by Bella Raven
“Try?” I ask, perturbed. “Why don’t you get out here?”
I march toward him. “Go on. Put your money where your mouth is.” I grab his arm, pulling him out from behind the tree, and give him a good shove toward the road.
“We’ve seen one car in the last twenty minutes. I don’t think we should waste our opportunities,” he says.
“Come on, be adventurous,” I urge.
Ethan shakes his head, grinning. He stands on the road with his thumb in the air, and I proceed to heckle him the entire time. “That’s not sexy. I need you to work it, boy. I need you to imagine that you are a top model at a photo shoot for the cover of a magazine. I need intrigue. I need passion. I need mystery,” I say, having way too much fun.
I hide behind a tree as an old red truck billows up clouds of dirt, racing down the road.
“Are you ready for your close-up, Mr. Storm?” Ethan shakes his head again. “Action!” I shout.
This whole thing is so ridiculous, and were both snickering. Ethan tries to keep a straight face as the truck draws near. To both of our surprise, its brakes squeal, and the truck slows to a halt. It’s a rusty 50s era Chevy with a low, booming exhaust. It has a white top and red body, which has faded pink.
A crinkly old man, dressed in overalls, with gray hair and a gray flowing beard, leans over to the passenger side. He rolls down the window.
“How far you going, son?”
“Toward Haven Hill,” Ethan says.
The old man eyes Ethan suspiciously. “You’re not one of them weirdos, are you?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Can’t be too careful about the kind of people you pick up these days.” The old man looks Ethan up and down again. “Name’s Harlan. Hop in.”
Ethan motions to me, and I dart out from behind the trees.
“I didn’t think there was two of you,” Harlan says.
“We could really use a ride,” I say.
Harlan looks me over, unimpressed. “I guess,” Harlan moans.
Ethan creaks open the rusty door, and empty cans of Eisenhut Dopplebock beer spill out. I grab the cans, tossing them back onto the floorboard. We squeeze into the cab, Ethan sitting between me and Harlan on the torn upholstery of the bench seat. Years of wear and tear have frayed the fabric, exposing the yellow foam cushion below. I fumble for a seatbelt, but there aren’t any to be found.
Harlan drops it into gear, and the truck rumbles along. None of the gauges work. The needle of the speedometer rests at zero, even though we’re probably going forty miles an hour.
“What happened to your clothes?” Harlan asks.
“Long story,” Ethan says.
“I bet,” Harlan says, flashing Ethan a toothless grin. “It’s a good thing you aren’t naked. I’ve got a rule about picking up naked hitchhikers.”
“Run into a lot of naked hitchhikers, do you?” I ask.
“Damn shifters. This place is crawling with them. Especially with the full moon. They rip right through their clothes when they change. Makes for a lot of awkward walks home, I would imagine,” Harlan says, grabbing a beer from a small cooler on the floorboard. “This here will keep you safe, though,” he grins, guzzling a sip.
“How does that keep you safe?” I ask.
“It’s the wolfsbane,” he says. “One swallow of this will set a shifter’s insides afire. Want a sip?”
“No, thank you,” I say.
Harlan slams the brakes. Ethan and I smack into the dash, then fall back against the seat as the truck skids to a stop. Harlan has pulled a pistol from underneath his seat, and is waving it in my face.
“I said drink it,” he commands, shoving the beer can toward me.
I stare at the can and hesitate.
“Come on, I ain’t got all day!” Harlan says.
I take the can from him and mouth a small sip.
“Give it a real swallow,” he barks.
I gulp another sip down and give the can back to him, my hand trembling.
Harlan turns the gun on Ethan. “Okay, stud muffin, it’s your turn!”
“I don’t really like beer,” Ethan says.
“I don’t give two shits,” says Harlan. “You put a swig in your belly or I’ve got a silver bullet with your name on it.” Harlan cocks the pistol for added effect.
Ethan takes the beer from Harlan, eyeing it with trepidation.
