by Sarah M. Awa
Gavin shook his head. “Never gave it much thought. Nobody I know is into that kind of stuff, not even my mom. She grew up in Hawaii, and her auntie had an acupuncture studio, but Mom’s always been more modern than traditional.”
“Wow, Hawaii,” said Melanie, perking up. “Cool. That’s the bit of an accent I heard in her voice. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. Have you been there?”
“A few times.”
“Aw, I’m jealous.”
Gavin grinned, happy that he’d unwittingly steered the conversation toward a more upbeat topic. He described the islands to Melanie, and she asked questions.
As they drew closer to her campus, though, he brought the topic back around to werewolves. He wanted to give her an important reminder before they parted. “Don’t forget to be especially careful to control your emotions during the few days before and after a full moon. It’s lucky that your eyes are already brown, so you can start wearing dark contacts like I do and no one will notice.” He told her which brand was the best to buy and recommended a good optometrist.
Melanie thanked him and then asked, “By the way, do we have a silver allergy? Because I’ve got mostly silver jewelry.”
“No, we don’t. You can still wear it. And crosses don’t repel us, either, so you can wear a silver cross necklace if you have one.”
“I thought crosses were a vampire thing.”
“Some legends attribute the fear of them to werewolves too,” he replied. “I’ve also had holy water sprinkled on me, and nothing happened—good or bad.”
“Has your shadow ever taken the form of a wolf?” she asked.
“Only when I was a wolf.”
“What about animals getting skittish around you?”
“Not that I’ve ever noticed.”
Half a minute later, Melanie shifted in her seat and said, “We’re almost there.” They’d reached the Wellsboro city limits and were only a mile from her campus. Detecting a hint of nervousness in her voice, Gavin glanced at her and saw that she was frowning slightly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. He could understand the apprehension—she’d left campus as one person and was returning as a different person. She had secrets now.
They passed through the university’s front gate. Melanie waved at the guard, who nodded back. “Take a left, please,” she told Gavin when they came to a fork in the road. “Gotta get my car from behind the com building.”
He recognized the route he’d taken a few days ago—the road that curved around the edge of campus like an arm holding back the thick woods. The sun rested below the treetops, throwing long shadows everywhere. Students, some alone but most in groups, trekked across the hilly campus toward a large building at its center. Probably the cafeteria, Gavin guessed, since the dinner hour was beginning.
As they rounded the side of the three-story brick building where Gavin had kidnapped Melanie last Saturday, he saw that her small blue Honda was waiting patiently right where she’d left it. He parked his car next to hers and cut the engine. “Well, here we are,” he said.
“Yep,” Melanie murmured. “Thanks for bringing me back.” She made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt or to open her door.
“No problem.”
They glanced at each other and then looked away. Melanie opened her mouth to speak but, hesitating, shut it again. At last she drew in a deep breath and let herself out of the car.
Longing to stretch his weary, aching limbs, Gavin climbed out too. A spasm of pain shot through his lower back, and he failed to stifle a groan. “Are you all right?” Melanie asked, walking over to him.
“Yeah. Don’t worry,” he said, meeting her concerned gaze.
And then it happened again. He was pulled into her eyes as a vision overtook him.
A man in dark sunglasses was driving up to the Wellsboro gate and flashing a police badge at the guard. The guard waved him through, and he cruised around campus in his unmarked car, scanning groups of students. He parked in a central location, exited the vehicle, and meandered around the sunlit university on foot. It appeared he was searching for someone. . . .
Gavin emerged from the vision feeling puzzled and worried. His eyes refocused on Melanie’s face. “What did you see?” she asked quietly.
He told her, and her eyes grew wide. “This guy could be looking for you,” Gavin warned, “since what I see usually pertains to the person I’m with. And he’s giving me dark, ominous vibes. Be careful, Melanie. He’s not dressed like a cop or driving a police cruiser, but you should avoid men wearing dark sunglasses. He’s average height, average build, no distinctive features. Brown hair, possibly in his mid-thirties.”
