It was jarring. I immediately surveyed the outlying area to see if any students were in danger. Fortunately, there weren’t any students lingering anywhere.
“It’s a wolf!” Ivy screamed, catching sight of it, too.
My classmates all rose and bolted for the window. They pulled out their concealed cell phones and began taking videos and pictures of the wolf.
The wolf began to howl, a strident howl. It sent shivers down my spine. The scene was surreal — a wild animal roaming around campus as if this was its home. And if that wasn’t bizarre enough, out from the woods behind the gym came two more wolves and they joined the first wolf’s side.
“They’re taking over the school!” Ivy yelled.
Other windows around the school filled with students’ quizzical faces.
For some reason, the wolves were focusing their attention toward our classroom and began walking in our direction.
“They’re coming for us,” one of the students said.
Nash remained seated. I could see the color drain from his face. I feared for my ex, knowing his immense aversion to canines. I didn’t feel anger toward him but rather protection. Our windows were at least twenty feet off the ground and we were in no impending danger.
“There’s no way they can come in here,” I said, hoping to comfort Nash. “Unless they have a ladder.”
We were all glued to the view of several wolves looking up at us as if they were about to join our lesson. Cameras flashed, a few students screamed, while other classmates were calling or texting.
The scene was truly frightening. Even though I assured myself that we had a brick-and-concrete wall between us and a few feet in height, the sight of wild animals focusing their attention on us was terrifying. Ivy clung to me. Most of the guys thought it was really cool and whooped and howled. A few jocks waved and taunted the wolves.
“You mustn’t do that,” Ivy warned. “You’ll only provoke them.”
“I’d love to pet one,” Abby said. “They look so beautiful.”
“They are wolves!” Ivy said. “They aren’t pets.”
The school administrator’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Everyone please remain in your seats and in your classrooms with your doors and windows locked. We are under a Code Yellow. I repeat. Code Yellow. No one is to leave the classrooms or building at this time. We will inform you when it is safe to resume the normally scheduled day.”
Now I was frightened.
Just then Mrs. Clark returned to our classroom and instructed us to immediately take our seats. She secured the door and double-checked to make sure all the windows were locked. A pack of wolves was such an unusual sight, even she hung by the window as we all peered from our seats.
Within a few minutes, there were at least five wolves howling outside our window.
I glanced back at Brandon — the only other student who had remained seated through all of the chaos. He had his head buried in his textbook. I wondered what was going through his lycan mind.
I couldn’t imagine why the wolves were here — if it was purely coincidence, if they were lost, or if there was some paranormal connection. Mrs. Clark tried to resume her lecture, but it was impossible with five howling wolves focusing on our classroom.
“This is so freaky!” Ivy said.
“They are cool,” Abby said.
“They could rip your head off,” Dylan said.
“They must be following you,” Ivy teased me. “Everywhere you go there are wolves!”
“I wonder if we’ll be on the news,” Abby said excitedly.
I was still scared. I clung onto my writing binder as if it could protect me. The situation was so unreal. And although I knew we were safely locked inside, the threat of a pack of wolves outside our window was disturbing.
Finally, a few police cars pulled into our school’s entrance. An animal control car followed closely behind.
“We can calm down now,” Mrs. Clark said. “Animal control is here.”
We eyed the outside action, some of the students sitting on top of their desks for a better view.
Several officers stepped out of their cars covered in protective gear and using their open doors for further protection. A few animal control wardens came out of their cars with tranquilizer guns and nets.
“They’re going to shoot them,” I said.
“They have to,” Ivy said. “Did you think the police were going to handcuff the wolves and put them in the back of a squad car?”
“Let’s return to our lesson,” Mrs. Clark said, her voice unsteady. But no one focused on our teacher.
“Brandon,” Mrs. Clark said. “Please remain in your seat.”
I could feel the presence of someone walking by me.
Brandon brushed past me and headed to the window.
“Brandon,” Mrs. Clark said. “Get away from the window! You must sit down!”
But Brandon ignored her. Instead he took off a glove and placed the palm of his wounded hand on the pane of glass. He stared down at the leader of the pack, transfixed.
The wolves stopped howling. Brandon and the wolves locked gazes, as if the wolves were hypnotized by Brandon’s stare.
It was spellbinding to watch. I didn’t know what was happening, but the tiny hairs on my skin and the back of my neck tingled.
“What is he doing?” Ivy asked.
Brandon continued to stare at the leader of the pack.
“He thinks he’s talking to the wolves,” Abby said.
The wolves remained fixated on Brandon as if he was their trainer, as if Brandon was one of them and they were looking up to him as their new leader.
The police held their stance by their patrol cars, apparently working out their plan of action. The animal controllers, now at least twenty yards away, slowly crept toward the wolves.
Just then the leader of the wolves howled at Brandon.
As the handlers took aim, the pack tore off. They raced away from the campus and disappeared into the woods behind the gym.
Mrs. Clark, my classmates, and I watched in astonishment as Brandon replaced his glove and calmly walked back to his desk and took his seat.
