by Rose Pressey
As I drew near the tour group, voices chattered, so I paused to listen and catch my breath. “She’s got to be here somewhere.” Jack’s voice filled with urgency wafted through the night air.
My stomach churned. I had no idea what my excuse for running off would be. With the beasts chasing me, I hadn’t had time to think about it much. My heart rate lowered slightly and my panting became less noticeable, but my stomach churned. I was a nervous wreck. What a sight I must have been. A werewolf with a handbag hanging from its neck, loping down the sidewalk like a half-crazed woman headed to a Black Friday sale. As far as I knew, no one had seen me, thank goodness. I imagine if someone had noticed a huge creature running down the street wearing jeans and a blouse, I probably would be aware of the fact they saw me. They wouldn’t have been able to stop themselves from screaming or something.
My mind whirled with thoughts: I could tell him I’d been kidnapped and escaped--nope that wouldn’t work. Or I could tell him I got lost. Hmm. Maybe that excuse actually would work. Someone could easily get lost in a place like the cemetery. To add to the story, I could paint a picture of the whole scene by saying I fell and became disoriented. That would explain my dirty clothing.
Jack’s voice reached panic mode, breaking me from my musings. “We need to call the police now.”
“Maybe your date just left, man. Chicks are like that. If they don’t like you, they’ll dump you with no warning.” Mr. Theatrical needed to keep his two cents to himself. He seemed bitter. He should’ve made an appointment with Get a Mate.
Poor Jack--I would never do something so nasty to him. Time was running out and I needed to do something--anything. So I made my decision. I picked my story and I was sticking to it. The lucky winner was: I’d tell him I got lost in the cemetery and tumbled over a grave, hitting my head on the way down. Would he buy it? It was worth a shot.
With all the crazy shenanigans that had happened lately, I didn’t know if he’d believe my tale or simply turn around and walk out of my life forever. But I’d have to take my chances and find out. I couldn’t keep him waiting forever. However, one teeny-tiny problem remained: excess hair still covered my body. Some had faded, but not all. Thank goodness for the cover of night, because what I was about to do would get me arrested if anyone saw. Arrested for pure freakiness.
My transformation back from wolf began. I pulled my purse from around my neck and placed it on my lap. Hair from my hands vanished, but from my face, not so much. From the confines of my purse, I whipped out my trusty razor and shaving gel, then went to work. I didn’t have time for all of my hair to fade. I needed assistance. So there I sat, scrunched down on the dirty sidewalk in the French Quarter next to a cemetery, shaving hair off my face. Could things get any worse?
Actually, things probably could, but I prayed I wouldn’t find out. Trying not to cut myself, I glided the blade across my face. As quickly as possible, I finished shaving and stuffed the razor back into my bag. I pulled my compact out and studied my reflection. Dirt smears marked my cheeks. I stuffed the mirror back in my bag. Any further attempts to improve my appearance would be wasted.
Getting up from the pavement, I eased closer to the cemetery. The group hovered by the entrance and debated over my whereabouts. I’d have to tell them where I’d been--whether I wanted to or not.
My heart pounded again and I felt a lump in my throat larger than I’d ever felt before. Maybe I inhaled shaved hair. A hair ball? Nope, just the words I needed to tell Jack stuck in my throat. It was now or never. I trudged toward the entrance, smoothed out my torn, dirty shirt and forged forward, not looking back. If I’d looked back, I’d probably have skedaddled and never returned.
When I approached the cluster of people, all talking ceased. Everyone grew silent and gaped in amazement. Jack’s back faced me, but within mere seconds, he spun around. I had captivated the audience. Too bad I hadn’t intended to.
Jack’s mouth gaped and his eyes fell to my clothes. As I ran my hands through my hair, tangles stopped my fingers--the knots would take forever to comb out from my curls. No doubt I looked like hell. A hole gaped on the front of my shirt and moss from one of the old oak trees adorned my head.
“Oh my God, Rylie. What happened? What happened to your clothes? Where have you been? Are you all right?” The group stopped staring and stepped out onto the sidewalk to give us privacy. I was left alone to face the inquisition.