“Go on,” Harlan says. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”
Ethan’s worrisome eyes glance from the beer can to me, then back to the beer. He brings the can to his lips.
“Harlan Davis?” I ask.
Harlan’s face tightens, and his eyes squint at me down the barrel of the gun as he repositions it toward me. “Have we met before?” he asks, agitated.
“I think you know my uncle.”
“Who’s your uncle?”
“Jake James.”
Harlan’s face knots up, perplexed, as he processes the name. Ethan pauses with the beer just at his lips. After a minute, Harlan’s face lights up. “You mean, JJ?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Well, hell, that’s reason to shoot you right there.”
My eyes widen with fear.
CHAPTER 26
HARLAN BUSTS OUT laughing, un-cocks the pistol, and sets it back underneath the seat. “Why didn’t you say you were kin to JJ in the first place?”
I shrug.
“Give me back my beer!” Harlan yanks the beer out of Ethan’s hand.
Ethan glances over to me, relieved. I notice small blisters have formed on his lips from the trace amount of beer that resided on the rim of the can. I shudder to think of what swallowing the Eisenhut Doppelbock would have done to his insides.
Harlan shifts into gear and we rumble down the dirt road.
“How do you know uncle Jake?” I ask.
“He used to date my daughter,” Harlan says.
“You have a daughter?” Ethan asks.
Harlan glares at him. “Had a daughter. She got bit by one of them varmints. We don’t talk much anymore.”
“So, she turned into a—?” I ask.
“Werewolf,” Harlan says, cutting me off.
The old truck rattles and squeaks as we rumble down the dirt road, with the exhaust booming.
“I must sound like a crazy old man to you?” says Harlan.
“Not that crazy,” I say.
“Am I taking you back to JJ’s?” Harlan asks.
“Do you think you could do us a favor first?” I ask.
“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Harlan says.
“We really appreciate this, Harlan. But do you think we could stop and get some clothes? I can’t exactly go home like this,” I say.
“Should’ve thought about that before you took your close off,” Harlan sneers.
“Well, I didn’t think we’d get attacked by werewolves while we were swimming in Devils Pit,” I say.
“I don’t know what’s worse, werewolves or vampires,” Harlan says.
“I haven’t run into many vampires, but the werewolves in this town are quite aggravating,” I say.
Ethan raises an eyebrow at me.
“Just bide your time, little lady. It won’t be long before all the werewolves are wiped out,” Harlan says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, they are going to get what they deserve,” Harlan says.
“What’s going to happen?” I ask.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” Harlan says. “But if the prophecy is true…”
My eyes glance to Ethan. “What prophecy?” I ask.
“You’re ignorant, aren’t you?” Harlan says. The insult coming from a man who’s missing over half his teeth and clearly doesn’t understand the concept of oral hygiene.
“Excuse me?” I quip.
“Well you obviously don’t know how the feud between the werewolves and vampires began.”
“It’s not like it’s in the te
xtbooks in school,” I say.
“First, you need to forget everything you think you know about vampires. That Bram Stoker stuff is all bullshit,” Harlan says.
Ethan gives me a subtle nod that tells me Harlan knows what he’s talking about.
“I’ve already said too much,” Harlan says.
I press him for details, but he’s not forthcoming. I’m thoroughly frustrated by his vague answers. But I can’t complain too much because Harlan takes us to a Walmart at the edge of Haven Hill.
In the parking lot, I beg Harlan to go in and buy us some clothes, vowing to pay him back double the cost. He reluctantly agrees, and shuffles into the store. As soon as Harlan is out of earshot, I pester Ethan for answers. “Look, I almost died today, you owe me an explanation,” I say.
Ethan’s contemplative eyes narrow. “Werewolves are a superstitious bunch.”
“And?”
“They believe you could be the one foretold by the prophecy.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“And what does this prophecy foretell?” I ask.
“It’s not possible. You’re not the one. Even if the prophecy is true, you are not the one who is going to destroy all werewolves,” Ethan says.
