by A C Bell
✽✽✽
Peter trudged exhaustedly into the dorm building. Ben was a whiny little twit when he was hurt or sick and if Peter didn’t feel so gut-wrenchingly guilty, he wouldn’t have put up with his demands all weekend. And he still had a Microbiology project to finish before Thursday!
He passed the bulletin board on his way to his hall but halted. His attention was snatched by the word “MISSING” in large red letters. A camper, Jenny McMillan, had gone missing in the woods outside Wardsboro over the weekend. Her husband said they’d been attacked by a large animal at their campsite and they’d gotten separated and there was still no sign of her.
Wardsboro was maybe twenty miles away and if he remembered right, it was directly between here and home. Could it be the work of the same cynocephalus? Hunting wildlife is a far cry from killing people, but if it was moving north, its path would have gone right through those woods.
He whipped out his phone to google the story on his way to his room. There wasn’t a clear idea of what the animal had been. Mr. McMillan had reported it as a large wolf, but the laceration in his leg were inconsistent with a wolf attack. A cynephi had sharper claws than canines but in the dark, it would just look like a big wolf. That would fit the story.
Peter growled deep in his throat and marched for the door. His dad wouldn’t approve of Peter checking it out after what happened to Ben, so there was no point in calling him for help. As much as it made him grit his teeth, there was someone he could ask. After meeting the ambiguous ‘friend’ the lamia had mentioned, Peter considered them thoroughly checked out. He shuddered, thinking back to his meeting with the draugr.
There was no way he was calling Slade for help, so he dialed Raiden’s number.
✽✽✽
The campsite had been taped off so that the campground wouldn’t rent it out while the police looked for the girl. There were no signs of disturbance. Through the tangle of scents from the officers who had come to investigate, Peter could find no trace of the cynephi.
“We should stay together, so neither of you gets bit.”
“Your concern is touching,” Slade quipped, resting his shotgun on his trapezius.
Peter rolled his eyes and whipped out his compass. If this was the work of the cynephi, he would be moving south. He hiked in that direction. The wind wasn’t ideal, blowing sideways, so he mostly focused on eyesight and hearing.
“Have you called the SAU?” Slade asked.
“My dad did a few days ago. They just said that someone killing wildlife isn’t under their jurisdiction and that there’s no proof that it’s even a cynephi.”
“Leave it to them to find excuses not to get involved,” Slade complained.
“They’re too undermanned these days,” Raiden offered.
“Excuses,” Peter grumbled.
He trudged on, moving stealthier than the lamia who seemed to think that avoiding sticks on the ground was sneaky enough, despite how the bushes rattled in their wake or the slap of their shoes on wet leaves. He exhaled irritably but reminded himself that he’d asked them to come. The stink of decomposition caught his nose. He followed it to the body of a fox, long dead. It had been trampled, not mauled. Not what they were looking for. He pressed on.
“So.” Slade’s voice cut through the quiet air like a roll of thunder. “How’s Adeline?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Why so interested in Adeline?”
“Call me a family friend.”
“Look, I know you’re checking up on her and all, but you’re still a complete stranger. You can’t just march into her life and turn it upside down.”
“You’re just worried she’ll be pissed that you never told her.”
An unfamiliar scent drew Peter’s attention and he ignored Slade. He vaguely recalled smelling it around the dead bear he’d found, but he had been too distracted by the overwhelming smell of blood at the time. He couldn’t say if this new smell was a cynocephalus. He’d never met one. Speaking of blood, he followed a whiff of it to another fox corpse. This one had been eaten. The scent he was looking for blanketed the carcass. Lunch?
Slade loomed over him and annoyance flared in Peter’s chest. “How long have you known exactly?” the pesky lamia asked.
“I’ve never known how to tell her, okay?” Peter snapped, rising to meet him face to face. “It’s not exactly a conversation you can have over coffee. Her dad died when she was little, so he never got the chance. What was I supposed to do?”
“Something.”
