“I used to be human.”
That’s what I thought he meant. It had to be a joke. A human can’t become an Otherworlder! That’s more Hollywood crap: one bite from a nightling or a werewolf or even certain faeries, and you were “infected,” doomed to become like them.
It didn’t work that way. You don’t turn into a flea when one bites you, right? Same with an Otherworlder situation: you’re either born human or you’re born Otherworlder. The only exceptions were ghosts, which the government is still arguing about giving them their own category.
In Theories class, I read about human–Otherworlder hybrids, which are extremely uncommon. The offspring of a human and Otherworlder mating have such unstable genes that the children rarely live past age five.
I’d never heard of any case where a human becomes a werewolf.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I finally said. “That’s like saying a rabbit laid a chicken’s egg. It’s impossible for a human to become an Otherworlder. We’re two entirely different races!”
Aspen’s mouth tilted up at the corners. “Is that what Hunters High taught you?”
He knew about Hunters High?
“Don’t look so surprised.” He laid back, hands behind his head. “It’s near where Ilume went. I looked it up. The Finders are the only ones who know about us. If you followed Ilume—which it sounds like you did, from what I’ve heard—someone had clearly taught you the basics.”
I dropped my pillow on the floor and spread out the blanket while thinking up a response. No use in lying here; it might just lose me the only kind of guy-friend I had. “Yeah. I’m going on three years of training at Hunters High.” I shot him a look. “And they never taught us anything about humans becoming Otherworlders.”
“Politics.” He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you believe everything they and PIU taught you? That’s one of the reasons I left humanity. Humans think they’ve got it all right all the time.”
“Not true.” If I was all right all the time, a lot of things in my life would be different, including the fact that here I sat in the middle of the Canadian woods.
Silence settled in the room. As I crawled into my makeshift bed, Aspen asked, “What were you doing chasing a werewolf anyway?”
I told him the same thing I told Ilume, about my training at school and my working for PIU. “Only it’s not like I knew what she was when I saw her. I just knew she wasn’t tagged.”
“You knew she was dangerous though.”
“Your point?”
“My point is, you didn’t have any weapons and you chased something with weapons built in. You’re too gutsy for a human.”
I frowned. “You know, when you brought it up earlier I took it as a compliment. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“I guess it’s both a compliment and an insult,” Aspen said simply, shrugging. “I’m just saying that once Rex is your enemy, he’s always your enemy. That’s why no one risks getting on his bad side, except Thagen.”
“Who’s Thagen?”
“A wolf that split up our pack. He had his own ideas on how to run things. He didn’t like Rex’s father, and he hated Rex. He undermined them by forming a rebellion within the pack. Thagen and his pack left to start anew somewhere far away. They tried to persuade me to go. One morning we wake up and half our members are gone. We tracked them, but their scents disappeared in the towns. The only person who still has contact with us is Leslie, Ilume’s sister. Nobody will ask Ilume what she knows.”
And here I thought it was the disease that had cut the pack’s numbers. “Why did you stay?”
Aspen hesitated. His gaze was clouded, reflecting mixed thoughts. “It’s too risky for me to leave these woods.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh.” I wanted to pry, but I knew how it was, not wanting to talk about something. There were subjects in my life, like dad’s disappearance, that I didn’t want anyone poking at.
We stared at the ceiling, quiet for a few minutes. I replayed that night’s events in my head. Besides the fact I was starving, tempted to sneak out to the kitchen and see what I could find, Ilume’s face kept popping up. I kept seeing her gorgeous figure, then her flat expression during the alpha/mate conversation.
“Is Ilume really supposed to become that asshole’s mate?”
“On her eighteenth birthday, yeah. She’s got about three weeks.” Aspen smiled. “Why? You hoping she was single?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I retorted, but my face warmed up.
“Don’t worry. Every guy in this pack has looked at Ilume. It’ll be a disaster when she takes him as her mate. They’re totally different people, like trying to mate a lion and a wolverine. Everybody knows it, too.”
