“Like what?” she prompted, looking concerned.
“Um, Dan said something weird to me,” I replied after a moment of hesitation.
Allison waited a few seconds, and then seeing that I wasn’t going to elaborate questioned, “Well? What did he say?”
As a scowl formed on my face, I began to rant, “First, he stares at me all week in English, but never says a word. He talks to you guys like you’re perfectly normal. Then he manhandles me in the theater demanding to know what I am! What is that supposed to mean!”
Perplexed, Allison asked, “What are you? I should think it quite obvious . . . you’re crazy. And what do you mean, manhandled?”
“He grabbed my arm and got in my face!”
Allison glanced worriedly at me. “Did you provoke him or something?”
I gave her an outraged look.
Allison had the courtesy to look abashed as she turned her attention back to the road. “Sorry, stupid question. Shouldn’t we just talk to him about it? Give him a chance to explain himself?”
I shook my head, my anger fading into confusion. “No, I don't think that's a good idea. Let’s just keep an eye on him, okay?”
“I guess,” Allison conceded, “though it’s probably all just a misunderstanding.”
Realizing that I still hadn’t convinced her, I stared at Allison angrily.
Allison reached a red light and tried to stare me down.
I kept staring right back, jaw clenched stubbornly.
Allison sighed. “I’m sure he was just joking. As for the staring, I think it’s all in your head. He just has a weird sense of humor.” The light turned green and she hit the gas.
I tried a calmer approach. “I have a bad feeling Al, I’ve had it all week, I can’t explain it, but I’m worried.”
The concern returned to Allison’s face. “We’ll keep an eye on him Xoe, but I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
Hardly placated, I sat silently with my arms crossed the rest of the ride to Irvine’s.
We met Dan and Lucy in the parking lot and went inside Irvine’s to order our pizza. The pizza at Irvine’s isn’t particularly good or anything, but it’s where we always went. We didn’t really have that many choices. Plus, Irvine’s is relatively adult-free.
The pizza parlor was decorated kind of like a retro diner. Red vinyl stools surrounded the counter and an old-style jukebox with neon lights dominated the back corner of the restaurant. We grabbed a booth that kept to the red vinyl theme and waited, Lucy sat next to Dan, still wearing his coat, with her shoulder pressed against his arm. She looked tiny next to him, especially with the jacket engulfing her narrow shoulders. Everyone dutifully ignored the menacing glares I periodically aimed at Dan.
“Xoe?” Lucy asked. I had spaced out from the conversation, as I tend to do.
“Huh?” I replied.
“I asked what your plans are for tomorrow,” Lucy continued. “I was thinking about hiking; we haven’t gone up the trail behind your house in a while.”
Dan looked back and forth between the two of us, as if taking in every detail.
“Oh, yeah, sounds good,” I mumbled as the waitress arrived with our pizza.
She leaned much farther over the table than was necessary, drawing attention to her low-cut red blouse, and making eyes at Dan. Had all of the girls in town gone crazy? It was the only explanation. The smell of sausage and mushrooms wafted up from the pizza and my mood brightened a little. Food was always a sure-fire way to draw me out of my doldrums.
I looked up from the pizza to see that Lucy, Al, and ironically Dan (who was too rude to be polite) were all hesitating, not wanting to be the first one to grab a piece. Etiquette be damned, I dug right in, signaling to everyone else that the awkward moment could end. I chewed the mediocre pizza. Like I said, Irvine’s isn’t the best pizza around, but I don’t refuse pizza, average or otherwise.
I devoured two pieces while Lucy and Allison daintily nibbled on their first slices. Dan had taken one bite of his and left the rest abandoned on his plate. Creepier and creepier. After we were all apparently done eating, we sat for another excruciating hour where I was forced to witness Al and Lucy fawning over Dan the entire time. By the time we finally decided to call it a night I'd bitten my fingernails down to little nubs. Lucy rode with Dan again with a promise to call me tomorrow.
