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

by Bethany Helwig

  And there it is—the cause for Jefferson’s hatred of werewolves. I would be inclined to hate them just as much if it weren’t for the fact my brother is one. With the serum cure, I’ve learned werewolves can be good and bad just like regular people. They aren’t all one and the same but unfortunately, if the current situation is any evidence, they can be held under some dark sway.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmur.

  He pats me on the shoulder twice then walks away. I’m left alone which isn’t good because then all I can do is think. I can’t imagine what my life will be like if I change. Then there’s that other possibility hanging on the horizon. I might not live to see Thursday. Hawk would be all alone. I clutch my wounded arm to my chest and will it not to happen but, being the pessimist that I am, I start forming plans in my mind. I need to tell Hawk it’s going to be okay. I should make some kind of arrangement so my brother always has a home somewhere. I should call Witty too, but I don’t. What would I even say? I’ve been on a mission for three days and I’ve already screwed up so badly that I’m going to kick the bucket?

  I stay curled up on the cot and pull the quilt up to my chin. I shake with fever chills and my eyes droop shut more than once. That short bit of unconsciousness was the most rest I’ve gotten in thirty-six hours and I’m burned out. The pain through my arm won’t let me sleep though, and I use that to keep me awake until Hawk shows up. I need to know he’s okay.

  I don’t know how much time passes until I finally hear the door creak open downstairs. There are muted voices and then someone is thundering up the stairs. Hawk emerges on the landing and when he spots me he comes to a halt. He’s drenched and his hair is plastered to his forehead. Mud is dabbled on his face and he’s pale but he doesn’t look injured.

  “Phoenix.” The word comes out in a rush and he races over to wrap me up in a hug. I wince as my arm is jostled but I don’t pull back. I tuck my chin into his shoulder and my face twists up. I keep trying to fight back the terror inside me but in my brother’s arms I start to fall apart. I hold onto him with my good arm and heave a shuddering breath.

  “I’m scared,” I whisper.

  He runs a hand over my hair. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here. It’s my turn to watch over you now.”

  I hiccup back a sob and take a deep breath. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to succumb. A few tears escape anyhow and I wipe my face on my brother’s already wet jacket.

  “I hope that’s not snot,” he whispers.

  A sharp laugh rips out of me and subsides into crazed giggling for a few seconds. Count on my brother to make me laugh even now. He pulls back and grasps both of my shoulders to look me directly in the eye.

  “We’re going to be okay,” he says. “I want you to say it back to me, Phoenix. You need to believe it. Go on.”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “We’re going to be okay.”

  “See? The truth will set you free.” He offers me a smile and I try to return it but my mouth keeps wanting to twitch into a frown.

  Jefferson comes up the stairs. “Can you watch her until I get back?”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “Deputy Graham is still missing out there somewhere. I have to try to find him.” He picks a flashlight off the table and twists it in his hands a few times. “I put in a call to the IMS for backup. They’re supposed to be sending in a team tomorrow morning to assist. You two stay put.” He reaches into his waistband and pulls out one of the tranquilizer handguns which he leaves on the table. “Just in case.”

  Then he leaves us behind in the barn. The rain drums against the roof and a draft blows in through the wall. Hawk peels off his wet jacket and starts up a space heater near my cot. He runs to the cabin for a minute and returns with a few more blankets and my Go Fire Sprites! sweatshirt.

  “Thanks,” I murmur. He sits cross-legged on the cot next to me and I sit leaning against his side. “What time is it?”

  “Almost midnight I think.”

  “Shouldn’t I be going to Underground or something?”

  He rests his head against the top of mine. “There’s nothing they can do for you there except watch.”

  I guess I already knew that but needed to ask the question anyway. I close my eyes and mutter, “Do we ever get any sleep around here?”

  He laughs under his breath. “How about you sleep and I’ll keep watch?”

