Melange

by Kristy Tate

  “Yes.”

  “So you must have studied werewolves.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “What can you tell me about them?”

  “A great deal.”

  “So—will you?”

  He glanced at his watch. “I would love to chat with you, but I think we’d both be better served if you took my class.”

  “But I’m not a student here.”

  “Hmm. That’s a pity.” He began to shuffle his papers as if he were looking for something much more important than talking to Lizbet.

  Lizbet bounced to her feet. “If you weren’t going to talk to me, why did you agree to meet me?”

  He glanced up, surprised. “But we have been talking, yes?”

  “Yes, but you haven’t told me anything I want to know!”

  “And you think that’s my fault? You want to know about werewolves, but you haven’t asked me anything other than for information.”

  Lizbet sat back down, hard, and stared at him.

  He stared back.

  Her mind raced with questions and she picked one. “Do werewolves only come out when there’s a full moon?”

  “The infantile, yes.”

  “The infantile?”

  He nodded.

  “You mean the young?”

  He leaned his head to the side. “Young as in being new to the Lupine state.”

  “So those who have recently turned...”

  He beamed at her. “Now you’re cooking.”

  “So you’re not born a werewolf.”

  He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the desk. “There’s no such thing as werewolves,” he reminded her with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Right, but hypothetically,” she corrected herself, “according to legend, are werewolves born—is it a hereditary condition —or are they somehow created, like a virus?”

  “I think you’re looking for another V word.” He waited for a second, before saying, “Vampire. You want to know if humans turn into werewolves the same way humans are turned into vampires.”

  She scrunched her forehead. “I’m not sure.”

  “And conversely, if humans can be turned into werewolves, you want to know if werewolves can be turned back into humans.”

  “Those are really good questions.”

  “You want to know if someone is doomed to spend eternity as a monster.”

  “I guess I do. Yes. That’s what I want to know.”

  “Well, then I can’t help you.”

  “What?” Her voice squeaked.

  “The best I can do is give you some historical reference, but I have to warn you, you’ll be disappointed. To my knowledge, a wolf once turned has never been the same.”

  “There’s no such thing as werewolves,” Lizbet said in a small voice.

  “So they say, my dear, so they say.”

  “I don’t want to know what everyone else says, I want to know what you think.”

  Dr. Madison rubbed his chin. “Then I suggest you enroll in my Monsters in Mythology class.”

  “I can’t...”

  “Can you audit?”

  “I don’t know... Can I?”

  He smiled.

  She considered him. “I guess I’ll look into that.”

  He took off his glasses, revealing his green eyes. “I think that wise.” He scribbled on a sheet of paper and handed it to her. “Here are some books I suggest you read before your first day of class.”

  DECLAN FOUND LIZBET sitting outside the academic advisor’s office. Longing ripped through him, but he tamped it down with memories of their last few conversations. He’d behaved badly, and yet, maybe it had been for the best. They were a poorly matched pair. He was sane, and she was...who she was. He couldn’t expect her to be anything other than her quirky self. But sitting there, flipping through a course catalog, her long dark hair shielding her face, she was beautiful. He knew if she looked up and smiled at him, he’d be lost all over again. It would be better if they didn’t speak. If they didn’t see each other. If he wasn’t reminded of how she felt in his arms. How she tasted. The sound of her laughter.

  She glanced up at him and caught him staring at her. “Declan?”

  He found his voice. “What are you doing here?”

  She showed him the course catalog. “I’m thinking of taking some classes.”

  “It’s too late for you to apply.”

  “I know. But maybe I can take some night courses. Or audit.”

  “On what?”

  Indecision rippled through her expression. She was going to lie to him, but he didn’t know why.

  “Humanities,” she said.

  “Humanities?”

  She nodded.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Study human...stuff.” She swallowed. “Maybe I want to be a curator at a museum.”

  “You’d be good at that.” She would be good at anything. “My mom said you came by.”