“Can’t she just say no?”
“It’s not that easy. Rex is the son of an alpha male who was the son of an alpha male. A chain like that, which hasn’t been impaired by a rival pack or died out and replaced, becomes something like royalty in the werewolf world. For Ilume to reject his offer, especially when she’s from a line of omegas and solitary wolves, is highly frowned upon. Rex could legally kick her out if she refuses.”
“That’s such bullshit,” I snapped. Ilume’s stress levels must be booming with that kind of pressure. I felt bad for her and pissed at Rex; pissed at werewolf society, really.
“Yeah, well, our rights aren’t protected like yours. According to the government we don’t exist.” Aspen tilted his head, turning quizzical. “Why do you care?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I muttered. “I guess I just hate it when the bad guy wins.”
He nodded, possibly unconvinced. With a sigh, he slid into his blankets. “Well, I’ve got to get up early in the morning. Get some sleep, mortal. You’re going to need it.”
There were few doubts there, especially if Rex and I had round two. “Thanks again, by the way, for not letting Rex eat me.”
“Well, for tonight at least.” He flicked off the lamp. The room went black.
Chapter Sixteen
My little sister, Jess, shivered in the corner of her room.
A black mass appeared behind her doll house. A wolf. Gasping, I raced for my sister but wasn’t fast enough. His jaws clamped around her ankle, dragging her away, out the window—
I awoke with a start, sweating under my blanket. Nightmare. I lay still, wondering if I’d woken Aspen. He let out a low snore. No, guess not.
Damn. I hadn’t had one that bad in a while.
My mouth felt like sandpaper. Sitting up, I threw the blankets back and tip-toed out to the hall. I paused to peer down at the ballroom and saw the floor covered with breathing, furry bodies. The wolves appeared to be comatose, so I snuck into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Jess. I turned on the faucet, filling a glass. Was she all right back home? Was Mom looking after her?
I sat down behind the counter, sipping water and trying to relax. That’s when I heard pressure on the stairs. To normal ears, it would’ve been too quiet to hear. I went still, setting my water in my lap. Two feet crept down the steps, into the living room. They passed the other side of the counter and I held my breath. The front door squeaked, followed by the quiet clicking of the screen. The doors shut again.
I eased up, peeking over the counter at the empty living room. Moving to the sink, I gazed into the early morning—a brawny figure headed for the trees. Before hitting the woods, he glanced back to scan his surroundings.
Rex. I stepped out of view. What was the freak leaving for at this hour? Hell, why do I care? I took a few more gulps of water then dumped out my glass in the sink. Ilume had said the wolves tended to roam at all hours. Maybe if I was lucky, some large faerie beast would eat the idiot before dawn. I wen
t back to Aspen’s room, deciding to try and get a few more hours of sleep.
That morning, I waited for Ilume to come downstairs. After figuring out how to use the downstairs shower, I went to the kitchen and discovered a cooked venison patty in some tinfoil. Tucked underneath it was another list with my name on it. I had simple chores this morning—take care of the dishes and the dirty clothes in the laundry room.
Folding the list, I stuck it in my shorts pocket and jogged upstairs. The loft was particularly raucous this morning. In the center of the chaos I saw Althea and her sister among a bunch of boys. I looked away before they could see me, hurrying down the hall.
“Ilume?” I knocked gently on her door. I tried to turn the handle but it was still locked. “Are you in there or are you ignoring me? Can I talk to you?”
“She’s not here.” One of the Latino boys appeared as if from thin air, a short one with a dozen spikes for hair. “She went hunting,” he added. “She left a list for you on the kitchen counter.”
“Yeah, I saw it. Did she say when she was coming home?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t say.”