  I don’t say my fears out loud. The irrational part of me doesn’t want to fall asleep because I fear I might wake up a twisted monster or never wake up at all. But I’m exhausted and I ease off right then and there. When I wake again I’m lying down and hear fast shuffling, the cocking of a gun, and labored breathing.

  Hawk stands a few paces away, the tranquilizer gun hoisted in his hands and aimed at the stairs. Staggering up the steps comes a reddish timber wolf which, if I’m not mistaken, is the same one that has been dogging me. There’s a bloody gash on its shoulder and it’s limping.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Hawk warns. “If you want our help, you have to transform for me to trust you.”

  The werewolf whines and carefully lies down. It rests its head on the floorboards and curls its tail around itself. Water and blood drip onto the floor.

  “That’s real cute,” Hawk growls. “Transform. If you can’t, then I know you’re like the rest and there’s no way you’re getting any closer to my sister. I’ll put you down first.”

  The wolf huffs and lays its ears flat before curling up even tighter upon itself. I sit up, my head swimming in the fever spell, and watch as the wolf starts to shift. It whines all the while as its fur tucks into itself, the muzzle and tail recede, the arms and legs stretch out, and the torso narrows. Within thirty seconds, the wolf whine changes to a human’s cry and a boy is curled up on the floor in the same black shirt I saw him in earlier today.

  He slowly uncurls and his tortured gray eyes lock onto mine.

  “Ben?”

  Chapter 19

  Ben sits up and sucks down air like he’s been running hard. There’s a great bloody bite on his shoulder and a terrible gash on his right arm. He’s dripping wet and his dark hair is plastered to his skin.

  “What . . . you are the wolf that was stalking me?” I say and point my good hand at him.

  The present circumstances pass me by in my indignation. Hawk on the other hand lowers the gun and kneels to inspect Ben’s injuries.

  “Why did you come here, Ben?” he growls. “You should have gone to the hospital.”

  “I wanted to make sure you two were okay,” he pants and clutches at his bleeding shoulder. “You disappeared during the fight.”

  “Wait . . .” I frown and think back to the state park. I remember Hawk rolling down the hill fighting the one werewolf when another went chasing after. I can’t be sure but it could have been reddish. “That was you in the park?”

  He nods and winces. “I followed you out there—”

  “Oh, good to know you’re still stalking me.”

  “I wasn’t stalking you.”

  “Yeah, following me around wherever I go is basically the definition of stalking,” I bite back. “You haven’t been watching me sleep too, have you?”

  Hawk holds a hand out to me. “Would you shut up for a second? Ben saved my life back there.” I roll my eyes and he focuses on Ben again. “Why were you following us?”

  “I’ve been sick, man. I told you that.” His eyes flicker to me. “But I felt like I could control it better when she was around. She’s got some kind of . . . I don’t know, aura. She’s different. I wanted to know why, so yeah, I was watching her. Sue me.”

  I don’t know how I feel about that. Creeped out is probably the best way to put it. I hug my good arm around myself. “Please tell me you didn’t get yourself into detention just to talk to me.”

  He glares at me this time. “No, that was a lucky accident.”

  “Huh. Lucky. Whatever.” I shake my head.

  “Anyway
, I saw you two get attacked so I jumped in to help.” He lets out a groan when he tries to move his arm. “Lot of good that did me.”

  “Stalker, creeper, hero, whatever,” Hawk says. “We need to get you to the hospital but Jefferson’s got the truck.”

  “We can’t ask him to come back either,” I add. “What he’s doing is too important. We’ve got to call your mom.”

  “Ughhh.” Ben rolls his head around. “No, just let me die instead.”

  Considering what my own circumstances are, I don’t find it very funny. Hawk pulls out his cell phone and shoves it into Ben’s hand.

  “Make the call,” he says darkly, “or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

  Ben rips the phone away from Hawk and jabs at the buttons. He glowers the whole time as he tries to explain to his mother where he is and what’s wrong. I can hear her shouting through the phone from here. When he finally hangs up, he tosses the phone hard at Hawk but my brother catches it easily.