  She nodded.

  Why couldn’t he think of more than five-word sentences? He tried again. “That was nice of you.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Checking things out.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he wasn’t ready for that conversation. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Will that be okay?”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, hugged his books to his chest, and turned away. “I’ll see you.”

  Outside, he tried to remember what he was going to do before he’d run into Lizbet. The academic advisor. But Lizbet was in there. Could he act normal around her? Maybe. He’d bungled things so badly because she’d taken him by surprise. If he’d been prepared, he wouldn’t have stumbled over his words and thoughts. Next time he saw her, he’d be coherent. Next time.

  Oh please, let there be a next time.

  “DO YOU WANT TO GO CAMPING?” Lizbet asked Maria the next day while they assembled sandwiches for the quilting guild’s annual luncheon and fundraiser.

  Maria paused with her knife over the cucumber she’d been slicing. “Camping—you mean sleep outside in a tent and dig a potty in the dirt?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah. No.” Maria whacked the cucumber into thin slices.

  “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun. I want to catch a werewolf.”

  Maria stopped chopping again so she could study Lizbet. “You’re crazy, right?” She snorted. “And where did you learn how to catch a werewolf?”

  “From the internet.” A spark of hope flashed through Lizbet.

  Maria tried to hide her smile. “Let’s suspend all rationality and suppose you really were able to catch a werewolf. Now what are you going to do with him?”

  “Hold him captive until daylight when he’ll resume human form.”

  Maria laughed. “Wow, you’ve really thought this through.”

  “So you’ll come?”

  Maria shook her head. “No. I’m not interested in werewolf hunting.” Her chopping slowed. “Unless...”

  “Unless what?”

  “Maybe you could do something for me.”

  “Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

  “Get me a date with Baxter.”

  Lizbet’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t think I can. You know Declan is mad at me, right? If we were still together, it would be easy enough to arrange a double date since Baxter and Gina just broke up, but as it is...”

  “Get me some alone time with Big Baxter, and I’ll go on your werewolf safari.”

  Ideas flooded Lizbet’s thoughts. “Alone time? That’s different from a date. Alone time I can do.” Probably.

  “Get me some one on one with Big Baxter and I’m yours for the night.”

  “Done!” Excitement tingled through Lizbet. She had little hope in the ritual she’d found on the internet, but it was doing something. Sitting around, worrying, and wringing her hands had never been her strong suit. Not that hiding in the shadows was, but at least it was bet
ter than waiting for another wolf attack.

  “When do you want to go?”

  “Next Tuesday when the moon is full.”

  Maria laughed, picked up the tray of sandwiches, and headed into the VFW Hall where the ladies of the quilting guild were gathered. “Of course,” she said over her shoulder. “I should have known.”

  LIZBET PUTTERED THE motorbike to Baxter’s house with a pocket full of cold steak. She slowed when she spotted Declan and Baxter playing basketball in the driveway. Baxter was big, but Declan was faster. The temptation to watch Declan pulled at her. He moved like a dancer, fluid and strong. She felt his loss, and she missed him with a gentle ache. His absence had created a searing hole in her life. Countless times a day, she found herself wanting to share with him something that had happened. She would think, Declan will laugh when I tell him, or what would Declan say about that? And then she’d remember he wasn’t speaking to her and laughing would be out of the question.

  She gunned the engine around the corner, praying they wouldn’t notice her. She drove on, mindlessly, wishing the clouds hovering on the horizon would open up and end the guys’ game. She didn’t mind getting wet, although her chances of meeting up with Tickles the Schnauzer in the rain were slim.

  At the next intersection, she rolled the bike to a stop, considering her next move. She didn’t want to hang on Baxter’s street for hours waiting for a chance to chat with his dog.

  He was a fussy little dog, vain about his fur, and particular about getting dirty. But he did like fine food, and Lizbet had pilfered a few steak bones from her mom’s gig with the Rotary Club. An idea made her turn around.