I was dumbfounded. Along with my classmates, we were perplexed, confused, and amazed at what we’d just witnessed. It was as if we all were wondering if we had really just seen a student, one who didn’t speak in class or make himself known, communicating with a pack of wolves. We looked to Brandon for answers, but by the way he was avoiding all eye contact or questions, it was clear he wasn’t about to give any.
“That was totally freaky!” Ivy said. “Did you see what I just saw?”
“Yes! I swear they were looking right at Brandon,” Abby confirmed. “I think he was talking to them.”
The classroom was abuzz with gossiping, laughter, and disorder. The students glared at Brandon, bewildered. Mrs. Clark tapped her desk with her pointer.
I gazed back at Brandon. His face was flushed from all the attention, and he was doing his best to hide behind his textbook.
“They must have sensed the police coming,” I said out loud. “Wolves are very intuitive that way.”
Legend’s Run High was buzzing with the wolf sightings. The lunchroom was packed with students replaying videos, showing pictures, and telling their version of the events that had occurred by the flagpole.
Ivy insisted Brandon had something to do with the wolves retreating, but everyone in our group laughed at her hypothesis.
“I was sitting right there!” she said.
“So was I,” I said. “They left as soon as the animal controllers started to approach them.”
“He took off his glove — the one he always wears,” she said. “Don’t you think that was freaky?”
“Maybe he was nervous and got warm,” I said. “We all were excited.”
“He was talking to them,” she said. “Like the Wolfman.”
They all laughed again, but I remained silent.
“You have
to admit, it was pretty freaky,” Jake agreed. “Maybe it was coincidence, but why did he go up there in the first place?”
“He might have psychic powers,” Abby teased. “Like Dr. Meadows. Maybe he can give us our next reading.”
“We always thought he was strange,” Ivy said. “Ever since he arrived here at school.” She looked to Abby for help.
My friends agreed.
“But that doesn’t mean he can talk to wolves,” I said.
“Why do you always defend him?” Ivy asked.
“Yes, why?” Nash suddenly chimed in.
Everyone waited for my response.
“Because no one else will,” I finally said.
When I turned on my phone during lunch, there were at least five voice messages and a dozen texts from my mom. I immediately called to assure her I was safe and the school and community resources had done their best to protect us and maintain order.
“It’s all over the news,” she said when I arrived home. My mom left work early and had been watching the TV all day. “They closed several businesses around the school. I’m so glad you’re home safe.”
We were glued to the local four o’clock news. Animal experts talked about wolf safety, but most agreed that it was uncommon for one wolf to venture out of the woods in the middle of the day and come so close to an area with a human population. For a pack of wolves to do it was extraordinary.
The sun was going to be setting soon. I didn’t have much sunlight left before the full moon was going to shine. I was worried about Brandon and what might happen to him.
“I have to run out — but I’ll be back soon,” I said, grabbing my coat.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” my mom said. “You can’t go out when there are wolves running around. Give it a few days to see how it plays out.”
I was always well behaved and it was very rare that I didn’t follow the rules. It was as unlikely for me to get in trouble as it was to discover that a transfer student could become a werewolf. But both things were possible tonight.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I have to go—” I said defiantly, closing the back door behind me.
Chapter Twenty
Six Senses
The sun was beginning to set over the trees, and it wouldn’t be long until the rise of the full moon. I hurried to Brandon’s. I needed to see him face-to-face — and see which features stared back at me, those of a handsome guy or those of a wolf.
I found him in the backyard stacking wood into a pile alongside a small shed.
This time Brandon wasn’t pleased by my presence.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I told you I couldn’t see you. Especially tonight.”
“I wanted to be near you, just like the wolves did when they came to see you at school,” I confessed.
“You have to leave, Celeste.” He backed away, but I followed.
“I’m not going,” I said.
He picked up a few pieces of wood that had tumbled from the pile. “You have to — it’s the only way.”
“Then you will have to carry me off,” I said, finally facing him. “And I’m much heavier than that pile of wood.”
He returned the logs into the pile and stared off at the setting sun. “Celeste, what is happening to me?” he asked.
His pain and torment were palpable. I would have taken it all away if I could. I hugged him and he caved in on me.
“I don’t know, Brandon. It seems odd, mystical, paranormal. Or maybe it’s nothing at all. Maybe it’s all coincidence.”
“But I never felt anything like this before… until that day when I heard you calling in the woods. And then I was never the same.”
“It was a full moon, then. I knew it was my fault.”
“It’s not—”
I’d experienced Brandon Maddox through my five senses. One, I first saw Brandon in class that day that he transferred. Two, I heard him speak when Ivy and Abby confronted him. Three, we touched that day he saved me in the woods. Four, his scent still lingered on his shirt that I kept on my nightstand. Five, I had tasted his lips against mine. But there was one more sense I was desperate to witness; I needed to confirm my suspicions through the sixth sense — the paranormal.
“I’m not leaving,” I said.
“You have to go — I don’t know how I’ll be — or what I’ll be.”
