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

by Bethany Helwig

  “I thought it was relevant.”

  Jefferson switches to Hawk. “Watch her back. If Mr. Webster does make a move on Phoenix, you need to back her up.”

  Hawk shoots him a dirty look and starts to push me out of the truck on the passenger side. “You don’t need to worry about me keeping my sister safe. If anyone messes with her I’ll tear them in half.”

  We’re out the door and moving to the school when Jefferson shouts at our backs, “That’s what I’m worried about!”

  Walking through the door with my brother at my side and my mother’s jacket wrapped around me, I’m a new person. I know what I am now. I’m a recluse and loose cannon, reckless and abandoned, but I’ve got one mission left to do and I’m going to see it through. This is for my parents and Jefferson’s family. This is my moment to shine.

  Passing down the hallway I spot several of the known werewolves glance in my direction. A few frown and quickly look away like they don’t know why they looked in the first place. It’s a bit creepy, but maybe it’s a good sign. Are they feeling a change sweep over them by my mere presence? How far does my range of proximity extend? And do I have to concentrate on a single person for it to really work? Guess it’s time to experiment like Jefferson said.

  We reach our lockers and eye the corridors swimming with students. Hawk sniffs a few times and frowns. He opens one of his textbooks and points at something random on the page so we can have a private conversation without drawing too much attention. No one wants to listen in on a conversation about homework.

  “Lot of new scents, even from yesterday,” Hawk says under his breath. “Someone’s working overtime to change the population—” Hawk’s locker buddy shows up on his other side, practically materializing out of the wall. “. . . of Canada, yeah, you’re right. Population is really thin over here.” He carries on louder. “Oh, look! Vancouver!” Then flips the page with a sideways glance at the girl.

  “Yeah, Canada’s fantastic,” I say and nod, flipping to yet another page. “Polar bears. Enough said.”

  The girl leans over to see what we’re reading. I guess we’re being a little too loud. Her eyes scan the page and she gives us an odd look.

  “You guys realize that’s a physics textbook, right?” she says and wrinkles her nose because we’re clearly the stupidest people on the planet.

  “What, they don’t have physics in Canada?” Hawk replies and tosses a smile.

  The girl giggles loudly and walks away with a pronounced bounce in her step. Hawk and I roll our eyes before bending our heads over the mathematics equation. Just looking at it makes my head swim.

  “If this pace keeps up,” Hawk mutters, eyes flickering up to students walking past, “this wolf is going to end up converting the entire town.”

  “Give me an estimate,” I say under my breath. “How many out of ten would you say are werewolves in the school at the moment?”

  “Eleven,” he grumbles. “I don’t know! You think I can pick scents apart like they’re nametags? And, oh, that national anthem! I love maple leaves too.” He gives a lazy smile to another girl coming too close and she moves on. “But with this many wolves around, I have a feeling you’re going to be drawing a lot more attention.”

  “Enough to draw out the black dog?” I mutter. A boy drops his book bag right in front of us and scatters paper everyone. “Gotta love hockey, am I right? Hockey’s the best in Canada. I love me some Canada. Mountains . . .”

  “Snow,” Hawk chimes in.

  “Eskimos.”

  “Universal healthcare.”

  Wow, this kid is taking forever to move it along. I shuffle a few papers in his direction and he finally takes off. The hallways start to clear. I absent-mindedly grab my textbook and a notebook.

  “And you’re sure you can’t just sniff our black wolf out?” I ask offhand.

  He levels a glare at me. “Don’t you think I would have if I could? Remember that time he showed up in Jefferson’s backyard? I couldn’t smell a thing.”

  “Stupid freakin’ alpha wolf powers.”

  “Or something.”

  I sigh. “Where do you think the dream team is hiding?” I ask and search the corridor to see if one of them had the balls to come in dressed as a janitor.

  Hawk grabs his things too and we walk to first period. “They probably set up cameras and mics around the building. If they were clever, they could have two younger agents sneak into the building posing as students—oh, wait! That’s right.”

