Freeks

by Amanda Hocking

  I looked back at him, into his beautiful golden eyes, and now I understood exactly what I felt when I met him. I’d sensed that I should be afraid of him, and I could never understand why.

  And still, even though I knew exactly who and what he was now, I couldn’t make myself be afraid of him. In his eyes, I saw the same guy that I’d been falling for, the guy who made my heart race when he held my hand, the guy who cared for me without judgment and without conditions.

  But I couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine. We couldn’t just go back to the way things were, not when I still didn’t know who or what was hunting us.

  “So you’re saying that you have no idea who killed my friend Blossom?” I pointed toward the window, to where I’d seen her body before we came into the trailer. “That you didn’t have anything to do with it?”

  “No!” Gabe insisted emphatically. “I’m sorry for your loss and everything, but I don’t even know who Blossom is, and I’ve never killed anybody.”

  “What about your family? Could they have done that?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. And whatever that was that I fought in the woods, I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t like any other werewolf I’ve ever met. It was … darkness. I could feel it pulling me in, like it was sucking out my soul through my skin.”

  He shivered visibly then, and I wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t know how. I wasn’t sure if I should touch him, or throw him out. Everything felt so off it was hard to know what to think.

  “Why didn’t you come see me today?” I asked.

  “After what happened to Luka last night, I was afraid that my family was somehow involved,” Gabe explained. “My mom and sister both insisted they didn’t have anything to do with it, but I came out tonight to see for sure. I had to make sure that I was safe for you before I came around again.”

  “I was afraid you’d changed your mind about me.”

  “No, Mara.” He stepped closer to me and put his hand on my face, cradling it. “I’ll never change my mind about you.”

  I looked up into his eyes, and I wanted to kiss him so badly then, as badly as I’ve ever wanted to, but the moment felt wrong. Everything felt wrong tonight. I lowered my eyes, so he moved back from me.

  “I just need some time to think,” I said. “The past twenty-four hours have been maddening, and I haven’t slept much.”

  “No, of course. This has to be so much for you to take in.” He took a step back toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

  “Thank you.”

  He paused before he left. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though?”

  I nodded. “I think I would like that.”

  He offered me a small smile before leaving. As soon as he was gone, I started crying, and I wasn’t even completely sure why. Blossom’s death, the faded adrenaline, the monster lurking in the words, his status as a werewolf. It was all too much.

  I went back to my room and collapsed on my bed. A few minutes later, I heard the front door creak open, and footsteps quietly padded toward me. I could smell the incense on her clothes, so I knew it was my mom before she said anything.

  She climbed into bed beside me, wrapping her arms around me and holding me close like she had when I was a little girl.

  “I love you, qamari,” she whispered.

  “I love you, Mom,” I said between sniffles.

  “Is there anything I can help with?”

  “I don’t know.” I wiped at my eyes. “Everything is just too much.”

  “Don’t worry about it now.” She stroked my hair. “Get some sleep, and we will find a way to sort this all out in the morning. Everything always looks better in the light of day.”

  50. the sun

  My mom was wrong.

  When I woke up, the sunlight stung my eyes. My entire body ached like I’d been through a train wreck, and it took all my effort to pull myself out of bed. Mom was still sleeping, but she’d moved over to her own bed sometime in the night.

  I went into the kitchen to brew myself a pot of coffee and to attempt to come up with a plan about what to do next. It wasn’t even seven in the morning yet, and through the window above the sink, I saw Roxie sitting at the picnic table smoking a cigarette.

  I poured two cups of coffee—one for me and one for her—and opened the door to the Winnebago and nearly tripped over Gabe. He was curled up on the ground, using a packing blanket for covers, and he sat up with a start when I almost stepped on him.

  “Your boyfriend spent the night sleeping outside your door,” Roxie commented dryly. “I haven’t decided if that’s romantic or creepy yet.” She flicked her ashes. “Maybe both.”

  “Sorry,” Gabe said as he clambered to his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I thought if the thing decided to come back, I wanted to be here.”

  “Gabe!” I gasped. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

  “I’m okay,” he insisted with a subtle curve at the edge of his lips.

  Last night, he’d been subdued and apologetic, but he seemed more relaxed now, probably in relief that we’d survived and I didn’t hate him. The glimmer had returned to his eyes, and there was a grace to his long limbs as he brushed away the grass stuck to his bare skin.

  I set one of my cups of coffee on the step so I could help him, my fingers brushing against his abs, and I was surprised by how warm his skin felt after spending the night sleeping in the grass. I think I’d read somewhere that werewolves ran hot, and that explained the constant fiery temperature of his flesh.

  When I went to pick a blade of grass from his chest just above his heart, Gabe put his hand over mine and gently held it in place. His heart pounded quickly beneath the palm of my hand, beating the same way it had when we laid together the night before last.

  It was a quiet but powerful reminder that Gabe was still Gabe.

  “But since you’re okay, I should probably get home and put some clothes on,” he said, with a light teasing in his voice.

  “I suppose that you probably should,” I agreed half-heartedly.

