The Curse of Moose Lake (International Monster Slayers Book 1)

by Bethany Helwig

  “Thanks,” Hawk and I say in unison.

  Jefferson takes his own and leads the way inside the cabin. “Are you two going to be okay going to school today?”

  I didn’t even realize sitting on the bench is an option. “We need to work.”

  “I get that.” He sips at his coffee and leans against the kitchen counter.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I start, happy to share my thoughts with Jefferson for once, “We should really try to talk to the kids of those werewolves bitten back in 1996. I noticed quite a few of the teenagers are children of those attacked in the last . . . incident. They might be able to share something.”

  Jefferson nods. “Good idea. I’ll try talking to the parents again directly but things are getting more and more hostile. The second I try leaning on them with IMS authority, I’m not going to get anyone to open their door for me. You two are our best chance of getting the inside scoop. Maybe one of them has seen a black wolf.”

  We get ready and Jefferson drives us to the school. Once there, I feel like I’m on a different planet and speaking a different language. With what I know now, every student, teacher, cook, and staff member looks like a suspect to me. That girl laughing down the hall? Could be a murderer in disguise. That couple making out? They probably attacked someone yesterday. Those boys playing cards in the middle of the hallway? They could be the masterminds of the entire operation.

  A change has come over Hawk as well. He looks beat and I know I do too, but for him it’s a huge turn around. He’s always been the social ray of sunshine, but I see the effort it takes him to smile at the girl beside his locker.

  We head to English together and take up silent sentry posts in the back of the room. This isn’t school anymore. It’s an infiltration mission. Hawk discreetly points out one of the known werewolves sitting in the middle of the room. I watch the unassuming boy closely. He works on meticulously ripping one of his notebook pages to shreds beneath his desk and clearly isn’t paying much attention.

  He’s got black hair but that’s hardly an indicator that he’s the black wolf. For one, anyone can dye their hair. Second, the human physical appearance doesn’t necessarily equate to what their wolf half will look like. Sure, Hawk has red hair and is more red colored. Then again, I once knew a werewolf that visited Underground who was an African American with jet black hair that would change into a pure white, arctic wolf.

  Class ends and I’m forced to attend Mr. Webster’s class. The second I walk into the classroom his beady eyes find me and I’m greeted with a sour frown. I ignore him and move to find a seat. Someone waves a hand in my face so I stop only to realize Ashley is in this class with me. I hadn’t even noticed before.

  “Hi!” she says and pats the empty chair next to her. “I saved you a spot.”

  “Thanks, Ashley. I appreciate it.” I sink down next to her and rub at my eyes. Despite the coffee this morning, my brain is starting to slow down to drunk giant pace. It takes me a while to register she’s exceptionally happy this morning, although it could be her default setting. I don’t really know her but she does seem pretty perky considering. “You look like you’re doing better.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m great. You on the other hand . . .” She moves her hands up and down gesturing to all of me. “You look like you got hit by a bus.”

  That’s a pretty accurate description. “Yeah, bad night.”

  She pats me on the shoulder and is momentarily distracted as a boy pushes his way between us to another seat. Then her smile is back in place and she leans towards me.

  “Hey, I wanted to say thanks for sticking up for me yesterday. I can’t believe you decked that jerk but, wow, that was awesome. You must work out or something because he got hammered.” She slugs me lightly in the shoulder and I can’t help but smile a little. “He’s been so embarrassed. I think he’s actually ‘out sick’ today—” She mimes quotation marks in the air, “—to avoid everyone.”

  That catches my attention. “He’s not in today?”

  “Yeah, I overhead some of his buddies.” It’s funny how often she’s overhearing things. “He was supposed to hang out with them last night but he never showed and he’s not returning their calls. I’m sure he’s just mad because they were calling him a wuss, getting beat up by a girl and whatever.”

