Trials of a Teenage Werevulture (Trilogy of a Teenage Werevulture Book 1)

by Emily Martha Sorensen

  “Creepy,” Kegan muttered under her breath, and did the same.

  There was an enormous, muscular man standing guard by the door as we walked up. He looked sort of like a tikbalang, but with four horse legs instead of two. His face and hands were pale peach, but his horse legs and tail were black.

  “Lisette Wereclanvulture,” I said nervously. “Um, I was invited. Do you have me on a list or something?”

  “And they are?” the man demanded suspiciously.

  “Simon Wereclanhawk,” Dad said, holding out his hand. “I’m Lisette’s father. This is Lisette’s friend Kegan.”

  “Hi,” Kegan said, keeping her hands to herself.

  The tikbalang with four legs shook Dad’s hand, snorting through his nose.

  His human nose. Tikbalangs didn’t have human heads; they had horse heads. Would it be rude to ask his species? I was dying to know. It was like someone had taken a human top and stuck a horse half underneath it.

  The man let go of Dad’s hand and glanced over at Kegan. “What kind of vampire are you?”

  Vampire? I thought, startled. Oh, yeah, the filmy black dress and corset. She has got to learn to start dressing like normal people.

  “She’s n—” I began.

  “Dracula,” Kegan said without skipping a beat.

  Kegan! I thought, outraged.

  The man pulled out a cellphone from his pocket and typed something in with his thumbs. We stood there for a moment, waiting.

  Where does he get his clothes? I wondered. His shirt was a normal guard shirt, covering his human torso down to the waist, but then he had enormous cargo pants that covered his lower half all the down to the hooves. They’d clearly been made for his species, with four leg holes instead of two, but I’d never seen a store that carried anything like that. Had they been custom-made?

  “I’ve never seen a basajaun like you,” Dad said. “Are you some variant of tikbalang?”

  “I’m a centaur,” the man grunted. “We’re rare.” His phone squawked like a duck, and he swiped the screen. “Okay,” he said grudgingly. “You have permission to enter. Go on in.”

  He stepped aside, and we pushed the door and went into the warehouse. My heart pounded in nervousness, and I was nearly blinded as my eyes adjusted from the twilight outside.

  Glad I’m not a wereowl, I thought. There was a wereowl at school who was always complaining that the lights were too bright. Of course, if I’d been a wereowl, I wouldn’t have needed to be here.

  There were about two dozen teenagers hanging around, some of them chatting with each other. I also saw two adults. And a table covered in cardboard boxes that looked suspiciously like —

  “Pizza!” Kegan squealed.

  She dashed forward and immediately began helping herself from one of the boxes. She filled a paper plate with three slices and started gobbling one immediately. With red sauce soon all around her mouth, she looked more like a vampire than ever.

  Thanks for the moral support, I thought, annoyed. Now she was chatting with some of the other teenagers, completely at ease, apparently having forgotten that I was the one who should be introducing myself to them.

  “Hello,” a man said, leaving the group of teenagers he’d been talking to. “You’re new. Are you Lisette Wereclanvulture?”

  “Yep,” I said, and wondered if I’d sounded as stupid as I felt. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Rodrigo Vampireclanaswang,” he said, smiling warmly. “You can call me Rodrigo. I run this clan. It’s nice to meet you, Lisette.”

  “You’re an aswang?” I blurted out. “They’re not rare. There are two aswang clans in Sky City. What are you doing here?”

  A trifle of annoyance crossed his features. Then it vanished. “I grew up in Los Abarimon,” he said smoothly. “There was no aswang clan there. I was forced to travel over an hour to attend the nearest one. I know how it feels to be rare, which is why I wanted to found this special community.”

  Ha! I thought. Try being half the country away from the ONLY clan of your species!

  “And we’re very grateful to you,” Dad said politely.

  I looked around. “Where is she?” I asked.

  “Where’s who?” Rodrigo asked.

  “Loretta Vampireclanso-called-jiangshi,” I said. “She said she’d show me what she actually is if I came here. Where is she?”

