by Tess Grant
“I was hoping we’d be able to beat these things into plowshares by now,” he said.
He’d believed in those plows enough that he’d gone looking for a message to send her from a book he’d never read. He’d believed she was going to find a way to get there.
Phinney hadn’t offered her money; he’d offered her hope.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The clouds raced across the dark November sky, shreds crossing and re-crossing the ghostly white orb of the moon. The clouds were too wispy to carry snow but it sure felt like it could flurry at any minute. Kitty blew into her cupped hands. She’d put on thin gloves, the kind you wore to get across the parking lot from the car to school not the ones you wore outside for any length of time. They were the only ones she owned thin enough to let her slide her finger into the trigger guard, so she guessed that made them werewolf-hunting gloves as well. There were certain similarities she supposed—some days high school ripped you up as well as any fangs.
She blew again. If she were moving, she’d feel better. She stood away from the big trunk she’d been resting against and started lifting first one foot, then the other. Joe’d better show up soon or she’d have to go without him. She shifted the carbine around on her shoulder, and the barrel slid against her cheek. The cold nearly burned her.
Cripes. Where was he?
Over the jostling of the tree branches in the wind, she heard it. Footsteps in the dry leaves—the crunches coming in slow measured intervals like he was feeling his way. It had to be Joe, although it wasn’t his usual jaunty rhythm. She opened her mouth to call to him, but then shut it again. She hated the way her voice sounded out here in the dark—so loud and heavy. It crushed the delicate balance. Besides what if it wasn’t him? Werewolves were people too—right up until they weren’t. She eased her back against the tree and slid the gun around against her chest. In case she needed it.
A huge crash came from about twenty feet away, then a muffled string of curse words. It was Joe all right and he’d fallen over something. Talk about disturbing the peace. Kitty slung the gun onto her back and moved out of the shadow of the maple.
Walking over to the lump on the ground, she crouched down and whispered, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Stupid tree.” Joe cussed again. “How can you see out here?” He rolled over and the leaves popped and rattled underneath him.
Kitty hooked one hand underneath his elbow. Pulling at him, she said, “You’ll get used to it. Once it snows, it’ll really brighten up out here.”
“Yeah, and then we’ll really be cold.” Joe popped up off the ground and patted his arms and legs dramatically. “Nothing broken,” he announced.
“Glad to hear it,” Kitty said drily. She turned away and began weaving her way through the trunks toward their safe zone. Over her shoulder, she asked, “Did you have any trouble getting out?”
“Nah,” Joe said from behind her. His voice had dropped a few notches. He must have felt how the woods hated the noise too. “I’m a lot quieter in my own house.”
Kitty smiled even though he couldn’t see it. It was good to have him along. “Did you call Jenna?”
“Yup. Still home as of ten-fifteen. Don’t know if that means anything or not. I barely got away. I had to listen to Grandma Bell rant about how nice boys don’t call so late at night.”
Kitty raised a branch and held it so Joe wouldn’t walk into it.
“I don’t know this section of woods.” Joe whispered as he came abreast of her. “Even though we set up here, it doesn’t look familiar at all.”
Kitty had plotted everything the spotters had sent in after the homecoming hunt. Then she ignored it all and set up their safe zone west of Phinney’s cabin. Not so far that they were invading the untouched territory on the high ground, but enough to get her feet wet. Phinney had always said the wolves would find the hunters one way or the other.
We swore we’d never go to that place again.
Kitty asked, “Does your dad have any old pictures of your uncle around the house?”
“Someplace.” Joe slapped his hands together to keep the blood moving. “Warmer clothes next time.”
“Does he have any of your uncle with his partner?”
“I’ll look.”
She and Joe wound their way toward the nest they’d set up. Even when he stumbled and there was a sharp crack of a breaking stick, Kitty didn’t care. Counting herself, there were now at least two people in the national forest tonight who wanted her alive. If he could shoot the way he had those last few times in practice, they were home free.
