Ricochet

by Cheree Alsop

  I punched in the phone number I had memorized from the emergency contact list on the Willards’ refrigerator.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Willard? This is Zev.”

  “Zev, where did you get a phone?” she asked, her voice amiable. “We just started another round of cards. Should we deal you in?”

  “I don’t think so,” I replied. I looked at Isley’s unconscious form. “Alia’s friend Isley was attacked.”

  “By what?” Mrs. Willard asked. “What do you need?” Her tone was suddenly all business. I was grateful I at least wasn’t dealing with the fainting, easily ruffled type of female I had seen in many of the old study clips at the Lair.

  “She was attacked by a felgul.” I rushed on to avoid any questions about what that was or why she had been attacked. Questions could wait until later. Isley couldn’t. “I need someone to meet me at the corner of Eighth and Cannon Street to pick her up. She doesn’t have much time. Can you get the warlock and witches to meet us at your house? She’s going to need all the help they can give.”

  “Wait right there,” Mrs. Willard replied. “Help is coming.”

  I slipped the phone back into Isley’s pocket and shifted to wolf form again. The last thing I needed was for the residents of the home behind us to find a naked, bleeding young man hiding behind their garbage cans. In my mind, a bleeding wolf was far better. One part of me wondered if I was wrong about that, but there wasn’t time to question my decision.

  I crouched next to Isley and waited. The sound of her heartbeat beside me was weak. There was nothing I could do until we were with the Steins, but I hated the inability to act. If the felguls returned, I would defend her with my life; it was a weak thought compared to the battle her body was fighting for survival.

  She shivered uncontrollably. I lowered myself next to her and tried to share with her whatever warmth I had. Her torn jacket and thin jogging clothes were little protection against the cold without the effects of shock that were no doubt flowing through her body. I laid my head carefully on her shoulder and watched the road, anxious for any sign of help.

  I heard James’ car long before it came into sight. He reached the stop sign across from us and the car shuddered when he threw it into park before it had stopped moving completely. He shoved open the door and Alia did the same on the other side. They both ran across the road toward me. Isley gave a small whimper but didn’t open her eyes when I rose.

  Alia stared from the red-streaked driveway to Isley. “Zev, what happened?”

  “He can’t answer you,” James replied.

  Red touched Alia’s cheeks as if she just realized I was in wolf form. “Right.” She knelt by Isley as she told me, “Mom called Mrs. Stein. She’s bringing supplies and will meet us at home.”

  I backed away so they could help the girl.

  Alia put a hand to Isley’s side where I had lain. She pulled it back covered in red. Quickly, with sure fingers, she lifted Isley’s shirt and checked her for wounds.

  “I think this is all from Zev,” she said to James.

  “Except her arm,” James replied. “Look.”

  He pointed at the bite visible beneath Isley’s torn jacket sleeve.

  “I think that’s what Zev’s worried about, right?”

  I nodded when he looked at me.

  “Let’s get her in the car,” James said. “I hope the Steins know more about this than we do.”

  “We should have read Dad’s books,” Alia replied.

  She ducked under Isley’s arm and waited until James did the same. They each gently took one of Isley’s legs and stood.

  “Does Mom still have them?” James asked in surprise.

  “She has the weapons,” Alia said as if that was answer enough.

  I followed behind them to the car. James fumbled with the door, then opened it wide enough for them to lay Isley in the back seat.

  I turned away, prepared to cut back through the forest toward the Willard residence to meet them at home.

  “I’ll ride in back with Isley,” Alia said. “Zev, you take the front.”

  She opened the door for me. I looked down at the blood visible through my fur.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said.

  “Yeah,” James echoed from the driver’s seat. “Ian still owes me a cleaning for driving you in it before. A little more blood isn’t going to make it worse.”

  I wanted to point out that at least the other stains were on the back seat and floor. Adding the passenger seat to that list definitely did make it worse, but they were both looking at me expectantly. Isley gave a little whimper from the back seat that decided me. She didn’t have time for us to argue. I jumped in and Alia shut the door. She slid smoothly into the backseat and pillowed Isley’s head on her lap.

  “Hurry,” she told her brother. “Her breathing doesn’t sound good.”

  James took a dirt road shortcut around the neighborhood and had us at the Willards far faster than I thought he would. The Willards and Steins came out as soon as the car slid to a stop. The doors were thrown open and Isley was carried into the house in a whirlwind of helping hands.

  “He said felguls?” Mrs. Stein said.

  “That’s a felgul bite, alright,” Virgo answered. “Look at the streaks.”

  “She’s almost out of time,” Jemmy noted as they went through the door. “Virg, get the charcoal and lavender. Alia, do you guys have any aloe? I brought some dried, but fresh aloe is best.”

  “I have some in the kitchen,” Mrs. Willard said. Her voice faded as they hustled into the living room. “Let me get you a few stalks. James, Ian, get the rags and the water from the stove.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Ian replied.

  I studied the shadows as I padded to the door. I didn’t want to get in the way. Helping to heal someone else had never been one of my strong points. Isley needed experts, and by the sound of things, she was in good hands.

  My fur was a mess. The claw marks from the felguls had stopped bleeding for the most part, but the healing light of the moon was having a hard time penetrating the ratty matts made by the blood and dirt of our scuffle. I would heal better if I was in human form. The thought that they might need someone to answer questions about the felgul spurred me on. I crossed the back lawn, leaped the fence, and made my way to the thicket where I had hidden my clothes.

