Silverweed

by Dorlana Vann

  “SHHH!” She jumped up and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

  Diesel was walking from the foyer and into the living room.

  “Who was that?” Scarlet asked with excitement. “Is someone here?”

  “No, no one.”

  Scarlet turned her head toward the door when she heard a motor.

  Aiden had walked out of the kitchen and darted through the living room. “It’s someone on a four-wheeler,” he yelled from the foyer.

  Diesel ran after him, and Scarlet followed.

  As Aiden opened the front door, Diesel grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked him inside the house.

  “What are you doing?” Aiden demanded over the wind and snow that blew inside the house.

  Scarlet pushed past both the boys and walked outside into the storm. She barely caught a glimpse of the ATV at the top of the driveway before it disappeared into the whiteness. There was no use running after it. “What’s going on, Diesel?” She shut the door against the wind. “Who was that?”

  “Mr. Long from down the street.”

  “Is he going to get help?” She tried to remain calm and give Diesel a chance to explain himself. “Is that it? Is he coming back with help or something?”

  “No,” Diesel said and walked back into the living room.

  Scarlet and Aiden followed.

  “He was checking on Granny,” Diesel said, standing by the fireplace. “I told him we were fine.”

  “You did what?” Aiden asked. “Why would you do that?”

  “I have to figure this out.” Diesel put his fingers on his temples and closed his eyes. “I need time to think, to plan. They’re not going to believe me. They won’t be able to help me. They’ll lock me up.”

  “We were there, too,” Aiden said. “We can tell them what happened. We all have the same story.”

  “Really,” Diesel said. “What are we going to tell them? No one is going to believe she turned into a wild animal. All they’re going to see is that I shot and killed Gran. I need to think. We can’t tell anybody about any of this until I have a plan. I have to figure out what to tell them.”

  Scarlet said, “This isn’t only happening to you! We’re all stuck here with your dead granny upstairs! We’re all scared!”

  “I need some more time,” he whispered. “I need more time to figure out what to do. I don’t know what to do. I killed her. I killed them both. My whole family…”

  “This isn’t happening.” Scarlet glanced at Aiden. He leaned against the living room door frame with his arms crossed and his right leg bent, jittering it up and down. Useless. But she didn’t know what to do either, not really. She did know that when the cops arrived there would be questions and Diesel was the one who pulled the trigger. Perhaps not telling the neighbor yet was for the best. If Mr. Long had been alerted to dead Granny, they wouldn’t have had time to convince Aiden to take the blame and to get their stories straight.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. We need some time to figure this out. You did the right thing.”

  “He did?” Aiden asked incredulously.

  Scarlet ignored Aiden and walked over to Diesel. She needed to get him alone, so they could discuss everything. If Aiden wouldn’t cooperate, they’d have no choice but to gang up on him. It would be their word against his, a stranger to the town. Her idea was really the only sane way to play it. They would look like freaks if they told the authorities Granny had turned into a werewolf. No one would believe them. No doubt the police would handcuff Diesel, and he’d probably go running his mouth and say he killed his mother, too.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered to Diesel. “I already have a plan.” Scarlet smoothed Diesel’s hair behind his ear. When she brought her hand down she felt something wet. Staring down at her hand, it took her a second to realize the crimson stickiness was blood.

  When she looked at Diesel, his deep stare waited for her.

  “Let me see,” she whispered.

  He licked his lips and brought a shaky hand to his throat, moving his hair.

  Too much had happened for Scarlet to deny what her heart pumped up to her brain. She stumbled backward. “Oh, Diesel, oh shit, Diesel.”

  “What?” Aiden asked. “What is it?”

  She covered her mouth with both hands and backed away until she stood in the doorway next to Aiden.

  “What’s wrong?” Aiden demanded.

  Diesel’s eyelashes fluttered, and his face balled up like he wanted to vomit or burst out into tears. Instead, he ran toward them with long strides.

  Scarlet screamed and grabbed onto Aiden.

  Diesel didn’t stop; he ran past them. A few seconds later, a door slammed upstairs.

  Scarlet stayed pressed against Aiden’s chest.

  He kept asking what was going on, but he held her just the same.

  Finally, she was able to compose herself long enough to say, “The bitch bit him.”

  Chapter 10

  He Devoured Her

  Diesel looked in the bathroom mirror and faced his problem once and for all. The wound was deep and undeniably a bite mark. He dabbed it with a washcloth, wondering if there was anything he could do to prevent the bite from turning on him. He knew he should have tended to it earlier—yesterday—but hadn’t been able to face it then. It was too surreal.

  Although he had been taught from an early age how to keep bad things from happening and how not to disturb the balance of the world, his views had changed. He wasn’t sure when he’d started laughing at all his mom’s fears instead of making sure no clothes were on doorknobs, taking care not to step on her shadow, and never shooing the birds away. He even wondered if he had stared at her coldly to scare her; just to prove to her, once and for all, that it was all bullshit. Had he given her the evil eye on purpose?

  “I’m coming in,” Scarlet said and opened the door. “You okay?”

