Then again, now that I’m here, I have zero expectations of being able to actually sneak up on Kash successfully.
“I’m going to head up front and do what we came to do,” Kash says, impatience lacing his words.
“Sure, you go. I’ll be right there,” Lynch calls after him.
His gaze never wavers from mine.
Neither of us move as Kash marches out of the aisle. A moment later, someone lets out a yelp.
I jump.
Lynch grins and walks casually toward me.
“Cookie?”
He holds out his basket.
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” He reaches down and plucks out a cookie then stuffs it into his mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.”
“You’re Kash’s friend,” I say. “From the party.”
“Lynch.” He brushes his hand on his jeans then holds it out.
“Romy.” I don’t move to take it, but he only eyes me with renewed interest.
“Kash is up front.”
“I didn’t come here for Kash.”
Lie.
“I see.” He winks. “Looking for some variety.”
Up front, someone yelps again, and the sound is followed by a thud.
“What’s he doing up there?” I ask.
“Business.” Lynch is so unconcerned it scares me. “How do you know Kash again?”
“We ran into each other the other night,” I say. “In Bricktown.”
“You’re the book grammer.”
“Bookstagrammer. He told you about me?”
“No, but I’ve seen him stalking your profile. Before this week, I didn’t think he knew what Instagram was.”
For some reason, knowing Kash checked out my feed feels flattering instead of stalky. God, was this what Stockholm Syndrome felt like?
“Listen, I don’t know what’s happening between the two of you, but shit’s complicated right now for us. Kash is going through some stuff, okay? So, just cut him some slack.”
“How do you know he’s done anything to warrant slack?”
He grins. “For one thing, it’s Kash. And for another, you are stalking him at the Stop and Shop.”
“I’m only stalking him because he stalked me first.”
“I can see you two have a real healthy relationship.”
From the other end of the store, a growl sounds, echoing through the empty aisles.
Lynch doesn’t bat an eye.
“Shouldn’t you check on him?” I ask.
“Nah. Boss can take care of himself. I do need some chips to go with these cookies though. Walk with me.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before brushing past me and into the next aisle. I hesitate but then hurry to catch up. My choices are either stick with Lynch or become involved in whatever murder Kash is committing.
“What do you think?” Lynch points to the bags of chips. “Sour cream and onion or cool ranch?”
“Garden Salsa.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “Okay, smarty pants. Bugles or pretzels?”
I smirk. “Chex Mix.”
“Oh, you’re one of those,” he says.
I put a hand on my hip, my fingers inching toward my phone. “You mean human instead of werewolf?”
If I can hit record and get him to say something--
“I was going to say salty instead of sweet. But sure.”
His demeanor’s relaxed, his words casual. Like it’s not even weird to be standing here in a ghetto grocery store, chatting about supernatural creatures over snack choices.
It makes me kind of like him, but I refuse to let myself get sidetracked. Lynch is way chattier than Kash.
“How did you become a werewolf? Were you born this way, or did you get bitten?”
He grabs a bag of Doritos and glances over at me, brows lifted. I go still under the weight of his gaze, my phone just out of reach.
“You got a lot of questions, you know. Bet Kash hates that.”
“He doesn’t mind it,” I lie, chin rising.
Lynch laughs. “Yeah, right. Like he doesn’t mind ass chafing.”
I shake my head, deciding it’s better left unasked.
“Well? How did you become a werewolf?” I repeat.
Damn. There is no way I can press record without him noticing.
“If you must know…” he says as a crash sounds somewhere else in the store. Lynch continues like he hasn’t heard a thing. “It was Lady Gaga style.”
“What does that mean?”
He leans in, a mischievous smile playing on his mouth. “Baby, I was born this way.”
I roll my eyes. His smartass responses remind me of Talia. Another point in his favor. But no. He’s not my friend. He’s my muse. My werewolf Wikipedia. My ticket to graduation.
Lynch wanders farther down the aisle, and I follow, sliding my phone free while he’s not looking. With darting glances, I swipe up on my video and press record before Lynch notices. Then I start to fire off another question, but a sudden crash behind me drowns out my words.
“Business and pleasure don’t mix well for Kash,” Lynch says almost casually. He nods in the direction of the noise which is only getting louder—and closer. “If I were you, I’d make sure not to be here anymore when that ruckus ends.”
The screams abruptly go silent, and that, more than anything, decides me. Whatever this information can do for my future, I’m not about to become an accessory to murder for either of these lunatics.
“This conversation isn’t over,” I say, inching toward the exit that I hope won’t be blocked by a dead body or something that will try to eat me.
Lynch winks. “Darlin’, I look forward to it.”
The path to the doorway is clear, and I nearly make it all the way out before a figure steps in front of me. I pull up short before I can plow right into him, and I scowl up at him.
“I’m trying to walk here.”
One look at his stormy expression, and I know my ass is busted.
“What the hell are you doing here, Romy?”
Oh, shit. He used my actual name. Not good.
“Shopping?”
His hardened expression darkens even further. “I don’t see any bags.”