  When he spoke again, all joking had disappeared. “I was thinking that you should come over and talk to my parents. They know more about all of … my legacy, especially my mom, and she might have some insight about what’s happening here.”

  “Sure.” I nodded, ignoring how uneasy the thought of talking to his mom about all of this made me feel.

  “You wanna come over around eleven?” he suggested, and I nodded again. “Good. I’ll see you soon, then.”

  He let go of my hand, then briefly but wonderfully pressed his lips to mine. He walked off, presumably toward his car parked in the fairground parking lot, and offered Roxie an awkward wave as he did.

  I grabbed the coffee and went over to where Roxie was stubbing out her cigarette. The hood of her sweatshirt was pulled up, but her bright blond hair poked out around the edges. Based on the neon color of the sweatshirt, I guessed that she’d borrowed it from Hutch. Her eyes were red from crying, and her cheeks were uncharacteristically puffy.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked as I handed her a mug.

  “Oh, I’ve had better mornings.” She sipped her coffee and took a deep breath. “I think I always knew Blossom wasn’t coming back.”

  “Really?” I asked in surprise. “You seemed the most convinced that everything was fine.”

  Whenever I mentioned the possibility that Blossom might be missing, Roxie was always quick to come up with a reasonable explanation about where Blossom might be.

  “Denial is how I cope. If I just deny everything, it can’t hurt me, right?” She laughed darkly. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t face the thought of losing somebody else I cared about.”

  I rubbed her back, and Roxie leaned over, resting her head on my shoulder before saying, “I think we’re gonna cremate her. Blossom told me and Carrie once that if she ever died, she wanted her ashes spread over a field of flowers. So that’s wh
at I think we’re gonna do.”

  “So is Gideon planning to call the police?” I asked.

  “No,” Roxie said. “We know how she died, and we don’t want to deal with the assholes that live here. They’d probably just take her body and send it back to her stupid hippie drug-addict parents, assuming they even found them, and Blossom hated her parents. She wouldn’t want to go back to them.”

  She sniffled, then went on, “We were thinking we’d have, like, a ceremony or something tomorrow before we left.”

  “I think Blossom would like that,” I said.

  Roxie sat up a little and peered at me from under her hood. “Did I hear you correctly last night? Blossom’s been talking to you?”

  “Yeah, she has. I didn’t realize it at first, but I think she’s just been trying to watch out for us,” I explained.

  “Does she sound okay? Like, do you think she’s happy?” Roxie asked.

  “I mean, it’s hard to tell when she’s just telling me to run for my life,” I admitted. “But I saw her last night, in the woods, and she looked okay. She looked like Blossom. My mom can probably help you talk to her, if you want.”

  Roxie nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Do you know what Gideon has planned for today?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Roxie shook her head. “But we only have to stay here one more night, and then we get paid and we can get out of here for good. If we can just keep that thing at bay for one more night, we’re golden.”

  “Only one more night,” I murmured, and I’d never been so happy and so sad to leave a place.

  51. cursed

  The cast-iron wolf head glared out at me from the bloodred door, and I stayed frozen on the porch outside of the Brawley mansion. A warm breeze blew by, ruffling my dress and making the long branches of the willows dance and groan.

  When I reached Gabe’s house, my grandma Basima had returned to scream inside my head, idhhabee min honaa. Her voice sent an ice-cold chill all the way through me. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t want her yelling at me or scaring me or freezing me out anymore.

  “It’s okay, Grandma Basima,” I whispered. “I know Gabe’s a werewolf, and I can handle it.”

  No, Mara, idhhabee min honaa. Her voice sounded like it was right in my ear.

  I closed my eyes, trying to will her away, but I saw enough from my mom dealing with spirits to know that they didn’t just go away because you wanted them to.

  “Please, Grandma,” I said quietly. “You have to let me handle this on my own.”

  He is more dangerous than you know! Basima shouted in English this time, and the words echoed painfully through my skull.

  The front door creaked open, and I rushed to compose myself so I didn’t look like a crazy person. But based on the confused look Gabe was giving me, it hadn’t worked.

  “Were you just talking to someone?” he asked, glancing around the empty porch.

  I shook my head. “Nope. It’s just me.”

  He cocked his head when he looked back at me. “You know I have super hearing, right? It’s a werewolf thing.” He motioned to his ears. “So I heard you saying something.”

  I took a deep breath and decided it was time for us to get all the secrets out in the open. He’d told me he was a werewolf, so he couldn’t react that badly if he found out that I was a necromancer.

  “I was just talking to my grandma,” I explained, causing Gabe to look around again. “She’s dead.” His head snapped back toward me and his eyes widened. “I’m a necromancer, and so is my mom.”

  For a moment, he said nothing. He just stared at me with his jaw slightly open.

  “My parents are out having brunch with the mayor and the sheriff, so why don’t you come inside and we can talk about this all before they get home?” He stepped back and opened the door wider.

