Wolf's Bane

by Kelley Armstrong

When he steps closer, I back up. I hate retreating, but I have to for the sake of my gastrointestinal health.

  He doesn’t seem to notice me withdraw. He’s too busy staring as if I’m a double-fudge banana split.

  “You are something,” he says. “I know a lotta guys want a girl with more curvature.” He gestures to my chest. “But long and lean is my thing, and you are all that.”

  “What? No. Just—”

  “Have you ever thought of straightening your hair, though?” He eyes my curls with a nose-scrunch of distaste. “It’s the only thing keeping you from being a total babe.”

  “Babe? Did you just call me a—” I clamp my mouth shut as I realize what this is. Negging. I’ve read about it in books; I’ve just never seen it in action, and I hoped that meant it didn’t really exist, because I cannot imagine any girl actually falling for a guy who insults her.

  “My hair is fine,” I say. “My body is fine. Everything about me is fine . . . except for the fact that I’m currently standing downwind of an asshole.”

  He blinks. Then amusement flashes through his eyes, and I think he’s going to laugh, as if this is all a joke, some kind of hazing ritual. But he erases the look with another blink and leans back, dark eyebrows rising almost to his hairline.

  “You could just tell me you prefer girls,” he says.

  “What? I don’t—” I stop myself. “Yes, yes, I do. If you are the alternative, then for the next week, I definitely prefer girls.”

  I walk away. He calls after me, “You don’t need to be a . . . a . . .” He seems to stick on the next word. He actually gets as far as pronouncing “cu” before stopping himself, as if he can’t go through with it. Instead, he mutters a half-hearted, “You don’t need to be a bitch about it.”

  His footsteps stomp off, extra hard, echoing down the hall.

  I shake my head. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get weirder.

  I want to write the guy off as a total douche, but between the over-the-top leering, the ridiculous negging and that flash of amusement, I can’t help but feel that I just witnessed a performance. One he’d managed right up until he tried to utter that particularly heinous word and couldn’t make himself finish the line.

  A performance for what, though?

  I back up to the guy’s hall and take a few steps down it. I look for hidden cameras, listen for snickering guys, search for any sign that I’ve just been played. Footsteps sound, but they’re on the other side of the building. I silently pad to the guy’s bedroom and listen, ear pressed to the door. Nothing.

  Okay, I officially have no idea what all that was about.

  As I turn the corner to my own bedroom hall, a girl shrieks. And there’s my brother lying flat out on the floor. Which wouldn’t be quite so alarming if he wasn’t also on fire.

  Chapter Seven

  Logan

  When the fireball comes at me, I dive to the side, only to slide on the waxed floor and land flat on my back. I do manage to avoid the fireball, which slams into the wall . . . and drops onto me. At some point during this, a girl shrieks. I’m not exactly sure when that happens. I’m too busy catching fire.

  A girl flies out of the room. I don’t notice anything about her, still being on fire and all. She starts hitting me, and in retrospect, I suppose she was trying to put out the fire, but considering she’s the one who lit me aflame, I can be forgiven for shoving her aside.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says as I rise. “The door swung open, and I was doing spell practice, and I just reacted.”

  “I knocked, which opened the door.” I shake my shirt, now sporting a scorched bullseye. “I was looking for my sister.”

  “Your . . . ?”

  “Sister,” a voice says, and I look to see Kate walking toward us. “That’d be me. Sorry, I got a little lost.” Kate brushes sparks from my shirt and then turns to the girl. “Nice fireball. As your new roommate, I appreciate your security sense.”

  The girl’s gaze flicks over my sister, and she eases back as something in her face closes. I glance over at Kate, making sure her shirt isn’t splattered with blood. It’s Kate—totally plausible. I don’t see anything to make the girl recoil, though.

  “I think there’s been a mistake,” the girl says. “I know one of the girls down there”—she hooks a finger—“said she had a friend coming later. I’m guessing that’s you.”

  Kate’s brows shoot up. “Uh, no.” She looks down the hall. “The only person I know here is my brother. We just arrived. I was heading here, and then I detoured to duck around some girls down the hall. I heard giggling.”