As soon as Allison dropped me off, I rushed inside to call Lucy, then realized that she might not be home yet, considering that maybe Dan didn’t speed like a maniac as Allison did, and decided to give her an extra fifteen minutes. I sat on the loveseat in my living room, drumming my fingers on a throw pillow in my lap, then after precisely 13.5 minutes I dialed Lucy’s number, letting it ring until the machine picked up. I hung up and waited another five minutes and called again.
“Hello?” Lucy’s voice buzzed back at me.
I let out a breath of relief. “Lucy? Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let you go alone with Dan. There’s something wrong with him. He said the weirdest thing to me . . . ”
“Xoe,” she buzzed back, interrupting me, “something weird happened.”
I paused, waiting for her to continue. The dread was back full swing. I switched the phone to my other hand so I could wipe the sweat off my palm onto my jeans.
Lucy continued, “He walked me to the front door. Then he leaned toward me. I thought he was going to kiss me, you know? Then I felt a sharp pain in my arm and realized . . . he scratched me.”
Shocked, I questioned, “What? Like took his nails and raked you?”
I heard Lucy sigh on the other end of the line. “Xoe, it’s going to sound crazy, but, well, his hand looked different . . . kind of like he had claws.”
A moment of stunned silence passed.
“Claws?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Or maybe it was just the dim lighting. I keep second guessing what I saw, but the proof is on my arm.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” I was getting angry. I hated jokes like this. I’m the most skeptical person I know, so they never worked. All anyone ever succeeded in doing was making me mad. Though that didn’t explain why my heart was caught in my throat.
“It’s not a joke Xoe,” Lucy replied, tears straining her voice.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Stay right there Lucy, I’m coming over,” I ordered.
“No, you-ou can’t, it’s fa-family dinner night, my parents will be home with food any minute.” Lucy replied, hiccupping on her words. “I d-don’t know what to do,” she continued. “I’m scared Xoe. W-what if he comes back?”
I considered storming into her house anyway, but knew her parents would just send me back home. “Maybe you should call the cops and report the attack.”
“And tell them what?” Lucy asked. “That m-my date scratched me, then politely went home?” She was getting louder as she spoke, edging on hysteria.
I asked numbly, “He just . . . left?”
“Yeah.” She had suddenly roped in her sobs, regaining some of her composure. The fact that she had broken down at all was unnerving. Lucy never broke down. “I just stood there like a moron and watched him go.”
“What should we do?” I asked.
“What can we do?” she replied. “I can’t call the cops, I can’t do anything. I don’t understand what’s going on.” Lucy paused and I heard voices in the background. “Ugh, my parents just got home, they want me to get off the phone . . . I have to go. Keep the phone near you okay? Just in case. I’ll come over in the morning.”
“Have your mom drive you,” I ordered.
“Okay.”
I heard the phone click as she returned it to its cradle. I sat unmoving, except for drumming my fingers on the table . . . yeah, I could already tell that sleep would not come easy tonight.
I paced back and forth across the living room. My thoughts were racing a million miles per minute. Lucy’s story should have been hard to believe, but for some
reason I didn’t think she was imagining things. It explained the bad feeling I had about Dan, and all of his weird behavior . . . kind of.
I went upstairs and tried to go to bed, but it was no use. I got up and sat at my desk, turning on my computer. Once it was on I stared at it, not really knowing what I had intended to do with it. Look up cases of people scratching other people? Somehow I didn’t think I would get much useful information from a search like that. I turned the computer back off and started pacing across my room. I hated inaction. I needed something proactive to do about the Dan situation, but I couldn’t think of a thing.
I went back downstairs to the living room and turned on the TV. The volume blared and I hurried to turn it down before it woke up my mom; she had gone to bed early since she had to wake up at 6:00 am for an early hike with one of her friends. I started flipping through the channels and stopped on what looked like a relatively high-budget black-and-white horror movie on AMC.
A woman was running terrified through the woods. She kept looking back at whatever was chasing her, like they always do in horror movies. The camera panned back to a man in tattered clothing, presumably the woman’s pursuer. He paused on a hilltop framed by the full moon and turned into a . . .
