by Shayn Bloom
“I’m not –” Then his words dawn on me. “Oh,” I breathe.
Shitballs, Nora, narrates my alter ego. You’re so fucking stupid.
“You like me?”
He stares at me, eyes widening but keeping safe distance. Like a dog afraid of being walloped. “You’re making fun of me again, aren’t you?” he asks, gazing above my head. “Rubbing it in.”
“I’m the idiot!” I exclaim. To which he meets my eyes, surprised. “I’m the one who misunderstood everything!”
“What are you saying?” Wolf sounds annoyed, as if thinking I’m going to pull one over on him again. I never did to begin with.
“You’re a werewolf!”
Black eyes wide, Wolf stares at me in horror. A flush is reddening his cheeks. Then, slowly, he licks full, maroon lips.
Silence.
“I am the idiot,” he says. “I made that too obvious too, didn’t I? Stupid essay!”
I nod. “It was sort of obvious. You kept saying ‘We’ instead of ‘They’. I thought you wanted me to know. Wanted me to guess. Wanted me to say it aloud to get it over with. Was I right or wrong?”
Warmth returning to his eyes, Wolf stares in the direction of the Daniel J. Evans library. He says, “you’re right. I wanted you to guess. Our law says I’m not allowed to give myself away directly. If someone finds out on their own it’s different.”
“See?” I tell him, a grin breaking across my face. “You are odd. You are weird. You’re a werewolf, sworn to protect humans.”
Wolf is frowning at me. He crosses muscular arms. “Now you know everything,” he says dissonantly. “You know I like you and you know I’m a werewolf. I do like you, Nora. Very much. I want you to be –”
“Come on!” I interrupt loudly. “Let’s go for a walk!”
Getting up from the wrought iron table, we walk around the outskirts of Red Square. The day is flying by. Soon I’ll have to run off to History 145. I’d rather walk around Red Square with Wolfgang.
“What’s it like?” I ask him. “Being a werewolf?”
“Voice down,” he says, but he’s grinning. “It’s – uh – stressful in this part of the country. The Olympic Peninsula is infested with vampires. There’s always a worry of humans being attacked. If a vampire slays a human in western Washington it’s personal for us werewolves. We are the sworn protectors in these parts.”
I brush my hair over my ear. “Must be hard.”
“You humans are very delicate creatures,” Wolf remarks. “Trying to save you from a vampire is like trying to save grass from a rhino. But we try. No werewolf alive swore an oath to protect humans. It was done many hundreds of years ago. Point is it was done. So this is the life I lead. I would have no other.”
“I think it’s noble,” I tell him, smiling into dark eyes. “Selfless!”
He smiles crookedly at me. “I like that. Selfless. We are selfless creatures, we werewolves. There aren’t many selfless races out there. Not among superhumans. Some are terrible. Guess which is the most selfish?”
“Of superhumans?” I can’t give away how much I know. “Zombies,” I answer. “They want to bite you.”
“So do vampires,” Wolf says. “Not zombies. Wizards! They are the worst! The most powerful superhumans. Unfortunately they know it. They make a point of terrorizing all others, including my kind.”
I’m taken aback by this. I can’t see Gabriel terrorizing… hold that thought. Yes I can. I can totally see him terrorizing lesser superhumans. I wonder if his sadistic will to destroy is more inclusive than I previously thought. Maybe it’s not just vampires. The thought brings me no joy.
“So wizards exist?” I’m getting pretty good at playing stupid.
Trouble is you aren’t playing, points out my alter ego.
Shut up, I tell her. Fucking bitch.
Wolf scowls at me. “Yes, sadly. They don’t like werewolves. They think we’re clumsy, stupid beasts!”
I open my mouth to refute this but then I remember Gabriel expressing that exact opinion. “That’s terrible,” I say instead. “They sound like a bunch of ignoramuses. Why don’t the werewolves rise up and slay the wizards?”
It’s fun playing devil’s advocate.
Wolf breathes his frustration. “If only we could! They are stronger than us! If we could somehow steal their wands away it would be easy. A wizard is useless without his wand, whereas we wolves have our weapons built in. But that’s probably a wizard’s only weakness. They are formidable.”