  The man looked very annoyed again. “Unfortunately, Miss Vampireclanjiangshi is very busy tonight with other engagements. Our next meeting will be on Thursday, and I’m certain she’ll be here then.”

  “Okay, what is she?” I asked.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “What — is — she?” I repeated. “If she’s not here to show me, you can tell me. She said she’s some kind of vampire that’s really rare.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t gossip about people’s species behind their backs,” he informed me. “It isn’t polite. Now, feel free to mingle with the other teenagers, help yourself to a piece of pizza, introduce yourself as you make yourself at home . . .”

  I tuned him out as he continued some welcome spiel. My dad was paying attention, so that was plenty for both of us. Where was Kegan? She’d disappeared completely. She had better not get us both into trouble. I pulled out my phone and texted her. Where R U?

  A moment later, her answer appeared. Snooping.

  Kegan!!!! I typed.

  Don’t worry, I’m the only specter here, she typed back. I checked. They won’t expect me to snoop through walls. By the way, the hot guy is a pumpkin.

  Hot guy? Momentarily distracted, I glanced across the room. There was only one person she could be talking about, a very tall guy who looked maybe half-Asian.

  Pumpkin? I wrote skeptically.

  Vampire pumpkin, she wrote. Ask him. Seriously.

  “Is there a vampire pumpkin here?” I asked Rodrigo, interrupting the conversation he’d been having with my father.

  “I told you, we don’t gossip about people’s species,” Rodrigo said stiffly. “If you have a question about someone, ask them yourself.”

  He had a point: it was an excuse to talk to the hot guy. I stuffed my phone into my pocket and wandered over to where the hot guy taking a huge bite of pizza.

  “Hi,” I said, plopping down into the chair next to him. It was, conveniently, empty. “I’m Lisette Wereclanvulture. I’m a vulture. How about you?”

  He swallowed his bite of pizza. “I’m a pumpkin,” he said with a wry look.

  I stared at him. Was he lying or telling the truth? I couldn’t be sure.

  “Are you some kind of kapre?” I hedged.

  “I wish,” he said, making a face. “I just got turned last week, and I am the lamest thing ever. I was supposed to be a jubokko, and instead, I’m a vampire pumpkin. I didn’t even know those existed! Did you?”

  Jubokkos were pretty lame too, given that they were vampire trees. But I didn’t say that.

  “Nope,” I said. “Do you suck blood or, uh, sap?”

  “Blood, apparently,” he said gloomily. “Not that I can get it for myself. Apparently in the Balkans, they set out tubs of blood to sit in during the full moon. Before they’re stuck as pumpkins all night.”

  I had to admit, that made me feel downright cheerful about being a vulture.

  “My girlfriend thinks it’s funny,” he added, shaking his head. “Every time she sees me transform, she howls with laughter. She wouldn’t think it was so funny if she’d turned into a vegetable.”

  Darn it! My interest in this conversation abruptly shriveled. Why did all the good-looking guys have girlfriends?

  “Uh huh,” I said, hopping up to my feet. “Well, nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you around. What was your name, again?”

  “Damon,” he said, folding his pizza in half to take another gigantic bite.

  “Right,” I said, committing it to memory and then immediately forgetting it. I wandered off, pulling out my phone again. What R U doing?

  Checking boxes
, Kegan typed. Nothing interesting.

  Duh, I typed. It’s a warehouse.

  I’ll keep looking, she typed.

  I rolled my eyes and stuffed my phone into my pocket. I supposed, in a way, she was looking out for me. If they had any deep, dark secrets hidden in obvious places, she would find them.

  “Hi, I’m a werevulture,” I said to the next person I ran into, a girl who looked about twelve. Her turning must have gone wrong because her parents had turned her so young. “I was supposed to be a hawk. What about you?”

  “A wereechidna,” she said in a quiet, very shy voice. “I was supposed to be a porcupine.”

  I had no idea what an echidna was. “And I suppose there isn’t a clan for those in town,” I said knowingly, hoping for a hint.

  “There was a monotreme clan,” she murmured, her cheeks glowing red. “But I didn’t want to be in with a bunch of platypuses.”

