The Altering (Coywolf Series Book 1)

by Abby Tyson

  "Your fear," the girl whispered.

  Savi's face tingled as it swelled. Black mist fringed her vision. She pried at the fingers choking her, but they were as rigid as a statue.

  "If I wanted to," the amusement was back, present in the girl's voice, "I could kill you and Grandma Drive-Through in less than five seconds with my bare hands, and never, ever, get caught. Do you believe me? Nod yes."

  Gagging, Savi nodded as much as the girl's unyielding hand would allow.

  "Good. If you want to avoid that, open the cash register and give me all of the money and receipts in it. Nod yes."

  Savi's eyes felt like they were floating, separated from their sockets. She nodded.

  "I'll give you twenty seconds." She let go, and Savi fell on the counter, gasping for air. "Nineteen seconds."

  The girl's low, calm voice was barely audible over Savi's own heaving breath. She tried to stand but had to steady herself when the room rocked beneath her.

  "Thirteen seconds."

  Savi felt her way to the register and blinked at the buttons, willing them to come into focus.

  "Ten seconds."

  With trembling hands, Savi rang in an orange juice and hit the cash button. The drawer opened and Savi started pulling the cash out and dropping it on the counter.

  "Are we carrying it in our pockets?" the boyfriend asked, now hugging the girl from behind and kissing her neck. Savi stared dumbly at them. Her mind refused to function and suggest an alternative.

  "A bag?" the girlfriend said, clearly glad to be the one to point out the obvious answer. "Six seconds," she sang.

  Savi reached below for a paper bag, frantically opening it and dragging her arm across the counter. Most of the cash fell in the bag, but some flitted to the floor.

  "Four seconds. Don't forget the receipts."

  Savi grabbed the rest of the cash from the register and scrambled for what had fallen. She had to pull the drawer out completely to get the receipts, but couldn't hold both it and the bag, so she dropped the drawer on the ground.

  The clatter finally drew Faith's attention away from the drive-through. "Savi?"

  Ignoring her and shoving the receipts into the bag, Savi tossed it on the counter and backed away until she bumped against the coffee machines.

  Without taking her smiling eyes off Savi, the girlfriend stopped the bag as it slid across the counter. "Two seconds over. Better practice for next time, Savi." She dragged the name out, making Savi wish Faith had kept her mouth shut.

  Her boyfriend picked her up, and they both laughed as he tossed her so high she bumped one of the ceiling panels, then caught her with ease. The girl with the white hair opened the door and waited for the couple to exit before following them out of the store, leaving only the scent of the girl's champagne perfume hanging in the air behind them.

  "Is everything okay, Savi?" Faith called again.

  Instead of answering, Savi ran into the back office. George was sitting at his desk, staring at the computer. On the security screen behind him, Faith was picking up the register drawer.

  "Did you see that?" Savi asked between shallow breaths. "Did you call the police?"

  "What?" George glanced up from his computer screen and then did a double take at Savi. "What's the matter? What happened?" He came out from behind his desk and held her shoulders. "You're trembling. Have a seat."

  Savi reluctantly let herself be guided into the chair facing George's desk. "Two girls and a guy -- older than me -- I've never seen them before." Savi put a hand on her throat.

  "Take a few deep breaths," George said, leaning against the wall beside her.

  Irritated by her panicked state, Savi took one long breath and looked George squarely in the eye. She kept her voice as emotionless as possible when she said, "We were robbed."

  George frowned, glanced at the security feed, then walked toward the door. "I'll be right back," he said, closing the door behind him. Savi put her head down on the edge of his desk.

  When he returned he handed her a cup of hot tea. "I told Quentin and Faith to stay in the break room until I tell them otherwise," he said. "The closed sign is up. Tell me exactly what happened."

  As she relayed everything she could remember, George's frown deepened. She almost didn't tell him about how unnaturally strong the couple seemed to be, thinking he wouldn't believe her, but then she remembered the security footage would back her up. His eyes narrowed as she described how easily the boyfriend had tossed the girl to the ceiling, but he didn't say anything until she had finished.