The tips of the punji sticks glittered as they came into the tiny clearing. Kitty slid between the spear shafts into the small opening they had left at the foot of the short rock face. It wasn’t ideal—too much of a gentle incline on either side they couldn’t adequately cover, but it would have to do. They had solid rock at their back and a ring of silver-tipped spears. She hadn’t been able to find anyplace better.
Joe slid in next to her and put his back against the wall on her left side. His foot began to tap. “What now?”
“We wait,” she said and she plopped down on the cold earth next to the rock. Her butt was immediately cold; along with warmer clothes, she needed something to sit on. “Listen to the woods. Get used to what’s normal because when they show, it’s not normal anymore.” Kitty fell silent. Time to listen.
November night sounds weren’t the usual for her either, so she took her time cataloging what she heard. It was much quieter this time of year.
The rhythmic tap of Joe’s foot broke her concentration. It was definitely not a sound at home here in the woods. Kitty grabbed a handful of the leg of his jeans and tugged. “Why don’t you sit down or kneel? It’s easier than trying to stand.” And it gets you off your feet so that you stop wiggling.
Joe eased down onto his knees next to her. She pulled the .45 out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Remember everything we went over. Safety off, where you’re aiming, all that. Just do it like you did in practice.”
Planting the .45 firmly in his palm, Kitty let go. Even in the dim light, she could see the barrel shaking. She got up on her knees so that she was even with him. If he decided to swing that thing around, she didn’t want it flying over her head somewhere.
Joe’s leg jittered next to her and the dry leaves crunched with every twitch. She couldn’t hear anything but that—a rhythmic Rice Krispies sort of sound. Kitty grabbed his ankle.
“Joe! Stop. I can’t hear.”
He stopped alright. Stopped so dead she was afraid she’d managed to put some sort of ancient martial arts move on him—an accidental nerve freeze or something.
“Joe?” Kitty whispered. She put her lips near his ear. “Joe?”
She felt the air then. It had been cold and quiet before but at least it had moved. Now it felt brittle enough to snap. Criminy. Of course, they would come now…while Joe was out of commission and she was off guard. She faced front and swung the carbine forward. A huge shadow floated midair in front of her. Too bad it was a shadow with teeth. She didn’t have time to worry if it was Jenna. She could only trust that if Jenna was in the woods, some primal instinct would keep her away from Kitty. Kitty shot from the hip, dropping the monster less than three feet away.
She went left to take the one coming in low from that direction. Joe was supposed to have that side, but she didn’t know if he did. Her second shot echoed, bouncing back to her over and over again. She shook her head trying to clear it. The echoes….
It wasn’t an echo. Joe was firing now, shooting wildly over the clearing in front of them and Kitty fought the urge to cower. She managed to snag her fingers on his sleeve and yanked. “Whoa, big fella. They’re dead.” She pointed toward where the bodies had dropped. “We need to look for any more.”
She stood up and started scanning. In the semicircle ahead of them, nothing caught her attention under the trees. She checked her own flank—clear. A quick look on Joe’s side,
and she did a double take. The shadow at the base of an old elm looked thicker than it should.
“Joe?” She put a hand on his shoulder to try to turn him. “What’s under that tree over there?” She focused so hard it made her eyes hurt.
“Look past it,” Joe whispered.
“What?” she asked in surprise. His voice had become so quiet and calm she almost took her attention off whatever was there.
“Look past it,” he repeated. “If you keep looking at it, your eyes will play tricks on you. Look a little past it, and if it moves you’ll see it.”
She didn’t know when Joe had come to the surface but she was glad he had. She directed her eyes to the trunk of the tree. She could count her heartbeats in the silence. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. By the time she reached ten, the blob under the trees pulled back and slunk out of sight. She kept counting—eleven Mississippi, twelve. By the time she got to twenty, the tension in the air was gone. Two wolves again. Would she ever get all three?
Joe slowly lowered the .45. He stared at the spots where the two bodies had dropped. “I thought we got ‘em. They’re gone.”
