The mingle of voices over the small speaker quiets as a woman asks for everyone to take their seats. Her voice is gentle and her words patient—exactly what I imagine a therapist would sound like.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight,” she says. “I know it can be difficult finding the time to meet with us, and I appreciate your courage in bringing your thoughts to the table.”
“That’s Dr. Rosewell,” Jefferson says quietly so we can both still hear the conversation buzzing through the phone. “She’s the one that feeds me the medical and injection data from the clinic. She’s the werewolf doc.”
I don’t acknowledge Jefferson has told me anything but continue to listen. The group starts to share their stories one at a time. A woman with a high thin voice talks about her urge to chase a squirrel that keeps coming to her bird feeder and says she accidently tore off the screen to her kitchen window. A man in a booming baritone that causes reverb on the phone goes into a tirade about teenage werewolves running across his territory and quickly corrects himself, across his property. When a young girl with a quivering voice talks about how painful the transformation is and nearly breaks down into sobs, I bite my lip and squint my eyes.
Once the group has calmed the girl with reassurances, there’s a long pause before a familiar boy’s voice begins next.
“Hello, my name is Ben.”
The room echoes back, “Hello, Ben.”
“And I’ve been a werewolf for a month.”
I can’t help myself. I find Jefferson’s eyes in the dark. “Is that Mrs. Ferguson’s kid?”
He nods. “Yeah, the one you harassed.”
“I didn’t harass—”
“Quiet. Listen.”
I resume my previous position but keep my head tilted so I can hear better.
Ben’s voice remains steady as he continues. “I don’t know what’s changed but . . . there’s something wrong. I don’t know if it’s me or . . .” There’s a moment of quiet and I can hear the previous girl sniffling in the background. “I haven’t been able to control myself like I’m supposed to on the serum. I’ve been angrier than ever and it’s like anything can flip the switch. I’ve had blackouts and I’ll come back to my senses lost out in the woods. I—I’m terrified. And I know I’m not the only one.”
I sit straighter and cock my head even more, intent on Ben’s story.
“I have friends at school that have been feeling the same way but they refuse to come here and talk about it. I felt like I needed to say something. I just—we just all feel so alone and confused because we thought the serum was supposed to stop this from happening.” He stops and doesn’t go on. He doesn’t mention the extra doses he’s been taking. Maybe he feels it would make him look weak—or that maybe the werewolf doc would rat him out to the IMS and he would get in trouble.
Dr. Rosewell speaks next. “I acknowledge your frustration, Ben, and I’m glad you were open with us. We’re here for you, and if you need support during this difficult phase, we will help in any way we can. It’s also important to have encouragement from family members. Does your mother know what’s been going on?”
I can hardly hear Ben when he replies, “I told her, but she doesn’t know what to do.”
Dr. Rosewell makes a kind of cooing sound like she’s trying to comfort Ben, but it sounds awfully odd to me. “Would anyone like to volunteer as a companion to support Ben? We all need to rely on each other.”
“I volunteer.” It’s Hawk.
Another pause with static over the cell phone. The werewolf doc speaks and sounds a little uncertain when she says, “Would you like to introduce yourself to the group?”
Hawk clears his throat and I imagine him running a hand through his hair, maybe leaning forward eagerly in his chair. He’s a people person after all. That part of him I’ve never understood.
“Hello everyone. My name is Hawk.” A murmur from the group repeats his name back to him with a hello. “And I’ve been a werewolf for fourteen years.” There’s actually some surprised muttering in the background this time. I’m sure Hawk is soaking in the attention. “I was bitten when I was very small and don’t remember much of the incident itself. It’s been really hard at times accepting what I am and who I am. I think I might have tossed in the towel more than a few times if it weren’t for my sister.”
My cheeks grow warm and I stare at the cell phone held out in Jefferson’s hand.
“She’s the one thing that’s kept me from drifting away. She’s not just my family, she’s my best friend. Even when I’ve been acting like—well, like a dog—” Gentle laughter meets his little joke, “—she pushes right back and reminds me that I’m not a monster. I’m not a freak. I’m her brother. I’m someone that matters. And I think that’s something everyone needs in their life. Everyone needs a family, a pack. They don’t have to be an actual blood relative. Otherwise a lone wolf is just that. Alone.”
I bite my lip so hard it hurts and face the passenger window again as if I’ve discovered something immensely interesting out in the black night where I can hardly see a thing. Warmth swells in my chest and I could lead a parade, become president, save the world. I never thought I had made much of a difference for Hawk. I sort of always felt like a stone around my brother’s neck that held him back and kept him grounded. I didn’t think he needed me as much as I needed him.
I miss part of the conversation and zone back in as the meeting breaks up. A few people say farewell to each other, and there’s shuffling and the scuffling of chairs being moved. We listen to footsteps and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Hawk must be outside again.
“Hey, Hawk!” It’s Ben. “I need to talk to you.”
The footsteps stop. “Yeah, okay.”