  She was going to need some tuna.

  It is no longer good enough to cry peace, we must act peace, live peace and live in peace. – Shenandoah

  CHAPTER 10

  Tennyson, of course, didn’t like being shoved in a backpack any more than he liked cruising around on a motorbike. Nor did he enjoy being Schnauzer bait, but he would do almost anything for tuna. Lizbet inched the bike to the corner of Baxter’s street. She peered through the trees, hoping to catch sight of the boys’ game. They were still playing, but as luck would have it, Tickles lay beside the court, head on his paws, looking bored.

  Rolling the bike to a tree and propping it up, Lizbet took off her backpack and pulled the cat out. She’d rather do this without Declan nearby, but if she was lucky, he would never know she was involved. She hid behind a tree. “You know what to do?” she whispered.

  Tennyson twitched his tail. “Tuna. Every day for a week.”

  Lizbet nodded and peeked around the tree at the game. Declan shot a basket and Baxter went for the rebound. Lizbet backed against the cedar tree and hid herself beneath its branches.

  “And the good kind,” Tennyson said with a hiss. “Water-packed albacore. I don’t want that oily, slimy stuff.”

  “Water-packed albacore,” Lizbet repeated.

  “And it has to be Sunkist,” Tennyson insisted. “Not some generic brand.”

  “Only the best for my kitty,” Lizbet murmured as she set the cat down on the ground.

  Tennyson arched his back. “Wish me luck.”

  “You’ll be fine. He’s a lazy dog who’s missing his front teeth.”

  Tennyson wandered through the trees and onto Baxter’s lawn while Lizbet watched from the shelter of the cedar’s boughs.

  Tickles sat up, his fur ruffled along his back. Tennyson waved his tail, sending his scent across the yard. Tickles bounced to his feet, yapping.

  The basketball stopped thumping.

  “Oh no. Keep playing. Ignore the dog,” Lizbet whispered.

  With a series of yips, Tickles bounded after Tennyson.

  “Tickles!” Baxter called.

  Tennyson tore through the grass with Tickles at his tail.

  Declan said something to Baxter and Baxter responded by shaking his head. The dribbling resumed and the guys ignored the dog.

  The cat scampered up the cedar to the lowest branch. Seconds later, Lizbet caught hold of Tickles’ collar. She dropped the T-bone at his paws.

  “What’s this?” the Schnauzer barked. He bent to sniff. Then picked up the bone and began to gnaw.

  “Would you like more?” she asked.

  Tickles nodded as he worried the bone. Drool dripped from his beard.

  “Then I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to bring Baxter outside tonight when the sun sets. Can you do that?”

  Tickles whined an agreement and plopped down at her feet to enjoy the bone.

  “Lizbet? What are you doing here?” Declan pushed aside the cedar’s boughs.

  Baxter stood behind him, the basketball tucked beneath his arm.

  “Looking for my cat.” She nodded at the tree where Tennyson was perched, flicking his tail. “I thought I could coax him down with a steak bone, but your dog took possession of it.”

  “Sorry about that.” Baxter dropped the ball, stepped forward, grabbed Tickles’ collar, and hauled him back. Tickles skittered through the dirt, complaining.

  Lizbet dropped to her knees and handed the dog the bone. “It’s okay, he can have it now. He deserves it.”

  When Baxter released the leash, Tickles flopped onto his belly and concentrated on the bone while Declan picked up the ball.

  “What for?” Baxter asked.

  “For treeing my cat,” Lizbet said. “If not for Tickles, I could have been chasing Tennyson for miles.”

  “He’s already a long way from home.” Declan sounded suspicious.

  “I know, right?” Lizbet tried to hold her voice steady, but being around Declan made more than just her voice jittery.

  “Do you need help getting him down?” Baxter eyed Tennyson.

  “He won’t come down as long as Tickles is here,” Lizbet said. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  As if to prove her point, Tennyson hissed.

