“You so don't play fair,” he muttered after I had to hang him for the fourth time in a row. “Who uses words like that to play hangman?”
I wanted to say that smart people did, but I decided not to sound arrogant and take it a bit easier on him. “Next time, I'll use an easy word.”
“Thank you.” Chris gave me an exaggerated nod, and I couldn't help but laugh.
“Let's go one more round each. I'm getting a bit tired. Who'd have ever thought that riding on an ATV all day could wear a person out?”
“Maybe you should work out more.” He shrugged. I glared at him for his snarky comment, but Chris didn't look back up while he was jotting down the spaces for his final word.
Six letters. Another one that was fairly easy to guess. The word he had chosen was 'escape'.
Chris's eyes met mine, and his expression was all seriousness. “Would you help me?”
It was as if he had snatched the notebook from me all over again. My entire body stiffened with the tension of the moment. Desperately, I searched for something to say to Chris. In truth, I would love nothing more than to help him. But the reality of the situation was that guards were everywhere, not to mention cameras, and it wasn't like I could just walk out the gate with him at my back.
“What would you expect me to do?” I asked cautiously.
Chris shrugged. “I don't know. I guess, help me figure out some way to do it.”
“I don't think there is a way,” I replied honestly.
“Sure, there is. Didn't your parents ever tell you that nothing is impossible?” He gave me a weak smile.
“They also taught me to be a realist.”
“I know.” He sulked. “I don't think I really expected you to say yes, I was just curious if you would. I wouldn't want to put you in danger like that anyway.”
Internally, I sighed in relief, happy that I had dodged a bullet. “If I really thought there was a way to do it, I'd help you. But, hopefully my report can help too.”
Chris stared down at the notebook which had been etched on with both of our hands, scribbles and letters and emotions and so much more. I could tell that he doubted my words.
“Do you really think this is going to change anything?” He held the notebook up, and there was the faintest hint of hope behind his blue eyes.
“I'll make it change something,” I told him. For the first time since I had been at the reservation, I meant what I said. No matter what it took, I would bring more attention to the werewolves' plight, even if I had to become a lone spokesperson for them.
“Thanks.” Chris set the notebook down and slid it in front of me. “I think that you mean it, so that makes me feel a little better.”
“I do.” I took the notebook in hand, getting ready to close it.
“You have one more word left,” he reminded me. “Even though you've already kicked my ass. Let's just play the last one for the hell of it. Make it a good word.”
A good word, I thought to myself, and something that would be easy for him to guess. Four letters, half of them vowels. It probably wasn't the best choice for a word, but I was curious to see Chris's reaction.
“Love,” he guessed after he had gotten the L, the O, and the E. As I filled in the V, Chris looked up at me. “Is there someone that you love . . . on the outside world, I mean?”
“Nope.” I avoided his eyes.
“Hm, surprising.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, if it doesn't offend you for me to say so, I think you're very pretty, and you're smart, and you're successful. I just kind of figured there was probably a boyfriend or fiancé waiting for you on the outside.”
“To be honest, I don't have much luck with men. They usually either cheat on me or get bored with me and move on to someone else,” I admitted, trying not to get depressed over bad memories.
“That's a shame,” he replied, and then a long silence followed before he spoke again. “Apparently, people get married inside of the reservation. Whoda thunk it?”
“Yeah, there are a few married couples.”
“I guess they can't deny us all of our rights in here.” Chris sighed.
“If you think about it, they don't really deny you most of them,” I said cautiously, knowing that he wouldn't like it.
“Don't pull a Rick on me,” he warned, though he didn't sound angry.
“I won't. I'm just saying, it could be a lot worse.”
“I know it could be.”
Since things were already starting to get awkward, I decided to go for the gold. “So, when are you going to tell me what happened with your fiancé?”
“I suppose you're not going to let it go until I tell you.” Chris looked up at me with offense in his eyes, making me instantly regret asking.
“No,” I replied softly.
“Well, the short version is that she killed herself.”
Now I felt even worse for pressing the subject. No wonder she wasn't at the reservation with him.
“If you don't want to talk about it anymore, I'll understand, but I would eventually like the longer version, if you don't mind,” I told him.
“Will it go in your notebook? Of course, it will,” Chris answered himself. “That's the point of your notebook, isn't it? To collect our lives because no one else will ever know or care about them otherwise. I suppose now is as good a time as any. I'm sure you want to know how she got the lycanthropy disease, since we were engaged and all.”
I nodded, leaving the notebook where it sat to avoid making him feel anymore uncomfortable while he told his story. After Chris left, I could always jot down what I remembered.
“We got into a fight a couple of weeks before the first time that we shifted. We broke up, she went out and got drunk at a club, and some guy raped her,” he said very matter-of-factually. “It was pretty normal for stuff like that to happen. Not the raping, of course, but us breaking up for a few days here and there every couple of months. It was usually because of me saying or doing something stupid. I can be really immature and stubborn at times.
“Anyway, Melissa wasn't stupid like a lot of girls are. She called the cops right away. They never found the guy, but she refused to be the victim.