  "Did Faith see them?" he asked.

  "She was talking to a customer in drive-through the whole time. She may have seen them leave."

  George sat in silence, staring at the wall behind her. Savi was grateful that it was George working and not one of the other managers. He was her favorite -- always friendly, but without the prying and pressuring that she got from most people his age. He was actually only a year older than her mom, and with his thick head of blonde hair and kind blue eyes, Savi had suggested once that she should set the two of them up. He'd become so uncomfortable, his usually unflappable demeanor disappearing and his ears turning bright red, that Savi had quickly passed it off as a joke. Of course that hadn't stopped Savi from trying to get them to meet. She bugged her mom all the time to come into the shop, hoping sparks would fly, but the few times her mom had visited, George couldn't be found.

  "Shouldn't we call the police?" Savi asked, when George hadn't moved for about a minute.

  "Of course," he said, still staring at the wall. "I'll take care of it. You should go home."

  Even though Savi wanted to go, she asked, "But shouldn't I stay to give a statement?"

  George smiled warmly at her, revealing the small gap between his front teeth. "You told me everything, right?" He walked around the desk and stood by the door.

  "Yes, but..."

  "Then don't worry about it. I'll tell the police everything you told me. We've got the tape if they have any questions. I don't want you to have to relive that." He opened the door and held it for her, although she was still sitting.

  "Just go home," he insisted with a chuckle. "Go enjoy your time with your best friend. I'll walk you out, and then I'll make the call."

  He put his arm around her shoulders as she walked by, but Savi instinctively pulled away.

  "I'm not a hugger," she said in response to his confusion. George raised his hands and smiled to make a joke of it, but not before she caught the hurt in his eyes.

  Standing outside the office doorway, Savi asked, "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. Come on." He gestured toward the break room door a few feet down the hall. After another moment's hesitation, Savi did as he said. She grabbed her purse out of her locker in the break room without making eye contact with Quentin or Faith. And although she didn't admit it, she felt better walking across the back parking lot with George by her side.

  Chapter Four

  Half an hour later, Savi was struggling to pull the bin of camping gear out of her closet when her mother came in from the backyard and stood in Savi's doorway.

  "I didn't know you were home," she said, wiping her red face on the Frack Off! t-shirt Savi had brought home from the rally. "I thought you weren't off until one."

  "It was slow," Savi said, turning back to her closet. "George let me out early. I heard the mower but didn't want to bother you."

  "You just didn't want me to put you to work," her mom said with a smirk. She walked over, bringing the scent of sweat and cut grass with her. Using both arms and her shoulder, she propped up a large duffle bag sitting on top of the camping bin. "What's in here?"

  Savi heaved the bin out and glanced at the bag, now on the floor. "Just some old clothes from the basement."

  "My old clothes?" She dragged the bag out of the closet and started picking through it. "Do any of them fit you?"

  Watching her mother intently, Savi said, "Most of them did last year. Probably not anymore."


  "You cut the tags off all of them?" her mom asked after inspecting the necks of a few shirts and sweaters.

  "All the ones I wore. Tags are the worst."

  Her mom continued sifting through the clothes. Keeping an eye on her, Savi began laying out the contents of the bin on her bedroom floor.

  "I always used to write my initials on the tags," her mom said. "C.C., Chloe Claudie, so my sisters couldn't steal them. I guess you don't have that problem though."

  Savi was pulling out her solar powered lantern when her mom asked, "Are you still running?"

  Following her mom's gaze into the closet, Savi saw her running shoes, the only pair still side-by-side on the rack.

  "I haven't seen you run for a long time," her mom added.

  After putting batteries in the lantern and placing it on her windowsill, Savi said, "Not in a while."

  "Last year you said you enjoyed running."

  "The mood hasn't struck me." She could feel her mom's gaze, but willed herself not to look up.