  “You detoured for giggling?” I say.

  “It was the type of giggling.” Kate shuts the door behind us. “There’s a certain pitch people get that means they’re making fun of someone. When guys do it, they pitch down.” She illustrates with a low huh-huh-huh. “When girls do it, they pitch up.” She gives a shrill snicker that has her roommate snorting a laugh.

  Kate continues, “I decided to skip the Mean Girls reenactment. Love the movie. Don’t want to live it.”

  “Good call,” her roommate says. “Luckily, steering clear of them is easy. I don’t think they’ve attended a single session. Today, they’re waiting for their friend . . .” She trails off and clears her throat. “They’re waiting for someone.”

  “Wait,” Kate says. “You thought I was one of them?”

  “And you’re not, which is great.” The girl holds out a hand. “I’m Holly Nakamura, and as the shirt says, I’m a witch, in case the fireball didn’t establish that.”

  Holly is our age and tiny, a foot shorter than me and half my weight. Her black hair hangs straight past her shoulders, and she’s wearing flip-flops and long shorts.

  I extend my hand. “Logan. And this is my sister, Kate.”

  “Logan and Kate?” Her eyes widen. “You’re the werewolves.” She squees and then claps her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. That was embarrassing.”

  “Hey, it’s better than screams of terror,” Kate says.

  “Still embarrassing,” Holly says. “Paige left a message asking me to keep an eye out for you. I just didn’t think you’d look like . . .”

  “Beach volleyball players?” I say.

  Holly laughs. “Uh, yes.”

  When Kate’s brows rise, I say, “That’s what my roommate called me. Right before he tried to throw me out of the room. I threw him down instead, and he figured out what I am. So much for going incognito. On the plus side, I seem to now have a private room.”

  “Who’s your roommate?” Holly asks.

  “Guy named Mason,” I say.

  She makes a face. “Ugh, yes. He’s another one who’s skipping out already, and in his case, no one’s arguing. He practically bit my head off when I introduced myself last night. The Plastics down the hall got all worked up, thinking they’d found the camp bad boy. One went at him and . . . They might be bitches, but he was just nasty. I actually felt sorry for her. Then the counselors tried to make him sit through opening ceremonies. I don’t know what he said to them, but they decided he could spend as much time in his room as he wanted. Well, when he had a room. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll go home.”

  Kate flops on the empty bed. “So he just took off?”

  I nod. “Packed his stuff and left, vowing he wasn’t sleeping in the same room as a werewolf. After he was the one who came at me.” I stop and glance at Holly. “In case you’re worried, a werewolf roomie is perfectly safe. The only thing you’ll need to worry about with Kate is snoring. If you need earplugs, I have extras.”

  Kate whips a pillow at me.

  I catch and waggle the pillow at my sister. “Way to convince your new roommate you’re a non-violent supernatural.”

  “Kate might be the one worrying about me,” Holly says. “I did just set you on fire.”

  My sister grins. “Which means we’re totally compatible roomies, considering I also knocked a guy on his ass, maybe ten minutes ago.” She
looks at me. “Remember Allan Redman?”

  It takes a second. Then I say, “The sorcerer you accidentally made out with in Portland?”

  Holly’s brow furrows. “Accidentally . . . ?”

  “I made out with him on purpose,” Kate says. “But I didn’t realize that, at thirteen, that implies the beginning of a romantic commitment. One of the biggest disappointments in my life. Not the kiss—that was fine. The disappointment was discovering I can’t make out with guys and not have them think it means something.”

  Holly sputters a laugh.

  Kate cocks a brow. “You disagree?”

  “Actually, I don’t. I’ve just never heard anyone say it. So you made out with Allan at thirteen . . . and then knocked him on his ass for it today?”

  “Accidentally. I threw open the door and sent him flying. Fortunately, he already knew I was a werewolf, or that’d have given it away.” She glances at me. “Have we met yet anyone who hasn’t figured it out?”

  “I already knew,” Holly says.

  “Right,” Kate says. “You mentioned Paige.”