“Okay. I’ll try to stay indoors on sunny days for a while. I assume you don’t know exactly when he’s going to come around?”
“No. Didn’t see a calendar. Or his license plate number.” Gavin frowned. He described the man’s car to her, but it was a fairly common American-made sedan with no modifications or bumper stickers. Plus, it was black, one of the three most popular color choices. Several students here might drive an identical model.
When he felt like he’d given Melanie all the information he could, Gavin checked his watch and said, “I’d better get going. Don’t want to make you miss your dinner, and I’m ready for mine.”
“Yeah. Okay. Better let you go.” Fiddling with the hem of her shirt, Melanie shifted her weight to her other foot and added, “I’ll be sure to bookmark the NASA moon phases website. So, um, I can come to the cabin with you next month, too, right?”
“Of course.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll call you a day or so before I pick you up.”
“All right. Have a safe trip home.”
“Thanks.” Gavin slid behind the wheel of his car again, watched her climb into hers, and then drove back to Brookside.
Melanie glanced around warily as she parked next to Hartman Cottage. Nobody was in sight, and the dorm’s windows were dark. Good. Hopefully Pam and the others are all at the cafeteria. Mel needed a bit of time alone before she faced her friends.
Letting herself into the cottage, she tiptoed upstairs. Her door was closed and locked, to her relief. It felt strange walking back into her room, like she was returning from a months-long journey in a distant land. But she’d only been gone for three days.
Melanie flopped down onto the bed, a wave of exhaustion overtaking her. She yearned for sleep, but her stomach growled. Groaning, she sat back up. She wondered if Pam was at dinner or if she’d finished and headed to the music building to practice. Mel hoped for the latter.
As she stepped back out into the hall and padded toward the bathroom, Mel heard her suitemates’ door opening. She froze. Jocelyn appeared and immediately spotted Melanie. “You’re back,” she said, her tone a mixture of surprise and relief.
“Yeah,” was all that Melanie could think of to say.
“You sure scared us, Mel.”
“I . . . I’m sorry.” A lump of guilt tightened her throat.
Jocelyn’s shrewd green eyes narrowed, studying Melanie curiously, and Mel worried that her friend would start asking probing questions. But after a moment, Jos said, “I’m heading down to dinner. You coming?”
“I was just going to freshen up. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“I’ll wait.”
To make sure I don’t disappear again?
At the sink, Mel splashed her face and patted it dry, then peered closely at herself in the mirror. Those stupid dark circles. She hadn’t showered today, and her hair was limp and disheveled. The phrase “hot mess” sprang to mind, causing her to wrinkle her nose—both at the overused expression and at the truth of it. Quickly, she combed her hair, pinched her cheeks to put some color in them, and returned to the hallway. Jocelyn was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a serene and meditative look on her face—like she could have stood there for hours.
“Does Pam know you’re back?” she asked Melanie as they left their dorm. The evening air was brisk,
and the first faint stars were appearing in the darkening sky.
“No,” said Mel. “I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes and haven’t seen her.”
Jos pulled her phone out and began to type a text message. When she was done, she said, “There. I told her. Now she can have some peace of mind.”
“Is she . . . mad at me?” Mel asked hesitantly.
Pursing her lips, Jocelyn considered the question. “More like worried. To death. Like a mother whose child has vanished.”
“Oh, great,” said Melanie. She wasn’t surprised, though, after hearing and reading the messages Pam had left her.
“Are you going to tell us where you were and what you were doing?”
Melanie stumbled and stopped walking. They had almost reached the student center, and half a dozen other people were standing around within earshot. “Not here,” said Mel in a low voice, stalling. She strode ahead of her friend into the building and led the way to the cafeteria.
After loading up trays, she and Jos scanned the seating area. Several tables in their usual corner were empty, and they headed that way. The most direct route took them past a table full of guys who had been at Pine Groves—Timmy among them. Ugh.