“Yeah? Well if you’re such an invested ‘family friend’, then why did you wait until now to come looking for her?”
“I didn’t know about her—”
Raiden stomped up to them and shoved their shoulders to make them face him instead of each other. “Both of you shut up! We’re being watched.”
As if to corroborate this, the wind shifted. The same unfamiliar scent taunted Peter’s nose, as did the metallic scent of blood. He tracked it twenty yards off to a small clearing. A wounded fawn lay despondent on the ground. Red stained her flank and side from badly torn claw marks. Raiden moved forward to go to her, but Peter blocked him with an arm. This was a trap, though hastily set. Peter scanned the trees.
At first, he passed over the creature, but the glow of its eyes in the shade drew his attention back. At its height above the ground, the creature had to be standing, expecting the trees to block it from view.
“We know what you are and we’re armed,” he warned.
The glowing orbs rose even higher above the ground as the creature crept from its hiding place. Long clawed fingers gripped the trunk of a tree as it stood upright, easily eight feet tall. A monstrous canine face snarled down at them, its long gangly limbs flexed and ready for confrontation. Most cynephi were the size of regular men, but in rare instances, they grew even bigger in their changed form.
“Well sh—”
Raiden smacked Slade’s chest to shush him before he could finish the curse. The cynephi growled threateningly. Both lamia cocked and raised their guns. Peter drew the poster of the missing girl from his pocket and unfolded it, holding it up.
“This girl has gone missing in these woods. Have you seen her?”
The creature’s glance didn’t even shift to the paper. It stayed fixed on Peter in a way that made the hairs on his neck rise in alert. It crouched and growled again.
“Don’t do it,” Slade barked.
Instead, it feinted to the right, into the trees. Slade tore after it.
“Wait!” Peter snapped. Slade either didn’t hear him or ignored him and kept going. Peter threw his jacket off and stepped behind a tree. “Give me thirty seconds.”
“I got your back,” Raiden assured him.
Peter Changed as quickly as he could, pushing through it faster than he should have. As soon as he was done, he hurried after the reckless fool with Raiden on his tail. Following both scents and the sound of Slade tromping through the forest was easy, but then the cynephi scent broke off to the left. How could something so big move so stealthily that Slade wouldn’t have heard? Peter stopped and swung his head to the side to signal Raiden to be careful, but the lamia wasn’t there. He swore internally. Canine legs moved faster than biped ones.
Every rustle of leaves set his teeth on edge. The smell of the cynephi grew stronger, closer. Peter waited, completely still, and listened. Off to his left, damp leaves and earth shifted as feet dug in to propel a heavy weight forward. Peter threw himself to the side and rolled out of the way on his back. It was an awkward move in wolf form, but it got him out of the way as the cynephi soared past. It wrapped its large hands around the trunk of a tree and redirected its momentum back toward Peter.
Peter ducked behind a tree. No way could he fight this thing head on by himself. A shot rang out. The cynephi let out a loud, pained sound, and stumbled to the ground. Raiden had caught up and he kept his rifle leveled on the beast. Peter looped around Raiden’s legs and peered back at the creature. It was g
ripping its shoulder, its teeth bared in a pained snarl. Slowly, it began to rise. Another loud blast filled the air and buckshot sprayed a few nearby trees as Slade let off a warning shot behind it. The creature eyed Raiden and Peter lividly at being outnumbered. He bolted to the side in long strides, weaving between trees to make himself a difficult target. That didn’t stop Slade from sprinting over and letting off another shot, filling the trees with more buckshot.
“I don’t think he’s feeling chatty. Time to go.”
Raiden clamped a hand on Slade’s shoulder and steered him back toward the clearing. Peter trotted behind them, glaring at Slade’s back.
Back at the clearing, Peter found his clothes and started to change back.
“Watch his back. I’m gonna check on the deer,” he heard Raiden mutter to Slade. Peter didn’t force himself through the change so quickly this time. His raw muscles complained anyway after the stress he’d put them through before. Once he was finished and dressed, he marched around the tree to Slade and shoved his shoulder to make him face him. Slade drew in a deep breath to keep his temper down.