  “I’m one of her new Sabrinas.”

  Kate levers up. “Seriously?” She lifts her hand, and Holly gives her a high five that’s slightly awkward, but if Kate notices, she says nothing, just starts chattering about the Sabrinas. Modern witches have little time for traditional covens, so Paige started a cyber-version. It became a coven for young witches, nicknamed the Sabrinas, after the comic-book teen witch.

  As Kate chatters, Holly relaxes. I envy my sister’s knack for this. It’s not as if she intentionally seeks out the shyest person in the room. She just honestly finds that person the most interesting one. If I try her strategy, it ends up being two introverts in the corner, making really awkward conversation.

  “This is awesome, isn’t it, Logan?” Kate says. “We haven’t met any of the new Sabrinas. I’ll have to bug Paige to invite us to the next get-together.”

  “Sure,” I say, and I mean it, but beside Kate’s bouncing, I seem even more subdued, and I can tell by Holly’s quick glance that my response is underwhelming.

  “If you have any questions on werewolves, please do ask,” I say to Holly. “There are a lot of misunderstandings, and we want you to be comfortable rooming with Kate.”

  “Which means not sleeping with one eye open,” Kate says. “Or worrying about midnight munchies. We keep plenty of food for that, and even if we didn’t, you’re not in danger.”

  “I know,” Holly says. “Or maybe I shouldn’t say that if it gives me the excuse to ask questions.” She flushes. “I’m a bit of a geek when it comes to supernatural races. Half the reason I signed up for the Sabrinas was to get access to the council’s library. Which is amazing.” She sighs and then colors again. “Sorry, my geek flag is flying high, isn’t it?”

  “They do have the best archives in the supernatural world,” I say. “Have you read their copy of Hermann Werner’s treatise?”

  “Oh my God, yes. It’s just . . .” Her arms flail. “His theories on the evolution of the hereditary races? Mind blown. It makes perfect sense, but no one’s ever explained it that way before and . . .” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve just thrown a fireball through any shred of cool I ever possessed, haven’t I?”

  “To Logan, this conference is cool,” Kate says. “He’s all excited to dive in to the politics of supernatural interaction.” She makes gagging noises.

  “That’s actually why I’m here,” Holly says. “To learn more about other races and how we can better coexist.”

  Kate sighs. “You’ve been hanging out with Paige too long. I’ll forgive you for the political stuff, though.” She eyes Holly. “How do you feel about team-building exercises?”

  Holly shudders. “That’s why I’m hiding in my room. I told the counselors I have trust issues and mumbled something about a tragic backstory. Complete lie—I have the most happily boring family imaginable—but the counselors bought it.”

  “We’ll get our own shirts,” Kate says. “Team Anti-Team.”

  Before I can comment, a buzzer sounds.

  “Please tell me that’s a fire alarm,” Kate says. “This architectural monstrosity is about to go up in smoke, and we’ll have to camp in actual tents instead.”

  “Sorry, it’s just the dinner buzzer,” Holly says.

  Kate hops off the bed. “Dinner?”

  “That’s one team event Kate can get behind,” I say.

  Holly smiles. “Then let’s go eat.”

  * * *

  I leave Kate and Holly in the dining hall. As hungry as I am, first I need to talk to the counselors about my roommate. They wanted to keep our racial identity a secret. That won’t work. Holly and Allan already knew who we were, and Mason has figured it out for himself. The counselors need a backup plan.

  I also need to tell them about my fight with Mason. Confess it, more like. Which is awkward when the reason they wanted to keep our race secret is that werewolves have a reputation for violence.

  I weave through the dining hall, moving fast and avoiding the double takes as campers notice a new face in their midst. A couple of guys head my way, as if to introduce themselves. I pretend not to see them. And, yes, I feel guilty for that, but I have a mission, and I can’t get sidetracked.

  I follow Tricia by scent. Every person has one, and I recognize it when I smell it again. I follow the tendrils and find her at a table with the other counselors. One sports a Team Witch shirt, one has Team Necromancer, and the other two are Team Half-Demon like Tricia.