  “You’re right.” Baxter elbowed Declan. “Coming?”

  “In a minute,” Declan said to Baxter, keeping his focus on Lizbet. “Do you need me to climb up and get him?” he asked once Baxter and Tickles headed back.

  “I can get him,” Lizbet said. “But maybe if you could catch him?”

  “Merrow!” Tennyson complained. “You are not tossing me around like a basketball!”

  Lizbet frowned at the cat, and grabbed onto the lowest-hanging branch and swung her legs up.

  “Let me do it,” Declan said. “Lizbet!” He reached for her ankle, but she kicked at his hand.

  “Don’t be silly. He’s my cat,” she said without looking down at him. A branch snagged her T-shirt. A waft of cold air blew across her bare belly, and she let go of the tree to pull her shirt down.

  Below her, Declan sucked in a deep breath while Lizbet hoisted herself up into the tree and balanced on the branch just below Tennyson. “Besides, I’m already up.”

  “Yeah, now.” He folded his arms and scowled at her. “I don’t like this. You’re going to fall.”

  “I’m fine.” Lizbet scooched along the branch, drawing closer to Tennyson. Heat crawled up her cheeks, and to keep Declan from seeing it, she climbed, reaching Tennyson’s level.

  The cat eyed her before stretching out a paw and scratching her hand.

  “What are you doing?” Lizbet cried as she struggled for balance.

  “Helping you,” Tennyson said.

  “Help?” Lizbet cried as she hugged the tree with her thighs and tried to stay upright.

  Declan dashed directly below her.

  “I’m okay,” she assured him as she regained her balance. Glaring at the cat, she lunged for him.

  Tennyson hissed, jumped at her, and scampered up the tree.

  Surprised, Lizbet lost her balance and her grip. She tumbled backwards and landed on Declan, knocking him to the ground. Lizbet scooted off him, climbed to her feet, and extended her hand to help him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.�
�� He grabbed her hand, pulled her down, and rolled on top of her, pinning her. His face loomed inches from hers.

  She held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her, or say something, but when Baxter crashed through the trees, Declan peeled away.

  Baxter looked embarrassed. “I thought...”

  Declan reached down to help Lizbet up. “It’s not what you think. Lizbet fell.”

  “Yeah, and so did you.” Baxter smirked. “You just won’t admit it.”

  Lizbet brushed off her clothes, hid her flaming cheeks behind her curtain of hair, and wondered what had just happened, and what would have happened if Baxter hadn’t interrupted them.

  “Are you okay?” Declan asked her.

  She lifted her eyes to meet his and nodded. “Are you?”

  He rolled his shoulders and winced. “Sure.”

  Baxter elbowed Declan. “You going to get the kitty now?”

  Declan ignored him.

  “Tennyson!” Lizbet called.

  The cat dropped down beside Lizbet’s feet and meowed. She scooped him up.

  Baxter watched, looking amused. “You should have done that five minutes ago.”

  Lizbet stroked Tennyson. “You’re a bad cat,” she said fondly.

  Merrow.

  “I’ll walk you home,” Declan said, falling in step beside her.

  “No you won’t,” Baxter said. “We’ve got a game in Lake Monroe in twenty minutes.” Baxter frowned at him. “Are you going to be able to play?”

  Declan rolled his shoulders again. “I’m fine.”

  But Lizbet wondered if he really was, or if he, like her, had been more shaken by the fall than he wanted to admit.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Maria dropped by Neal’s Nursery while Lizbet was finishing up her morning shift.

  “Are you almost off?” Maria asked.

  Lizbet bit her lip and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall between advertisements for lawn seed and fertilizer. Her shift had technically ended a half hour before, but she’d been hanging around waiting for the deliveryman. She debated whether or not to share that information with Maria, although she did want to hear about her rendezvous with Baxter. “Let me finish watering these flats of alyssum and say goodbye to Mr. Neal.”