Ricochet

by Cheree Alsop

  “It needs a good wash, but you have a lot of body. I could really work with this,” she said.

  Alia gave me a worried look before she said, “What are you saying?”

  Janie finished her walk around the werewolf and stopped in front of him. “I’d like to cut your hair.”

  “My-my hair?” the werewolf replied.

  Janie nodded, her pink hair bouncing. “Yes, and maybe give you a shave.” She mistook his distrustful look for reluctance and quickly said, “Or you can keep the beard. Whatever you prefer. I could just, maybe, trim it up a bit?” She gave him a winning smile and said, “What do you think?”

  “I don’t think we have time—” Alia began.

  “Of course we do,” Trina said, cutting her off. “The store is put back in order, and Isley said the salon was empty. She doesn’t have any appointments for a few hours. It’ll be perfect!”

  “Isley’s at the salon?” I said.

  I felt guilty for the way I had spoken to her. The fact that she had left without telling the others what she had seen confused me. Weren’t girls supposed to run to each other and confess everything? If not, all I had learned in the few teen movies I had seen on the internet had deceived me. I was grateful and concerned about my lack of knowledge at the same time. But the thought of pressing my luck by going to the salon felt like a bad idea.

  “Yeah, what do you think?” Alia asked. She threw me an assessing look. “You could both use a bit of a trim, and it would help with, well….” She glanced at the werewolf and then back at me. “Settling in.”

  I could take the hint. Shaggy strangers weren’t exactly the most welcome houseguests. The Willards had already put up with one such visitor. Pressing another on them so quickly might really be stretching things. Maybe if they saw the werewolf as something other than a, well, werewolf, things would go easier.

  Also, he thought he was ready for real human encounters. It was time to test that theory. Alia’s friends had already seen him at his worst. What else could happen?

  “Alright,” I gave in. “He definitely needs it.”

  “Yes!” Janie whooped.

  The werewolf threw me a long-suffering glance.

  She grabbed the werewolf’s hand and practically dragged him through the store. He shot me a desperate look. I lifted my hands with amusement and Trina grabbed one of them.

  “You’re not getting away that easily,” the bubbly brunette said.

  I shook my head. “I need to stay with Alia.”

  “Why?” Trina challenged.

  “Yeah,” Jayco said. “It’s not like she needs a bodyguard.

  I wanted to reply that a bodyguard was exactly what she needed, but I didn’t know how to say it without coming off as either creepy or controlling. Even I knew that both would be entirely out of line for someone who claimed to break up a burglary after just walking by. At least the backpacking bit would give me a reason for why they had invited me to stay at their house.

  I threw Alia a pleading look, hoping she would be able to come up with something to get me out of it.

  She shrugged. “It’s almost time to lock up. I think a haircut would do you good.” She simply smiled at my surprised stare and said, “Yes, I’m throwing you to the wolves. Enjoy that.”

  Her teasing was enough to make my breath catch in my throat, and her daring comment about wolves made me smile despite the nerves that filled me at the girl’s hand on my arm.

  I couldn’t fight Trina without hurting her. She was a tiny, adorable girl who oozed goodwill. I threw a look back at Alia as I let the girl lead me from the store behind Janie and the other werewolf.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  Alia nodded. “You need a haircut. Trust me. I’ll be along as soon as I’m done here.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jayco said. He folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the doorframe. “I can tell the burglary thing put you on edge. I’ll stay and hang out to make sure Lia’s safe.”

  I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse, but Trina wasn’t going to wait around to find out. My last glimpse was of Alia and Jayco talking while Brexton followed behind us. He paused to check out a watch display and we left him when we rounded the corner.

  “Are you nervous?” Trina asked.

  I looked down at her. “No, why?” I lied.

  She glanced at me. “Your muscles are tense.” She squeezed my arm. “It’s impressive.”

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably and lowered my arm. She let it drop and didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she pointed. “That’s Isley’s salon.”