“What would you do if you met one?”
You sly thing, says my alter ego.
Look who’s talking! I respond.
“Kill it!” Wolf growls. “I’d bite and claw its face until it died!” For a moment he looks fearsome, his crooked smile housing sharp, jagged teeth.
Oh geez! Best keep Gabriel away.
“Good thing none of them are around here,” I remark. Am I being too obvious? Probably. “You’d make a huge mess!”
He nods.
A revelation. “I get it!” I exclaim. “I get why your mom has a sense of humor now! Wolfgang! Oh wow, I – I feel dumb!” I exhale, an enormous smile breaking across my face as I look up at him.
Wolf roars with laughter, making people around Red Square look over from their unconformable, wrought iron tables. “That’s the joke,” he says, black eyes twinkling warmly. “I’m not German. I’m a wolf!”
“What’s your last name?”
“Ronfaro,” he says.
I swipe my brown hair over my ear. “Wolfgang Ronfaro – I like it! Well, I’ve got to go learn about the American Revolution. When should we meet again, Wolfgang Ronfaro? Sooner or later?”
“Sooner.” Full, maroon lips are carving the words into me. “Much, much sooner, if I get my way.”
* * *
I arrive on time to History 145: The American Revolution. I already don’t care. My thoughts are too preoccupied with muscular, russet arms and full, maroon lips to worry about schoolwork. Taking my seat, I watch the final stragglers enter.
Dr. Blakely is looking more aged than usual today. His tufty gray hair is disheveled. But he seems in high spirits. “Welcome back to class,” he says to everyone. “I trust you had a good weekend. How is everybody liking 1776? It’s a good book, isn’t it? Wasn’t I right? Come on now!”
Nobody answers.
I check my weightless backpack. I didn’t bring the book to class, let alone read it! Hastily, I grab a pen and notepad and set them on the desk. I can pretend I’m taking notes. Sometimes the entire goal is to avoid looking like a moron.
You’re failing, my alter ego comments.
“Let’s get the class involved,” Dr. Blakely says.
Shitballs! Not this again!
“I will take volunteers,” Dr. Blakely tells the class. “Anyone find anything interesting about the book they’d like to share? This is – I must say – a recent depiction of those early years of the war. Came out five years ago or so. Anyone?” he asks, looking around. “We haven’t got all day!”
Trying to avoid eye contact.
“Very well,” Dr. Blakely says. “I will get us started. I was fascinated to see McCullough treat one of his subjects with more care than history has shown this individual in the past. Does anyone know who I’m referring to?”
A girl raises her hand. “George Washington?”
“No, no, no!” Dr. Blakely answers, looking harassed. “Think now! History has always painted a glowing portrait of our first president. No – I’m referring to King George III of England, the reigning monarch during the revolution. Only 22 when ascending to the throne and only 37 when the revolution began, King George has often been portrayed as a mad failure. The king who lost the colonies! McCullough is gentle and treats him as a person with intricacies and tastes in art and music. We are able to see him as a human being rather than just a tyrant. Another point I found interesting was –”
My eyelids are drooping. This class needs to end…
* * *
Walking back to my dorm, I realize something. I’ve lost a lot of weight. I’m not surprised. I haven’t been eating. My appetite has completely dried up. It used to be I’d pass the dining hall and feelings of guilt would assault me. Now the thought of food disgusts me. I’m happy to keep walking.
Alcohol, though… I still have a taste for that.
This morning I felt sick. Not because of my anxiety syndrome or whatever, but because of heavy drinking last night. My hangover is past and I feel fit and fresh. I’m not anxious. I’m not hungry. I feel great. It’s all so strange.
What about Wolf? Geez, I love his name. Wolfgang Ronfaro. It’s so – so hot. I do find him cute. But somehow I feel he’ll always be a friend to me. Nothing more. There’s a quality about him that forbids romance.
What’s that, exactly? my alter ego asks. That body of muscle? Those russet cheeks?
I’m growing hot. Shut up, I tell her. Stay out of this!
Reaching dorm building C, I climb the stairs. My thoughts are still buzzing with werewolves and wizards as I enter my room and toss my weightless backpack on the bed. I love coming back to my dorm – a world of calm settles over me every time.