“Are you trying to get yourself bitten?”
“If I’d waited for you, he would have gotten away before you even finished Changing.”
“Then let him! We’re not here to catch him, just to find out for sure that there’s a cynephi in the same area as the missing girl and the dead wildlife.”
Slade stepped forward, getting in Peter’s face. “Do you know what happens now? You tell the SAU that there’s a cynephi in this forest and they’ll say that until the local P.D. finds that girl’s body, there is no case. That’s how this B.S. government of ours works.”
Raiden pushed Slade away from Peter. “He’s right, Slade, that was beyond reckless.”
Something moved in the clearing. Peter spun on it and stared in stunned silence. The fawn had leapt up and was bounding away in fright.
"Maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked?” Raiden offered.
"Weird, must be a miracle," Slade quipped. He clapped a hand on Raiden’s back and steered him away. "Let's go."
6 A Detective’s Daughter
I finally started drifting to sleep when something hit the window with a SPLAT. Was someone leaving another threat for me? Something involving fake blood? I jumped up and squeezed into the small space between the nightstand and my bed. My heart began to race as I gripped the curtain. I scolded myself. Even if there was someone dangerous right outside the window, it would be foolish for him to make good on his threats right now, with Nikki only a few feet away. And besides, with all the makeshift weapons in here, like the lamp, I was pretty sure I could take him. I thrust the curtain open.
A group of boys in their underwear were running around throwing balloons filled with water, or more likely alcohol of some kind, at each other. One had exploded on our window. A boy in light pink boxers was struck in the back as he ran by and erupted into howls about how cold it was. He grinned and waved when he saw me. I glowered and yanked the curtain shut again.
I woke up earlier than usual the next morning with a sense of urgency until I remembered it was Friday. None of my classes met on Fridays. When I rolled over, I realized Nikki was gone, her comforter laid out neatly over the mattress.
The memory of our argument returned and my chest tightened. Why was she allowed to meddle in my business by telling Mom I’d joined the academy, but I wasn’t allowed to meddle when I thought she might be in trouble? I took my time in the shower, in no hurry to face her. Eventually, I made my way over to the Aram building for breakfast. The group was all present at our table and Justin’s arm was strewn across the back of Nikki’s chair, as usual.
“Hey, Adeline,” Nikki said with a smile. “Saved you a seat, just in case you made it.” A tray was set in front of the seat beside her, topped with a piece of creamy cheesecake and cherries; A peace offering.
“Thanks.” I pushed it aside to set my plate of French toast on the table and the corners of her mouth turned down. Brandon, Peter’s roommate, and Kat were having a ‘healthy debate’ about something, though I couldn’t tell what at the moment. Everyone else was watching in amusement.
“What’s going on?” I asked no one in particular.
Justin grinned. “Swimming vs. football.”
“Ah.” Of course.
“No, no, no! You’re absolutely wrong,” Kat was saying.
“I am not!” Brendan disputed. “How can you even call swimming a sport when there’s no ball involved?”
“Ugh, why does everything have to involve a stupid ball with you men? ‘Oh, look at me! I can throw this ball!’ Oh yeah, well if we were in the ocean and a shark came after us, I’d be able to swim faster than you and you’d get eaten.”
“Really? You’re going with ‘shark attack’?” Brendan scoffed. “If someone attacked you on the street, what would you do? Doggie-paddle them to death?”
I shook my head and giggled quietly at the nonsense of the argument.
“Maybe we should talk about something else.” Peter chimed in. The two glared at him for interrupting and he raised his hands apologetically.
“Track doesn’t involve a ball either. Isn’t that a sport?” Kat asked.
“Of course. At least they’re standing up. You lay down the whole time,” he said. Kat’s mouth dropped open in outrage.
“Alright, Kat.” Andie rose with her empty plate. “Let’s go before you two start throwing chairs at each other.” With a harrumph, Kat agreed and Andie pulled Kat out of the food court.