  She was beautiful with her hair pulled away from her face. Her clean skin seemed to glisten, and he wanted to touch her face and kiss her pink lips and tell her he was sorry. Instead, because he felt self-conscious, he turned from her.

  “I couldn’t find a first aid kit,” she said. “Is there one in here?”

  “I found these under the sink. I used to love Scooby.” He tried to hand her the Scooby-do Band-Aids.

  “I would help you, but eww.”

  He opened one of the bandages, realized it was way too small, and threw it in the trash. He removed his t-shirt and tore a strip from it, wrapping it around his neck and the wound.

  “Aren’t you going to put something on that, so it doesn’t get infected?”

  “There’s some ointment in the pantry, I think.” This made Diesel remember gardening with his mom. She had taught him all about the herbs and how to tend to them from seed to plant. After they were dry, he’d help her grind and mix them together for teas, liniments, and medicines. He felt a stab of sadness when he realized there was no need to build her that new greenhouse in early spring. Instead of her being the one planting things in the ground, she had been the one who had been buried. But for her there would be no germination, no flowering in the spring, only decay. He winced at the thought of her eventually rotting away in that coffin, her skin eaten away by time, leaving only bone.

  “I’m sorry about in there.” Scarlet turned to the mirror and smoothed her hair. “I know it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know why I freaked out. It doesn’t mean that what happened to Granny will happen to you. What did happen to her? That letter from your mom you mentioned, what did it say?”

  “It was a warning and an apology. She said, one week a month, the week of a full moon and when the moon is at least ninety percent full, Gran would turn into a werewolf. That is, unless she was given her special muffins made with silverweed leaves. She assured me that everything would be fine, that all I needed to do was give her the muffins—every day without fail so I wouldn’t forget on the important days. She also let me know where
to find the dart gun in case things got out of control.” Heaviness filled his head when he remembered the letter also said to use only one dart.

  “Did she say what happened to Granny? Did it say why she turned into that thing?”

  “No, but according to the legends, you have to be bitten by a werewolf to turn into one.”

  Scarlet shot Diesel a look in the mirror. “Werewolves are myths. Storybook and movie stuff. They’re not real. I think something else made your grandmother turn into that monster wolf. I think your mom played with her potions a little too much.”

  “You’re willing to believe in magic potions but not werewolves.” He was done talking to the brick wall. He walked out of the bathroom and across the hall to his bedroom. After grabbing a shirt out of his closet, he put it on and then pulled up the collar.

  He plopped down on his bed. As soon as he saw Scarlet at his door, he said, “We have to face this. I must face this. She was a werewolf. She bit me, so that means I’m going to turn.”

  “NO! You’re not.” She marched the distance to his bed. “There’s something else going on. We’ll find help. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “No, Scarlet.” Even though he saw the fear in her eyes, he had to make her understand what they faced. She couldn’t stay in denial. Not anymore. “It’s all real,” he whispered. “I will become a monster, exactly like Gran.”

  Scarlet pressed her lips together but her tight jaw trembled. Finally, she asked, “What do we do?”

  “I never saw Gran turn into a werewolf. My mom must have figured out that silverweed kept her from turning. That must be why she morphed, because Aiden didn’t give her … I mean, because I left. It’s my fault. I left when I was supposed to stay here and take care of her. I ignored the letter. I ignored my gut.”

  After a second of staring at the ceiling, Scarlet puttered her lips, twitched her shoulders, and walked to the door, saying, “I’ll go make some muffins.”

  Diesel touched his wounded neck and fell back on his bed. He tried to discern if he felt different. He imagined his blood boiling and bubbling inside his body and examined his hands wondering if the change would hurt.

  His eyes felt heavy, and soon he slept. He slept soundly, and the dreams came immediately. He saw his mom the way she had looked when he was younger: her long, frizzy hair tied back in a ribbon with a few wispy pieces around her pink complected face. Granny sat on the green lawn with chains around her ankles and wrists. His mom put a needle in Granny’s arm and said to Diesel, “This is your fault. That girl is a siren. I warned you. You know all about sirens.”

  The scenery whirled; colors and images mingled together then slowed and resolved into the dense woods on a cool, fall day. He ran, crunching the red leaves beneath his feet, chasing Scarlet through the trees.

  She glanced back at him and giggled, teased, and smiled, before vanishing.

  He ran faster, and the trees whooshed by, the crisp air filling his lungs. He felt free and alive.

  Scarlet reappeared in front of him but she was no longer smiling; he could hear her heart as it thumped in her chest, and she began to scream.

  The wind carried her scent to him. Diesel felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria and happiness. Scarlet smelled so delicious like roasted lamb and strawberry jam.

  “Diesel!”

  He jerked awake: his eyes flew open, and he sat straight up.

  Scarlet gave a short scream that cut off.

  He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked away from Scarlet, who stared at him with her head cocked to the side.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Aiden already had some muffins made. Do you want one now?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Now.”

  “Do you want me to bring them to you?”

  “No, I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.” She frowned slightly but left him alone.

  Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes as he acknowledged the remains of his dream’s desire.