  “Go Team Thunderstruck!” I hold up my hand for a high five.

  Hawk almost goes for it but then leans back. “Pixies, no, you are not doing that again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “The last time you high fived me you fractured my wrist, you animal.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him and drive my shoulder into his. He almost teeters into the lockers. “I’m the animal? Let’s go, party pooper.”

  We jog to English and slide into our seats seconds before the bell rings. During my first English class there was a single werewolf. Now when I enter the room seven heads turn in my direction. Passing by I make sure to hold each of their gazes long enough to see the yellow rims in their eyes. We position ourselves in the back and I sit forward in my seat, ready to give my powers a go.

  Our teacher starts class and, to the cheers of the students, wheels in a television so we can watch a film adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. That’s perfect actually. The lights turn off and it’s action time. Hawk slides me a piece of paper I can barely read by the thin light coming through the blinds and from the television screen. It’s a layout of the chairs and he’s marked where each werewolf he’s identified is sitting. He faces the television screen but watches me out of the corner of his eye.

  I take a deep breath and focus on the closest werewolf two seats in front of me. It isn’t hard to pick him out of the crowd. He’s chewing the plastic on the edge of his binder and ripping it off with his teeth. Yeah, I’d say this guy’s a bit on edge. At least it should be easy to tell if my power works. If it does, he’ll hopefully stop going at the plastic like it’s a steak.

  My movie knowledge surfaces and I think of all the times I’ve seen the hero stretch out their hand, close those eyes, and move objects, twist metal, or levitate people. Slowly, so hopefully no one will notice, I extend my fingers and inch my arm off the desk towards the boy. My arm tenses and I concentrate—actually I don’t even know what to concentrate on except the back of the kid’s head and my disgust of him devouring a binder. At least he’s not actually eating the plastic but spitting it to the side.

  I stay that way for a couple of minutes but nothing happens. Frustration creeps up on me because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I drop my hand, and at Hawk’s questioning look I shake my head. What worked last time? I managed to calm Hawk. I kept stupid Matt from biting me. Why did it work then and not now? I didn’t really concentrate or focus either of those times—I was terrified. Terrified of losing my brother. Terrified of being bitten. Terrified of Matt turning into a monster. Was it the fear or the raw emotion?

  To test my fear theory, I imagine binder-chewing-kid suddenly transforming in the middle of the classroom, hackles rising and a deep growl churning out of his wolf throat. Then him losing control and attacking the blonde girl behind him, ripping into her, killing the kid wearing a band sweatshirt to his left. Hawk and I would rise to fight the wolf. I would try to use my power but Hawk would jump in first. He would move to protect me. My imagination soars and I’m feeding myself grisly images of my brother being torn in two.

  I shudder and force the image away. The base instincts buried deep in my bones catch fire just thinking of someone hurting my brother. I would stop that werewolf. I would stop it in its tracks.

  I hold out my hand to direct my focus towards the boy. Imagined scenario or not, this werewolf could fly off his leash at any moment and I won’t let anything happen to my brother. Not ever.

  The boy stops chewing, wi
pes a sleeve across his mouth, and sets the binder aside. He glances around as if embarrassed then ducks his head, sets his chin in his hand, and focuses on Romeo fighting someone on the screen.

  Hawk is staring at me, mouth agape but lips transforming into a smile. He holds his hands out towards me and shakes them for emphasis. You did it, he mouths.

  I know! I mouth back and duck my head when the teacher stands on her toes to see what we’re doing. We sit still long enough so her attention is drawn back to the movie. The coast clear once again, I set my sights on the next boy. I’ve got a better idea of what I’m doing this time. I stretch out my hand and focus that intense energy I harbor, that protective instinct. After a few minutes the boy stops shredding the bottom edge of his shirt and sets his hands calmly on top of his desk.