I held on to him with all my strength. “It’s okay.”
I wanted to see for sure if what we’d experienced under the last full moon was coincidence or could be explained away by another reason — one other than legends, folklore, or predictions.
The full moon shone down upon us as Brandon enveloped me in his arms and kissed me. He was so passionate and intense, I was afraid I was going to be the one who would have to throw off my coat this time.
Brandon was kissing my neck when he suddenly broke away.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m burning up. Like the sun is lighting me on fire — only there’s no sun.”
“Just the moon…” I barely managed to say.
“You must leave. Now!”
I had Brandon’s shirt at home, so I knew last month’s episode wasn’t a dream. But that didn’t mean I’d seen what I thought I’d seen. Tonight, I wouldn’t let Brandon out of my sight. I had to see the transformation for myself.
Brandon’s blue eyes turned intensely gray. He covered them and retreated. He went into the woods, using trees to block my view. He was desperate for me not to see him, but I followed him anyway. I ran past trees and jumped over fallen branches and trudged through snow. By the time I caught up to him, his hair was savagely long and lush. His face sported that sexy goatee I’d seen before, and his well-muscled arms and chest were covered with a thin layer of hair. He let out a howl.
Like last time, I backed away. My instincts told me to run for my life.
But there was something drawing me to Brandon, to this strange and powerful figure, something more than just his magnetic muscles and chiseled abs. It was his soul.
Even so, I was scared. For him and for me.
He breathed heavily. His chest heaved; his ribs were like those of a lean animal. His stare was hypnotic; I could barely stand in his presence. I wondered if, like Juliette said, he’d carry me off into the woods. Part of me wanted to escape; the other yearned to find out what might happen if I stayed — if I could help him, since this was all my fault.
I debated running, attempting to leave the uncertainty of woods on the hilltop for the safety of my home — a simple place where werewolves were on TV or were the subjects of students’ essays. However, I knew it would be impossible to outrun Brandon. In this lycan form he was powerful, perhaps invincible, and, to me, deadly attractive and soulful.
But Brandon appeared frightened about what he was capable of doing. He began to retreat. I sensed his turmoil. I wanted to stay, but he wanted me to go.
I shook my head and didn’t move. If he had wanted to kill me, he would have tried to already. I was safe with him for now. I extended my hand to him. I tried my best to remain calm, but my shaking revealed my fear.
Brandon’s brow furrowed and his piercing fangs were shining. His gray gaze bore through me.
I took a deep breath and focused on my task.
“It’s okay,” I said, my voice quavering. “I want to help you.”
“You can’t be near me like this.” His voice was low and seductive.
Brandon was more alone than I’d ever seen him before — more alone than he’d been as a new student walking the halls of a cliquey school, more than a misunderstood outsider quietly eating his lunch in solitude, more than a guy living in a small guesthouse behind his grandparents’ home, with his father a continent away.
I inched forward. Brandon didn’t attack me. He didn’t run away, either.
I took his hand, which was sporting masculine brown hair.
When we touched it was as if I could know his soul. Feelings of love, fear, lo
neliness, and euphoria raced through me as if we were one. I stared up at him. I was attracted to his spirit as much as to his shirtless body. By touching him, everything I thought I sensed about his feelings from across the hallway, lunchroom, or class I now felt as well, magnified a thousand times.
Then my fingers grazed his palm and the raised scar from his wolf bite. It was bright red, as if the moonlight had branded its radiance into his skin.
I placed his hand to my heart. I wanted to let him know I was here for him, like he’d been there for me.
“A wolf bit you under a full moon,” I said. “I guess the Legend’s Run Werewolf folklore is true. If you hadn’t saved me, then this wouldn’t have happened to you. And then the kiss — it was under a full moon as well. Dr. Meadows warned me…” I was filled with remorse and guilt at being the one who had caused his condition. If I had heeded Dr. Meadows’s warning, Brandon would have been like any other student going to school. Instead, he was a werewolf. A tear leaked and drizzled down my cheek.
“There has to be more to… whatever this is,” he reassured me. “It’s not your fault.”
I adored Brandon’s strength, not only physical but moral.
I reached for his face. Gingerly, I touched his goatee and stubble. He melted into my tender caress as if he’d been yearning for this touch for a lifetime.
He smelled delightfully woodsy, like burning leaves mixed with frosting snow.
He grazed the tips of his fangs along the tips of my fingers. Chills danced from them straight to my pounding heart. I felt completely spellbound, as though by being together — whether in this form or his daylight one — I felt complete. Brandon wasn’t alone, and neither was I.
“Please don’t go,” I said. “Not yet.”
There was one more thing I longed for. I felt a pull to Brandon more than ever before. If only I could get close enough to him to feel his lips against mine. By day Brandon was handsome, and by moonlight he was stunningly gorgeous and irresistible. Whatever coursed through his veins to make him a werewolf also made him unbelievably magnetic.
Brandon perked up as if he had heard something in the distance. Then I, too, heard the cry of a wolf.
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