I finished the dishes quick, half-assing the job. Notes were jotted on the back of the list for my next chore, everything from where the laundry room was on the first floor to how to run the washer. I was kind of insulted by her detailed instructions—did I look so dumb that I couldn’t figure out how to run a washing machine?
Baskets in the laundry room were overflowing. Clothes climbed the wall like some sort of colorful creature. Ah, hell. I glanced at the list and saw Ilume had written: WASH, DRY, FOLD.
Early afternoon, I was down to the last item on my list.
HELP FAWN IN CARE-TAKING. Other side of the ballroom. Take a left down the glass hallway.
As I passed through the ballroom every wolf turned when they smelled me. They stared, growled, all the usual which reminded me to not look at them, to just keep walking. None of them came too close.
On the other side of the glass hall was a massive room the size of Hunters High gymnasium, divided up with curtains. Behind the curtain on my right were several empty beds. I sat down on an old couch in the lounge, waiting for some sign of life.
A black curtain flung aside. Out came this petite, middle-aged lady in sweatpants and a green tee. It was the lady from the porch, the one who’d been outside the first night I was here.
“Well, look who showed up,” she sassed, hands on her hips. Her green eyes took me in. “I was beginning to wonder if you were purposely slacking.”
“Laundry took me a while,” I replied. Give me a break, lady. You weren’t number one on my list. “Are you Fawn?”
“Yes.” She lightened up, raising her perfectly-shaped eyebrows. “I suppose that’s a reasonable excuse. Come on, I already have an assignment for you.” She flicked her fingers.
I followed her down an aisle. Behind the curtains, frail old men and women slept on mattresses. Injured wolves lay curled up on fleece pads or wrapped in blankets on the floor. Some snuggled close together, listening to the radio or watching TV. Some were alone, sprawled out in their space. One wolf in particular caught my eye—black with grey fur coming in around its muzzle—and missing a hind leg.
In the back of the room, Fawn came to a stop. We stood outside purple curtains draped in a square around the room’s corner. “How good are you with children?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I have a little sister back home.”
“Good.” She slid behind the curtains, holding them open for me.
Three small beds lay side by side. A little boy with dark curls—I guessed about seven or eight years old—lay fast asleep, one hand rolled below his chin. Scratches covered his cheek and forehead, a bruise purpling his lower lip.
I gaped at him. It wasn’t very often you see kids injured like that. The boy beside him, a little older, looked worse. He had a mane of fudge-colored hair and a Monster Energy shirt, something I would’ve worn at his age. Purple—almost dark grey—skin engulfed his right eye. A neon cast cradled one of his arms.
I felt an icy mound in my stomach. I hated crap like this, seeing innocent kids bloodied and broken. They didn’t even get through childhood before the terrible truths of life rolled in, marking their minds with pain.
My heart jerked as I saw the last bed, occupied by a small girl. She carried the least wounds—a large cut on her forehead, a few swipes across one cheek. No bruises that I could see. With straight-cut bangs and hair that brushed her shoulders, she reminded me of my sister.
“They’re orphans,” Fawn whispered. Sorrow clouded her eyes. “One of the hunters found them in the woods last week. They were the pups of a solitary wolf that has not been found. Kelpie attack, I think, since they described a black horse with pointed teeth. Spent too much time by the lake water. We took them in, but they are all very lonely, very fearful.
“You will look after them until this evening. When the hunters come home, I will have Jasmine take your place. They seem to favor her since she rescued them.”
“Babysitting,” I mused, mulling it over. Didn’t sound too hard. I was Jess’s guardian most of the time, and I used to babysit my neighbor’s kids a lot. “Yeah. Okay.”
Fawn glared at me. “These aren’t your everyday school children; they are the offspring of a werewolf. They play rough, they bite, they claw—you can’t just set them in front of the TV and expect them to sit. Be careful what you say to them and how you act.”
Fantastic, that makes me feel so much better. “Okay, thanks for putting it in perspective for me,” I said.