  “She’s on her way,” he mutters.

  “Good,” Hawk says. “Then while we’re waiting you’re going to tell me everything you know about that park, who those other wolves were, and what the heck is going on around here. Everything you know. Go.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Anything,” Hawk says. “You tell me something we can use.”

  Ben starts to lean to the side clutching his shoulder and shakes his head. Hawk suddenly grabs him under the open wound and squeezes until Ben cries out.

  “Hawk!” I shout. “That’s enough!”

  Instead of letting go he ignores me and keeps hurting Ben. He leans in and bares his teeth, snarling. “My sister’s been bitten and I want to know who did it. I want to know who was out there tonight. What happened to Matt’s buddies? What happened to Deputy Graham? You’ve got to tell me something!”

  I scramble to my feet and lurch towards the pair of them. Ben’s mouth is open in a silent scream but Hawk is unrelenting. I grab my brother’s arm and wrench him back. I misjudge the amount of strength needed and end up flattening him to the floor. He lets out a huff and struggles to get up but I hold him down.

  “Are you out of your mind?” I hiss. A wave of dizziness hits me again and I’m breathless. The room starts to sway and I’m falling. Hawk catches me before I hit the floor and holds me upright. We stay that way for a long moment while my head evens out. The exertion has made the fire in my arm kick back into life and I’m panting against the inferno crawling under my skin. Hawk pushes himself upright so we’re sitting awkwardly on the floor but I’m too tired all of a sudden to move anymore.

  “You’ve really been bitten?” Ben asks quietly.

  I tap the white bandage on my arm. “What does it look like, Sherlock?”

  “But you’ll be okay. You’ll just turn into one of us.”

  “You idiot,” Hawk snaps. I put a hand on his arm to try to keep him under control. Funny—this situation is usually reversed. “She could die.”

  “What?” Ben waves his hand gesturing to the pair of us. “It’s just a bite. It’ll heal.”

  “No.” Hawk sighs and rests his chin on top of my head. “No, it might not.”

  His words are hollow and wistful. My heart hammers in my chest as it really starts to sink in. I haven’t transformed yet and it would have happened within the first couple of hours. If I’m not changing then that means . . .

  “They were a couple of boys from school,” Ben says, breaking the silence. “The one that bit Phoenix must have been Jason.”

  Why does that name sound familiar?

  “Why did they attack us?” Hawk asks.

  “Why have any of us been doing anything? It’s that calling in our head. Haven’t you heard it?”

  Hawk clenches his hand and I feel the rest of his body tense too. “There was . . . something.”

  Ben sighs. “I don’t know what else to call it. It’s not like there’s a voice in my head or anything but I keep getting these urges like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing. At times it makes me so angry I’ve got to—” He throws a fake punch with his good arm. “Sometimes it’s gotten so bad that I blackout and when I come to I don’t have a clue what’s just happened.”

  “What about the missing people?” Hawk presses.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. If they’re missing, maybe it’s because they’ve been changed and followed the call somewhere.”

  “I guess that would make sense if we had any idea what this ‘call’ was.” Hawk grasps at the back of his hair and lets out a low growl. “It’d be nice to know where the missing people are going if they are following some kind of instructions.”

  “What have all the werewolves been doing?” I say. “They’ve been spreading the disease. Those people could be missing because they’re widening the field and going to other towns.” I shake my brother’s arm. “Hawk, when you ran off that one time do you remember why?”

  He shakes his head slowly. “I just knew I had to find someone. I don’t know who.”

  “I bet we can guess. The black wolf. He’s got to be controlling the werewolves like some mega alpha werewolf.”

  Ben looks startled and jabs a thumb at his chest. “I’ve been dreaming about a black wolf. That’s got to be it.”

  “Have you met it?” Hawk asks.

  “No. I don’t think so. I could have when I blacked out though, I guess.”

  “Then we’ve got nothing. Again.”

  There are four loud knocks on the door downstairs that shake the whole barn and we all jump.