“Why would anyone think that?”
“Because they are paranoid and insecure.”
“I really don’t like people trying to kill me for things that I haven’t done yet, and probably won’t do,” I say. “How could I possibly destroy all of the werewolves anyway?”
“Like I said, this whole thing is a big misunderstanding,” Ethan says.
“Can’t you just tell them that?”
“It’s complicated.”
I see Harlan exiting the store, holding up the most obnoxious outfits I’ve ever seen. A bright, banana yellow Hawaiian shirt and pink plaid cargo shorts, and a natural oak pattern camouflage top and shorts. He seems genuinely enthusiastic about these, like he’s done well. I can’t tell which outfit is for me, and which is for Ethan. But, it’s better than nothing.
Harlan drops us off at Jake’s place, and I offer to pay him for the clothes, but he refuses. I ask him if he wants to say hello to uncle Jake, but he declines. “Too many memories,” he says. “You two stay out of trouble, now.”
I assure Harlan that we will, but I’m not so sure. Trouble has been doing a very good job of finding me lately. I thank him again and creak the rusty door to the truck shut. Harlan rumbles away.
Ethan and I stand in front of the trailer home, staring at each other as the sun dips down behind the trees.
“You should go,” I say. “Uncle Jake doesn’t care much for werewolves.”
“He might like me, once he got to know me.”
“He’s got a shotgun with silver buckshot.”
“Not the conversational type, huh?” Ethan’s fierce blue eyes stare into me.
“Look, I was thinking… this has been kind of a crazy day,” I say.
“Yes, it has.”
“Dangerous,” I say.
“Deadly.”
“Clearly, you and I aren’t good for each other.”
“Clearly,” he says, agreeing.
“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” I say. I'm desperately hoping he’ll disagree. My heart is aflutter.
“You’re probably right,” he says, his eyes still locked on mine.
“It’s complicated,” I murmur, inexplicably drawing closer to him.
“Very complicated,” he says, moving his luscious lips toward mine.
Our lips hovering inches apart, he pauses. I breathe his cool, sweet breath. I want nothing more than to feel his embrace. He grabs me, pulling me into him, gently pressing his lips against mine. Every nerve in my body tingles. I feel a rush of energy, and I quiver. Soft and sensual, his lips fit mine perfectly. His hand on my back, pressing my body against his. My arms around his contoured back, feeling his rigid muscles. His soft tongue licks my swollen lips. I delicately nibble on his full lower lip.
He pulls my hair back, exposing my neck, showering it with kisses. My spine tingles as he teases my ear. Hot and flustered, I push him away, trying to catch my breath. “We definitely shouldn’t see each other anymore,” I say, trying to suppress a grin.
“Definitely,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Tomorrow. We should… not see each other tomorrow.”
“Right. Absolutely not.”
“Pick you up for school in the morning, then?”
“Definitely.” I smile ear to ear.
Ethan smiles back, and dashes into the woods. I turn around and float into the trailer. For an instant, I’ve forgotten all about the werewolves, the prophecy, and the fact that I’m probably getting suspended for skipping school. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time.
CHAPTER 27
"YOU'RE IN A lot of trouble," Jake says, his mouth full of chicken marsala. Uncle Jake and Noah scarf down a meal at the dinner table. To watch them, you'd think they hadn't eaten in days.
"I know," I say, cringing.
"The school called, wanted to know where you were,” Jake says.
"What did you tell them?" I ask.
"Before I tell you, why don't you tell me where you were?" Jake asks.
I stammer, trying to think of how to explain everything that happened today. "We met Harlan," I say.
Jake stops chewing for a moment, then continues. Something strikes me as odd, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Then it dawns on me—the trailer is surprisingly clean. There are no empty beer cans littering the house. No tiny airplane bottles of whiskey. And it looks like Jake actually cooked dinner, even if it was microwaved.
"Who cleaned up around here?" I ask.
“Well, it didn't clean itself, I can tell you that,” Jake says.