  One by one I set my sights on each werewolf in the room until their anxious tremors and twitches disappear. My skin is on fire and my face burns. By the time the movie stops and the lights are turned on, I’ve got a headache and feel feverish. My long-sleeved shirt is suddenly too thin and I curl my arms around myself. The wound on my arm throbs so I hug it even closer.

  The bell rings and it’s time to leave. I rise and flash Hawk a big smile. I’m doing it. We give each other a low-five and walk to our lockers. My next class is with Mr. Webster and my rush of victory quickly ebbs to be replaced by something much darker. If Mr. Webster really is the black wolf, then he killed my parents and has been controlling the entire town. This is going to be my boss battle. I’ve got power running in my circuits—I just hope it’s enough to take him down. I pull on my mother’s jacket to hide in its warmth.

  “I’m going to skip my next class,” Hawk whispers to me. “I’ll be hanging out right outside if you need me, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” I swallow and my eyes are drawn to the classroom door.

  Hawk shifts his jaw back and forth. “I don’t like leaving you alone in there with him.”

  “Well, tough luck,” I say even though I’m of the same mind. “Pretty sure if you marched in there we’d end up having a confrontation in the middle of the school. We definitely don’t want that.”

  “Now who’s the party pooper?” He claps me on the shoulder and pushes me towards the door.

  It takes everything in me to step through the open door calmly. My eyes instantly go to the teacher’s desk and the rest of the room fades away. Mr. Webster sits in his chair easy as you please in a revolting brown and orange striped sweater. My feet are lead and I don’t move for thirty seconds until someone bumps into me from behind. I ease between the desks and when I look back up my eyes connect with Mr. Webster’s. Every inch of me burns and the world could catch fire right there. The pulses I had let off for the other werewolves now come off me in a tidal wave. Heat shimmers in the air around me.

  His eyes narrow and he cocks his head ever so slightly like a dog before tilting his chin down until he’s watching me through his eyebrows. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth.

  He knows. He knows exactly what I am.

  Chapter 24

  Sociology plays out in a staring contest but I’m not willing to flinch. Mr. Webster fumbles through class while exchanging shots with me all via eye contact. I never thought a glare could be so potent or used as a weapon but he manages to do just that. My skin lets off heat like a furnace. Fever chills set in and I wrap my mother’s jacket closer to myself and prop up the collar.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I sneak it out to read a text from Hawk. Krushnic caught me standing around. Got kicked to class. Hiding in bathroom down the hall. U ok? I stare Mr. Webster down again until he looks away then text Hawk to let him know I’m fine so he doesn’t come storming in.

  There are a few werewolves I recognize in the room. A couple are from my first class and they’re already back to fidgeting, tearing at paper, ripping apart loose strings on their clothes, and close to pulling out their hair. Focusing once again, I try to calm them.

  For a short while I have success. The werewolves manage to pay attention to the stumbling lecture but eventually regress to their anxious states. I spend the rest of the class split between trying to burn a hole through Mr. Webster with my eyes and sending out pulses to the werewolves in the room. My chills increase and my hands start to shake.

  Near the end of class, Mr. Webster gives us free time to start on homework in groups. I remain on my own, ignoring the two people that try to invite me into their group. Once the rest of the class is preoccupied, Mr. Webster walks back directly to me. I grip my arms hard so I’m not tempted to reach up and strangle him.

  “What are you doing?” he asks quietly, leaning in so our conversation can be carried in relative seclusion.

  “What are you doing?” I shoot back. “You know, you’re pretty unassuming. I’ll give you that much. The whole hideous beachball look really throws off suspicion. I was expecting something more like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

  His face turns puce. “Excuse me? You are out of line.”

  I lean forward. Anger makes me dangerous and reckless. This wasn’t supposed to happen but now I can’t stop myself. “Is this how you get your kicks? Enslave a generation?”

  “You have some nerve, Ms. Mason, and I’ve had quite enough of your radical views on homework. I see you’ve neglected your own and refused to use this time to work with your peers. I’ll be speaking to Principal Tippen about your attitude.”