  “Where’s my son?” Mrs. Ferguson bellows.

  “Coming!” Hawk shouts. He helps Ben to his feet and they make their way carefully down the stairs. I return to my cot and lay exhausted. Mrs. Ferguson shouts some more below but her words are incoherent noise to me.

  I close my eyes and try to think around the pain and lack of sleep. I try to listen past the shouts and wait for some urge to grab hold of me, but there’s nothing in the darkness. Of course, why would I hear a call when I haven’t turned? Sure, I’ve been bitten but nothing else. The shouting stops and a car engine rumbles in the distance. The stairs creak and I open my eyes. Hawk comes up rubbing his hands together anxiously and his mouth presses into a thin line.

  “Now what?” I sigh.

  “Now we wait, I guess. You should get some sleep.”

  “Yeah.” I almost laugh and want to cry. “I’ll probably get some permanent sleep soon enough.”

  “Don’t. Don’t you dare. Don’t you ever think like that.” He glowers at me and he’s furious but his voice cracks when he speaks. “You’ve always been the strong one. You never allowed me to give up or give in. Don’t you dare stop now. You fight this and you keep fighting. You’re all I’ve got, Phoenix.”

  He paces away from me and around the backside of the table. I watch him and decide I want to ask for something I can’t have.

  “Can you bring me Mom’s jacket?” I whisper.

  He doesn’t even hesitate. He cracks open our parents’ evidence box and pulls out the plastic bag with the leather bomber jacket. There’s not a second’s hesitation for worry of Jefferson’s inevitable reprimand. He tears apart the tape, strips the bag away, and holds it up in front of himself. We both stare at it. Hawk presses it to his face and squeezes his eyes tight as he breathes in the smell of it.

  Walking stiffly, he comes to the cot and drapes the jacket over me. I pull it up higher so I can smell it too. I inhale old leather and the faintest flowery smell of perfume in the lining of the collar. I picture my mother wearing it, fighting the good fight alongside my father, and being every bit the heroes I imagine them to be.

  I want to fight to the very end like my parents did. They died protecting us. Now it’s my turn to do whatever it takes to fight the unavoidable end and stay here where I belong—with my brother.

  A song starts to play from my mp3 player that Hawk must have fetched from the house earlier. It’s our
parents’ song telling me that everything’s going to be okay. I fall asleep to the music played on repeat, my brother’s hand wrapped around mine.

  * * *

  My eyes open to warm light filtering in between the boards of the roof, down the dusty rafters, and soaking into the blanket across my feet. I get a sense something is wrong. I’m awake. It’s daylight.

  I’m not dead.

  I am NOT dead.

  That thought bounces around inside my head and takes me two full minutes to absorb it. I made it through the night. I survived. I wiggle my fingers and wait for extreme pain or something worse to happen but I’m normal. I’m still me. I didn’t even change. It’s like the disease is gone completely and I’m left unscarred but that can’t be right. No one’s ever done that before. No one has simply resisted, not changed, and come out the other side. Okay, so something must have changed. Do I still have all my fingers and toes? Are my hands now paws? Does my nose have whiskers? I absent-mindedly pat myself down as if I’m going to find an extra appendage or a tail. No, it’s just me. Seventeen-year-old Phoenix Mason with a snarky attitude, obsession with movies, and sudden urges to dance.

  Ouch. My arm still hurts. Dang it. Why couldn’t that have healed over? Well, that’s a good sign I guess. No accelerated healing like a werewolf. I sniff but the barn smells the same as before. No super nose either. Wait, I do smell coffee.

  I sit up and find Hawk asleep with his head on the edge of the cot beside me, his hand extended towards mine. The song has stopped playing and I really can smell coffee. I sense I’m being watched.

  Jefferson sits in the only seat at the table, a cup of coffee held between his hands, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, and stares at me. There’s confusion in his face, sadness, and darkness in his eyes. I can’t be real is what his expression is telling me. I can’t be real and this is some nasty trick.