  “Uh huh,” I said. “Well, good luck and stuff.”

  I turned away and snuck my phone out of my pocket to check what an “ekidna” was. Ghoulgle corrected my spelling and directed me to a Werepedia page about a spiky, egg-laying mammal that lived in Australia.

  Right.

  I was about to turn off the screen when a new text popped up from Kegan.

  I found a locked room behind a locked staircase. There might be something interesting here!

  Don’t get caught!!! I typed back.

  Kegan responded with a smiley face.

  I snorted and turned off the screen, stuffing the phone back into my pocket.

  “What do you think so far?” Rodrigo asked from behind me.

  I jumped and spun around. My heart pounded. He hadn’t been reading over my shoulder, had he?

  “Uh,” I said, stalling. “Uh, I’ve met two people. They seem nice.”

  “That’s good,” he said, smiling.

  And Kegan’s going through what are probably your private clan records right now, I thought. I hope you don’t have haltijas or invisible auras standing guard to keep out specters, like bank vaults do.

  “I hope you understand how delighted we are to have you,” he said sincerely. “We’ve never had a werebird, and it’s nice to have a variety.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, worrying about Kegan. If this clan had nothing to hide, she was prying into stuff that was none of her business. If they did have something to hide, she might be in danger. Should I say something to Dad? Should I go after her?

  No. If I went, they’d be much more likely to notice she was missing. If I said something to Dad and he went after her, they might notice he was gone, too. Besides, neither of us could go through locked doors.

  “… we even have a specter coming next time,” Rodrigo was saying, “which will bring us representatives of all the eight races. Isn’t that something?”

  “Uh huh,” I said, trying to pretend I’d been paying attention. “What kind of specter?”

  “I told you,” Rodrigo said with irritation, “we don’t —”

  “— gossip about species here, yeah, yeah,” I said in boredom.

  There was intense irritation behind his eyes, and I suspected he was no longer so glad I was here.

  Just when I was really starting to worry about Kegan, she reappeared from the doorway across the room. I bolted over.

  “Well?” I hissed.

  She shrugged, waving her hand. “Just using the bathroom,” she added loudly, apparently for the benefit of anyone within earshot.

  I gave her a look that said, Anything interesting?

  She shook her head slightly, looking disappointed.

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I was starting to want this clan to be legit. After all, it was a clan, and the people here seemed okay. Even if the hot guy was taken, the specter Rodrigo had mentioned might be another one.

  Besides, the hot Asian pumpkin — what was his name again? — might break up with his girlfriend later. We could go out to a drive-through and get pumpkin pie milkshakes . . . wait, no, that probably wouldn’t go over well.

  The rest of the meeting passed uneventfully and ended with Rodrigo passing out flyers for us to share with friends and family. I was pretty bored by the time we got in the car to leave.

  “Are all your clan meetings that boring?” I asked Kegan.

  “Pretty much,” Kegan shrugged. “Except at full moon. Then we practice screaming.”

  That didn’t sound much better.

  “Our werehawk clan gatherings are pretty much the same as family get-togethers, like Thanksgiving,” Dad said mildly from the driver’s seat. “That’s why we usually only have them during the full moon or a turning.”

  “Not quite the same as Thanksgiving,” I snorted. “Aunt Dodo wouldn’t be there talking constantly.”

  “Your grandmother more than makes up for that,” Dad assured me.

  Joy.

  We turned a corner and headed down the road, passing the trailer that the centaur was being driven home in. He was reading a book, flipping through the pages as the breeze whipped his tail behind him.

  “What did you find while you were snooping?” I asked Kegan.

  “Uh . . .” Kegan glanced at my dad guiltily.

  “I noticed you leave,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “I figured you were looking around. As long as you didn’t steal anything, I don’t mind that you snuck away to look.”

  “I didn’t steal anything!” Kegan said, looking offended. “I wouldn’t do that! It’s not like there was anything to steal, anyway. Just a bunch of boxes with pipes and stuff. And a locked room with a boring filing cabinet and a pink turning stone.”

  “A what?” Dad shouted, and nearly swerved off the road.

