by Jeff Sampson
“Oh God, what pep rally hell is this?” Megan snarled.
I saw a head slightly above the crowd, one with red hair and chiseled features.
Dalton McKinney. Football player. Attempted murder victim who’d been shot in the head. Werewolf.
One of my pack. Another voice. Not Nighttime this time.
Just seeing Dalton up and walking, his eyes bright and alert, grinning as kids slapped him on the back—relief washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile, giddy.
“Dalton’s back,” I whispered.
Megan rolled her eyes. “Yay.” Then, with a quick shake of her head, she added, “But wait. He was shot in the head, like, a week ago. Why would they let him out of the hospital and back to school? Did they just pretend his injury was worse than it was or what?”
“It must have been him,” I said to myself, momentarily forgetting Megan was even there.
“What must have?” Megan asked.
I barely heard her. I was already racing forward, my bag slapping against my back, ready to meet the third member of our would-be pack and see if he had any answers.
3
DAL-TON
By the time I was underneath the covered walkway that led to the front entrance of the school, Dalton was absolutely mobbed by students. I reached the back of the crowd and jumped up and down, trying to get a look at him.
From what I could tell, he actually looked good. He was grinning, slapping friends on the back, chest-bumping football teammates. Color had returned to his flushed cheeks, and he was dressed in his pristinely pressed khakis, polo, and letterman jacket. The only sign that he’d been, y’know, shot in the head was a fresh square bandage on his temple and the peach fuzz of red hair growing over his emergency-room-shaved skull.
It was subtle, but a bit of the earthy, boyish musk I’d come to associate with Spencer wafted off Dalton, swirling through the damp air before meeting my nose. As it did, a voice in the back of my head distantly commanded, Gather your fellows.
Dalton’s friend Mikey Harris was next to him, holding a football high and leading the crowd in a chant of, “Dal-TON, Dal-TON, Dal-TON.” His cheerleader girlfriend, Nikki, all porcelain-white complexion and burgundy hair, hugged his side possessively, unable to contain her glee at having him back alive. Behind her were her fellow cheerleaders, the triplets Delgado—Amy, Brittany, and Casey, with Amy smirking at the crowd.
“Excuse you, thank you.” Someone shoved me aside, and I barely caught a glimpse of cocoa-brown skin and bobbing black curls before the speaker dug her way into the mass.
“Uh, yeah, excuse you.”
I turned to see Mai Sato beside me. She was one of the school’s track stars, and also best friend of the recently deceased Emily Cooke. She took in the scene at the back of the crowd with a look between disgust and sadness, then wandered away. She left behind her a scent trail of some flowery perfume. Strange. I’d never pegged Mai as the perfume type.
The pushy girl was, of course, Tracie Townsend, our class president. She wore a prim yellow blouse and skirt, with a matching headband holding back her curls—halfway to Stepford Wives territory, though somehow it worked for her. Despite being smaller than half the people who made up the inner circle of the crowd surrounding Dalton, she expertly shoved her way to stand directly before him.
Holding up her hands, Tracie smiled forcefully until the chants of “Dal-TON” finally died down.
“Wonderful, thank you!” she said, her voice loud, crisp, and curt. “We are all super glad that our very own Dalton McKinney has overcome such tragic circumstances to come back to Carver. Give him a hand, everyone!”
The crowd hollered and clapped, and I couldn’t help but do the same, my hands slapping against each other as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. I could barely see Dalton, but the glimpses I got made me feel one step closer to whole—one step closer to a pack. All these weird feelings were hardwired instincts, I knew that, just strange wolfy desires that were ingrained in my DNA by invasive scientists. That didn’t stop the connection between me and Spencer, and me and Dalton, from feeling stronger than even that of my own family.
Tracie raised her hands once more, and the crowd died down. Gently shoving aside Mikey and Nikki, Tracie strung her arm through Dalton’s and made him step forward. “I am going to go to Principal Alexander later today and ask that we prepare a special assembly to celebrate. But I think from the glares of the office staff—hellooo, yes, we see you! Ha-ha!—we should probably disperse and clear the walkway.” She let go of Dalton and strode through the crowd toward the front entrance, shooing with her hands. “All right, let’s go.”