  “You do that.”

  Before he can get another word out the bell rings. I don’t move. He doesn’t move. It’s another staring match until he slides away to his desk at last. Why we can’t just arrest him immediately is beyond me. I pick myself up on shaky legs and march out of the room. My head pounds, fever chills rack me, and my skin is sensitive to the touch. Feeling wretched, I clutch my arms to my chest and tuck my chin into the collar of my jacket.

  “Hey hey hey,” Hawk says as he rushes towards me to grab my upper arms. “You look terrible.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh. You need to work on your delivery if you want to be a convincing liar.” He peers into my face so I push away from him.

  “I’m fine. We’ve got work to do.”

  I swap books and walk with Hawk to our next class. Before we get there he takes me by the arm on a detour to a candy machine near the lunchroom.

  “Seriously?” I grouse. “You’ve got the munchies?”

  “Shut up.” He buys a chocolate bar, bag of chips, and Skittles. Instead of keeping them for himself he pushes them into my arms before putting his hand on my back to guide me to our biology class.

  We sit in the rear and I unload the snacks onto our combined desk. I rip open the Skittles first and realize I’m starving. The teacher hardly pays us any attention and sets the class to work on a lab inspecting cells on glass slides. The Skittles disappear within the first five minutes. Hawk doesn’t even try taking some for himself—usually he’s sneaking part of my snacks constantly.

  “Thanks,” I mutter and move onto the chips. I munch noisily while Hawk manages the slides on the microscope.

  I’m eyeing the rest of the class to identify the werewolves when Hawk puts his hand on mine and leans in close.

  “Don’t. Not right now.”

  I pause with a chip en route to my mouth. “Why? Isn’t doing that the whole point of being here today? It’s been working.”

  “Yeah, a little too much I think.” He gives me his best impatient parent look. “I think you need to take it easy. You’re burning yourself out.”

  “What?” I shove the chip into my mouth and talk around it. “No, I’m not. I can handle a little hocus-pocus finger waggling if it means no one else goes bananas and snacks on people like they’re fried chicken.”

  “Just eat your chips, you moron.” He moves towards the microscope for only a second before apparently changing his mind and leaning towards me again. “You remember the Pale Knight comics, don’t you?”

  I shove two more chips into my mouth
. “Well, duh. The zombie knight.”

  We both got into comic books awhile back after one of the agents in our apartment building, Tory, raided a troll’s hoard and in the mess found an extensive comic book collection that he kindly gave to us to read. I always liked Tory.

  “Don’t you remember how much he had to eat because of his ability to throw those magic lances? He had to eat like a gazillion of those mystic flowers a day because he was always using that power. He burned up all of his energy.” He raises his eyebrows at me and gestures to my face. “You’ve got bags under your eyes like you haven’t slept for a month, I can see you shaking, and are you cold or something? Because it’s like 72 degrees in here and you’re wearing a winter jacket.”

  I glower at him and eat a few more chips as loudly as I can. “Are you really basing this on something out of a comic book?”

  He smirks at me and raises his hand to get the teacher’s attention. I sit up straight and push the bag of chips away from me as our balding middle-aged teacher comes over in his plaid shirt.

  “Yes? Questions?” he asks once he reaches our table.

  “Yeah, a little off topic,” Hawk says. “Isn’t it a basic fact that the more energy you burn up, the more fuel you need?”

  “Well, yes. Of course.”

  Hawk turns to me smug. “Of course.”

  The teacher chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Does this have to do with the food consumption over here?”

  “Totally,” Hawk says with exasperation.

  “Yes, well, the human metabolism continuously needs energy in order to meet the demands of the body. The more you exert yourself, the more fuel your body needs. Otherwise, the body starts digging into other resources for energy. You don’t feed yourself, your body’s going to feed off you.” He lowers his eyes to look at us quite seriously through his eyebrows as if this is a major concern.

  “Great,” Hawk says. “Thanks for clearing that up.”