“I fell. The sidewalks are very uneven.” A pained grin curved my mouth. Could he sense my nervousness?
“You fell?” Jack scrunched up his gorgeous face.
How many lies did that make that I’d told him? I’d lost count.
“This place is so big, I got completely turned around and didn’t know where you were. I stumbled over a gravestone and hurt my leg.” The leg part popped into my head as an afterthought. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I could have limped in. I shuffled my foot a little to highlight my injury. He raised one eyebrow and frowned. I don’t think he bought my performance. An actress I was not.
“Where are your shoes? You were lost? It’s not that big in here.” He paused for a quick breath, then continued drilling me with questions. “One minute you were right behind me, the next thing I know, you’ve vanished into thin air. And falling wouldn’t explain the condition of your clothing.”
“It is big here, huge, actually. You’d be surprised how easy it is to become disoriented. And I lost my shoes when I fell.” I batted my lashes to play damsel in distress. If he’d seen me moments earlier with hair and fangs, he wouldn’t think I was so helpless.
He held my arms, then releasing his grip, pulled my face up to look at him. An overwhelming and suffocating feeling washed over me for a brief moment, but I shook it off.
“I was scared for your safety.”
I nodded. “I can see that. I’m sorry about the mix-up.” I looked away. “You’re a very sweet guy, Jack.”
Most men would have assumed I’d ditched them and stopped looking for me--if they’d even look at all.
“Didn’t you hear me calling for you? The whole tour group calling for you? I shouted your name. I think all of New Orleans heard me, for Pete’s sake.”
“Like I said, I fell. It was hard to call out when I was in pain.” Where was the sympathy? Why didn’t he offer any compassion for my injured leg? Apparently an Oscar with my name on it wasn’t in my future.
“Are you in pain? Do you need to go to the hospital?” His frown eased up.
“A little, yes. It hurts right here.” I pointed to my ankle and made a sour-faced grimace. What was one more lie? I already had a mountain of fibs. One more wouldn’t hurt.
“Here, sit down.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led me to a nearby bench. “I can’t believe we didn’t run into you during the search. I looked everywhere in this place. Twice.” He held my arm while I sat down.
“Well, you must not have looked everywhere, or you would have found me.” I smiled.
“I guess you’re right.” Jack scratched his head and looked around, as if trying to spot the location where he could have missed me. “Wait. How did you end up outside the cemetery? You just came through the entrance.” His frown returned.
Busted. Heat rushed to my cheeks. My mind raced for an answer. “I thought the tour had finished and looked for you guys out there.” I tilted my head toward the gates. Damn, I was getting good.
“Oh yeah, um, okay.” A dazed look spread over his face. “I wish we’d brought my car now, so you wouldn’t have to walk home. Maybe I should call a cab. You need to rest your ankle.” He pulled out his cellphone.
His way of letting me know our date was officially over. The curse was worse than ever, not even three dates this time. Kapoohy. Stick a pitchfork in me, I’m done. Lily was hell-bent on taking Get a Mate down, and the curse kept me from finding my own mate. Life really was a bitch sometimes.
“No, don’t call for a ride. I’ll be fine. I’ll put some ice on it when I ge
t home. I can walk. No biggie.” I waved it off, brave in spite of my pain. “See, I can even put weight on it.” I eased my foot up and down.
“We’d better get going then, so you can get off it as soon as possible. Here, let me help you up.”
Oh yeah, the date was over. Jack remained a gentleman, even though I felt he continued to be unsure of me and my madness. He led me out onto the sidewalk, thanked the tour guide and we moved down the sidewalk. No doubt, the stares of the group bored a hole in my back as we moved away. Jack didn’t offer to hold my hand. I felt like a monster or a leper or something even worse.
“Rylie, I don’t know what to think. Either you’re incredibly unlucky, or you’re into things I don’t think I want to be a part of--things I can’t even understand.”