“Look, man, you don’t need to be my support. My mom would freak if she knew an IM—”
“Not here, Ben,” Hawk says sharply. The footsteps continue and Jefferson and I exchange a look. I guess we didn’t really think about Ben ruining everything. He and his mother, apart from Deputy Graham, are the only ones that know Hawk and I work with the IMS. Like Jefferson said before, the werewolves wouldn’t be so willing to talk to someone working for an agency with slayers in the name. We need to be flying below the radar if we want to figure out what’s happening to the werewolf population.
Hawk’s voice echoes through the speaker. “I want to help, Ben. I really do. This isn’t about me being with the IMS. This is about me being a werewolf and knowing what it’s like to be afraid of what’s inside you. If you need to talk, I’m here.”
“Okay, yeah,” Ben says uncertainly. “Thanks, man. I gotta go. My mom didn’t know I came to the meeting tonight so I need to run.”
“Okay, I’ll see you around. Take it easy.”
There are more crunchy footsteps, shuffling, then button beeps. I almost jump out of my skin when the cell phone in my pocket starts to ring. Jefferson quickly cuts off his call as I pick up mine.
“Hello?” I ask even though I know it’s Hawk.
“Hey, Phoenix. Meeting’s over. Where are you guys?”
“Down the road about a quarter of a mile.”
“Hang tight. I’m coming.”
I hang up, shove the phone back in my pocket, and exhale sharply. It dawns on me that by listening in on the W.A. meeting I am harboring a secret, one I can’t share with my brother without causing a rift. I want him to know he can always trust me. Lying to him is going to be hard.
We don’t have to wait long before Hawk opens the passenger door and slides onto the seat beside me. Jefferson cranks the truck into gear and we head back to the cabin.
“So?” I prompt. “How’d it go?”
He watches me for a long moment. Oh, no. He must already know. He knows and I’m a terrible person. He musses his hair and blows a raspberry. “It was about as fun as the last meeting I’d been too. Everyone’s got problems and everyone seemed too on edge. They’re becoming territorial and instinct driven. I sort of agreed to support B
en. He’s still having problems.”
He doesn’t say any more. I wait for him to continue and explain what we already know. I don’t want Jefferson to be right that Hawk won’t share everything with me. We’re supposed to be in this together. Then again, I’m not exactly telling Hawk everything either. I have no idea how Jefferson is going to get the phone back from Hawk without him noticing. My eyes are magnetically attracted to Hawk’s pocket like I’m waiting for it to explode and announce its presence. The fact Hawk hasn’t noticed it yet surprises me. I thought he might have felt the weight of it or something.
“So . . . anyone else having problems like Ben?” I ask, deciding to prompt it out of my brother and prove Jefferson wrong.
Hawk sighs. “He said some other teenagers were having the same symptoms.”
“We should check it out,” Jefferson says and strums his fingers on the wheel.
My brother’s eyes are hard as he stares at the old man. “That’ll sort of be a problem since no one wants to talk to you.”
“Not to me, no.” He brings the truck to a stop outside the cabin and the engine stutters into silence. “But they would talk to you and probably your sister now, too, after that little performance.”
The blood drains out of my face and I sit very still with my hands in my lap. Hawk doesn’t tense or make any sort of exclamation and I realize he does know about the phone in his pocket. I brace myself for the explosion waiting to happen. Hawk slides the cell phone out of his pocket and tosses it at Jefferson.
“It’s no wonder none of them trust you,” Hawk snarls. He yanks open the door and steps into the night.
I’m frozen on the seat, the blood flooding back into my face until it feels like it’s on fire. Jefferson lets out a little sigh. I want to punch him so bad my hand cramps clenched in a fist.
“What was the point of all that?” I shout, my voice ringing inside the truck. “Sneaking it on him then telling him anyway?”
“Because I wanted him to know,” Jefferson says calmly. “I wanted him to know I was listening despite his little tantrums earlier about werewolf rights. Werewolves are dangerous and I’m going to do my job however I need to. Trying to hide the real problem is only going to make everything worse. There’s something out in those woods and those werewolves are hiding it.”
I’m disgusted and let it show on my face. “What are you talking about? Do you know something we don’t?”
“I know a lot you don’t,” he snaps, wrenches the door open, and then slams it behind him.
I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. I let out a frustrated growl inside the truck before heading inside the cabin. Jefferson isn’t there. He must have hid away in that stupid barn of his. I find Hawk sitting on his bunk stripping off his socks. He ignores me completely. I stand in the doorway unsure of what to say.
“That was all really stupid, wasn’t it?”
“Understatement,” he mumbles.
“I’m sorry, Hawk. I didn’t know what Jefferson had done but then I . . .” Then I what? Played into it? Let it happen because of reasons? I have no good explanation to give him.
Hawk throws his shoes into the corner of the room but they tumble back across the floor. “What? You didn’t trust me? You thought we’d be discussing our secret evil plans to take over the world? What were you expecting, Phoenix? Did you get a kick out of listening to those people’s problems?”
“No!” I slap the doorframe and dust falls from the ceiling. “I just—I just wanted to know you were okay! Yeah, it was stupid and I should have thrown that phone out the window but you haven’t been acting like yourself ever since we got here. I was worried.”
He rolls his eyes and flops down onto his bed facing away from me. “Whatever.”