  Mr. Webster clears his throat rather loudly to get our attention and starts the class. I lean back but there’s no way I’m able to focus on his current lecture. It’s true the Jones-wuss could actually be out sick today, or avoiding the usual high school ridicule—or something more sinister could be going on. He could have been bitten. If he was, he would be extremely susceptible to another werewolf’s influence. He would need the serum and soon. I never did catch his first name.

  I scribble “What was the jerk’s name?” on a scrap of paper and pass it to Ashley. She unfolds it under her desk, then writes something underneath when Mr. Webster’s back is turned, and discreetly passes it back. Apparently not discreetly enough because Mr. Webster points down the row at me.

  “Give me that,” he huffs.

  I ignore him and read it before he can take it away. Matt Jones. Mr. Webster waddles between the tight desks towards me. I rip the note to shreds before he reaches me then drop the bits into his outstretched hand. His face turns purple.

  “Go to the principal’s office,” he snaps. “You’re getting—”

  “Detention,” I say over him. “Right. Thanks. Going now.”

  I grab my book and hop over the other side of my desk to avoid trying to pass him. Everyone’s staring so I wink and jog out of the room. A part of me really hopes Mr. Webster is the black wolf so I can have the pleasure of taking him down myself. Once in the hallway, I check both ways before pulling out my cell and dialing Jefferson.

  His surly voice answers. “Hello?”

  “It’s me. I think you need to check up on someone. A Matt Jones?”

  “You have a lead?”

  I walk towards the end of the hall away from any classroom doors. “He’s not in school today and my gut tells me something’s up. He might be a fresh pup, if you know what I mean. Could you check his house to see if he’s there?”

  “Yeah, I know the place. Now get back to class before you get detention again.”

  I stop short. “Wait, you know about that?”

  He actually laughs and then disconnects the call. I grumble under my breath and slide my phone into my pocket.

  I don’t go to the principal’s office. I decide I don’t care about detention and that I need a moment alone. I go out the rear exit and slide down against the brick wall to sit on the ice-cold cement surrounded by silence. It’s a clear and beautiful morning with the surface of Moosehead Lake sparkling through the trees past the football field.

  If I leaned my head back, I could be ready to fall asleep. Instead, I pull out my phone again and the small beeps of the buttons sound loud out here in the relative quiet. It rings for a short time before a familiar voice answers.

  “This is Wallowitz.”

  “Hey there, Witty.”

  “Phoenix! Hey, I haven’t heard from you in forever. What’s going on?” There’s a constant squeak barely audible on the other end. He must be moving around in his wheelchair somewhere in Underground. A strong wave of homesickness sweeps over me, which only reminds me of why Underground is my home. Moose Lake could have been my home if only it had gotten a chance.

  “Oh, I just . . .” Why am I calling? If I ask him about the shapeshifters or the werewolf serum he’ll probably clam up. “I just needed to hear a friendly voice, that’s all.”

  There’s dead silence for a long time on the other end of the line. Even the squeaky wheels have stopped.

  “You still alive over there?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I’m okay. Are you?”

  I bite my lower lip and rub the palm of my free hand around my knee. “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

  “Phoenix, if you need anything . . .
”

  “Yeah, actually.” I clear my throat to get all that sticky emotion out of it. “If I ask you about those shapeshifters, will you answer? Have they talked? Do they know anything about the werewolf serum being tampered with?”

  “I, um . . . Yeah. I don’t know how to tell you this.” Over the line I hear him tapping his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair.

  “Tell me what?”

  “They looked into the serum. Nothing’s changed. It wasn’t tampered with.”

  “But that—” I clamp a hand to my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut. “That doesn’t make any sense, Witty. They must have done something to it. The wolves here are taking extra doses and it’s doing nothing for them.”

  “Then if there was tampering, it wasn’t on Werevine’s end.”

  There’s too much anxiety and caffeine in my system. Suddenly very antsy, I get to my feet and start to pace. “What are the distribution channels for the serum? Tell me what the steps are from it leaving the lab to the werewolves getting it.”