"How did Noah get home?"
"Where were you?" Jake asks.
"Since when do you care?"
"Since I decided that things are going to be a little different around here."
"I went to Devil's Pit with Ethan."
"Didn't I tell you to stay away from people like him?"
"I guess I don't listen very well,” I say.
"Well, you're going to start. I made a promise that I would take care of you two. So, I guess I'm going to have to start acting like a real parent,” Jake says.
"And what does that entail?"
"Well, I quit drinking. And I got a job."
"You got a job?" My jaw drops, and I stare at him.
"I got us a new car too. Didn't you see it when you came in?"
I spin back around, peering out of the window. A shiny, black Honda sits off to the side of the trailer. I don't know how I missed it when I came in, although my mind was definitely somewhere else.
“Impressive,” I say.
"The school called. I told them you were sick, and that you'd miss some of tomorrow as well. Don't forget, you've got to see Dr. Clark tomorrow to follow up about your leg,” Jake says. “I covered for you just this once. I’m not going to do it again. And it was your responsibility to pick up Noah, and you didn’t. I’ll think of some kind of punishment for you, but in the mean time, you’re doing the dishes.”
“Yeah,” Noah says, smugly.
“Punishment?” I ask, incredulous. Jake's sober and Noah's talking? I stand there, slack-jawed, taking it all in. "Did you save any dinner for me?"
"We didn't know when you'd be coming home, so you're on your own," Jake says.
I huff, and roll my eyes. “Were either of you concerned about me in the least?”
“You’re a big girl, you can take care of yourself, can’t you?” says Jake.
“Yes, yes I can.”
“Nice clothes, by the way,” Jake snarks.
“It’s called trendsetting, you should look into it,” I say.
I storm into the kitchen, and I notice something really odd. My leg doesn’t hurt at all. I’m walking on it like normal, not giving it a second thought.
All of the microwaved chicken marsala is gone. When in doubt, make mac & cheese. I grab a packet of macaroni from a box in the cupboard and pour it into a pot of water I’ve set upon the stove.
“Try not to burn it,” Jake says.
As I’m waiting for the macaroni to cook, I notice Jake’s shotgun is leaning against the wall. I’m furious. “I thought we had talked about keeping that in a safe place?”
“What?” Jake asks.
“That!” I point to the shotgun.
Jake cranes his neck around to see what I’m fussing about. “Oh, that. I gave Noah a lesson on gun safety.”
Noah makes a pistol with his finger and shoots me. I just shake my head.
By the time my mac and cheese is ready, Jake and Noah are done, so I eat by myself. After I finish eating and cleaning the kitchen, I borrow Noah’s cell phone and call Jen. I can barely contain my excitement. “It happened!” I say, my voice giddy.
“What happened?” Jen asks.
“It.”
“Wait. You guys did it?”
“No, we kissed.”
“How was it?” Jen asks, growing excited.
“On a scale of one to ten… I’d say… twenty four. Maybe twenty five.”
“Ooh, if he’s a good kisser, he’s probably good in the sack.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“Well, it’s true,” Jen says. “And if you want to grow old with this guy, you better hope he’s got some skills.”
“It was just a kiss. I didn’t say I wanted to grow old with this guy.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s pretty obvious.”
“I’m not going to rule that out as a possibility,” I say, with a grin.
“Okay, Mrs. Storm,” Jen teases.
“It’s got a nice ring to it,” I say, smiling at the possibilities.
“Do you think he feels the same way about you?”
“I hope so,” I sigh. “There’s a little bit of an issue, though.”
“Isn’t there always?” Jen says.
“What do you know about the prophecy?” I ask.
Jen is silent a moment.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” she says, then hangs up.
I don’t hear back from her for the rest of the night. In the morning, I awaken to the most unusual smell. Bacon and coffee. I pull myself out of bed and stroll into the kitchen. I rub my eyes and do a double take. Jake is fixing scrambled eggs, frying up bacon, and there is a fresh pot of coffee brewing.