“Yo, Tracie!” a guy I couldn’t see yelled. “Disperse this.” People laughed at whatever gesture he’d made toward her, but Tracie ignored him, unfazed.
The crowd did disperse a little, or at least became less packed. I tried to push my way to Dalton, determined to catch him before the bell rang, but unlike Tracie, I wasn’t able to dig my way through.
Then Spencer was beside me. I felt my nerves calm in a rush of relief.
“Hey, there you are,” he said. “Dalton’s back.”
“Oh, I thought everyone was chanting about some other Dalton,” I said, then dug into his side playfully. “We should—”
Spencer grabbed my shoulder, stopping me. “Whoa, hold on. I smell her. Do you smell that?”
I glanced around me to make sure no one was watching, then sniffed at the air. Aside from the musty, damp air and the body odor of everyone around me—including the absolutely atrocious stench coming off the pudgy guy near me, who I recognized as Terrance Sedgwick—all I smelled were Spencer’s and Dalton’s respective wolf scents.
“I don’t smell anything. Was she here?” I asked, peering about the crowd. “Is she here now? She must be another student then!”
Spencer was nodding. “Yeah, yeah, she was somewhere here, or is here, I can’t tell. Her scent is masked by some sort of perfume.”
“Perfume?” I asked. “Is it sort of flowery? I smelled Mai wearing some perfume. She went down the walkway. Does it go that way?”
Nose scrunched, Spencer spun around, ignoring me.
“Spencer, does it lead to Mai?”
“Huh?” he said, whipping back to me. “Oh. No, I don’t know. More than one girl is wearing it, and they all went different directions.”
I grabbed Spencer’s hand and led him through the thinning crowd toward Dalton. “Keep sniffing,” I whispered. “But we need to add Mai to the list of possibilities. Maybe she even knew about Emily C.”
“Okay,” Spencer said as I dragged him.
Dalton’s back was to me as we approached. He was laughing with Mikey and Nikki—then stopped suddenly as I grew near. He spun to face us, incredulous.
“You,” he said, eyes locked on mine.
Amy Delgado, arms crossed and eyes set to death glare, stepped beside him. “Her. What do you want, Emily?”
Mikey and Nikki and the remaining two Delgado triplets grouped up behind Dalton. I could practically taste the disdain. Of course, their recent experiences with me included me getting drunk at Mikey’s memorial for Emily Cooke, where I brazenly slobbered all over Dalton in front of Nikki. That was right before I shoved Mikey across his foyer—and right before Dalton was shot.
I wasn’t exactly going to be invited to costar in their eventual rich kid reality show, is what I’m getting at.
Before all the craziness of the week before, I might have shied away. Slunk into the shadows to hide in shame. But that was before a man tried to kill me. Before I had to fight for my life. Before werewolves, and before shadowmen.
Bitchy teen girls can be scary as hell. But I’d seen scarier.
I met Amy’s gaze and forced myself to smile. “I just wanted to welcome Dalton back.”
“Yeah, me too,” Spencer said. He jumped forward and punched Dalton in the arm. “Hey, man. Who knew someone could look so good with bullet wounds?”
Mikey and the g
irls groaned. Dalton didn’t really react. He kept staring at me quizzically, a smile playing on his face.
“Too soon, bro, too soon,” Mikey said, playfully putting Spencer in a chokehold and mussing his hair.
Spencer broke free. “Whoa, dude, not the hair. I spent a whole thirty seconds on it this morning.”
Nikki wrapped her arm around Dalton’s waist and raised her eyebrows at me and Spencer. “Well, thanks for the welcome back. Dalton appreciates it. We need to go to class now.”
“Actually,” Spencer said, “we were wondering if we could talk to Dalton for a second. Um, alone.”
“What?” Amy scoffed. “Uh, no, he’s not going anywhere with her alone.”
Dalton raised a hand. “Nah, it’s cool. I need to talk to them, too.”
“You do?” Nikki asked. “Why?”
He ignored her and started walking toward the side of the school. I looked between Amy and Nikki, shrugged, and then followed, Spencer behind me.