Yikes, his words hurt--they literally stung my heart. He was right, though. I couldn’t blame him. I was a freak--a big hairy freak. It not only meant he was taking me home, but I probably wouldn’t be getting a goodnight kiss, either. No more kisses ever.
“I’m not sure what to say, Jack. I realize things look bad. I suppose I’ve had a run of bad luck lately. Everyone has bad days occasionally.” I turned to watch a group of tourists pass by. I kept up with his pace, in spite of my fake ankle injury.
Jack took a deep breath, then released it with a deep sigh. “You’re right. Everyone has bad luck.”
I glanced at him, and he gave a lopsided grin.
“Let’s just hope tonight was the last of yours for a while.”
“I think I’ve met my quota for the year.” I chuckled.
He ran a hand through his hair. “You really do have a great sense of humor about your misfortune. Most people would’ve lost it after just one incident. But not you. You’re resilient, to say the least.”
“I try my best.” I sighed.
We walked in silence for the rest of the short trip home. Words failed me. Sometimes keeping quiet is the best thing you can do, and this was one of those times.
When we neared the building, I caught a glimpse of the moon, and my heart did a little dance. As much as I wasn’t looking forward to the full moon, my body let me know it was. That whole natural instincts thing, I guess. Come the evening of the full moon, it would be me and a big, fat juicy steak boarded up in my bedroom. After so many years dealing with my little problem, I’d learned the best way to get through it was to hide. Take cover from the world. Jennifer didn’t come anywhere near my bedroom on those nights. I had ordered her to stay away. I didn’t want her to see my furry condition. It would only scare her.
Jack escorted me up the steps and through the entrance. I left him to his own thoughts. If he needed to think about what had happened, then it was better to let him do it in his own way.
Once inside the foyer, he placed his hand on the small of my back and helped me onto the first step. I’d forgotten about my supposed injury. I limped a little going up the stairs. But who was I kidding? My act was as see-through as Lily’s favorite blouse. After all, Jack was a psychiatrist. Did I think I was fooling him?
When we reached my door, he paused and gazed into my eyes. His expression held a look of concern, as if he tried to read my thoughts. I wished he wouldn’t. It made me uncomfortable, as if I were being interrogated or analyzed. All he needed was the bright bulbs shining down on me.
“Thank you for going tonight. It was entertaining.”
He really shouldn’t have said that. I knew it was a lousy evening and it was entirely my fault. The worst part was there was no way I could have avoided the outcome. Nothing would stop the crazy werewolves from chasing me. One thing was for certain: I needed to find out who followed me and what they wanted.
“I’m really sorry for everything. For scaring you. The ghosts were supposed to scare you, not me.”
“It’s okay. Let’s just forget about it. All right?” A crease of worry remained between his brows.
I nodded in agreement. “It’s forgotten.”
Jack leaned in and kissed my cheek. It felt as if I stood on an iceberg in the middle of Antarctica, instead of a steamy night in New Orleans.
“Is your ankle all right?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine.”
“Well, I’ll see you later then.” Jack tilted his head.
Sure, he’d see me, because he lived next door. I knew I shouldn’t get involved with a neighbor.
“Yeah... I’ll see you.” I trudged inside my apartment like a chicken with an egg broke in it. I never looked back to see if Jack watched me. I already knew the answer.
The only noise in the apartment was the ticking of the mantel clock. Jennifer’s door was closed and the lights were off. At least I wouldn’t have to tell her what a rotten lousy evening it had been.
My feet throbbed, my back ached and my eyes stung. The day seemed endless and the evening even longer. I needed rest. Tomorrow would be a dreadful day at work, especially thinking about how close I’d come to Jack being mine for one brief moment. One short-lived flash and the next he was gone. The curse had ruined it. I needed the hex gone in the worst way.
I took a shower and slipped into my nightgown. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I padded into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk. I grabbed a plate and piled it with several gooey chocolate chip cookies. The pain coursing through my body was the type even steak couldn’t fix. The only remedy anywhere near close enough to making things better was chocolate and lots of it. I leaned back into my favorite chair, curled my legs up beside me and peered out into the dark street, all while stuffing my face with sweets.