  Reluctance filled me. “Isley’s?” Now that we were getting closer, I was beginning to think it was a horrible idea to go anywhere near the girl again.

  “Yeah,” Trina replied. “I mean, it’s hers in all but the name because her mom owns it. Janie works with her there and the rest of us get the benefits of having awesome friends!”

  I followed the others into the salon named Marigold’s.

  “Sit right here,” Janie instructed the werewolf.

  “You can have the seat right next to him, Zev,” Trina told me. “Isley should be out in a minute.”

  I sat in the chair she pointed to and twisted to ask, “Can’t you do it?”

  She shook her head with a laugh. “If I cut your hair, you’d come out looking like a Xolo.”

  The werewolf burst out laughing, which surprised both of us by the look on his face when he stopped.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “A breed of dog from Mexico,” he said as Janie walked around him checking his hair. Red touched his face at his uncharacteristic outburst. “It’d be a great look on you.”

  I couldn’t hide my incredulous expression. “You know dog breeds from Mexico?”

  He lifted a shoulder and the first smile I had ever seen from him spread across his face. “Let’s just say I didn’t always do the required research.”

  Janie leaned down and said in a loud whisper, “I fudged a bunch of my research papers also. High school Biology is way overrated.”

  She and Trina laughed and we did the same as if we knew what she was talking about; our laughter was forced, and we exchanged uncomfortable glances I hoped they didn’t catch.

  Isley came out of a room in the back at that moment. Her eyes fell on me, then shifted away. “What are you guys laughing at?”

  “Apparently, this guy and I had the same high school study skills,” Janie said. She paused and shot the werewolf a look. “I’m about to cut your hair and I don’t even know your name.”

  He glanced at me and I looked around for inspiration that wouldn’t be obvious. My eyes fell on a bottle of shampoo that had a person’s full name across it. I shortened the last name and blurted out, “Mitch.”

  “Mitch?” Janie and the werewolf said at the same time.

  I shot the werewolf a look and he corrected with, “Yes, Mitch. That’s my name. My name is Mitch.”

  I wished he would stop repeating himself. I was to blame for giving him a spur-of-the-moment name, but at least it was better than him admitting he didn’t have a name at all.

  “Mitch,” Janie repeated. “You sure about that?”

  The smile she gave him appeared to catch him off-guard. I knew the feeling all too well from Alia.

  He opened his mouth, closed it again, then cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I’m sure.”

  She stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mitch. I’m Janie Thompson, born and raised in Brickwell and itching to leave.” She gave a dramatic sigh and said, “But I’ll probably be stuck in this county for the rest of my life.”

  Trina shook her head with mocking sorrow on her face. “Poor dear, never been anywhere. What a horrible life.”

  Janie stuck her tongue out at her friend before turning back to the werewolf’s hair.

  “Janie, can I talk to you for a moment?” Isley asked.

  I tried not to look at her. I had no idea what the girl was thinking,
and I hated not knowing. Being around Alia let me know exactly how much about girls I didn’t know. The thought was as unsettling as underestimating an opponent. I glanced over and Isley shot me a look at the same time. At her unreadable expression, I realized that perhaps I was in fact underestimating an opponent.

  “Switch with me,” Isley whispered.

  “What? No,” Janie replied. “Why?”

  “Just do it, please?” Isley begged.

  I studied the ground and pretended that I couldn’t hear them. The werewolf gave me a searching look, but I ignored him.

  “I’ve already figured out what to do with his hair,” Janie said. “I can’t give up now because I’m already halfway through in my mind. You know how I am. I have to go with that feeling. You can handle Zev. His hair isn’t that bad. I know you’ve taken care of worse.”

  Isley sighed with as much frustration as though she had been asked to stab a knife through her hand. “Fine,” she breathed.

  Janie grinned at her. “Thanks, girl. You won’t regret it.”