“We got back together almost immediately. I blamed myself for it. After all, if I hadn't of been a douche, then it wouldn't have happened, you know?”
“She was a bit scared to have sex at first after that. I mean, the guy had held her down, choked her, hit her, all the things that would mentally scar you for a good long time. The night before our first shift, she finally let me . . . well, you know.” He avoided my eyes. “The next night, we weren't together when we shifted. I don't know where she was, but I was in my room. Man, I tore through that place like it was nobodies business . . . took out the window and part of the wall to get outside.
“It didn't take long for my parents to figure it out, but they weren't about to turn me in. I woke up in the forest the next morning, butt naked. I think everyone wakes up that way after a shift. Must be awkward.” Chris paused to think for a minute. “Anyway, I went straight home and called Melissa, but she wasn't there. Before I left for her house, my parents helped me to devise a plan. They told me that we would start looking for a place for Melissa and I to go live out in the forest away from everyone. That way, if we had a big enough piece of land, maybe we could fence it in and no one would ever have to know about us. We'd be safe, you know.
“I kept trying to get a hold of Melissa, but she never answered her phone, so I drove over there. When I got to her apartment, her door was unlocked. I walked in . . . and that's when I found her, hanging from the ceiling fan.” His eyes began to tear.“There was a suicide note taped to the front of her dress. She said that she was sorry that she had given the disease to me, and that she couldn't live with herself for it. She said a bunch of other stuff too, but I don't want to get into it, or I'll end up balling like a baby.”
“Oh Chris, I'm so sorry.” I went to be by his s
ide, wrapping my arms around him.
Chris nuzzled his face against my shoulder and wept. For a while, his sobs were so loud that they shook both of us. Then, after a couple of minutes, Chris pulled away and wiped his bloodshot eyes with his arms.
My heart broke for Chris. I couldn't even imagine how painful it must have been to go through so much emotional trauma in such a short time. But as bad as I knew it was for him, it must have been ten times worse for his fiancé. To go through a break up, get raped, then find out that you're a werewolf and gave the lycanthropy disease to the love of your life. That would be enough to make just about anyone suicidal.
“It wasn't your fault,” I said finally, the only thing I knew to say.
“I know it wasn't,” Chris paused, trying to recompose himself. “You know, the thing is that I'm not really mad at her for giving me the werewolf virus. I'm mad at her for leaving me alone. We could have coped with it together, but she just gave up.” Tears continued to streak down his face, though his sobs had softened into bouts where he lost his breath from an occasional heave.
I slid my hand on top of Chris's to help comfort him, though I knew it wouldn't do much good. It would be a long time before he would heal from this.
“I'm sorry that I broke down on you,” Chris said, drying his eyes a second time. “I had a bad feeling this would happen, which was why I wanted to wait to tell you. But, I'm glad I got it over with. Now I don't have to worry about talking about it again . . . At least, I hope you won't want to talk about it again.” He gave me a questioning look.
“We don't have to talk about it again,” I reassured him.
“Well, now that I've embarrassed myself, I suppose I'll leave so that you can get some sleep.” Chris stood, glancing at the notebook before turning toward the door.
I was behind him in an instant, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Hey. You didn't embarrass yourself.”
“Yes, I did,” Chris insisted.
“These things are painful to talk about, especially when it hasn't been very long since they happened. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here . . . okay?” I gave him a hopeful look, trying to let him know that he could trust me.
My heart ached for Chris as he walked away, and for the first time ever, I wondered whether or not I should write anything that he had told me into the notebook. The story seemed so personal, and the way he looked at the notebook made me feel like he truly didn't want me to write it down. The last thing I wanted to do was make him hurt anymore than he already did.
Thoughts of Chris kept me awake long after the sleeping pills I took were supposed to have sent me off to dream land. The poor guy had so much going on inside of his head. Thoughts of his fiancé haunted him while he had to worry about successfully integrating into the pack. Not to mention that the hierarchy trials were only days away. If I were in Chris's shoes, the stress would have probably killed me by now.
The hierarchy trials. I sighed at the thought that I would have to participate in them. A day of games that revolved around strength, skill, and intelligence. While I definitely had it made in the intelligence department, I wasn't so sure about the other two. Strength would be a challenge, and as far as skill was concerned, I supposed it would depend on what skill they wanted to see performed. No one knew what the tests would be beforehand. The compound created different ones every time. One thing was for certain though. It would be another big adventure.
CHAPTER THREE
The Blackfoot Werewolf Reservation was abuzz with excitement about the upcoming hierarchy trials. Never before had I heard or seen so much activity outside of my suite. Compound staff walked to and fro, setting up booths for the trials. Armed guards stood sentry at the main gate while the staff carried their supplies inside of the reservation.
There couldn't possibly be a better time to mount a mass escape. It was a treacherous thought though, and one I definitely would not be bringing to the attention of the werewolves. Besides, the open gates were so tempting that I imagined someone had to have tried it before.
