by Jody Morse
“It isn’t going to be easy for you to tell her, but I know that you can,” Luke said. He reached over and locked his fingers around hers, squeezing her with his own strong hand. His touch gave Samara a sense of reassurance. He was right; she could do this.
As Luke pulled into Emma’s driveway, Samara leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the lips. “Thank you for believing in me,” she whispered before climbing out of the car. “I’m sorry about earlier. I feel so much better now that my dad knows.”
She crunched across the fallen leaves that were scattered across the front lawn until she reached the front door. Before she even had a chance to knock, the door was pulled open, and Emma’s mom, Dana, stared back at her. Her naturally fair skin had taken on an even paler, ghostly shade of white. “Samara, what’s going on?”
“Um, I, uh,” Samara stumbled over her words, trying to figure out how much she should tell Dana about what had happened. Had Emma already told her mom that she’d been bitten by a wolf or, even worse, that she had seen Samara transform from human to wolf?
Luckily, she didn’t have to wonder for long. Emma’s mom explained, “I know breakups can be rough, but I’ve never seen my daughter act like this before. I don’t know how she could be so attached already . . . I’ve never even met this Troy guy. Do you know why they broke up? I wonder if he cheated on her. Emma hates being the loser, if you know what I mean.”
Samara breathed a sigh of relief. Emma hadn’t said anything to her mom yet. Good. Shaking her head, Samara looked up at Dana. “I don’t know what happened, but I think she needs me right now. I should go talk to her, if that’s okay.”
Even before Dana nodded, Samara knew that she wouldn’t object. Unlike her own mom, Emma’s mom didn’t care if her daughter had visitors late at night. It was surprising enough that Dana was even home tonight, since she and her husband usually went away on the weekends, which gave Emma the chance to host drinking parties that helped her stay on good terms with the ‘in crowd’.
As Samara raced upstairs to Emma’s bedroom, she heard sniffles from the hallway. She knocked on the closed door. “Emma?” she called. “Can I come in?”
At first, there was no response at all. After a few moments of silence, the door was slowly opened. When Samara saw her best friend’s eyes, which were red and puffy from crying, she embraced her in a big hug.
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” Samara whispered, feeling the guilt build up inside of her. “If it weren’t for me, this never would have happened to you.”
“What are you talking about?” Emma asked, pushing Samara away from her. “How is it your fault? You’re not the one who bit me.”
Samara told Emma everything. She explained that she was a werewolf and that was why Emma had seen her shift in front of her earlier that night.
When she explained to Emma that she, too, was a werewolf, her best friend’s light blue eyes flashed with a look of disbelief.
“How can I be a werewolf? Werewolves are—they’re beasts!” Emma protested, shaking her head violently. She met Samara’s eyes. “You’re insane. Werewolves don’t even exist!” She laughed, as though she were embarrassed that she had almost been convinced so easily at the idea that she could be a werewolf.
“Emma, you’re a werewolf. I know it sounds crazy, but trust me. You’ll find out soon. You’ll start sleepwalking, and you’ll change into a werewolf and wake up outside without your clothes on, and--” Samara trailed off. How could she convince her best friend of what she really was?
“Okay, let’s just pretend that what you’re saying is true. Who would want to do this to me?” Emma asked incredulously. “It’s not like I have enemies. Who would want me to become a monster?”
“Jason would,” Samara replied quietly. When Emma stared back at her questioningly, she continued. “Jason wants to kill me, but I tried to kill him first.” Samara took one look at the clueless expression on Emma’s face and explained, “Jason’s really mad at me right now, and I think he used you to get to me.”
Emma stood up, her wrists clenched in fists. “Well, let’s go get revenge on him then, dammit!”
“I would love to, but we have no idea where he is. And you have no clue what you’re dealing with yet, Emma. Jason is crazy. He’s not just crazy . . . He’s dangerous.” Samara paused, realizing something for the first time. “And if I’m right—if Jason is the one who did this to you—we aren’t going to be allowed to speak to each other very soon.”