My heart caught in my throat. It made sense, if I was willing to overlook the plausibility of it. All of Dan’s behavior: growling at Brian, cocking his head like a dog all of the time, saying he smelled me . . . scratching Lucy. Dan was a werewolf.
I sat for a moment, stunned, then laughed at myself. A werewolf? Werewolves weren’t real. They were the stuff of myth and legend. I ruefully shook my head and switched off the TV. Sleep. Sleep was what I needed. I got up from the sofa in deep consternation, and made my way back upstairs. I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Maybe Dan just thought he was a werewolf. While I couldn't quite believe that he was a supernatural being, I could easily believe that he was mentally unstable.
What seemed like an eternity later, I finally dozed off. I dreamed that I was on fire, but not burning. Everything around me burned, my room, my house, and distantly I knew that my mom and my friends were burning too. I could hear their screams, but I just stood there watching the flames. A wolf howled.
Chapter 6
I woke to knocking on my bedroom door. My t-shirt and boxers that substituted for pajamas were once again damp with sweat from my vivid dreams.
“Xoe? It’s me, Lucy . . . your mom let me in,” a timid voice called from the other side of the door.
I sprung from my bed and rushed to the door, stumbling over a book on the floor, still only half-awake. Did I mention I’m not a morning person? I opened the door to find Lucy waiting on the other side. She was dressed down in a dark brown t-shirt, even darker suede jacket, worn jeans, and hiking boots. I faced her and tried to remain calm—that is until Lucy shrugged off her jacket to bare her upper arm.
“He mutilated you!” I exclaimed, examining the scratches on her arm.
“It’s not that bad,” she replied calmly, “but look at them, do they look like the work of human fingernails to you?”
As a matter of fact, they didn’t. Four long, thin gashes marred her arm, deep enough to make me feel a little queasy at the sight. No, definitely not normal fingernails. I gingerly touched the area around the scratches. Her skin was burning hot.
I frowned. “Do you think you need stitches?”
Lucy shook her head. “I thought about it, but what would I tell the doctor?”
Good point. Lucy was trying to be calm, but her wide eyes gave her away. She was freaked. The dark circles under her eyes alluded to a sleepless night, and I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep either. I nodded and stood aside for Lucy to come into my room.
At the sound of footsteps, Lucy quickly shrugged back into her jacket. A few seconds later, my mom came around the corner from the stairway, dressed in a casual gauzy green dress and flip-flops.
At the sight of Lucy my mom’s face erupted into a smile that reached her warm brown eyes. “Have you had breakfast yet, Lucy?” she asked. “Our weekend breakfasts usually occur around noon, but we could make it a little earlier. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“No thanks,” Lucy mumbled.
Taking in our expressions, a look of concern flashed across my mom’s face. She pressed the back of her hand against Lucy’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay, Lucy?” she asked. “You feel a little warm.”
Lucy looked down at the floor, muttering that she was fine.
My mom looked back and forth between us, a frown creasing her brow. She reached up and felt my forehead. “You feel warm too honey, another dream?”
“Um, yeah, we’ll talk about it lather ‘kay?” I looked pleadingly at my mom. I hadn’t told Lucy or Allison about my dreams.
She hesitated, but decided to let it go and headed back downstairs.
As soon as my mom was gone, we went into my bedroom and I shut the door. I continued into the adjoining bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face, pulled on some jeans and a purple tank top, and went back into my bedroom barefoot to question Lucy.
“What dreams?” Lucy asked.
Sigh. Thanks a lot mom. “Um, I’ve just been having some weird dreams lately, nothing major.”
“Please Xoe, I could use the distraction,”
I let out a loud breath. “For the past few months I’ve been having these dreams. I’m always surrounded by fire in some way, but I’m never scared. It’s the weirdest feeling, almost peaceful.”