I stand there for about a minute trying to summon the words for an apology before gathering up my pajamas to go change in the bathroom. When I come back, I grab my mp3 player and bring it with me into the top bunk. I find the song I’m looking for, Ain’t No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, and hit play. Twinkling notes and soft drums play through the speaker.
It’s an older song and one of the only things I remember from my parents. Whenever I think of them, I remember them singing this song to Hawk and me when they put us to bed. All my other memories of my parents and childhood are foggy except for this song. I’ve listened to it thousands of times whenever I’ve had an especially hard day, as if my parents were there singing it to me to let me know everything was going to be okay. I play it for Hawk now. I want him to remember. We’re all we’ve got, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my family. Surely he can understand that.
Hawk doesn’t ask me to turn it off. Instead it plays through to the end and the room falls silent again. I hear his steady breathing and can’t be sure if he’s asleep or not.
“I’m still angry at you,” he says.
“Okay. I deserve it.” I exhale slowly and stare up at the ceiling. “As long as you don’t hate me for eternity.”
“Only if you borrow my socks and lose them again.”
I can’t help it. I let out a goofy giggle and Hawk laughs under his breath too. The tension breaks and I can breathe easier. Once the fit passes, Hawk prods the underside of my mattress, poking me in the back. I slam a fist down and he stops.
“I don’t trust Jefferson, though,” he says more seriously. “Listening in wasn’t your idea, it was his.”
I think about what Jefferson said in the truck and the bitter malice in his voice every time he brings up werewolves. “This is personal for him. I get the feeling he really, really doesn’t like werewolves.”
“You don’t say.”
“And he’s hiding something. He knows . . . something.”
“Wow, that was specific. You’ve really opened my eyes to the whole problem.”
I roll onto my stomach and hang my head over the edge of my bunk. “Oh, shut up.” He tries bopping me on the nose but I slap his hand away. “Well, what are we going to do about it? We’re already hanging on by our fingernails to stay with the IMS. You heard Jefferson.”
“How do you hang on by your fingernails? That sounds painful, and gross.” He wrinkles his nose at me.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Answer the question.”
He tucks both hands behind his head. “Well, we need to talk to Ben’s friends in such a way that we can control the situation and Jefferson still thinks it’s a brilliant idea.”
“How in the world do we do that?”
“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Know what?”
“Where can a bunch of teenagers gather together on a daily basis where the parents are excluded and Jefferson won’t get in the way? Here’s a hint. It includes a meal with a side of harassment!”
My stomach drops. “Pixies, no.”
“We’re still young enough to be seniors.”
“No! No, no, no, no, no.” My palms turn sweaty from the mere thought of it. Hallways stuffed with pushy students, crabby teachers, terrible lunches served on plastic trays, homework, cliques, those vampire book fangirls—living hell. “I would rather eat a salted slug from Old Man Two’s.”
He smirks. “Well, I’m sure they’ll serve something similar at lunch time.”
Chapter 10
The following morning Hawk and I go over our plan behind the closed door of our bedroom. It’s simple enough. We need to make Jefferson think this is all his idea because then he’ll be more willing to go along with it. Hawk will play the melodramatic werewolf and I will be the conspirator with Jefferson. I’m feeling pretty excited.
I walk out first and poke my head into Jefferson’s room. He isn’t there. Big surprise. I check out the window and see him walking towards the cabin from the barn.
“He’s coming!” I hiss. Hawk pokes his head out of the bedroom door for just a second, gives me a thumbs up, then disappears again.
I pretend to be digging through what little is left of
the venison when Jefferson walks in. I hear a crinkly thud on the table and can’t resist but look to see what it is. There are a couple of subs from the shop again in their green wrapping.
“Good morning,” Jefferson says in his usual gruff way.
I straighten from the fridge, surprised. He’s being nice? Something is definitely up. “Good morning?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get your crab of a brother out here, would you?”
I want to stick to the plan but he’s screwing everything up. I guess the gig is up for the moment. I walk over, slap the doorframe to the bedroom twice, and call, “Hawk!”
He struts out. I guess his grim and dour pretense isn’t going to come into play. Dang it, we had a plan and everything. Jefferson slides the subs toward us and keeps his head down.
“Consider it a peace offering,” he says. “We’ve really gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“Yeah, for like a straight week,” Hawk mutters but grabs the subs before Jefferson can take them back. He hands me one.
Jefferson takes the chair, giving us the high ground. We stand shoulder to shoulder uncertain. This is a trick. Did he hear us scheming?
“I’m not used to working with trainees, especially kids.”
“Young adults,” I automatically correct.
“Fine. Young adults.” He pinches his nose again like I’m about to give him a nosebleed for all this effort. “I’m supposed to be training you but I realize I’ve been pretty strict. I haven’t been as fair as I should have. I want to make it up to you. I want to give you some real work.”
My eyes slide to Hawk momentarily. Coming from Jefferson, “real work” could mean anything, and by anything I mean duct taping fences, filing more paperwork, or shoveling manure for all I know.
The Curse of Moose Lake (International Monster Slayers Book 1) Page 12