Going to the hanging mirror on my closet door, I gaze into my eyes. They are dulled by my contacts. They tend to be too bright. I feel self-conscious going out without dulling them. Bizarre. It’s something I first noticed a week or two before moving to Evergreen. A symptom of anxiety.
Yet I appear healthy. My skin radiates vitality and strength even though I’ve lost weight. My hair is full and healthy on my scalp. I feel alert and able. Despite my recent foray into anorexia I don’t feel weak. On the contrary, I feel strong. Stronger – in fact – than I’ve ever felt in my life.
I douse myself in perfume. This is a normal ritual for me – it makes me feel at home. Soaked in the smell, I breathe in contentment and sit down at my desk. Picking up my iPad, I scroll through the book titles. I already finished The Great Gatsby. I should buy Sordello on here, too. I make a half hearted attempt to find it. Truth is I don’t want to find it. It’s a terribly long poem.
I don’t find Sordello.
Sighing, I gaze at Kiri’s and my shared mini fridge. Kiri may have a spare bottle of champagne in there. I’ve got nothing better to do. Maybe I should have a drink? Going to the fridge I find a bottle of white wine. I pop the cork and find one of Kiri’s stemmed glasses. Pouring myself a glass, I sit down.
Feeling contented, I take a long sip of wine before smacking my lips. An extremely loud popping sound emanates. Startled, I freeze.
What the fuck?
I can’t have been that loud. Maybe… no! I’m being paranoid. It can’t have been. Taking the bottle of wine, I top myself off. I’m lifting the glass to my lips when I feel a cool breath on the back of my neck.
It’s then I realize I’m not alone.
Chapter Six
“Early for a drink, isn’t it?” Gabriel’s voice is soothing and mocking at the same time. “Or were you expecting company?”
Freezing in shock, I tighten my hold on the wine glass, refusing to look around.
He’s here! How did he get in?
I breathe before answering. “I knew you were coming, Gabriel. So I decided to fortify myself with alcohol.”
“I see,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’m sure you will share.”
Turning around, I gaze into turquoise eyes. “Why,” I begin, my tone antagonizing, “Should I be hospitable to somebody who breaks into my room? I will have to look in the college rulebook. This has to be a misdemeanor of some sort. You’ll be expelled! I suggest you start packing!”
“You’re a naughty one, Nora,” Gabriel says, wagging a finger at me. “Expulsion? I’d like to see them try – no – I’d love to see them try!” Finding the pocket of his cordovan robes, he pulls out his wand. “I don’t like attacking humans,” he says, twirling his wand expertly. “Unlike vampires and werewolves, you humans are almost defenseless. But I will if I have to,” he adds dangerously.
I’m trying to appear unimpressed. Turning around in my chair, I sip my wine daintily. “Well,” I begin, “if you wouldn’t mind leaving. I’d like to finish my alcoholic beverage in peace. Good day, Gabriel!” I can hardly keep the glee from my voice. Here’s something he’s not used to: being ignored.
He isn’t going anywhere. I knew he wouldn’t. Swiping a spare glass from Kiri’s desk, Gabriel pours himself white wine. I can feel his eyes on me. The nerve of him! How dare he waltz in here!
Stop lying to yourself! my alter ego quips. You know you like it.
Hush, I tell her. I’m in no mood for the truth!
Silence between us. I hear him behind me on Kiri’s bed. He’s refusing to speak first. How childish! What kind of a grown man behaves this way – sneaking into peoples’ rooms? Oh right – I correct myself – he’s not a grown man. He’s seventeen.
“How did you get in?”
A wine glass is set on Kiri’s desk. “I translocated. I’m a wizard, Nora,” he reminds me unnecessarily. “Most wizards can do it. Translocation is the process of disappearing from one place and appearing in another. In the magical word, wizards and witches aren’t allowed to translocate until they are fifteen. I started at thirteen,” he adds, his tone thick with steaming pride.
Geez, he’s so fucking full of himself!
“Fascinating,” I say sarcastically. I am fascinated, actually. “One question: Why did you take a cab here on the first day? Why didn’t you translocate into your dorm? Surely it would have been easier,” I tell him, heightening my tone so as to question his intelligence. I like baiting him. It’s fun.