Lucy studied my face, not understanding the significance. “What makes them different than any other dreams? I know you’re not one to get freaked out by nightmares.”
I looked down. “I dunno. They’re just . . . different, and when I wake up I always have a fever.”
“A fever? I guess that is kind of weird,” Lucy conceded. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”
“I don't know,” I replied. “I’m weirded out by them enough. I don’t need to weird everyone else out too.” I was feeling embarrassed and went for a subject change. “But now back to you, I think you have the more pressing matter.”
“Yeah, yeah I guess I do,” she mumbled.
“So what are our theories?” I asked her.
“Theories?” she replied, confused.
“Yeah,” I answered, “those scratches are anything but normal, which means Dan probably isn’t so normal either. Yesterday he told me he smelled me, and I don’t stink. Now he's gone and scratched you, so I think there really is only one plausible theory. It’s a little far-fetched I admit, but I’ve been thinking about it all night and it was all I could come up with.”
Lucy just stared at me, a little green in the face.
“He’s thinks he's a werewolf,” I stated matter-of-factly. I decided to leave out the fact that my idea came from a movie. I didn’t want to make my theory less plausible . . . if that was even possible.
Lucy laughed in a less than convincing manner, but didn't reply.
“Do you have any better ideas?” I asked, feeling slightly offended.
Lucy shook her head. “It's not that Xoe, it's just . . . I think he actually is a werewolf.”
I blinked slowly at her as I tried to figure out whether or not she was joking. “Come again?”
Lucy continued unperturbed, “Just think about it Xoe, what else makes sense? What has superhuman smell and claws? I'm not imagining it. His hand was not a human hand.”
“I don’t know what makes sense!” I practically shouted. “But Dan being a werewolf sure doesn’t! You have been watching too many horror movies. Werewolves don’t exist.”
“Look,” replied as she began to cry, “it's just an idea. I know it’s pretty far out there, but it’s all I could come up with. I know what I saw.”
I thought about what Lucy had said. I knew she wouldn't make something like that up, but people's eyes play tricks on them all of the time. “He does act kind of . . . dog-like,”
I offered.
Lucy sat on my bed, defeated. She sat that way for several minutes.
I waited while we both processed what Lucy was implying.
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know Xoe. I understand why you don't believe me. I can hardly believe myself, but I know what I saw.”
I grabbed Lucy’s arm and gently pulled her to her feet. “Let's take a walk. We’ll try to come up with some alternative theories.”
The only problem was, that having considered the alternatives, I knew there weren’t any. I mean, the best I could come up with was that Dan thought he was a werewolf, could I fault Lucy for thinking that he really was one? Who was I to say that such things didn't exist? The legends had to come from somewhere.
The problem was that the only information I had came from movies, and the werewolves, according to the films, were always different. Some could only be killed by silver bullets, and others would die if you just whacked ‘em with a big stick enough times. Some just changed once a month, on the night of the full moon, others changed the whole week of the full moon, and others could change at will. We needed answers, and answers we did not have. I guess we’d find out if Lucy's crazy theory was not so crazy after all once the full moon rolled around.
I moved my hand from Lucy’s arm and took her trembling hand to lead her downstairs. The truth was what it was, even if big and growly.
Chapter 7
I stopped by my backdoor to slip on my hiking boots and a jean jacket on our way outside. We journeyed out across my backyard, and headed into the woods where Lucy and I had met so many years ago. We reached a damp, narrow trail that led through the tall pine trees to the wider, more used trail that connected to a different road. Running water sounded from a stream in the distance. It sounded close, but in reality, it was about two miles away. A cool breeze was blowing, scented with the autumn leaves.
Lucy fell in step behind me, seemingly lost in thought. Usually walking out in the woods was peaceful, but I could almost taste the tension emanating from Lucy. I glanced back at her a couple of times, but waited for her to talk first. She needed time to process things. She was so quiet that if not for the sound of her footfalls, I wouldn’t have known that she was there. We walked for a good ten minutes that way, her trailing behind me, neither of us saying a word.
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 101