  “Hold on.” There’s more wheel squeaking and then fevered tapping which could only mean he’s in front of a keyboard. “Okay, from Werevine Pharmaceutical labs it’s sent out to clinic centers. From the centers, the serum passes directly from the attending physician to the werewolves who need it. The clinic in your area is—”

  “Northwoods Family Clinic. Doctor Rosewell.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  The wheels are already turning in my head. “Thanks, Witty,” I say and end the call.

  It has to be the werewolf doc. She has direct control and access to the serum. She could be tainting the stock in town. Could she be the black wolf? Hawk could set up an appointment to get some of the serum and then we could send it off to the IMS for testing. I’m about to call Jefferson next when I see a shadow move on the edge of the football field. It’s large, has four legs, and turns tail as soon as I spot it. Best guess, it’s a werewolf, but it’s the middle of the morning. Why on earth is someone out now and transformed?

  I consider running back inside and finding Hawk but what would I say? Oh, sorry teacher but I have to pull my brother out of class for a second to track a werewolf? I shove my phone into my back pocket and sprint to the field. Yeah, now I’m reckless. I hop the chain link fence and go diagonally across the field, hop another fence, and reach the woods. The cold nips at my face and I rub the tops of my arms. I’ve only got a long sleeved shirt on and hadn’t bothered grabbing my jacket earlier.

  Very large paw prints are visible in the soft, exposed soil inside the tree line. A swath of leaves are pushed aside beneath a line of broken twigs and underbrush. I pick my way carefully forward following the trail deeper into the woods. I stop now and then to listen. In the distance I can hear panting and the occasional whine of a dog. Correction, a wolf. A great big, gray timber wolf twenty yards ahead of me. Its tail is tucked between its legs, it stands awkward like it’s not used to standing on four legs, and looks lost. A freshly turned werewolf would be my guess.

  I run through the procedure in my head. When approaching a new werewolf that has just turned, it’s best to stun or tranquilize it first and inject the serum as soon as possible. Otherwise, if the wolf feels threatened, it may attack and bite. Whoever this is will be confused, disoriented, and prone to violence. I’m about to back pedal to a safe distance and call Jefferson to get him over here as fast as possible when it rings before I can reach it.

  The sound is loud and the wolf whips around at the noise. I wrench the phone out of my pocket and hit the answer button to stop the sound but it’s already too late. I bend slightly at the knees and slowly back away holding one hand out towards the wolf. Its eyes lock on me, its hackles rise, and its lips pull back in a vicious snarl. I bring the phone up to my ear nice and easy and try not to make any sudden movements.

  “Phoenix, I checked Matt Jones’ house.” It’s Jefferson. “He’s not there, but I found a trail of wolf tracks leading into the woods.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. The wolf starts to creep towards me. “I think I found him.”

  Chapter 16

  I try to keep distance between me and the werewolf but I end up backpedaling into a tree.

  “Jefferson, hurry,” I whisper. This isn’t going to end well.

  “Where are you?” he asks sharply. I’m touched. He’s concerned. Hopefully that will make him move faster.

  “The woods past the football field, not too far in. Please hurry. This wolf’s pretty angry.”

  “Hang on.” The truck rumbles to life in the background. “Stay on the line. Take it easy. No sudden movements. Don’t be aggressive.”

  “Aye aye, captain.”

  I stand like a statue but the wolf keeps inching closer, snarling and saliva flying. I really, really, really don’t want to get bitten. Hawk almost bit me once when he first went off the serum but I held him off. Ever since we got to Underground and our caretakers knew what we were, a werewolf and Blessed, they drilled it into my head that the worst things would happen if I was ever bitten. I’ve heard the horror stories of other Blessed that have gotten bitten on the job. The magic in their veins was too potent, a hundred times more potent than the serum, and the combustion of their magic trying to fight the disease either ending up killing them or turning them into an unstable mess. The lucky ones simply changed into werewolves but they couldn’t take the serum and were closely monitored by the IMS. So, would I turn into a super strong werewolf? Would the magic in my veins twist me into something different? Or maybe the disease and magic would react so violently it would kill me straight out. Pixies, I need to stop being a pessimist.