Promptly at ten o'clock in the morning, I was required to go to the recreation room to have my weight taken. It seemed like a funny thing to have to do for the trials, but I was sure that it would factor in somehow. Thankfully, they weighed us behind a room divider so that the other contestants couldn't see our weight.
Most of the female werewolves were fit. While I had lost some weight since being inside of the reservation, I still felt that I had a little more padding then a lot of them. Hopefully, it wouldn't work against me.
I half expected Chris to show up on my doorstep before the trials, letting his social anxiety take over and needing me by his side for support, but he never came. Surprisingly, neither did Devon. The hierarchy trials must be keeping everything occupied. Since it was considered a holiday for the werewolves, most of them had it off of work. Perhaps even Devon managed to escape his duty of being my guide for the day.
At eleven, we were all to gather in the cafeteria for the first part of the trials, the intelligence portion. We were seated on the picnic benches in rows, as evenly spaced out as possible. While the trials were supposed to be a fun time for the werewolves, it seemed that the compound staff were taking it very seriously. Several of them walked around, monitoring the room for cheaters.
A small stack of stapled together papers were handed out to each of us with cheap ball point pens. We weren't allowed to begin writing until the clock struck exactly eleven thirty. At twelve thirty, we were to put down our pens. Anyone still writing would be immediately disqualified.
Like hawks, we all stared at the main clock that hung above the food line. With a couple of minutes left, my eyes darted around to look for the people that I knew. Chris looked across the room at me, and I could tell that he wasn't very thrilled about this portion of the trials. Tension was etched plainly on his tanned face. Devon seemed more than eager to start, wiggling in his seat with overwhelming excited energy. Emmett and Rick looked cool and calm, like they had done this dozens of times before, which they probably had. Even Margaret and Terry looked relaxed, whispering to each other back and forth with one eye on the clock.
And then it was go time. As fast as lightning, I flipped over my stack of papers to reveal the list of questions. When my eyes flitted across the first one, my lips curled into a smile. Oh yeah, I had this part of the trials in the bag.
The test was comprised of fifty questions, half of them math related, the other half reading and writing related. Both were my strengths in college. Thank God there hadn't been any history or science on there, or I might have been sweating.
I finished my test in forty-three minutes and slid it to the end of the table to be collected by the compound staff. Once I was done, I stepped back near the guards to take a few pictures of the werewolves that were still testing. It would make a good photograph for my journalism piece.
That was the only bad thing about me actually participating in the trials instead of just watching them. My time had to be split between taking part in the games and doing my actual job, which was to document them. It made things a little stressful and my day a bit more hectic than it should have been, but who was I to refuse the offer to participate. Refusing probably would have come off as rude, and I definitely didn't want to offend the werewolves or the compound staff.
Lunch was served late at one o'clock. We had an hour to eat before the next trial began, the skill trial. I grabbed my sack lunch and sat with the alphas and betas and Chris. The cafeteria was alive with chatter about how each werewolf thought they did on the test.
“Easy as always,” Rick commented before taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.
The meat of your sandwich was a mystery until you opened it up. Since there was such a hurry to feed us all and continue the trials, we didn't get to decide what we wanted to eat, which was a bit of a bummer considering that I actually hated ham and knew I wouldn't eat it if I got it. Luckily, I parted the wheat bread of my sandwich to find roas
t beef. Still, not my favorite, but anything would be better than ham.
“Do they use the same questions every year?” I asked while I worked to tear a mayonnaise packet open.
“Nah. It's different every year. I think they keep up with whatever is in the local college assessment test,” Rick replied.
“I guess that's a way to keep you guys educated.” I didn't realize how arrogant the comment sounded until after I said it, now wishing that I could eat my words and put something less downgrading in their place. Luckily, no one at the table seemed offended by it.
“The only problem is that there's no way to practice for the test,” Rick told me. “I mean, all we really have got here in terms of study materials is television. So basically, you have to rely on what you learned when you were in high school or college. For some of us, that was a really long time ago.”
He certainly made a point. Rick looked to be around the same age as Emmett, in his late thirties. Margaret wasn't exactly young either. Age seemed to be an unfair advantage or disadvantage in the intelligence trial. I couldn't help but wonder if the compound had rigged it that way so that it would give the younger pack members a better chance to succeed at the power positions.
“How do you think you did, Emmett?” I looked to the alpha, who seemed as cool and collected as ever.
“I think I did well enough to keep my position after the strength and skill trials,” he said, glancing up at Rick, the only person whom he felt was his competition.
“I always beat him at the intelligence trial,” Rick informed me with a smile.
I couldn't say I was surprised. Emmett was broad and thick with muscle, a picture of brute strength. Rick, on the other hand, was average size, though intelligence certainly shown behind his soft gray eyes. It would be interesting to see what would happen if he took the position of alpha and sent Emmett down to the rank of beta. Maybe I'd be lucky enough to witness it. To be honest, I kind of hoped for it. Emmett was such a smug bastard; it would be nice to see him thrown from his high horse.
A Month with Werewolves (The With Werewolves Saga Book 1) Page 7