  “I already do,” Isley muttered under her breath when Janie hurried back to the werewolf.

  Isley glanced at me and caught me watching her in the mirror. I quickly lowered my gaze and pretended to be interested in the shampoo bottle where I had gotten Mitch’s name, then I worried Isley would see where I was looking and figure out that Mitch’s name had been impromptu, and I looked in the mirror again to see that Isley had slipped on an apron and was carrying over a container of hair cutting supplies in a bottle of blue liquid.

  “Are you ready?” she asked curtly.

  Janie was busy chatting with the werewolf about who knows what while Trina carried over the supplies her friend needed. Neither of them paid attention to us.

  I watched Isley closely. “I’m not sure I trust you with those scissors around my neck.”

  She spun the chair around so that I faced the mirror at her station and bent down to say, “I thought you were used to bleeding.”

  “I don’t enjoy it,” I replied before I could stop my sardonic tone.

  She glared at me in the mirror. “And I don’t enjoy being yelled at.”

  Chapter Five

  I had the presence of mind to lower my gaze and say truthfully, “I’m sorry about that. You caught me by surprise.” I sighed and admitted, “I’m not really great with people.” I almost said humans, but I corrected myself at the last second.

  Isley gave in enough to run the comb she was holding through my hair. “Your brother doesn’t seem to have that problem.”

  My heart tightened as though it was gripped by a fist. I belatedly realized she was talking about Mitch, the werewolf who hadn’t had a true name until I gave him one from a haircare product bottle. I reminded myself that my own name wasn’t much better, and admitted that maybe Mitch and I had more in common than I wanted to accept.

  I glanced at him. The werewolf had lost all apparent shyness and was busy chatting it up with Janie and Trina as though he hadn’t just spent a lifetime in a Lair run by bloodthirsty vampire Masters who commanded our every move. His smile, the one he had so recently found, came quickly and easily. No matter what he said, whenever it appeared on his face, the girls answered in kind.

  “He’s a great conversationalist,” I noted in a dry tone to hide my surprise.

  “You don’t appear too thrilled about that,” Isley pointed out.

  I shoved down my pride and said, “I’m glad he’s having a good time.”

  “Well, that’s good of you,” Isley told me. “Maybe you should try it.”

  I met her gaze in the mirror. She paused, one hand pulling the comb through my hair and the other checking the ends. The bright orange stains on the shirt she still wore filled me with guilt.

  “I’m really sorry,” I told her. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, and for earlier with the drinks. You were just trying to be nice and I messed it up. I overreacted and I’m sorry.”

  She watched me for another moment before she began combing my hair again.

  “You remind me of my older brother,” she said without looking at me.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked, “How is that?”

  She measured a length of my hair, then snipped a good portion off the end before she said, “He was the first child and an only child in a military family for a long time. Dad wasn’t a coddler, and Mom obeyed his wishes until I was born, so Zach didn’t get a ton of love growing up.”

  I shoved away the feeling of understanding and said past my tight throat, “So he was utterly charming and got all the ladies?”

  That brought the hint of a smile to Isley’s lips. She shook her head and said, “Not exactly. He was shy, didn’t like to be touched, and was the most comfortable outside and away from crowds.”

  I willed my heartbeat to not give away how close she came to describing me. I needed to keep my walls up. I had already slipped up by letting her see the burns and scars. I was lucky she was letting it slide for now, but I had the feeling we would discuss what she had seen whenever she deemed it necessary. Isley appeared to be patient, strong-willed, but patient. I could be the same.

  One word stood out from the rest. “You said, ‘was’.”

  Isley nodded. Her voice was almost steady when she answered my unspoken question with, “He died in a car accident about a year ago. He had just gotten married and had a baby on the way.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I told her. “That must have been hard.”