  "Sometimes you have to force yourself to do things you enjoy," said her mom, "to remind yourself why you enjoy them."

  Pulling out a large ziplock bag full of plasticware, Savi inspected the contents for broken pieces.

  "You know I'm not saying you should run because of the way you look," her mom said. "You're beautiful no matter whether you fit into my old clothes or not. I don't even fit into them. But you seemed happier last summer, when you were running."

  When Savi still didn't say anything, Chloe asked, "Is it because Hettie's leaving, and you're not?"

  Finally meeting her mom's eyes, Savi said. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine. It's just been hot, and I've been working a lot."

  Her mom watched Savi pick up the bug spray and shake it to make sure there was still some left, then went back to picking through the duffle bag. "You're back Monday?" she asked.

  "Yeah, mid-morning. Hettie's parents are driving her to Boston in the afternoon."

  "What's your schedule this week?"

  Savi paused as she replaced the cover of the bin. George hadn't called to tell her how it went with the police, although it hadn't been that long since she left, so he could still be talking to them.

  "I'm not sure. It may be different since I took this weekend off. I have to call Monday night to find out. Why?"

  "I was hoping you could have dinner with me and Dave this week."

  Only half-suppressing her groan, Savi grabbed her backpack. "I have a gig."

  "Okay, Ian," said her mom. One of Chloe's previous boyfriends had been a jazz drummer. He cancelled so many times with the excuse that he'd gotten called for a last minute gig, that it became a running gag between the two of them.

  "It'll be nice," Chloe said.

  As Savi tried to come up with an excuse not to spend time with her mom's current boyfriend, she started packing her clothes. "Dave's nice, but he's always probing me with questions about how I feel."

  "He's a shrink, hon."

  Savi didn't return her mom's smile. "Tell him to turn it off. I'm not his patient." After grabbing a fistful of socks, she noticed her mom still staring at her. "What?"

  "Who do you talk to, honey?" her mom asked.

  "You. Right now."

  Unamused, her mom said, "About your feelings, I mean. You know I'm always here for you, but you stopped talking to me years ago. I always figured you talk to Hettie."

  Savi didn't reply.

  "Do you talk to Hettie?" Her mom asked the question as if she was pretty certain of the answer. "It's not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside."

  "Okay, Dave," Savi muttered.

  The memory of her mother crying behind closed doors throughout Savi's childhood flashed before her. Savi threw her socks in her bag and continued packing. "Of course I talk to Hettie. But I don't need to tell anybody who asks about my private feelings just to convince you that I have a healthy emotional life."

  "Dave isn't just anybody."

  "He is to me," Savi said, her back to her mother.

  "Not to me."

  Her mother's resolute yet tender tone stilled Savi's hand. Were things getting that serious? Her mom had been seeing Dave -- romantically, not professionally -- for over a year, her longest relationship by far. Usually her mom kept her boyfriends away from Savi, but recently she had been trying to get the three of them in the same room more often. Savi didn't like to think what that meant.

  As if confirming her fears, Chloe said, "I'm considering letting him spend more time at our house, and I want to make sure both of you are comfortable with each other."

  Savi spun around. "More time? As in, move in?"

  A burst of laughter popped from Chloe's lips. "No, no. Just..." she paused, her smile fading, "overnight stays." Savi turned away from the vulnerability in her mom's eyes.

  While she was nowhere near comfortable with the thought of waking up to find a stranger in her house, not to mention all that was implied in the concept of overnight stays, Savi couldn't think of a way to say all of that without upsetting her mother.

  "Just give me a heads up before I walk out of the shower naked?"

  Chuckling, Chloe stood and was about to give her daughter a hug when she stopped herself. "I'm all sweaty," she said, pecking Savi on the cheek instead. "Do you need any help getting ready?"

  "No," Savi said. "I'm nearly done. I still need to call Hettie and make sure she's on schedule."

  "Okay. Let me know if I can help." Her mom stepped into the hall and went toward her bedroom.