Emma’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why wouldn’t we talk? We always talk.”
“There’s a rule that werewolves from opposing packs aren’t allowed to speak to each other or they could be exiled from their pack. Jason wants a large pack even more than he wants to hurt me.” She paused, knowing that the next thing she was about to say was the truth, even if she didn’t have any proof of it. “He won’t just exile you . . . not without a fight. He’ll kill you for speaking to me if he has to.”
*
That night, Samara slept over at Emma’s house. She was afraid to leave Emma there alone, knowing that she would spend the night worrying that Jason would come see her. Samara also knew that she and her best friend wouldn’t be able to have many more sleepovers after tonight, so they should enjoy them while they could.
The next afternoon, Samara’s cell phone blared, waking both her and Emma up. “Hello?” she asked groggily into the phone, not even bothering to check the caller ID first. She just wanted to stop it from ringing.
“Sam?” Her mom’s voice came from the other line. “We need to talk.”
“I know,” Samara replied, sitting up alertly. “Did Dad tell you?”
There was a long pause before Mrs. McKinley said, “Yes, he’s out of his mind. I’m thinking of having the two of you committed.”
Samara had a feeling that her mother wouldn’t believe she was a werewolf so easily; her mom had always had a difficult time believing in the supernatural. “Mom, I’m coming home. I have something to show you,” she replied before hitting the ‘end’ button on her cell phone and standing up. She didn’t bother changing out of the sweatpants and sweatshirt she’d borrowed from Emma; there were more important things to worry about right now than clean clothes.
“You’re leaving?” Emma asked.
Samara nodded. “My dad finally just found out I’m a werewolf, and I have to talk to my mom about it now.”
“Should I . . . Is it a good idea for me to tell my mom?” Emma asked quietly.
“Are you saying you believe me now about you being a werewolf?” Samara asked. She had expected it to take a lot more convincing—or for Emma to morph into her wolf form and see for herself—before her best friend believed her.
Emma shrugged her fair-skinned shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t really decided yet, but I’m leaning towards believing you. I don’t know why you would lie to me. Or why you would tell your parents if it wasn’t true. And I did see that crazy wolf transformation thing you did in the school parking lot. If it can happen to you, I don’t see why it couldn’t happen to me. It must be true. I’m a beast.”
“Being a werewolf doesn’t make you a beast. I’m not a beast.” Samara glanced over her shoulder at Emma, whose eyes were filled with fear. “You have to do what’s right for you, Em. I waited until I thought I was ready to tell my parents, but it killed me to keep it a secret from them. And then they find out on their own, anyway. Well, my dad did, at least.”
Emma walked Samara out the front door. “I guess you’re right. Werewolves can’t always be beasts. I, for one, know that I can’t be both beauty and the beast.”
Samara felt relieved by how her best friend was handling the news. She’d been expecting Emma to go through a period of not talking to her or telling her that she was wrong about this. If their roles had reversed, Samara wasn’t even sure if she would have believed it so quickly.
Actually, if it weren’t for Emma actually seeing her as a wolf, Samara was pretty sure that Emma wouldn�
�t believe it either. That was the only thing Samara really had going for her. “I’ll try to call you later, okay?” she said, slipping outside. The bitter air hit against her cheeks.
Emma nodded. “Yeah, see you later.”
*
As Samara walked up her front driveway, she tried to relax. After seeing her turn into her wolf form firsthand, her mom had to at least believe that it was the truth. The question was: would she be accepting of it once she found out that it was true? There was a risk that she would disown her.
As she walked through the front door, Mrs. McKinley leapt up from the sofa and wrapped her arms around her.
“Oh, Samara,” she whispered, and Samara could hear from the sniffles in her voice that her mother had been crying. “What is going on with you? Are we not giving you enough attention? Is that what this is all about?”
Samara pulled away from her mom and met her eyes. “No, I don’t need attention. But I do have something to show you,” she said, remembering her dad’s advice from the night before.