“You missed it. They wither away. There’s nothing left.”
Joe shoved the .45 down in his belt and Kitty grimaced. She reached her fingers over, sliding them around the butt of the gun and put on the safety. “Don’t forget to do that, especially if you’re, well, you know.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of Joe’s belt buckle.
“Hmmm. Good point.” He double-checked the safety and slid the .45 toward his hip.
Kitty smiled. There was her boy—he’d gotten lost in the shuffle for a few minutes, that was all.
Joe frowned. “What’d you think? I got a little nervous.”
Kitty pushed a smart-ass comment out of her head and replaced it with an image of Phinney teaching her. “I think we need to work on your consistency.” She paused for a few seconds, trying to phrase it differently, gave up and nodded instead. “Yup, consistency is good.”
Joe still looked upset. “Really? I didn’t do very well.”
Kitty looked up at the moon carried in the skeletal fingers of the trees. Joe may not have been everything she wanted in a partner, but he was what she needed. “I was glad you were here. You know, my first time out, I threw up.”
“Hmm,” Joe said. “That may be a point in my favor.” He grabbed a punji stick and pulled it out of the ground. “Let’s get packing. I’m freezing my butt off.”
Kitty unraveled the tarp and laid it on the ground. She grabbed a spear and tossed it in the rapidly growing pile.
“It’s not coming back, is it?”
Kitty paused to gauge the woods. “No, I don’t think so. It feels okay again.”
“Good,” replied Joe. “I gotta get home and go to bed. We’ve got that English test tomorrow.”
Kitty huffed in irritation. “Oh, I forgot all about it. I may as well stay up the rest of the night and study.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Hey,” Joe whispered, leaning across the aisle. Kids jostled their way to seats and books clunked on desks.
Kitty lifted her brows in answer.
They both sat upright to let another senior get by to the back seat. As soon as the girl had gone by, they faced each other again. Joe opened his book and found something, but shoved it back between the pages when another student trailed through.
Ms. Badgett stepped up to the front of the room. “Let’s get started, ladies and gents. We’ve got plenty to talk about today.”
Kitty opened her notebook. Her last page of notes was mostly doodles. Wavy lines with circles floated across the page. Examining it with a clear head, it looked suspiciously like a full moon hovering above a bank of clouds. At this rate, even if she could lay claim to Phinney’s money, she’d never get into college. Her grades were taking a beating.
A photograph landed on top of her notes, and she glanced at Joe.
“Buried deep,” he mouthed, pointing down. “Took me forever to find it.”
Kitty studied the photo. It’d been nearly two weeks since she’d asked for it; she’d almost forgotten. Two men—maybe in their early twenties—stood behind two younger boys wearing Oakmont High baseball uniforms. Nate Irish was one of the younger ones in front. Kitty recognized her father. That had to be Mr. Z. next to him. The hair had thrown her for a second or two; that didn’t bode well for Joe in future years.
She bent her head to examine the other two more closely, but lifted it again when she heard Ms. Badgett clear her throat. Flipping the page in her notebook, she tried to tune in to the lecture. “Checks and balances—declaration of war,” she wrote across the top of her page. When Ms. Badgett turned to the white board, Kitty went back to the photo.
She didn’t recognize the two in the rear. Flipping it over, she read the back. The photo was pre-digital with a print run number in ink across the bottom. Above that, faded and smudged pencil spelled out four names. Joe and Kevin, Stan and Nate.
Joe nudged her arm, and Kitty shoved the photo between the pages of her notebook. Ms. Badgett had stopped talking, and the class gazed expectantly toward the front of the room.
The guidance counselor stood at the door. The principal, Mr. Thorne, hovered behind her. Ms. Olivera came close to Ms. Badgett whispering in her ear. The teacher put a hand to her mouth. Thorne stepped to the front of the class, hands clasping and unclasping repeatedly. He searched the rows, obviously looking for someone in particular.
Joe leaned across the aisle. “This doesn’t look good.”
