by Cheree Alsop
Whatever power of thought I had left was caught by the statement. I glanced back at him. “What made you think I needed clothes?”
Dad’s face lowered, but not before I saw the truth in his eyes. My heart skipped a beat. “You know what happened to me.”
Dad nodded. He looked at me again and held up the backpack he carried. “Put these on. We can talk on the way back home.”
“I shouldn’t go home,” I told him.
He crossed to me with a look of understanding so stark in his gaze that I couldn’t turn away. “Where else would you go? We’re family.”
I took the clothes and was inwardly grateful when he turned away to give me my privacy. I had to admit that pulling on the pants and shirt, and even the simple act of tying my old sneakers, made me feel more normal. The thought that my new sneakers now lay at the bottom of the river made me feel sick as more of a metaphor of my life than any regret for the sneakers themselves. They had always been a bit snug and the right one tended to squeak on the tile floors at school, negating the name sneaker.
“Finn?”
I shook my head to bring my thoughts back in order and glanced at Dad.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
“Sebastian’s dead.”
A sigh lowered Dad’s shoulders. When he met my gaze, he looked as though my statement had aged him ten years. I realized at that moment how much of his calm demeanor had been forced for me. I wished I was still young enough to pretend with him.
“Yes, Sebastian’s dead,” he confirmed.
I blinked back tears and turned my glare onto the trees around us.
The crunch of the twigs and leaves beneath Dad’s shoes sounded loud when he crossed to me. “It’s not your fault,” he said.
“I was driving,” I replied. “I should have gone slower. I didn’t see the ice.” My breath caught as the memory of us plummeting from the edge of the bridge replayed in my mind. I could see Sebastian’s arms dangling in the water, his head lolling forward. I opened my eyes, but the memory refused to fade.
“Bad things happen,” my dad said. He put his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. “Accidents happen. It’s not your fault.”
“I tried to save him, but I had to get Drake to shore first.”
Dad nodded. There was no judgement on his face at the tears that spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t seem to get them to stop.
“Drake told me what happened. You did what you had to.”
“Did…did he tell you what I changed into?” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.
Dad nodded again. I searched his face, looking for signs of fear or doubt at what had happened, but there was nothing. I studied the lines and creases that had grown over the years, the blue eyes that were a shade lighter than Drake’s, and the salt-and-pepper stubble on the cheeks he usually shaved with care every morning but today revealed that other important things had been on his mind than pristine hygiene. In his gaze, I found the truth. Acceptance. He wasn’t afraid of what had happened to me; he had expected it.
The truth made me take a step back.
“Dad, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “You went through a traumatic experience and genetics took over.”
“Wha-what does that mean?” I asked.
Dad crossed his arm and gave me the fatherly look he usually reserved for lectures when I stayed out too late. He started with the same tone.
“Finnley, you’ve been sixteen for four months now. I had hoped we were past this possibility, but it seems nature operates on its own timeframe. I think your body was just waiting for the necessary instead of the suggestion.”
I shook my head. “Dad, you’re not making any sense.”
He uncrossed his arms and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “Do you remember your mother?”
I nodded. “Of course.” Most of my memories came from replaying the family videos over and over again, but the sound of her laughter and the smell of the cherry vanilla lotion she loved had stayed with me.
He shuffled his feet. “You may have, um, not known a certain detail.”
I felt as though if he was any more elusive, I would go crazy. I shoved my hands through my hair that was the exact replica of Dad’s black wavy mop at my age and said, “Dad, I don’t have the patience for this.”
Dad took a deep breath. When he let it out, he said, “Your mother was a werewolf.”
I laughed. It was perhaps the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard him say, and he was a high school science teacher, so that was saying a lot. But nothing compared to the ludicrous statement that had just left his mouth. Except he wasn’t laughing.
The laughter died away in my throat, which was good because the edge of insanity to it might have landed me in a straightjacket or with a colorful assortment of pills to add to my daily multivitamin. I had a weak grasp on my current mental state, and if the sincerity in my father’s gaze had anything to do with it, it was quickly going to slip away.
“A werewolf?” I repeated.
“Look at this,” Dad said. He used the flashlight to make a quickly check of the grove around us, found a grassy patch, and sat down. Before I could ask what he was up to, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and began flipping through pictures.
After about a thousand thumb slides, he looked up at me and patted a spot next to him. “Sit.”
“Dad, I—”
“Finn, sit,” he said.
The dad-tone had surfaced in his voice. I gave in and sat down, balling my hands in the grass to keep from arguing further. After everything, looking through pictures on my dad’s outdated phone was the last thing I wanted to do. But maybe he needed some nostalgia to remind himself that I wasn’t whatever monster I feared crept through my veins. I leaned over, needing the same reassurance myself.
With a speed that said he searched through the pictures often, I watched my childhood fly by backwards. I knew some of the older photos were from before his phone, mostly because I had destroyed his last one about a year ago. I accidentally dropped it out of the car window taking a picture of a girl on rollerblades to prove to Drake that somebody really could skate and be hot. Dad had threatened to ground me for the summer, but after Julianne sent me to my bedroom, he had followed me in and told me that at least I had broken the phone on a worthy cause.