  She nodded and silence fell between us. It wasn’t completely comfortable, but at least we weren’t enemies. I watched the comb and scissors move around my head with a precision that turned the werewolf haircutters at the Lair into toddlers with blunted blades. The fact that she belonged where she was became evident in the ease with which she worked, the time she took to ensure that each section of hair was cut just right, and the way her fingers fell into a rhythm.

  The soft slide of the comb through my hair was followed by the quick skrootch of the scissors taking off the ends. The sensation was surprisingly soothing. My only other experience with haircuts was the quick, gruff motions of the werewolves assigned to the duty at the Lair. They didn’t care how their victim ended up as long as they got through the list with efficiency. We made fun of each other until our hair grew out long enough to cover the jagged ends and bald spots left by the quick grooming process. It became fuel for the next battle.

  I wasn’t sure when my eyes closed. I certainly hadn’t done it on purpose, but the lack of sleep from the night before along with the steady murmur from Janie, Trina, and the werewolf, became a soothing cadence that lulled me into a form of peace I had never felt before. Why my instincts decided I was safe with a set of sharp blades inches from my skull was beyond me, but something in Isley’s touch said I could trust her, and there was no threat from the others. It had been so long since I had felt safe that the adrenaline faded and I was left in a numb, blissful state.

  “Somebody’s enjoying the haircut. I don’t think you’ve been this relaxed since we met.”

  I opened my eyes to find Alia watching me from the doorway of the salon.

  A slight, begrudging smile touched my lips. “It’s the music.”

  That was a blatant lie. I hadn’t noticed there even was music until I said it. The tinny, high-pitched voice of the boy who was singing came through the speakers quite harsh when I concentrated on it.

  “Well, it’s looking good,” Alia replied with a warm smile that made my heart skip a beat.

  She walked past me to where the others were lounging in the corner on couches set up with water bottles and magazines. Jayco had rubbed enough of a perfume sample from one of the magazines onto his arm that my nose was beginning to burn. I was amazed he could stand it and figured that maybe human noses were just that weak until Brexton said, “Dude, you smell like a French poodle!”

  “At least I smell like something good,” Jayco replied. He held up an advertisement for
dog food. “Want to improve your odor?”

  Isley stopped in front of me. “Time to shampoo. Hold on.”

  She spun the chair around and tipped it back in one smooth motion that left me hanging with my head back over a sink. A flashback struck me with the force of a freight train.

  “Do it, Twenty-eight. And hurry. We don’t need the Masters catching us.”

  I stared up into the angry glares of four werewolves who held me pinned. I was trapped on my back and my head hung over the edge. Far below, deeper in the Lair, lay the training rings where I had fought two of them at once and put them in recovery, to the Masters’ great approval. I had gone up two ranks in that fight, leaving me only a few more before reaching one of the prized top three positions. Apparently, the other werewolves weren’t nearly as pleased as the Masters.

  “You’ll be punished,” I forced out through my gritted teeth.

  “Only if they know who did it,” Thirty-four, a weak, cowardly werewolf said in a whiny voice.

  “They always know,” I replied.

  That made him pause with the crowbar held above his head.

  I could only imagine what the bite of the cold metal would feel like. I wondered if explosive pain would reach me when my neck was broken, or if the werewolf was strong enough to finish me in one blow. I doubted it, and it was that fear that kept me struggling.

  “What are you guys doing?”

  The voice was familiar. Just past the four werewolves, I made out the form of a dark-haired werewolf with blue eyes. He leaned against the wall and casually crossed his arms, but there was nothing casual in his gaze as he looked from werewolf to werewolf, and then to me.

  “None of your business,” Seventeen said.

  “The Masters are walking the grounds,” the werewolf told them in a level voice. “Should be here soon.”

  Seventeen swore under his breath. He grabbed my throat tight, choking off my breath.

  “Just you wait, Seven. You’ll get yours soon enough,” he hissed in my ear.

  His breath rushed over me with the scent of the cow intestines and corn gruel we had been given for lunch. It hadn’t smelled any better when we ate it than it did from the werewolf’s mouth.