Kitty didn’t answer. She followed Mr. Thorne’s eyes to see where they would come to rest. His eyes moved fast, but he stopped scanning when he got to her. Kitty exchanged a long look with the dark-suited man, closed her notebook and stood up. They didn’t need to call her name; she knew they had come for her. Melville would be in the hall. He’d found out Phinney had left her the money.
She started up the aisle. A low buzz circulated around the room, and Ms. Badgett stood and came around in front of her desk. She looked near tears. Kitty slowed her march. She was a decent student, but not so good her arrest would bring a teacher to sobs. Checking Ms. Olivera, her uneasiness grew. The counselor stood shoulder to shoulder with Ms. Badgett, and her olive skin shone oddly pale against the contrast of her dark hair. Kitty stopped in the aisle. The police were one thing, but this united front ahead of her hadn’t come about her nocturnal activities. Too much hand wringing and not enough affronted anger.
Thorne nodded in what he must have thought was encouragement. “Kitty, we need you to step out. You may bring your bag.”
Because I won’t be back?
She turned to grab her messenger bag but Joe was already holding it out. Zoe handed her notebook over and Kitty tucked it into the main compartment. She spun back toward the front of the room. The upturned faces in the other seats were a whitish blur, and the whirl of them caused Kitty’s stomach to clench in sudden nausea. Her unease crystallized when she finally faced the front and saw Jenna in the first row.
Jenna hadn’t spoken to her since the arm-grabbing incident at homecoming, but she turned toward Kitty now. Her eyes shone wetly and her hand reached out for Kitty. Kitty held her own hand out and vaguely felt her friend grab it.
This isn’t about werewolves or Melville. Oh please, God, just get me into the hall.
Kitty felt her knees buckling. She refused to fall down here. She sucked in as much air as she could hold and hoped it was enough to carry her out the door. Weaving slightly, she crossed the threshold. She couldn’t see it, but she knew because her feet felt the bump between the low heavy-duty carpet of the classroom and the glide of the tile out in the hall. She stopped there. Her body had done what she had asked; it wasn’t going to do any more. Her knees trembled violently.
Behind her, she could hear an increasing hum that had to be the class’ voices but it was cut off by a metallic thump when the door shut.
Mr. Thorne and Ms
. Olivera came around to face her. The counselor put her arm around Kitty’s shoulders, and the fact that it held steady while the whole world shook was some comfort.
Mr. Thorne’s voice was disembodied, coming from somewhere around her she couldn’t even see. “Your mother and Sam are in the office waiting for you. It’s your dad, Kitty.”
Her knees let go. She slid out of the petite counselor’s supporting hold and hit the floor.
****
She could hear her mother’s angry voice from far away, stinging as a wasp. It poked into the comforting cocoon that surrounded her, irritating and shrill.
“What were you thinking? You could have called her to the office. But you go in there tag team and tell her in the hall?”
Kitty could feel a cool hand pressed against her forehead and warmer smaller fingers twined through her own. The darkness was receding. She didn’t want it to go. She wanted to stay wrapped up in it; if only she could remember why.
“And then you don’t even tell her. You give her enough information to do this.”
The principal’s voice responded, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Irish. I didn’t know she would respond….”
“What would you do? Next time, think before you do something that stupid.”
Kitty kept her eyes shut. She knew that tone of voice. She had been on the receiving end of it more than a few times since her dad left. She would like to let someone else stew in it for a while but decided to let Thorne off the hook. He had always been pleasant enough to her.
She fluttered her eyes and nearly screamed. Sam’s face was three inches away from her own.
“She blinked,” he yelled. “She blinked.”
Kitty raised a hand to his head and pushed him back about a foot. “Not so loud, dude. You’re in my face.”
Sam rocked back on his heels and smiled up at Mr. Thorne. “She’s okay.” His smile faded as quickly as it had come, and he threw himself on Kitty. “Dad’s hurt. He’s hurt bad. He has to go to Germany.”