  Probably to call Dave and let him know how our heart-to-heart went, thought Savi, annoyed at the idea of a stranger knowing intimate details about her life.

  Standing still, lost in thought, Savi realized she was staring at the duffle bag. She glanced at the hallway, then gently closed her door. Sitting on the floor beside the bag, she reached in, searching by feel, digging until her hand touched something hard in the sea of soft clothes.

  She pulled out an ornately carved wooden box and set it in her lap. When she tugged at the lid, the box squeaked in protest. Glancing at the bedroom door once more, Savi rummaged past a small stuffed dog with scribbles all over it, pieces of folded construction paper, and a handful of sealed envelopes with "To: Dad, Love: Savannah" written in crayon, and pulled out a small yellow envelope.

  The envelope itself was unremarkable, a missing flap and an illegibly faded return address its only notable features. But it was what it held that called to Savi. Inside was a photograph of a young couple sitting on her grandparents' front porch. Her mother grinned sweetly, clearly posing for the picture. The man next to her had his eyes closed and wore a gentle smile, his head leaning against Chloe's.

  Her father. He was the stranger. This was the only picture she'd ever seen of him, and she'd memorized it down to every detail: the dirt-encrusted spade on the wicker table beside them; the peeling white paint on the porch rail; the leather strings of her father's necklace crawling out from under his t-shirt, the knot sticking out of the crook of his neck like a burr. Whether he merely blinked when the picture was taken, or he was truly savoring the moment as it appeared, was up for debate, although the evidence supported the former hypothesis. If he'd loved her mother as much as it looked like here, he wouldn't have left.

  This was also one of the few pictures Savi had of her mom when she was young. Most of the family photos were in albums at her Aunt Odette's house. Her mother hadn't really changed all that much. Other than a handful of white hairs and a softer body, she still looked much like her past self. But this photo always reminded Savi of how little she resembled her mom. Despite being adopted, Chloe's blond hair and blue eyes matched the rest of their family so much, that for a long time Savi had secretly believed she was the adopted one -- until she'd found this picture of her dad. She and her mom shared the same pointy nose and chin, but Savi's black curls and full lips were clearly inherited from her father, as her chocolate brown eyes must have been as well.

  When Savi had
found the picture in one of the boxes in the basement a few years ago, she'd shown it to her mother. Chloe had only glanced at it before telling Savi what she'd already guessed: the man was her father, and Chloe was eighteen in that picture. There had been a brief awkward moment as they both had the same thought of how different 18-year-old Chloe's life would be by the end of that year.

  "Do you hate him?" Savi had asked her.

  "Hate him?" her mom had repeated, her eyes welling up with tears. "No. I don't hate him." She'd hugged Savi tightly for a long time. When she finally let go, she said, "I feel so sorry for him, for never getting to know you."

  I never got to know him, either.

  Growing up, whenever Savi asked questions about her father, her mom's eyes would tear up and she'd barely get a one word answer out before making an excuse about having to clean the bathroom and disappearing. Eventually her mom stopped running away, but the answers never got any longer.

  Savi put the picture back in the envelope and replaced the other items she'd removed. She buried the box at the bottom of the duffle bag, and stuffed it as far back in her closet as it could go.

  Chapter Five

  Grabbing her phone, Savi headed to the kitchen to get a drink, but stopped in the middle of the hallway when she saw three missed calls from her best friend over the past two hours. Her stomach dropped.

  Colby's party. It probably went as badly as Savi suspected it would. Maybe even worse.

  I should have gone with her.

  Not bothering to listen to Hettie's voicemails, Savi walked into the kitchen and called her back, pouring herself a glass of fruit punch and bracing for an earful of sobs.

  "Savi! Where have you been? I was about to drive over there." Hettie's voice was unusually squeaky.

  "Hey." Savi took a seat at the kitchen counter, keeping her voice low and comforting to calm Hettie's hysterical state. "My phone was on silent --"