The fact that he had moved all of the pictures to his new phone gave me the chance to see us at a barbecue years ago. Drake stood in a kiddie pool in a swimming diaper while I sprayed him with a hose. To his credit, the kid grinned instead of crying. Another picture showed us in the dark, our faces barely visible with fireworks in the background. A tombstone with roses on it flashed past along with pictures of a green cloth over the ground, an empty church interior with flowers on the podium, a hospital room, and a sunny day in the park near our house, my mother smiling on the hill while I rolled down it. She had a hand on her belly and a contented look on her face.
My dad’s fingers scrolled past a dog, paused, then backed up two pictures.
“There,” he said, holding it up. “It’s the only one she ever let me take.”
Chapter Two
I gave the picture of the big dog a skeptical look, then turned the same look on my dad.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
His tone was flat when he replied, “Does anything you experienced today tell you I’m kidding?”
I let out a breath and turned my gaze back to the picture. It wasn’t a dog. That much was obvious. There was a wildness about the animal’s golden eyes and the way it held its head that said it wasn’t about to submit to anyone.
“Mom’s eyes were green.” My admission was quiet, a plea mixed with a kernel of hope that perhaps Dad would tell me it was all just a big joke.
“Her eyes changed to gold whenever she was about to turn into a wolf, or phase, as they call it. Yours were gold when my flashlight shone on you here; that’s why I hesitated. It caught me of
f-guard.”
I heard it in his voice, a hint of uncertainty as if he, too, was coming to terms with everything he was revealing to me. I looked at the picture again, telling myself it was Mom, but the image wouldn’t mesh with the memories of her I carried in my mind.
“She never mentioned it.”
That brought the ghost of a smile to Dad’s lips. “What? Tell her sons that their mother is the big bad wolf?” He shook his head. “She hoped for a different life for you. She was the last werewolf of her lineage, and possibly in the world. She told me there were instances of werewolves never phasing. She hoped that maybe you would stay human and not have to deal with that side of things.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and asked, “And Drake? Is he a…a werewolf, too?”
Dad nodded, his gaze on the screen of the phone I held forgotten in my hand. “It’s in his veins as much as yours. Only time will tell if he’ll turn. Werewolves usually phase before the age of sixteen. When you passed your birthday, I hoped….” He rose abruptly. “Well, it doesn’t matter. What is, is, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. The sooner we accept it, the sooner we can deal with it.”
He held out his hand. I took it and stood. “How do we deal with it?”
He used his flashlight to take several steps in the direction he had come. He then paused and glanced back at me. “Well, for starters.” He clicked off the flashlight. “With a werewolf for a son, I suppose I should let you lead the way. Your mother always loved seeing in the dark. She used to turn off the lights and guide me with her voice when we went walking.”
Realization dawned on me. “That’s why you still go walking at night.”
He nodded. “I haven’t been able to give it up. It makes me feel closer to her memory.” He shot me a sheepish grin in the darkness. “Although it took a few spills for me to accept using a flashlight. She always did say I was stubborn.”
After I failed to warn Dad of several branches and a log, he gave in and turned the flashlight back on. We walked in silence, me processing everything he had told me and him left to his thoughts. I finally broke the silence.
“How do we deal with this, Dad? I don’t even really know what this is.”
He glanced back at me. “The Remus Academy for Integral Education.”
I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“A school in New York,” he explained, sweeping his light back and forth across the path. “Your mother went there. It’s a place for students like yourself to learn in safety away from the dangers of the world.”
I stopped walking. It took him a few seconds to realize it and stop as well. When his flashlight shone back in my direction, I couldn’t help wondering if my eyes still reflected gold; the expression on his face was unreadable.
“You want to send me away.”
Dad shook his head, but I cut him off before he could speak.
“You want to get rid of me because of what I am!” There was an edge of hysteria to my voice that I couldn’t crush. “That’s your answer to all of this. Send me away!” My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. I glared at him with my hands clenched into fists. A strange urging coursed through my muscles. I could feel the wolf fighting inside of me, struggling to get out, to force my form to change. It took all of my willpower to maintain control.
Dad crossed back to me. There was compassion on his face as if he knew of my struggle. “Finn, that’s not it at all. The last thing I want to do is send you away.” He lifted a hand to me but I backed away before he could touch me. He gave an accepting nod and gestured to indicate what was beyond the forest. “This is a dangerous world, Finn. There are so many ways you could be hurt. Your mother had to avoid capture from people who wanted to study her, duplicate her genetic structure, or kill her. She learned how to hide out, to keep what she was a secret.” He lifted his phone. “But it’s harder now than ever. Social media could be a death sentence to you, especially with the Maes Hunters searching every avenue. At that school, I know you’ll be safe. They kept a spot open in case one of Silvia’s children was ever in need of it.”