“Good point,” he says. “I considered doing that but figured I should act like an Immag now that I’m in your world. Temporarily, thank god! I can’t tolerate your numbskull ways for life! I’d rather be drawn and quartered!”
Now he’s the one baiting me. I deserve it.
“Numbskull ways?” I repeat, turning around to face him. “You must be mistaken. It’s wizards that are of lower intelligence. Imagine being so useless you need magic to survive! Immags are the geniuses! Ingenious. The word to describe everything we’ve come up with to live without magic!”
Gabriel sips his wine and regards me over the rim of the glass. Downing the remainder, he plops the glass on Kiri’s desk. “Come with me,” he says, the turquoise of his eyes finding the window. “I want to show you something. Someone, rather. She will show you we, too, have ingenious ways.”
Who is he referring to?
“I have studying to do,” I say quickly.
I actually want to go. But more than that I want him to want me to go. To plead with me to go. To tell me nothing else can make his day complete. I want him to tell me it’s been too long since we’ve seen each other and every moment away has been painful. I want him to say these things and mean them.
“Yeah, right!” Gabriel exclaims. “Homework. That’s why you were polishing off a bottle of wine when I translocated here. How’s studying coming?”
Holy bejesus shitballs! He’s got me by the shitballs.
“It’s not coming,” I say. “If you leave I can start.”
Oh come on, Gabriel! Tell me how much you’d love for me to come and I will. That’s all I require! I swear!
“You are coming,” Gabriel tells me. Finality in his voice. “So down that glass or leave it. The forest calls.”
The forest? What could the forest want with me?
“Should I bring an umbrella or my raincoat?” I ask uncertainly, peeping through the window. Clear skies. Oh, that’s right.
“No need,” Gabriel says airily. “I can deal with rain.”
Oh can you, now?
Sighing my resignation, I stand up. “Okay, I’ll come,” I tell him. “This better be worth it, Gabriel. I should be reading Sordello.”
“Studying was never going to happen.”
I scowl but don’t contradict him. He knows me too well. Withou
t a word, I pass his satisfied smile and go to the bathroom, grabbing my perfume on the way out. It’s tempting to spray his face.
Checking myself in the mirror, I see a harassed girl. At least her headache is gone and she looks pretty. Pale skin peeps around locks of straight brown hair. Taking my contacts out, I soak them in faucet water and replace them. For the second I don’t have them in I’m shocked by the ferocity of my eyes. I look downright fevered.
* * *
The day outside is as clear and peaceful as I left it. Approaching late afternoon, the sky reveals a tint. The sight is beautiful to behold above the far off trees, sugaring our eyes with the promise of autumn.
Dorm building C is near the northerly tree fringe. If you press on in a northwest direction you hit Eld Inlet and the scenic, secluded little beach. You know. The one where I almost died. We strike off due west, following the tree fringe.
Gabriel walks alongside me, his thoughts stowed. I glance at him, at the hand rising to brush his blond hair to the side of his forehead. At the casual way his cordovan robes fall around him as he walks. There’s a competency about him I can’t place. A confident knowing in his movements.
“You’re quiet,” he says.
“So are you,” I reply.
He’s silent for a moment. “I’m thinking.”
“About what?” I have a guess.
“Vampires,” he answers. I was right. “Or a vampire, I should say. Nora, have I told you why I’m here?”
I stare into turquoise eyes. “Of course,” I answer. Has he forgotten already? He doesn’t seem to find our conversations memorable. “You are here to kill vampires,” I tell him. “You told me.”
“Yes, but specifically,” he follows up. “Did I specifically tell you why I’m here in Olympia?”
“I thought that’s why.”
“That is why,” he says. “Broadly speaking. The Bureau of Beast Control sent me here to hunt vampires. But also to find a specific vampire who is the first Newborn vampire in a long time. The werewolf clans around the Olympic Peninsula have to some extent done their job of protecting humans. Human attacks have become rare. But one was recently reported in Washington, and the Bureau of Beast Control believes the new vampire will likely head for the Olympic Peninsula.”