Her mom stared back at her with wide eyes. Samara had a feeling that her mom knew what was going to happen; she just didn’t believe it . . . or she didn’t want to, perhaps.
“Do you mind if I do it in the house? It’s too light outside. The neighbors might notice.”
Her mom just stared back at her. When she didn’t answer, Samara thought about how she wanted to turn to wolf form and, within seconds, she felt the blue cloud of smoke swirling around her. As her body was lowered to the floor, she watched as her mom cupped her mouth with both hands, tears of shock streaming down her face as she cried out something inaudible.
Samara’s father entered the living room from his office, alerted by his wife’s crying.
Deciding that she had to prove to both of her parents that just because she was a werewolf, it didn’t mean she was a monster, Samara took a step forward. Her mom looked startled at first, but she seemed to relax when she noticed Samara’s tail wagging in the air.
“Look, Reed, she has white fur,” her mom told her father quietly, as she cautiously ran a shaking hand through it.
“I know . . . I saw it earlier tonight. I was a little surprised myself. I thought werewolves would have gray fur,” her dad replied, a hint of confusion in his voice.
Samara willed herself to change back to her human form and grinned at her parents as they stared back at her. She hadn’t needed to convince her father of what she was, but even he appeared to be in awe when he saw her transformation take place.
“I have white fur because Grandpa Joe was from Alaska,” Samara explained, as she sat down on the couch. “Most werewolves do have gray fur, but some have brown and black fur. It really just depends on our origins.” She turned around, pulling her shirt up so that her parents could see the paw print tattoo that trailed down her spine. “I also have a tattoo.”
Her mom gasped. “When . . . when did you get that?” Her voice was shaky, and Samara knew it was because her mom didn’t approve of tattoos.
“It wasn’t by choice. It happened when I turned into a werewolf,” Samara explained. “We all have tattoos. It helps other werewolves identify what pack we’re on. See how my tattoo is blue? It’s because my pack’s color is blue.” She decided not to explain that her tattoo was bigger than everyone else’s because she was Alpha; this was probably more than enough information for her parents to take in right now.
Mrs. McKinley opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly closed it. Hesitantly, she asked, “Why isn’t your brother a werewolf? If this is something that’s in your genes?”
Samara searched for the right words to say. She was relieved that she could finally tell her parents the truth about Seth, but it would also mean that they would know that she had kept yet another secret from them. “Seth is a werewolf. We’re in different packs. That’s why he moved out.”
“What?” Mr. McKinley eyes flashed with a look that Samara couldn’t identify. Anger or pain, maybe . . . “How is that possible, that the two of you could be in opposing packs? You’re family.”
Her mom had a dumbfounded look on her face. Ignoring that her husband had spoken, she asked “Why haven’t I met any of the people—werewolves, I mean, on this pack?”
“You know some of them already,” Samara shrugged at her mom. “Kyle’s on my pack and his friend, Josh. You’ve also met Luke before. He’s on my pack. Actually, he’s my mate.”
“Your mate?” her dad asked. “What does that mean?” Samara thought her dad had warmed up to Luke, but by the look on his face, she wasn’t so sure if he had, after all.
“It doesn’t mean much. Just that we’re meant to be together. I like to think of it as being soul mates, personally,” Samara replied quietly.
“Well, I think that’s nice,” her mom said, a trace of a smile on her face. “Luke is such a gentleman! If you must have a mate, I’m glad that it’s not one of those boys who get into trouble all the time.”
Samara grinned at her mom before turning to her dad. “Seth and I are on different packs because I chose to be an Ima. He’s a Vyka, like Grandpa Joe was.”
“Why would you choose to be on a different pack from your brother?” Mrs. McKinley asked incredulously, and the tone in her voice reminded Samara of when Samara had announced that she was going to learn how to ski. At the time, her mother had asked, “Wouldn’t you rather learn how to snowboard like your brother?”