“I have to cut out early, anyway. Lacrosse practice,” Brandon said. He stuffed the last bite of his bacon cheeseburger into his mouth and stood.
“Later man.” Peter raised his fist and they bumped knuckles.
A curtain of silence descended on the table in their absence. Nikki kept her head down, staring forlornly at her plate, and Justin watched people going by out the window as he munched on tater tots. Peter, though he didn’t know what was going on, clearly sensed the tension and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing between Nikki and me. I stuffed the last bite of my French toast in my mouth, avoiding his inquiring eyes. Finished, I pushed my chair back.
“Adeline, are you okay? You look really tired.” Nikki looked over her shoulder at me. The rims of her eyelids were red as if she was trying not to cry. My heart cracked and I nearly caved. But I couldn’t give in until she explained who she was so afraid of.
“I’m fine.”
Catching the hint, Nikki looked back down at her plate. I ignored a rush of sadness that struck me and left.
✽✽✽
The covers were pulled over my head, forming a little sanctuary to keep the world out. It didn’t work as well when the world came knocking on my door.
“Adeline?” Peter called. I didn’t move, hoping he would think I was either asleep or out somewhere. “I know you’re in there. Don’t make me pick the lock on your door. You know I can.”
A bubble of laughter escaped me before I could hold it back. “You actually can’t pick it. You need my ID.” I called to him. He gave a loud sigh of exasperation and heavy footsteps indicated he was either leaving or wanted me to think he was leaving. I closed my eyes and actually started drifting to sleep a after a few minutes until I heard a scraping noise at the windowsill. With an irritable grunt, I threw the covers back and parted the curtains. A thin metal rod was peeking in from under the vintage window—part of the ‘antique’ architecture the school was so proud of. The end of the rod was flat and bent to make the tool look like an L and it was in place to rotate the window lock.
It wasn’t that Peter was a thief or something. His father had lived on the streets from the age of about ten to eighteen after he’d run away from drug addicted parents who had kept him terribly malnourished so they could instead use their money to feed their habits. Just in case either of his sons ever decided to run away for whatever reason, he’d taught them skills like lockpicking so they would be able to take care o
f themselves. He had made it clear, under threat of broken fingers, that this practice was never to be used for anything other than self-preservation. As Peter’s friend, I would be a good sport and not tattle.
Peter flashed an innocent grin and I sputtered a laugh and opened the window. “Sorry.” His smile turned sheepish and he lingered on my eyes and nose, which were probably still pink. “I’m not here to make you talk.”
“Clearly, you’re here to rob me. I won’t resist, so there’s no need to shoot. Valuables are in the nightstand drawer.” I raised my hands to show I was unarmed.
Peter chuckled and slipped the lockpick into his boot. “As tempting as that is, I was actually hoping to cheer you up by offering to help pamper your baby.” A knowing glint sparked in his eyes. He knew he had me.
✽✽✽
“Please don’t let that jack break.” Peter’s voice echoed through the under-body of Adeline’s gorgeous 1966 Dodge Charger, which she’d inherited from her dad. She’d named it Farrah. She had an affinity for naming just about everything she felt attached to. She even named their bowling balls whenever the group went bowling.
“What exactly would I do if it did break? Hold the car up with my superhuman strength?” Adeline asked.
Peter chuckled at the level of coincidence in that statement, not that he could tell her that. “I don’t know, just don’t let this thing kill me.”
“You sound nervous. You’re not afraid of her, are you?”
He felt her foot nudge his leg and she knelt to peer at him below the bumper. “Thirty-five hundred pounds of metal are hovering inches over my head. Why would I be nervous?” Though he’d grown up working on cars with his dad, he’d always hated being under cars.
“You just called her fat,” Adeline complained sarcastically. “My offer to do this part still stands.”
“No,” Peter argued sternly. “You’re not supposed to work your shoulder for another few days. Besides, I’m cheering you up, remember? How am I supposed to do that if I make you do all the hard work?”