“Dalton, where are you going?” Nikki said, raising her voice.
“It’ll just be a second!” he called over his shoulder.
We rounded the corner of the building, quickening our pace as we stomped over wet grass. Misty rain dampened our hair and splattered the lenses of my glasses. I looked behind us, but no one followed. Yet.
Then Dalton stopped. He grabbed me gently by the sides of my face with his large hands, leaned in, and took in a long, loud whiff of my hair.
“Oh,” I said. “Okay. This is happening.”
Spencer put a hand on Dalton’s shoulder, and the bigger boy let me go and stood back, a giant grin on his face.
“You’re her,” he said. “I smelled you all morning, but there was perfume. I—” He shook his head. “Are you like me?”
I swallowed and looked at Spencer, then back at Dalton. My pulse began to race, my hands shook. I was almost certain Dalton was another werewolf. He had to be. It all fit. But saying the words to him out loud would make it real. My cheeks hurt from how much I was smiling, and my hands were shaking again; from anticipation, this time, not fear.
“If by ‘like me’ you mean…” I paused, then leaned in and whispered, “A werewolf.”
Dalton barked a laugh. He looked up at the gray sky and shook his head. “Oh yes. Yes!” His voice echoed through the schoolyard. Several crows darted off the scaffolding. “Sorry,” he said, looking back at us. “It’s just, I thought I’ve been going insane. I thought my brain wasn’t healed right or something.” His face twisted. “Unless I’m imagining this. Maybe I’m not even awake.”
Spencer punched him in the bicep, hard, and Dalton rubbed his arm. “Ow, man.”
Spencer shrugged. “See, not a dream.”
Unhooking his backpack’s straps, Dalton let it fall to the ground and began to pace back and forth, restless. “So, tell me everything. How is this possible? Were you bit or something? I wasn’t. I don’t think I was, anyway. Sometimes I don’t remember so—Well, and there are these shadows—”
I’m going to break out a cliché here: My heart sank. I got it then, where that phrase came from, because it literally felt like all these hopes I’d had stored up in my chest were collapsing into my gut.
So Dalton didn’t know anything about this, either. He was as much in the dark as we were. What exhilaration there was at finally having him as part of the pack was crushed by my frustration about not knowing why the hell any of this was happening to us.
The first bell rang, echoing across the school grounds. What stragglers there were outside began to stream toward the entrance, but the three of us stood there, Dalton still pacing, Spencer and I meeting each other’s disappointed eyes.
I reached out and grabbed Dalton’s arm, stopping him midstride. “We don’t really know much. Yet. All we know is that this isn’t magic. We were created by scientists, we think. By a company called BioZenith.”
Dalton stiffened, then looked down at both of us. “But that’s where my father works. They just do stuff with food.”
Spencer shook his head. “It has to be a cover story. The guy who shot you was from there. He knew all about us.”
“It doesn’t make any sense, though.” Dalton raised a trembling hand to touch his bandaged temple.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw two figures round the side of the school. Nikki and Amy. The two cheerleaders stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
And behind them was Megan, leaning against a tree and watching me. She was only there a moment before a boy I recognized as Patrick Kelly came up, said something to her, and picked up her backpack. Since when were they friends? Last week Patrick was just a new kid from London, all broody good looks and quiet demeanor. I’d thought for a while he might be a werewolf, or even the killer after us, but I’d been wrong on both counts.
But I didn’t have time to worry about it just then. I leaned in close to Dalton and Spencer, lowering my voice. “We need to get to class. We should meet up later and talk through all this, though, okay?”
Dalton nodded, staring forward without seeming to focus on anything. “Yeah, all right. Yeah. You two should come by my house later. If you’re right about BioZenith, maybe…” He trailed off, his eyes finally focusing on mine. “I can’t believe it was you all this time.”
I could sense Nikki watching us intently. And though I wasn’t really afraid of her, that didn’t mean I wanted her to think I was after her boyfriend, either. Well, not any more than she already did.
“Yup, it was me! But I think you should go walk your girlfriend to class before she murders all of us.”