  Chapter 8: Taint

  “Pink?” Dad asked, his eyes wide. He pulled the car to the side of the road with a jerk, and stared back at Kegan. “You said pink? Are you sure?”

  “Uh . . . yes . . .” Kegan gulped, looking as scared as I felt. My dad never acted like this. “Is pink bad? Ours is green.”

  “Ours, too,” I said, and then remembered that I no longer had any claim to it. “I mean . . . the werehawk clan’s is.”

  “They’re all green,” Dad said. His shoulders were tense. “Are you sure it was a turning stone, Kegan? Not a rose quartz that was the same shape, or something?”

  “Um, yes,” Kegan said, swallowing. “It was glowing, and there wasn’t a flashlight on it or anything. Why? What does pink mean?”

  “It means it’s tainted,” Dad said grimly.

  A chill ran down my spine. Tainted? That sounded bad. What did it mean?

  “Is it contagious?” Kegan asked tentatively.

  “Yes,” Dad said sharply. “Anyone that stone turns will be tainted. Any turning stone a tainted person touches becomes tainted. You didn’t touch it, did you, Kegan?”

  “N-no,” she stammered. “Would that have . . . made me sick?”

  “It might have tainted you,” Dad said shortly. “There’s no cure for that. It’s permanent.”

  I still didn’t understand what that meant. From the look on Kegan’s face, she didn’t either.

  Dad turned the key in the ignition, and the car roared to life. We sped up faster and faster down the now-empty road, twenty miles an hour over the speed limit, then thirty.

  “Dad, slow down!” I yelled. “We’re going to get a ticket!”

  “We’re going straight to the police station,” he said, his voice like iron. “If they ticket me on the way there, so be it.”

  “Should I dial 911?” I asked, pulling out my phone. It shook a little in my hands. “Is it that much of an emergency?”

  “Yes,” Dad said without glancing at me. “Do that.”

  My fingers were slick as I dialed the numbers. I had no idea what was going on, but I was starting to get really scared.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” a brisk voice on the other end said.

  “We saw a pink turning stone and apparently it’s tainted, and I do
n’t know what that means, but apparently it’s bad!”

  “Where are you?” the voice asked.

  “They want to know where we are!” I exclaimed.

  Dad recited the address of the warehouse we’d just gone to. I rattled it off, my heart hammering. “That’s where we saw it,” I finished with. “My dad’s now driving away really fast. How bad is this?”

  “The police will be there right away,” the voice on the other end said.

  I ended the call and gripped my phone tightly in both hands. I checked the rearview mirror, and no one was following us. That was good, right? Unless it was an aura. Auras went invisible when flying, right?

  “What is taint?” Kegan asked from the back seat, her voice rising in panic. “Is it a disease?”

  “In the same way that smallpox or the Black Death were merely diseases,” Dad said grimly.

  Okay, fine, but I didn’t know what those were, either! Were they something I should have learned in History class if I hadn’t slept through it most weeks?

  Kegan gasped. “Does that mean it’s an epic . . . epicenter . . .”

  “Epidemic,” Dad said. “I sure hope not.”

  “How bad is it?” I asked in a small voice.

  “I’ll let the police explain the rest,” Dad said, screeching into the parking lot of the police office. He parked, not even trying to make sure the car was straight, and yanked his key from the ignition. He was out before Kegan and I had even gotten our seat belts off.

  We ran after him, my heart pounding.

  Are we going to get attacked before we can tell anybody? I wondered, my mind racing. I knew how this kind of thing worked! I’d seen movies!

  I jumped when I heard the sound of flapping wings, but it was just a sparrow up in a tree.

  “Think that’s a weresparrow?” I hissed at Kegan.

  “Can’t be,” she whispered back. “It’s eating a bug.”

  “That’s no guarantee,” I whispered. “I ate garbage.”

  “Ewwwwww,” she hissed, wrinkling her nose.

  The sign on the door said it was open until six pm, and the clock on the wall said 5:46. Apparently we were in luck. But then we had to wait in line behind an angry undine shouting about a mermaid stealing his waterbike.