“I’m simply warning you.” She headed back to the corner, parting the curtains. “I’ll be back to check on you shortly. If you need help, call.”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair as she left. It’s like I was in a coma having a never-ending nightmare. I’d like to wake up now, in some hospital room with Peter staring down at me saying, “Yeah, dude, we found you in the alleyway. Somebody knocked you out and left you there.”
I sat down, leaning my head against the wall. I closed my eyes. Home. Jess. Peter. I wondered what was happening across the border, back in Loralin. I missed the smell of city smoke. I missed the way the stores in Old Town lit up in the evening, and how my gang and I went out on weekends. I missed home-cooked food like Mom’s fettuccini and stir fry, dishes with veggies and noodles. I also missed things that came in bags or cans. I was dying for Doritos or Honeybuns. Even Mom’s low-fat soy crisps sounded good.
Hell, I missed civilization.
Soon. You’ll be home soon. I just had to wait for the weekend, for the workers.
I opened my eyes. “Whoa!” I jumped.
A pair of golden eyes peeked at me from under the blankets. The younger brother made a faint hissing noise. “Who are you?” he whispered, barely able to pronounce his R’s. “Where is Jasmine?”
Okay, don’t panic. You’ve got this. “She’s, uh, out hunting. She’s coming back this evening to see you guys.”
The boy shivered, expelling a whimper. “When will she be back?”
“In a few hours,” I guessed. Luckily, most little kids don’t have a sense of time. “Don’t worry. I’m here hanging out until she gets back.”
He stuck his nose up, sniffing the air. His tiny eyebrows pulled into a line. “You not werewolf. What are you?”
“I’m Jared. I’m a . . . Finder.”
He blinked at me. “Finder?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “We’re special people. We track creatures like faeries and monsters. We keep watch over them—”
“Like a guardian?” he interrupted. The blanket started to creep away from his face. Score one for Jared: I’d snatched his interest.
“I guess that’s sort of right, but mostly we keep them from causing
trouble. We monitor them to make sure they keep the peace with each other and with the humans.”
“Like a guardian!” The kid’s eyes blazed with excitement. Pulling the blankets back, he leapt up and came running toward me. He was fast for a kid with stubby legs.
It was like a glass barrier slammed against him. He came to an abrupt halt, staggering back with his hands over his nose. “You smell bad,” he declared. “Like human in human city!”
I sniffed my shirt, knowing it had come out of Aspen’s room. I’d taken a shower this morning. He still smelled the city? Was it that deeply imprinted in me? “Do you have a super nose or something?”
“Yeah.” He pointed at his nose, cheeks dimpling as he smiled. “Momma says I have the best nose in the woods. I can smell bloody pheasant from half mile way!”
Too bad he wasn’t a Finder. Coach loved new students with better-than-good noses. It made tracking lost targets a heck of a lot easier. “That’s pretty impressive, kid.”
He hissed at me again, flashing tiny needle-sharp fangs. “My name is not kid. It’s Hawthorn.”
“Hawthorn?” Where did all these weird names come from? I hadn’t met one Joe, Ryan, or Sarah since I got here. Did werewolves have something against normal names?
“Yeah.” Hawthorn gave a firm nod. Looking toward the bed, he pointed at the mop-haired kid. “That’s my older brother, Lupine, and my older sister,”—he pointed at the girl—“Olive.”
I spent the next half hour listening to Hawthorn’s spiel about his siblings, how his brother had “girl hair” and was always trying to be better than him. He talked about how their mom used to take them hunting somewhere called Rival’s Lake and how she helped him catch his first fish. I was tempted to nickname him Chatter Box. He didn’t seem overly traumatized about being an orphan. Maybe it just hadn’t sunk in yet.
I began to think this babysitting thing would be simple and that Fawn didn’t know what she was talking about. It was just like babysitting my neighbor’s kids, except these were Otherworlders.
Predator Girl (A Paranormal Romance) Page 9