Dalton’s head darted up, and he caught sight of Nikki, now waiting alone. He raised a hand to her, then reached down and grabbed his backpack.
“Later,” he whispered, then ran past us to Nikki.
I watched him try to wrap an arm around her shoulder as he reached her, but she brushed it off. She flounced off toward the front doors, Dalton at her heels.
“I lost the girl’s scent,” Spencer said beside me, deflated.
“Oh well,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll find it again. But can we not talk about it any more right now? I’m suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed.”
Spencer shrugged. “All righty, then. May I walk you to class, Em Dub?”
I smiled at him. “You may.”
We followed in Dalton and Nikki’s footsteps, just as the final bell rang. All sorts of thoughts and worries swirled within my head, threatening to keep me from focusing all day.
So I let Spencer’s pheromones wash over me, placate me. And the worries drifted away.
Internal Document #2
The Vesper Company
“Envisioning the brightest stars, to lead our way.”
- Internal Document, Do Not Reproduce -
Details of Video Footage Recorded Oct. 31, 2010,
Part 2
20:57:57 PST—Hallway 1, Sector D
Vesper 1(B) and Vesper 2.1(A) enter the hallway unmolested. Many Vesper Company employees, including several who are not now nor ever were prepared for violent contact, lie unconscious against the walls. Important paperwork that will now be quite difficult to file litters the floors.
VESPER 1(B): Wow, Amy, you were busy.
VESPER 2.1(A): Well, it took a while to find where they were holding you. I was looking for the control room when one of these guys told me where to go. [She points at a Vesper Company employee lying just out of camera view; investigations into who helped aid the Deviant are ongoing.] That guy. I was gentle with him.
VESPER 1(B): Do you know where the control room is?
That’s where we can find where the others are, right?
VESPER 2.1(A): Right. And no, I don’t know where. I went to get you first.
The two Deviants brazenly continue down the hall. Vesper 1(B) notices the plates on the wall indicating directions to locations that perhaps should not have been out in view just in case of incidents like this occurring. Live and learn, I suppose. Again, plea
se stick to the facts.—MH
21:00:12 PST: Hallway 20, Sector D
The Deviants move cautiously as they enter this new hallway. There is no one visible in the hall save for the two Deviants. They continue to follow the plaques on the walls until they are in front of the door to the control center for this sector.
Vesper 1(B) stands to the side as Vesper 2.1(A) moves in front of the door. She closes her eyes and raises both hands, palms facing the door. Slowed-down footage shows the steel door buckling from its center, directly opposite Vesper 2.1(A)’s hands, before being pushed off its hinges and breaking the locks. The door bursts inward.
21:01:04 PST: Control Room D1
The door lands in the center of the spacious control room. The usual personnel have already been evacuated, and the Deviants come face-to-face with ten armed guards dressed in full body gear. Nine stand around the perimeter of the room, while the tenth rushes to stand in the doorway. All ten guards point their weapons at the girls.
GUARD CAPTAIN COLLINS: Don’t move! We don’t want to shoot you!
The Deviants look at each other, unmoving.
VESPER 1(B): You ready to do this?
VESPER 2.1(A): Oh yeah.
The camera glitches. The screen goes black. Transcript will continue with footage from backup data center.
Part 2 of Relevant Video Footage Concluded
4
LONELY AND GETTING ALL HYPERBOLIC
I used to be good at being alone. In fact, I’d sort of preferred it.
I was never very good at playing with a team. I’d taken ballet when I was little, but I was always out of sync, so I mostly ended up pirouetting into other girls, so much so that I had to be assigned my own special corner for practice. Same when I was in tae kwon do—I don’t think the boy next to me appreciated my enthusiastic would-be roundhouse kicks as much as I did.
Then came the body changes, the strange stares and inappropriate touches from some truly assholish boys, and I was no longer interested in being around groups of any size. Say hello to my dad’s humongous DVD collection and a bunch of old, nerdy sci-fi shows and terrible horror movies. Hello also to a fully stocked personal library. I could spend as much time alone as I wanted, watching and reading about fictional girls doing exciting fictional things, and I was straight-up content.