I processed his words in silence. None of it made sense. I rubbed my eyes and asked a question to keep my mind distracted. “What are Mace Hunters?”
“Maes,” he repeated, emphasizing more of a z sound like maize. “Your mother always feared they would find her. It’s an acronym for Monster Abolition and Eradication Society. The Maes hunters are constantly searching for monsters to kill.”
“You mean werewolves to kill,” I said.
He shook his head. “There are different kinds of monsters out there, Finn. Most are good from what your mother told me. The rest, well, I suppose they’re the reason for the Society. But from what I’ve researched, they aren’t particular about the type of monster they kill.”
My voice was quiet when I said, “So I’m a monster.” It confirmed how I felt inside. The fight left me along with the anger, and with it faded the urge to change into the wolf I had been before. My aching muscles relaxed.
“You’re my son.”
I looked up at Dad’s words. This time he put both of his hands on my shoulders. “Finn, you’re my son and you will always be my son no matter what. I knew what your mother was when I married her, and we accepted that this could be an eventuality of having children, but I loved her and I love you.” He swallowed and I saw the shine of moisture in his eyes. “Because of that, I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”
A knot tightened in my throat. I nodded past the words I couldn’t say. Dad pulled me in for a hug and I hugged him back.
I made myself ask the thing I had avoided. “What about Sebastian?”
Dad’s voice was quiet when he answered, “His funeral is this weekend, but you can’t be there.”
I was about to protest, but his next words silenced me.
“Someone filmed you going into the water and the wolf coming out. The images were taken from the bridge; now they’re all over the internet. With the time of night, they aren’t very clear, but if someone recognizes the car or any of you, no one will be safe.”
My chest tightened at the thought of bringing danger to my family. I followed him silently through the looming trees.
“I think it would be in the best interest of yourself and our family to have you ready to leave right after we get home. We don’t need anyone asking questions about why you disappeared.” He looked back at me. “I told the police you lent Sebastian your car last night while you were helping Julianne’s sister move into her new place. Drake went along for the ride, the car went over the bridge, and Drake did what he could to save him, but it was too late.”
I remembered the fear in my younger brother’s eyes when he saw what I was. I grimaced at the memory. “And Drake?”
“He went along with it.” Dad let out a sigh as if what we had been through burdened him, too. “I know lying to the police is a crime, but so is leaving the scene of an accident. There’s no way to tell the truth and not have you questioned, especially if someone starts taking the pictures seriously.” He snapped a twig off a tree we passed and glanced at me. “You need time to figure this out.”
“So being a monster is a crime, too.” I said it as a statement instead of a question; I didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in my voice.
Dad broke the twig into tiny pieces before he answered, “Being different can evoke fear; people who are afraid tend to overreact. Overreaction can be dangerous.” He dropped the pieces of the stick. “I’ll figure out how to keep you safe like I did your mother, I just need time. The school can give us that.”
There was a question in his voice, pleading mixed with hope. He had a son who was a monster. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to send me away. He had the rest of the family to protect. Drake was normal as far as we knew and Julianne was pregnant. There was no holding it against him if he wanted to raise my soon-to-be step-brother or step-sister away from the dangers having a monster in the fam
ily would bring.
“I’ll go.”
Relief along with a light of pride showed in his gaze when he looked back at me. He nodded. “I’ll let them know. I’m sorry about Sebastian.” His voice lowered and said, “I know he was a good friend.”
“He was a great friend,” I replied. I swallowed past the tightness that filled my throat. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
Dad paused in his steps. “It’s not your fault.”
“I was driving,” I said.
Compassion showed on Dad’s face when he told me, “But accidents happen. You can’t carry this guilt on your shoulders. I shouldn’t have let you take the car out.”
“You didn’t know we were gone,” I said. The truth showed in his gaze. “I should have told you we left. You would have stopped me.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not. You can’t blame yourself.”
I pushed past him with a shake of my head. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
“But Finn,” he said.
I fought back the urge to growl; it wasn’t a sensation I was used to. “Dad, I can’t go there. Please. Let’s just get home.”
The understanding that it wasn’t my home filled me with a loss almost as great as losing Sebastian. I no longer had my friend or a home. It had all been taken away in one moment, one horrible, confusing, life-changing moment.
Julianne and Drake were gone when we got there. I had no idea where they had left to so early in the morning, but I was relieved. I couldn’t face my step-mother or brother after what had happened. I didn’t know what I would say or how they would look at me. I couldn’t see the fear in Drake’s eyes again. I had always tried so hard to be a good older brother; now I had lost him as well.
I caught myself standing in the middle of my bedroom staring at nothing. What did one take when there was no way of knowing whether coming back was even a possibility?
My gaze lingered on the trophies that lined the dresser. Track now seemed trivial, though I couldn’t deny that the urge to run away from everything and never look back was tempting. I couldn’t do that to Dad and Julianne, though. They were good parents; they didn’t deserve what I had brought to them.