A fog clogged my brain as I stared out the window for the longest time in a zombie-like state. After cramming my stomach to maximum capacity, I placed the empty plate on the table beside me and glanced up in time to catch a glimpse of movement just beyond the patio area.
The yellow streetlight glow broke an eerie path through the darkness, and the luminosity cast a shadow along the edges of what appeared to be a human figure. A tingly feeling crept up my spine. Someone watched me.
I jumped to my feet, reached for the shade, pulled it down and scurried over to turn off the lamp beside the bed. I raced back to the window and pulled a sliver of shade to the side. The area loomed empty. Apparently, the figure had skedaddled. Maybe my mind played tricks on me. Just the stress fooling around with my head.
After a couple of minutes of not spotting anyone, I tossed the idea and climbed into bed. The little black bag and amulet from the priestess sat on the nightstand. I still didn’t know quite what to do with the stuff, but I positioned the amulet around my neck. I should’ve taken it on my date. Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out so badly if I had. Was I starting to believe in that voodoo stuff? Surely if a curse was real, so was voodoo.
Letting out a deep breath, I snuggled a little deeper under the covers and tried my best to slip off to la-la-land. Thoughts about my whacked-out life raced through my mind, and I worried about my future--a nonexistent future in the love department, and a career down the drain. Would no love be so terrible, though? Too bad I didn’t get along with cats--or they didn’t get along with me, rather--I would have made a great old cat lady. I’d have to find another animal to hoard.
Even if I did manage to break the curse someday--and that was a big maybe--it seemed inevitable I’d end up with another werewolf, and the sooner I realized that the better off I’d be. But none of the werewolves I’d met had been right for me, and trust me, I’d met a bunch of them through my matchmaking business. Yes, I realized the only option I had was to settle. The next halfway decent wolf that came along, I should try him out for myself instead of mating him with some other unsuspecting soul.
Growing up as a werewolf had been no picnic, let me tell you. My mother always had to hide my hairy outbreaks. Thankfully, I attended a private school just for werewolves, Loup-Garou Academy. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes my life could be fun, like the year I won the contest for best Halloween costume. The judges said my getup was the most realis
tic they’d ever seen. Being a werewolf was a lot of pressure for a little kid, though.
I flipped to the other side of my bed, fluffed my pillow and snuggled down again. I tried counting sheep, but that didn’t work, either. The scene of werewolves attacking me played on a loop through my head. Along with the way Jack reacted to my brief disappearance. I tossed to the other side of the bed, and more thoughts rushed through. Could Lily singlehandedly put me out of business? All because of one bad match-up? Others had had bad dates and not complained, but they weren’t Lily. She was special, and not in a good way.
Finally, the racing thoughts eased from my head. An hour passed with me twisted in my sheets. Sleep had almost taken over when a loud crash ricocheted up into my room from below.
Chapter 11
How to Date a Werewolf Rule # 11:
Don’t ask if having sex with a werewolf will make you a werewolf. It won’t.
I listened for the noise to repeat. Silence filled the room except for the faint dripping from the bathroom faucet. Seconds slipped by with no other sounds. I closed my eyes, attempted to forget the distraction and catch my forty winks. But another thud made my lids shoot open.
It could have been movement on the street below, but I didn’t think so. The bang sounded as if it had come from downstairs, smack-dab in the middle of my office. My pulse raced. I lay as motionless as possible, hoping the racket had been a car door slamming and nothing else. Thump. There it was again, and this time I was positive it came from my office.
A niggle of fear inched up my spine. Something had fallen over with a crash--someone was down there messing around, and I had a sneaking feeling I knew who it was.
The moon shone through the sliver in the window shade--it would be full soon. I’d have no choice but transform then. One bout as a werewolf a month was more than enough for me, and I exceeded my quota already. And tonight I decided to make an effort to avoid it, even though Lily tried her best to get me to come to blows with her. I had to conserve my energy.