“Well, I was going to get a package of Oreos, but Lynch bought them out, so…” I shrug, way too cheerful. “Guess I’ll try someplace else. Bye.”
I try to skirt around him, but he grabs my arm and spins me to face him.
“You can’t be here,” he says, and from this angle, I catch sight of the blood staining his shirt. Blood I’m pretty sure wasn’t there when I arrived.
Glancing toward the empty cashier station, I feel a sense of dread skittering up my spine.
“Where’s the cashier?” I ask.
“Alive,” he says wryly.
I let out the breath I’m holding.
Kash glares at me. “It’s dangerous for you here, Pepper. Go home.”
“I was trying to do that before you detained me,” I point out.
Movement catches my eye, and we both turn to see Lynch exiting the beer aisle. He carries a six pack in one hand and an overloaded basket full of snacks in the other.
He takes in Kash’s expression, and his smile falters.
“Whoa, this looks like a private conversation. I’m just gonna—”
He veers off toward the produce.
“Clean up, will you? We need to move,” Kash calls out.
“I’m on it, boss,” Lynch calls before disappearing toward dairy.
Kash looks back at me like he’s trying to decide what to do with me.
“You’re his boss?”
Kash hesitates, and I’m almost positive he’s not going to answer me. Finally, he shakes his head. “Not his boss. I’m his alpha, Pepper. And this is pack business. How did you even find me?”
“A good spy never reveals her secrets.”
“You think this is a game?” he asks, an edge in his tone now.
&nbs
p; “Of course not. But it’s not like I could have known you’d come in here to practice your WWE moves.”
He groans. “What did you see?”
I glance down at the blood on his shirt then quickly away again. “Nothing. I helped Lynch pick out some snacks. I just heard, you know, destruction, but hey, nothing I didn’t already know you were capable of, right?”
“No more stalking, okay?”
“Okay, okay.” I hold up my hands in surrender, mostly just concentrating on the fact that he means no more stalking him. He didn’t say anything about his friend Lynch.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” he says, shocking me with the subject change. And the fact that he sounds sincere.
“How did you know about that?” I ask.
His mouth lifts crookedly. “A spy never reveals his secrets.”
Silence falls between us, and it feels . . . nice. Like we’ve inadvertently stumbled into a truce.
In the distance, sirens wail.
Kash’s grip on my arm tightens. The peace vanishes, replaced by urgency. “Go,” he says, practically shoving me toward the door. “Now.”
I don’t need to be told a third time.
The moment I step into A Likely Story, my favorite indie book shop, the tension I've been carrying since this morning melts away. The magical scent of old books mixes with the coffee aroma from the small Cafe tucked in the corner of the building, and the combination cleanses my soul. The tension in my shoulders from my encounter with Kash and Lynch melts away now that I’m in my happy place.
I wave to the girl at the register before heading into the section for mythology and folklore books.
I browse the shelves, selecting anything that mentions werewolves. When I feel like I've got a good variety to start with, I slide down on the carpeted floor and open the first book.
It features all the most popular paranormal creatures, but the section on werewolves is painfully small with few details on their origin. I start a “no” pile and pick up the next book. It’s not any better. In no time, I’ve scanned the stack and come up with nothing.
For the next hour, I make several passes through the shelves, selecting then discarding books. I can’t help but compare what little I find to Lynch’s explanation: he was born a wolf. I have no idea if that means they all are or if it’s just him, and nothing I read helps to confirm or deny his claim.
By the time I’ve exhausted the store’s options, my back and butt ache from sitting on the floor for so long. In the end, I decide on only four books that look promising and pray that at least one of them will have the information I need.
The drive home is short, but my mind feels foggy from trying to process all of the conflicting information I read.
Some of the texts mention born werewolves. Others talk about bitten werewolves. Some say they only shift at a full moon. Others insist they can shift whenever they choose.
How am I supposed to find another werewolf if nobody can agree on what symptoms I should look for?
I need an expert, but after my little run-in today, I’m even more sure Kash is the “ask questions” rather than “give answers” type. He’s also a killer, I remind myself.
But the words have lost their punch. The fact that I find him fascinating rather than terrifying says a lot about me, but I’ve given up trying to analyze it. Whatever he’s doing, I can’t believe it’s wrong.
Hmm. Maybe if I can corner Lynch alone, he’ll tell me more.
I pull into my parking spot in front of my apartment building. I let out a frustrated sigh and drop my head to the steering wheel. Today had not gone as planned, but I take a deep breath to center myself and hop out, hurrying to gather my books from the backseat.
Unease creeps up the back of my neck, and I jerk upright, scanning the parking lot for anything out of place. I can't see anyone else in the soft halo of the street light, but my stomach knots with nerves.
I curse my overactive imagination for letting today's reading get to me.
Slamming my door shut, I click the lock on my car doors. The sound reverberates through the silence as I begin my trek across the lot. The feeling of being watched only gets worse, but each time I look behind me, the lot is empty.