  He climbed out of bed and made his way downstairs, and as he entered the kitchen, he realized the atmosphere felt different. He wasn’t surprised that he was uneasy around Aiden; he didn’t really know him. Hadn’t seen him in years. All he remembered about his dorky cousin was he’d been stuck playing with him for a full weekend when all he wanted to do was go to his friend’s birthday party.

  That Aiden was gawking at him now, like he was a freak, was to be expected … but still not appreciated. He glared back at him.

  Aiden turned his head.

  Scarlet sat beside Aiden at the breakfast table. “How are you feeling?”

  “Are you wanting to know if I feel like a werewolf?”

  “Look,” she growled, “you don’t have to be defensive. I didn’t mean anything except that you look tired.”

  “Where are the muffins?”

  Aiden jumped up and grabbed the basket of muffins from the counter and put them on the table. He didn’t sit back down but backed up and stood behind Diesel.

  Diesel could hear him breathing through his nose.

  He picked up a muffin and examined it. Funny, it was so familiar yet so odd. He had helped his mom make the muffins for as long as he could remember. She had told him they were medicine, but to him they had looked like cupcakes. After begging for one, his mom finally gave in. He never asked for one again.

  Even though he knew exactly what it tasted like, he sniffed the muffin before taking a bite. He gagged a bit on the awful taste of grass. “How much did you put in here?”

  “I followed the recipe,” Aiden said.

  Scarlet picked one up, smelled it, and made a face before returning it to the plate. “We need to decide what we’re going to do. We have her upstairs, and now you’re hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt. I’m a werewolf.”

  He heard Aiden shuffle behind him and mumble, “I’m going to my room.”

  “Stop saying that! We don’t know that for sure.”

  “Well, maybe I shouldn’t eat this, so we can find out. Is that what you want?” He threw the muffin across the kitchen. “I’m tired of you telling me that things are untrue. Open your eyes, Scarlet! You can’t be that stupid.” He tried to stay calm, but his voice cracked. “If I wouldn’t have listened to you, they’d both still be alive.”

  The look on Scarlet’s face told him he had gone too far. When she walked out of the kitchen, he called after her but really didn’t want her to turn around. He needed to be alone.

  He picked up another muffin and took a bite, forcing it down his throat. He stared at it, the only thing giving away its powers were the wilted green sprigs that speckled the inside of the bitten area. But how much power did it have? He was bigger and younger than his grandmother. He wasn’t sure the muffins in the basket would be strong enough for him.

  Maybe he should have told Mr. Long the truth. Even though he hadn’t meant to kill Gran, he thought he still needed to be locked up forever. He didn’t want to hurt anybody else. Especially not Scarlet. He needed to get her as far away from him as soon as possible.

  The weather was still a mess outside, and the cars couldn’t get out. His snowmobile probably could, if it ran. He didn’t know what was wrong with it and hadn’t looked at it since it had broken down the winter before.

  By the time he’d finished his muffin, he had decided to try to repair the sled. That way, maybe he could get Aiden to take Scarlet away from him.

  Chapter 11

  He Dressed Himself in Her Cap

  Aiden paced the guestroom. All he wanted to do was go home and have an uncomfortable conversation with Summer about their future. Anything was better than his current situation that involved supernatural creatures. But really, he wanted to see Summer’s beautiful smile and kiss her soft lips, and she would say things like, “You’ve got this.”

  He wondered if his mom had tried to call him—perhaps she was on her way, or maybe she had calle
d someone to drive out to check on him and Granny.

  Using his sleeve to wipe at the condensation on the window, he gazed out at the snow-covered cars and felt like Arthur Dent from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: The world he knew had been destroyed, and he had landed on another planet.

  “Things like this don’t happen. Come on! Werewolves! I’m supposed to believe that a person can actually turn into a wolf?” But he couldn’t deny what he had seen with his own eyes. He had been there, had seen it happen. Unless … Unless, Scarlet and Diesel had staged everything.

  What if he was the only witness to the scene of a gruesome murder plot? And now they were buying time, trying to keep him there long enough to figure out how to kill him and make it look like an accident. Maybe Diesel murdered Aunt Rose. His mom had mentioned something about money, so there was a motive. Ignoring the thought that perhaps he had read too many murder mysteries, Aiden heaved his suitcase, which he had never unpacked, onto the bed.

  If the plan was to keep him here, then the possibility existed that the roads weren’t as impassible as they had said. They could have told him anything about a snowstorm; he wouldn’t have known the difference. After all, the neighbor had made it here. Neighbor. He tried to remember if on the drive there he had seen a house. He didn’t think he had. Only woods, though he did remember a road, more like a dirt path, but maybe someone lived out there.

  After rummaging through his suitcase and then his duffle bag for a few minutes, he determined there was absolutely nothing he could wear that would keep him warm enough inside the house, much less in a blizzard. All he had brought was his lightweight jacket, which was now full of rips and tears, and short-sleeved shirts. What had he been thinking when he packed?

  He went to the closet and searched through the old evening dresses and what looked to be formal gowns hanging in crinkled, yellowing plastic bags. He did find a sweater, which had huge purple flowers, but it looked warm and cozy.

  He placed the sweater on the bed before searching the chest-of-drawers. He knew from snooping the day before that the top drawer contained socks. He looked through the second drawer: nothing but linens.