  “Logan,” Tricia says, beaming, “how are you settling in?”

  “All right,” I say. “But I really need to speak to you about something. I’m sorry for interrupting your dinner.”

  “Not at all.” She pulls out a chair. “Sit.”

  “This is probably something we should discuss in private.”

  She waves at the others. “We’re a team here. Whatever problem you’re having, we’ll solve it together.”

  I glance at the table of campers right beside theirs, discreetly pointing out that the counselors aren’t the only ones who’ll overhear. Tricia doesn’t get the hint. She introduces me to her table-mates, and I cringe as they mirror her too-hearty grin. Those smiles are meant to show that they’re fine with werewolves. To the wolf in me, though, they look like frightened rabbits, their eyes screaming, Please don’t eat me!

  “It’s about my roommate,” I say.

  Tricia’s smile falters.

  “Who’d you get?” one of the half-demons says. “I thought the only empty spot was with . . .” His eyes widen. “No. You didn’t put him in with . . .”

  “It was the only open bed,” Tricia protests.

  “Mason?” the witch says. “You put him with Mason?”

  “It’s fine,” I say quickly. “But Mason apparently expected to have a private room, and he wasn’t happy. He came at me, and I defended myself, and he figured out what I am. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to be attacked by my new roommate, and he caught me off guard. Anyway, he packed his stuff and stomped off, and I wanted to explain the situation. Whoever you pair me with needs to know what I am and have the option of switching out. I don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable around me.”

  “You put him with Mason?” the half-demon repeats, as if I haven’t spoken. “It’s bad enough we have to take these guys, and you put them together?”

  I say carefully, “These guys? I understand you might have an issue with my race, and I hope that will change by the end of this conference, but clearly you’re also referring to Mason. I noticed he didn’t have a camp shirt, either.”

  They start talking amongst themselves as if I’m not here.

  I clear my throat. “Perhaps we should discuss this with Mason? Do you know where he is?”

  They keep talking. The gist of it is that the half-demon guy thinks Tricia was crazy putting Mason and me together, and Tricia thinks it was perfectly logical because no one else will want to room wi
th us. I’m not sure which is more insulting.

  So what is Mason? Which supernatural race?

  There seem to be only two possibilities. Yet Mason very clearly isn’t a werewolf or a vampire. I’d smell werewolf on him, and he was breathing just fine.

  I want to give this conference a chance. I really do believe in the ideology. Right now, though, listening to our counselors bicker, it feels like a cut-rate summer camp rather than a leadership conference. Unless the idea is that we’re so underwhelmed by our leaders that we develop our own skills by taking over.

  Paige will arrive tomorrow. Until then, I need to be the adult here. Time to find Mason and discover what he is.

  Chapter Eight

  Kate

  I’ve decided this camp won’t be as awful as I feared. Yes, the building is an affront to all that’s good and holy in architecture, and the counselors seem like walking millennial stereotypes, but that’s the sort of stuff that’ll make a good story later. For now, it doesn’t affect me nearly as much as a shitty roommate would. Sure, it might turn out that Holly leaves wet towels on the floor or uses my toothpaste, but I like her, and she doesn’t hate me, and that’s far more important.

  While having Allan here will be awkward, it gives me the chance to apologize and explain and renew a friendship. Given my track record for friendship lately, between Allan and Holly, I feel like I’ve hit a double home run already. I came here expecting to be ostracized, and I know I’ve gotten lucky so far, but that gives me strength and hope.

  Besides relaxing on the werewolf front, I can already see adventures in my future. I want to return to that cabin for more exploration. There’s a mystery there. I know it. Plus there’s the legend that Tricia alluded to. Yet another mystery. There’s also the guy with the locs—I want to know what was up with his performance. Lots of mysteries, meaning lots of opportunity for adventure.

  It doesn’t look as if we’re going to need to hide the fact we’re werewolves, which is a relief. Better yet, it’s actually not my fault. Still, I’ll be quick to take Logan’s side and point out that Mason started the fight, and both Holly and Allan already knew what we were anyway.