By the time I reach my front door, I’m panting. My key jiggles awkwardly, but I manage to jam it into the lock and shove open the door. Moving fast, I barge into the space then slam the door shut behind me.
It reverberates loudly.
A scream echoes through the apartment, and I spin, pressing my back to the door and clutching my chest. I yelp, and my bags slip down my arms, falling to the floor with a thump.
“What the hell, Romy,” shouts Talia from her place on the counter. She’s holding one of the knives from our butcher block in her hand, and I bend over, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
“Holy, crap on a cracker! You scared the livin’ daylights out of us,” Anna admonishes.
“I'm sorry guys,” I finally manage to choke out. I grab my bags off the floor and drop them on the coffee table. “I didn't mean to freak you out. I spent all day at the bookstore, and I think I let my reading get the better of me.” I laugh and begin unpacking my books.
“What the hell were you reading about?” Talia asks, jumping down from the counter to inspect my haul. “Those don’t look like romance novels.”
“Research,” I say, bracing myself for their reactions.
Anna picks up one of the books, frowning at the title. “Why on earth would you want to read this stuff, Romy?” Then she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not still tryin’ to out that guy you met, are ya?”
I sigh. “No. I'm not going to prove that Kash is a werewolf.”
“Oh, thank God! I wasn't sure how much more werewolf talk I could handle,” Talia declares.
I glare at her, snatching my book back from her. “I'm not giving up proving that werewolves are real,” I snap. “I'm just giving up proving that he's a werewolf. My brain doesn't work properly around him. But where there's one werewolf, there's more. I just need to figure out how to spot another one safely and get away with the evidence.”
Talia and Anna groan in unison, but I refuse to back down.
“It’s not like I can take back what I said on social,” I said.
“The hell you can’t,” Talia argues. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“I’d crash and burn if I did that,” I tell her. “All I can do is keep going.”
She scowls.
The silence lingers between us as we all stand our ground.
Talia tosses her hands up in the air. “I give up.” Anna grabs Talia’s arm and tugs her toward the hall.
“We’re just gonna head to bed. We have to be at Kappa first thing in the mornin’. We're still meetin’ up at Hallowed Grounds though, right?” she asks.
I rub my hands down my face before answering. “I'm just gonna stay up and do a little more reading, but I'll meet you guys there tomorrow.”
Without a word, Talia turns on her heel and strides from the room.
“Whoa. What’s her deal?” I ask.
Anna watches her go with a grimace that matches my own then turns back to me. “She's just worried about you. We both are, honey,” she says, dropping her voice to a whisper before adding, “Someone stopped us on campus earlier and asked if we were friends with ‘the girl who cried werewolf.’ Talia was mad as a hornet. She really let him have it.”
My throat closes. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to drag you guys into this,” I mumble.
Anna waves my guilt away. “We don't care what people say, sugar. We love you. Talia is just worried the wrong kind of jerk is gonna harass you over it and she won’t be there to help. Just, promise me you'll be careful. Okay?”
“I will,” I whisper.
Anna nods and gives me a hug before heading to bed.
When I’m alone, I toss the books aside and lean back, worrying about Talia and Anna and how they’re being affected by my crusade. I'v
e read the comments and messages that some of the nastier trolls have posted to my social media, but it never occurred to me that people would bring Talia and Anna into it just for being my friends.
As much as the guilt eats me up, I also can't find it in myself to quit. All the bullying has only made me more determined to prove those assholes wrong. I take a fortifying breath and dive back into my research.
I wake to the high pitched whining of an emergency alert, and I'm momentarily confused. I'm lying on the floor with a couch cushion under my head and one of Talia’s fuzzy blankets over me. I smile at Talia’s way of saying she's not mad anymore.
I breathe out a sigh of relief as I reach for my phone. The angry siren is still shrieking, and I fumble to shut it off through bleary eyes. When it goes silent, I blink down at the campus alert, stunned. Another girl has gone missing, and the campus police are holding a safety meeting for all interested students. There's an advisory to travel in groups and carry our whistles and mace at all times.
I scroll back up, scanning the information about the latest girl to be taken, and my blood turns to ice. She was last seen in our parking lot just before I got home last night. My stomach drops. Suddenly, I'm not so sure that werewolf books had anything to do with what left me feeling so uneasy last night.
Chapter 8
Both hands wrapped around my Zombie drink for warmth, I people-watch as a few customers wait for their orders from the barista. The coffee shop is nearly empty, which is strange. Hallowed Grounds is always packed this time of day. The lack of a crowd is off-set by the campus police wandering by outside the front windows. They’ve begun patrolling on foot as well as extra units driving the campus loop, according to the alert I received this morning. The atmosphere in here and outside is tense.
My phone beeps, and I look down at the Instagram notification with a knot in my stomach. The Girl Who Cried Werewolf hashtag is not only trending, but it’s gained a spoof account on both Instagram and Twitter, complete with memes. The haters are in rare form.
On top of that, my follower count has dropped dramatically. At this rate, I’m not only not going to ace my final, I’m going to fail it miserably.
The Girl Who Cried Werewolf Page 7