  The wolf is maybe ten feet away. One good leap and he could flatten me to the ground. If things get really hairy I might be able to grab him by the fur below the jaws then curl in my knuckles and cut off the blood supply to his brain to make him pass out. I nearly had to do it to Hawk before. It was unpleasant to say the least. Now, a strong blood choke might be my only option.

  “Sorry, Jefferson,” I mutter and drop the phone on the ground so I can make full use of both hands if I need to. I hold my palms out to the werewolf. A part of him is still human. Hopefully, that part can hear me through the beast. It might be enough.

  “Listen to me,” I say in my best commanding voice, low and forceful. “I’m no threat to you. I’m a friend. I can help. You just have to let me help you.”

  It lowers its head even more and puts another paw forward.

  “This isn’t you—not the real you. You can fight this.” I speak louder. “You’ve got to stop or you’re going to regret this. We both will, I think.”

  It comes closer and my heart is trying to leap out of my chest. I take a deep breath and try to remember what my instructors taught me. Keep a level head, know your surroundings, know your strengths and weaknesses, know your opponent’s as well. I maneuver my feet into a better stance and bend my knees to resist the impact I know must be coming.

  I don’t want to hurt this werewolf who in all likelihood is Matt Jones. True, I did punch him yesterday but that seems like a lifetime ago. Matt’s life is going to change forever and starting out like this isn’t going to make anything easier. I know I can stop him but I could also accidently crush his bones.

  “Stop, Matt,” I practically snarl. “It’s you in there, isn’t it?” Now that he’s closer I can just barely make out the faint lines of what could be a jersey. “You may be a prick and a bully but you’re not a monster, are you? Prove me wrong. Stop, Matt. Stop!”

  My skin feels like it’s on fire and I hold out my hands willing him to stop. The yellow in his eyes is vivid—the sign of a werewolf without any control. When he’s within five feet, he pauses and takes a step back. Those great big wolf eyes stare up at me and he tucks his tail again. He whines. He takes another step back, then another, and shakes his head as if trying to expel water from his ears. I don’t believe it.

  There’s a gun blast and I jump so hard I hit my head agai
nst the tree behind me. The wolf jerks, stumbles to the side, then falls over into a pile of leaves. I hold a hand over my heart trying to keep it from popping loose and watch Jefferson step between the trees carrying his hunting rifle.

  “He’s not . . .?” I point to the unmoving wolf.

  “No, just knocked out.”

  I heave a huge sigh and slump to the ground with one hand grasping at my chest and the other massaging the back of my head. Jefferson kneels next to the wolf and plucks out a tranquilizer dart before coming over to me. He grasps my arm and pulls me up out of the grass.

  “Are you okay? Did he bite you?”

  I shake my head and feel lightheaded. “No, he backed off.”

  His face goes blank. “What?”

  “I told him to stop and he did. I must have gotten through to him somehow.”

  The disbelief in his face is clear enough but he doesn’t press the issue. “We need to get him out of here. And what on earth were you doing out here in the first place? You’re supposed to be in school.”

  “I was taking a quick break outside and spotted him watching the school.”

  His gaze travels over the large canine body sprinkled with dirt and leaves. “Odd.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Help me get him into the truck. I want to see this super strength of yours.”

  I glare at him out of the corner of my eye. More like he doesn’t want to help carry a big heavy wolf. I bend down and carefully grasp the front paws, then the back paws, and after some awkward maneuvering get Matt the wolf over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry. I rise a bit unsteady and have Jefferson lead the way. I can take the weight easy enough but I was already exhausted at the beginning of the day and my feet start to drag.

  Jefferson whistles once we reach the truck and he folds down the back gate for me. “That’s pretty impressive, Phoenix.”

  “Thanks, do I get a cookie?” I grunt as I tip Matt to the side and ease him into the truck bed. Jefferson helps a little here and makes sure his tail doesn’t get caught when he closes the gate.