  He led me into his living room, where we sat together on the bright red sofa, and I proceeded to tell him everything I knew about necromancy, and although my abilities were only just manifesting, I had a sense of what they would be because of my mom’s experiences.

  Gabe took it all well, nodding and asking a few questions. So I decided to plunge on ahead and tell him that I wasn’t the only one who had special powers, and that really got his eyes to widen.

  “This is all so crazy.” He leaned back on the sofa and stared off into space. “I’ve always suspected that we couldn’t be the only ones. I mean, if werewolves are real, then that means that there’s probably all kinds of other things out there. But I’ve just never met any.”

  “It’s hard to bring up in conversation,” I agreed. “People don’t always react well to things they don’t understand, and you never know who to trust.”

  “Yeah, exactly.” Gabe nodded. “My mom used to tell me horror stories about our ancestors being hunted and murdered.”

  “It’s hard to find people that accept you when you’re like us,” I agreed.

  Gabe had been staring off, but he looked at me then. He moved closer so his knee pressed against mine, and took my hand in his. His eyes met mine, burning with something more powerful than lust.

  “I don’t want you to go tomorrow,” he said, with the earnestness in his words verging on pleading.

  “Gabe—”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you or had a connection with anyone the way I do with you,” he said, interrupting my protests. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  I shook my head, forcing myself to ignore the pain in my heart. “It’s not just that my family, my friends, my whole life is leaving tomorrow. But there’s a monster here trying to kill me. I can’t stay.”

  “What if the monster goes away?” Gabe asked.

  “How?” I asked. “We don’t even know what it is or what it wants, let alone how to stop it or make it go away.”

  “When I was a wolf, I was able to chase it off,” Gabe said hurriedly. “Maybe my mom and Selena can help, or maybe they’ll know something that I don’t. I don’t know. But we can’t live here with that monster either.”

  I hesitated before saying, “Even if that’s true, even if you can stop it—and that’s a really big ‘if’—I don’t know.”

  “I don’t want to force you or anything,” he said. “I just want you to consider staying with me longer.”

  “I’ll consider it but … I can’t make any promises. You’re asking me to give up the only life I’ve known, you know?”

  “I do.” Gabe lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be pressuring you like this. There’s too much going on, and who knows what the night will bring.”

  We might not even survive the night, I thought, but I didn’t say it aloud. It only made everything more confusing and terrifying.

  On another day, in another place, I would’ve been thrilled by the prospect of setting up in a real house with a real life with someone who I was crazy about.

  But that was before I realized that I was a necromancer, like my mom and my grandma before her, and I knew the insanity and dangers that went along with it. Not to mention the darkness that seemed to envelope Caudry.

  As much as I cared about Gabe, I knew I could never make this place my home.

  I stood up, suddenly feeling like I needed space to breathe and think.

  “Are you okay?” Gabe asked, getting to his feet more slowly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, I’m fine. I just … needed to move,” I explained lamely.

  I began wandering through the expanse of the living room, admiring the artwork in bold primary colors clashing against the frosted wallpaper and gold fireplace.

  The mantel of the fireplace seemed to serve as the place for more personal photos. A picture of Selena in a cap and gown, Gabe as a toddler with a puppy, the two kids with their dad in front of one of his restaurants.

  But the one that really grabbed my attention was an eight by ten of Della Jane—younger, with her curls as
wild as ever and a flower in her hair. Her head was thrown back a little with a smile so wide, she had to be caught mid-laugh.

  Beside her stood a shirtless man with a peace symbol painted on his chest. His hair was disheveled with a slight curl to it. He was taller than Della Jane, and his arm was looped around her shoulders, squeezing her close to him.

  But it was his smile that caught me. He had the exact same smile as Gabe.

  Behind them was a crowd, though they were too blurred to be distinguishable. A banner hung from a tree, the fabric rippled and slouching, but between the wrinkles, I could just make out the words:

  “That’s my uncle Beau,” Gabe explained, coming up behind me.

  “You look like him.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot, mostly from my mom,” Gabe said, then there was a long pause before he added, “He killed himself.”

  “What?” I asked, making sure I heard him right.

  “Last summer, he drowned in the lake,” he explained. “Only way to kill a werewolf is with a silver bullet, but when we’re in human form, we’re just as vulnerable as anyone else.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so Gabe went on. “They officially ruled it as an accident, out of respect for Beau and my family. But he killed himself. He filled his pockets with rocks and walked out into Lake Tristeaux.”

  “I’m sorry.” I touched his arm. “Do you know why he did it?”

  He shrugged emptily. “If Mom has any suspicions, she won’t tell me. I thought it was because of the curse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That he just got sick of living and dealing with the curse,” Gabe elaborated. “My mom lucked out with my dad, because he’s been so supportive, but Uncle Beau wasn’t as fortunate. His fiancée left him when she found out. He tried to fill his life with parties and friends after that, but it wasn’t the same.”

  “Loneliness is a curse itself,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Gabe agreed, but furrowed his brow, like he was thinking something. “But lately I’ve been wondering if there’s more to it than that.”

  “What do you mean?”