, Melanie tried to flee her safe room as quickly as she had the previous day; but her scratches were deeper, hurt even worse—and they bled on the outfit Cara had left her. Guilt- and pain-ridden, she finally collapsed on the Butterfly Room’s soft bed. She slept until Cara woke her at two p.m.
“Melanie,” said the woman, gently nudging her shoulder, “you and Gavin should get ready to go. If you leave soon, you can be back at school in time for dinner.”
“Huh? Oh. Right,” Mel rasped. Lethargic limbs protesting, she dragged herself out from under the warm comforter. She longed to sleep the rest of the day away, but her throat was parched and her stomach growling, and she remembered that Pam and her other friends were probably racked with anxiety. Mel hadn’t turned her phone back on since she’d sent Pam those text messages two days ago, and she wondered how many return messages awaited her. She’d check later.
After washing up in the bathroom, she entered the kitchen and saw that Gavin was at the table chowing down on a couple of thick, meat-loaded subs. Cara had just set out a plate of food for Mel, and she smiled at Mel before disappearing down the hallway.
“You have a great mom,” Mel commented as she and Gavin ate, pretending that everything was normal. “Is she your stepmom?”
“No, she and my dad, Jeff, adopted me when I was eleven.”
“Oh,” said Mel. “What does your dad look like? Do you have a picture of him?” She glanced around, noticing the room’s décor lacked the personal touch of family photos.
“Yeah, hang on,” Gavin said, and strode down the hallway to his room. He returned with his wallet, flipping it open and showing Mel a three-by-five of a beaming couple. A muscular African American man with a graying goatee had his arm around the willowy Cara, who leaned contentedly against his shoulder.
“They seem happy and loving.”
“Yeah, they’re great.” Gavin smiled. “Mom’s a counselor, and Dad’s an anesthesiologist.”
Melanie grinned wanly. “So both of their jobs involve taking away pain.”
Her comment elicited a chuckle from him. “Guess so.”
Then Mel thought, Oh! That’s how Gavin got hold of whatever drug he used to knock me out. And with a doctor’s salary—and Cara might have a PhD, too—building a nice place like this probably didn’t set them back much.
“I packed you some snacks for the road too,” said Cara, reentering the kitchen, smelling like bleach.
“Thank you so much. For everything,” Melanie said.
Cara put a hand on Mel’s shoulder and once again flashed her gentle, genuine smile. “You’re welcome.” She paused, then added in a contemplative voice, “I’ve been doing this monthly routine with Gavin for more than ten years now.”
Glancing at him, Melanie thought, That’s far too long. I’ll do my best to end it, for him and for me. There’s got to be a cure.
The two young werewolves finished eating and then gathered their few belongings. Melanie pulled on the brand-new tennis shoes Cara had bought for her. They resembled the ones Mel’s wolf form had destroyed, and her hostess had refused to let her pay her back for them.
“Goodbye,” said Cara, hugging her son and then Melanie. “Take care of yourselves. You’re welcome here any time, Melanie. Let me give you my phone number before you go.”
The two women exchanged contact information, and Gavin took Mel’s phone and used it to call his.
Heading out the front door and into the sunny afternoon, Mel shielded her eyes and drew in deep, invigorating breaths of crisp autumn air. She felt like a prisoner who’d just been released. Slowly, she followed Gavin to his tan Ford sedan, enjoying the smells of pine, moss, and soil still damp from last night’s rain.
One month before I’ll have to think about this again.
One month to learn how to be strong.
For Pam.
Gavin slid behind the wheel, and Melanie climbed in the passenger’s side. The car crunched down the long gravel driveway.
Several minutes passed in silence. Gavin was concentrating on staying alert and awake. He’d downed an energy drink right before they’d left, but his metabolism would remain heightened for a couple of days, and the caffeine’s effects would wear off within an hour. Another drink waited in his cup holder.
Fortunately, traffic was light and no lanes were closed due to construction—a near miracle in Pennsylvania. The weather was perfect, the bright cerulean sky mostly clear of clouds. Tall trees lined the highway on both sides, their leaves dancing on a breeze and blushing scarlet, burnt orange, and gold.
Gavin’s thoughts drifted to Melanie. Observing her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that her hair glinted with highlights the color of the autumn leaves. She was leaning against the headrest, dozing, so he risked a more direct glimpse. Dark circles under her eyes stood out starkly against her pale skin. She looked worn out and somehow childlike. The urge to protect her welled up inside him.
Her long-lashed eyes fluttered open, and he quickly turned his attention back to the road. She yawned and stretched, and after a while, they fell to talking. Gavin told her about the computer-science degree he was pursuing, and Melanie talked animatedly about working for the school newspaper. Eventually, however, as they both knew it would, the talk turned to werewolves.
“I’ve been one for fourteen years,” Gavin said. “Ever since I was eight.”
“Haven’t you tried to research a cure?” Melanie asked.
“Of course,” he replied. “I looked through tons of websites and books, especially when I was a teenager. But there’s a lot more advice out there on how to kill us than on how to help us. Some say death is our only cure. And many of the other suggestions are violent too, like killing the wolf that bit you or having
a close friend stab you with a silver knife.”
Melanie winced.
“Aside from those, I found a lot of weird mystical stuff, instructions for ceremonies and rituals. Then there are the religious suggestions: splashing a werewolf with holy water, having a priest perform an exorcism. Or there’s the aconite plant, also known as—”
“Wolfsbane,” said Melanie. “Isn’t that poisonous?”
“Yes, it’s highly toxic. Even a tiny dose can be lethal to normal humans. As for its effect on werewolves, sources don’t agree about whether it helps us or harms us. Some say wolfsbane merely repels a werewolf, some say it’s deadly, and some say that in the right dosage it can be used to make a potion that will cure us. I found a few recipes, but they have awful ingredients and are based on legend, not scientific research. Melanie, there’s no way I’m messing around with wolfsbane. It’s a nasty, painful way to die.”
“I see.” Her voice was very small. Letting out a dejected sigh, she turned and gazed out her window.
I wish I could’ve given her better news, thought Gavin as he stared ahead at the long stretch of dark gray highway. His hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly. It was one thing to give up and accept his own fate; it was another to tell someone else, someone who was starting to feel like—Like what? A friend? Family?—to resign herself to her fate.
“Hey,” said Melanie, breaking him out of his thoughts, “your dad’s an anesthesiologist, right? Hasn’t he ever tried to give you drugs for the pain?”
“Sure,” said Gavin. “They didn’t help much, and they wore off quickly. Even when he gave me as high of a dose as he dared.”
She frowned. “Has he tried testing your blood or DNA, doing a CT scan on you—anything like that?”
“He’s done a lot of lab tests and some scans, but he couldn’t find any abnormalities or any clues for a treatment or cure.”
“What about alternative healing?” Melanie pressed. “Have you tried meditation, hypnosis, acupuncture?” Desperation was creeping into her voice.