She prayed he wouldn’t look her way, but to her chagrin she heard his nasal voice call out, “Cutting classes lately, huh, Melody? What’s the matter? Can’t handle the pressure?”
Melanie fumed, clenching her teeth and her tray tightly. Nasty words boiled up in her mind, along with the urge to throw her baked potato at Timmy’s smug face. Then she thought of her eyes glowing yellow and of Gavin’s warning. Crap. I’ve got to be careful. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she walked away without saying a word.
Jocelyn delivered a swift riposte in Mel’s stead: “I’m surprised you can even find your way to your classes, Tommy.”
Timmy’s ears went red, and his tablemates roared with laughter. Jos beamed at them, then flounced away looking delighted with herself.
“That was awesome!” said Mel, snickering as she sat down.
“Well,” said Jos modestly, “I do have four older brothers. Had to learn how to hold my own.”
They talked about family and other safe topics while they ate. To Mel’s great relief, Jos didn’t bug her again about where she’d been.
Back in the dorm twenty minutes later, Mel crawled into bed, achy and unable to fight off her exhaustion any longer. She was asleep in seconds.
When Pam returned from choir practice, she found the room dark and could hear soft, even breathing coming from her roommate’s bed. Thank goodness. Even though Jocelyn had told her that Melanie was back safe and sound, she’d needed to see her for herself.
What’s going on with you, Mel? Pam thought for the thousandth time, tiptoeing over to her best friend’s bedside in the dim light from the open door. Turning off your phone, missing classes. And Tuesday is one of your tutoring nights. You’re supposed to be in the library with Luis.
Pam leaned down for a closer look at Melanie’s face. It was wan and pinched, as if she were in pain or having nightmares. Sympathy swept through Pam, dispelling her frustration and the desire to wake Mel and demand answers. Poor thing. Let her rest. They could talk in the morning.
Gathering some books and papers from her desk, Pam went downstairs to do her homework. Fortunately, her housemates didn’t have the TV on tonight. The only distraction she had to fight off was curiosity.
Later, as Pam lay in bed on the brink of slumber, she heard Melanie whimpering and mumbling in her sleep. The words were quiet and slurred, but Pam caught “wolf” and “Gavin” and “gotta be a cure.” Strange, she thought before drifting off.
At 6:30 a.m., Pam’s alarm woke both girls. Melanie greeted her roommate in subdued tones, her voice hoarse and a guilty expression creeping onto her face.
“I’m so relieved you’re okay,” said Pam, trying not to sound too stern or too chipper. “So, what was the emergency you said came up?”
The blood drained out of Melanie’s face, and she looked away. “I—I can’t . . .”
“Can’t tell me? Why not?” demanded Pam. “After what you put me through—”
“I’m really sorry, Pam. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Why did you wait so long before letting me know you were all right? I was about to call the cops! I thought you got kidnapped!”
At those words, a shadow passed over Mel’s face. “I wasn’t able to use my phone for a while,” she said.
“Where were you, some place with no reception?”
“Something like that,” Melanie mumbled.
Letting out an agitated huff, Pam said, “Mel, I don’t know why you feel you have to be so secretive about whatever this is. I’m your best friend; you know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”
Her roommate nodded.
“You looked awful last night,” Pam continued. “You went to bed so early, like you were sick or something. I was worried about you.”
“I’m sorry,” Melanie repeated meekly. “I was tired, but I’m fine now.”
Pam had had enough of the apologies. “Okay. I’m glad you feel better. You’re back, you’re safe, and that’s what matters. I can’t make you tell me where you went, but I wish you’d trust me. Just promise me you won’t run off like that again, please.”
“I . . .”
Pam wanted to punch her pillow. Why is that a hard thing to promise? Her hands balled into fists. “Melanie—”
“I promise I’ll tell you if I’m going to leave for a while,” Mel interrupted.
“Are you planning on being gone for days again?” Pam felt shocked. “Why—”
Abruptly, her roommate stood up and walked to her closet. “We need to get ready for class. You want to shower first, or can I?”