“It’s a long story, but the Alpha of the Vyka and I don’t get along,” Samara replied, looking down at the floor. She wasn’t sure how much she was allowed to tell her parents about the werewolf world. She knew that most of her pack members talked openly about everything with their parents, but most of their parents were werewolves, too. Since Samara’s parents weren’t werewolves, did it make things different for them? She wasn’t about to say anything else until she found out for sure.
“When did Seth become a werewolf?” her dad asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
Samara shrugged. “I don’t know when exactly. People start changing when they’re sixteen, so around then, I guess. I think he found his pack around the time he moved out.”
Her mom narrowed her eyes. “Seth moving out has to do with him finding his pack?”
“Not exactly,” Samara replied, looking away from her mother. “He moved out because we’re supposed to be enemies now that we’re on opposing packs.” She paused, thinking about the events of that night—when her brother had gone against his own pack member, Ethan, to save Luke. “I don’t know if we really are enemies, though.”
When she looked back up, her mom was wringing her hands nervously. “I . . . we were going to tell you today that we’re going on that cruise to the Bahamas. You know, the one that Kyle told us Rae and Billy are going on in a few weeks. We couldn’t get on the same cruise, but there was vacancy on an earlier one.” Mrs. McKinley’s forehead wrinkled, as she turned to Samara’s dad. “Maybe we should just reschedule with all of this going on. I don’t want to leave Samara home alone in the middle of this.”
Mr. McKinley turned to Samara. “What do you think, kiddo? Can you hold down the fort here for a week, or should we reschedule our cruise?”
As Samara opened her mouth to respond, her mother interrupted. “I already spoke to Rae. She said Samara can stay at their house for the week. I told you that already.”
“That’s right,” Mr. McKinley muttered under his breath. “There’s just been so much going on since last night that I forgot about that.”
“Quite understandable,” Mrs. McKinley commented. “I think we should just cancel it. It would have been nice for us to get away, especially before we bring the puppy home and we get wrapped up in potty training, but . . . I think it’s best for Samara—and Seth—if we just stay put.”
“You’re bringing home the puppy?” Samara asked. She had nearly forgotten than her mom had been planning on getting a Yorkshire Terrier. Her mom had decided to get a new dog shortly after Seth had l
eft. Samara was pretty sure it was because her mom was lonely, which made her feel bad to admit that it really wasn’t the right time to get a new puppy. Not when a puppy might smell so delicious to her while she was in wolf form.
Samara did have a lot of control over her actions when she was in wolf form, but there were certain things she just couldn’t change . . . like the fact that the scent of animals triggered a hunger within her, or that she was drawn to Luke (or that she would have been drawn to Declan before their bond had been broken when she’d decided to become an Ima).
Mrs. McKinley nodded from across the room. “Yes, we were supposed to bring her home in two weeks once we got back from the cruise. I suppose we can pick her up earlier now that we’re not going.”
“Mom, it’s okay. You can go on the cruise,” Samara insisted. She felt bad that her mom was even questioning whether they should go on this vacation because of her. With all of the stress that her mother and father had been under recently because of Seth, it would just make Samara feel bad if they wouldn’t be able to go.
“Are you sure?” Her mom studied her face.
“I’m fine,” Samara replied. “I’ve been dealing with this on my own for a while now, and everything’s been okay . . . for the most part.” She wasn’t about to mention that she’d witnessed Lilly’s death and that she knew who had killed her . . . or that she, herself, had killed Ethan.
Samara had already decided that she wasn’t going to beat herself up over killing Ethan, or allow herself to grieve over his death. When she’d killed him, she hadn’t had a choice in the matter; he was going to kill her brother if she hadn’t gotten to him first. Still, she hated keeping it a secret from her parents; it was too much for her to handle on her own.
“I don’t see why we can’t go,” Mr. McKinley spoke up. “It’s probably good for us to get away.”
“I agree with Dad,” Samara chimed in. “Don’t let this ruin your vacation. Go. Have fun. I’ll feel horrible if you stay here and miss out on it.”