“Whatever. Go ahead,” Pam muttered.
Melanie gathered a change of clothes and her towel, then exited the room. Pam sat there on her bed for several minutes, processing the conversation. It’s like she came back as someone else.
10
Search and Research
October 19, Waning Gibbous Moon
That afternoon in the Sentinel office, Melanie struggled to focus during the staff’s biweekly news huddle. Instead of contributing to the brainstorm, she sat in a corner intermittently staring into space and snapping back to the meeting. Editor-in-chief Dawn Fincher’s stubby piece of chalk assaulted the board with a furious clack-clack-clack as she scribbled the ideas that students called out. Occasionally a heated debate erupted. But despite the noisy, stimulating atmosphere, Mel’s thoughts kept floating away to her argument with Pam, her impressions of Gavin, and his warning about the man in dark sunglasses.
She felt awful about being so secretive and upsetting her roommate. But what was the alternative? Tell Pam the truth? The truth was crazy and unbelievable—not to mention horrifying—and her best friend would almost certainly think it a lie. If Melanie proved she was a werewolf, Pam might react with fear and revulsion and end their friendship. Or she’d try to come with Mel next full moon and get hurt.
Which is more likely? she wondered. Pam’s not a fair-weather friend. She’s trustworthy, accepting, and kind. Then again, she’s never had to deal with anything like this before. There’s no precedent to—
“Hey, Caldwell,” said Dawn, waving a hand to get Mel’s attention. “Would you mind writing an opinion piece for this issue? The topic’s up to you.”
“S-sure,” stammered Melanie. Heat rushed into her cheeks. The editor-in-chief looked like she was about to comment on her daydreaming, but then turned back to the chalkboard and scrawled Melanie’s name under Editorials.
Timmy Simmons, who sat across the room from Mel, caught her eye and smirked. Wrinkling her nose, she directed her gaze elsewhere. Before long, the people and sounds in the Sentinel office faded into the background once more.
Images and memories floated into her mind: dust motes dancing in the bright sunlight streaming through the office wi
ndows. The restlessness and fatigue she’d felt as she’d worked here alone on Saturday afternoon. The smell of lemon cleaner and the loud, incessant ticking of the clock. The startling scuff of quiet footfalls behind her in the hallway.
When was that man in dark sunglasses going to come prowling around? Mel had checked the weather report, and the forecast showed several rainy and overcast days in a row, starting tomorrow. Already, clouds were rolling in from the north to blanket a good portion of the sky. It looked like it would be a while before her unwanted visitor showed up.
Gavin said he was a cop, Melanie remembered. That was rather unnerving. She couldn’t possibly be in trouble with the law, and she had no plans to do anything that would cause the police to come after her. She wondered if Gavin had misinterpreted the vision, or if it could be wrong, or if it could change depending on her actions. Maybe it was a warning to be cautious and the cop was symbolic.
“Okay, people, I like what we’ve got here,” said Dawn, pulling Mel back to reality. “Everything’s due a week from today, but if you need an extension for some reason—a good reason—ask me. Meeting adjourned.”
The other students in the room stood up and filed out. Mel followed them, making sure to avoid Timmy. She headed back to Hartman Cottage to work on homework until dinner.
When Pam returned from her classes, she greeted Melanie cheerfully, as if there hadn’t been tension between them that morning. They chatted and studied for midterms.
After dinner, Pam went to the music building to practice. Back in their room, Melanie closed and locked the door. Gavin had said there was no cure, but in Mel’s opinion, he’d given up ridiculously easily. By his own admission, he hadn’t even tried anything.
She wasn’t going to give up. Ever.
She sat down at her computer, opened her web browser to a search engine, and typed “werewolf cure.” Half a million results popped up.
She spent the next hour clicking on links and skimming pages. To her annoyance, she found the same kind of drivel that Gavin had mentioned on the way back from the cabin. “Wolfsbane . . . exorcism . . .” she muttered.