  The lack of scent from either felguls or werewolves was reassuring. I phased as quickly as I could push myself. The last thing I needed was to be caught in the middle by any of the dark creatures who haunted the night. Painfully, I pulled on my pants and shoes. I hesitated about my shirt. The thought that the moonlight would heal quicker on bare skin decided me. I carried it to the porch and sank down on the steps.

  “Zev?”

  I turned at Aspen’s quiet voice. She stood in the doorway with a purple blanket over her shoulders and a blue teddy bear hanging from one hand. It was obvious by her mussed hair and sleepy expression that the commotion had woken her up.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her.

  She nodded and walked across the porch to me. Her large green eyes traveled over my bare back and I regretted not wearing the shirt.

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” I told her with a forced smile. I pointed up at the moonlight. “The moon heals me.”

  She sat on the steps next to me. “That’s neat. I wish the moon would heal me.”

  I watched her closely, remembering her words about the demon.

  “Do you feel like you need healing?”

  She nodded, then shook her head. “Yes, but not really. I don’t think healing will help. At least he’s sleeping now.”

  I stared at her. “You can tell when he’s asleep?”

  She nodded again. “He’s calm when he’s resting and I can sleep, too. Neither of us have nightmares that way.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Is Isley going to be alright?” she asked.

  “I hope s
o.” I remembered I was talking to an eight-year-old, so I corrected myself and said, “Everyone is doing their best to help her. She’s going to be fine.”

  A yawn caught the little girl and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. “I’m going to get some water and then go back to bed.”

  I smiled at her. “You do that. Everything will be better in the morning.”

  She surprised me by giving me a hug. She didn’t seem at all worried about my blood getting on her pajamas. I patted her back awkwardly.

  “Goodnight, Zev,” she said.

  “Goodnight, Aspie.”

  She rose and walked back to the doorway. When her footsteps paused, I turned.

  “You should have this,” she said, holding out her blanket. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

  “Werewolves don’t get cold very easily,” I told her.

  Her expression was one of innocence when she replied, “But you’re shivering. Take it. I have others. Mom has piles of them on my bed.”

  I couldn’t deny the sweetness of her expression when she crossed to me and set it on my shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I told her, touched beyond words by the little girl’s kindness.

  I watched her go back inside and close the door.

  As much as I wanted to check on Isley, I kept my focus on the road. If I hadn’t gone on a run with Mitch’s encouragement, she wouldn’t have survived; there was no doubt of that in my mind. I shied away from the thought of Isley as a face of a missing young woman posted around town and on the internet. Others would soon follow if Mitch and I couldn’t get to the bottom of things.

  Quiet footsteps heralded the werewolf’s approach. I turned when he opened the door.

  “Mrs. Stein needs to talk to you,” he said.

  He held out a hand and helped me to my feet without me asking.

  “They tore you up pretty good,” he noted.

  I pulled the blanket closer around my shoulders. “Nothing a little moonlight can’t help.”

  “And sleep,” he replied. At my questioning look, he said, “You look exhausted, Zev. You’re not going to be able to help them if you’re not rested. When was the last time you slept?”

  I thought about it. “Two nights ago, for a little while before the battle with the werewolves. I think.”

  Mitch shook his head. “You know better than that. In fact, I think you’ve actually yelled at me for it back at the Lair.”

  The memory of finding out that the Masters were forcing werewolves to take double patrol shifts came to my mind. I had indeed scolded the werewolves who looked to me for guidance only to find out that they had been commanded not to sleep by those above me.

  Sleep isn’t necessary in the face of the arising threat.

  The memory of the Master’s voice scratched inside my mind with careless claws.

  “Sleep schedules are necessary to keep my patrol healthy,” I had pointed out.

  They’ll be dead if the perimeter is crossed.

  “If they aren’t alert enough to guard the perimeter, it’ll be crossed anyway,” I had replied.

  Half circles for acting against my instincts and arguing with the Masters on behalf of the other werewolves had been branded into my skin after my outburst.

  “Why did we stay at the Lair for so long?” I asked.

  Mitch chuckled. “Sheer stubbornness, I think.”

  I nodded and opened the door.

  “Hey, Zev?”

  I looked over my shoulder at the werewolf.

  “I’ll watch the perimeter. Get some sleep after you talk to Mrs. Stein.” The werewolf’s gaze was knowing when he said, “Rest if you expect to heal. You’re no good to us anyway if you’re dead on your feet.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, my tone dry.

  I closed the door to his answering grin and made my way through the living room.

  They had moved Isley into a guest bedroom near the back of the house. Alia, James, and Ian watched from the doorway. At the sound of my approach, the three siblings turned.

  Ian’s eyes widened. “Zev, are you alright?”

  I nodded and held the blanket closer to hide the wounds from the felguls. “Nothing a little moonlight can’t heal,” I replied. I regretted leaving my shirt on the porch, but it was too late to turn back. “Mrs. Stein wanted me?”

  “Come in,” Mrs. Willard called from the bedroom.

  James backed up so I could enter.

  Mrs. Stein spun to face me. “What on earth are felguls doing in Brickwell?” she demanded.

  I was caught off-guard by her verbal attack and held up my hands. “I have no idea, honest!”

  The round woman with frizzy red hair that stuck out in every direction gave me a quick once-over. “I would say you were in on it, but you look almost as bad as Isley.” She gave a little whistle. “She’s fortunate you found her. I can’t imagine a felgul in Brickwell.”

  “There were three of them,” I said quietly.

  Virgo and Jemmy stared at me from either side of their mother. Jemmy’s hands were covered in the same black paste that coated Isley’s arm. From what I could see, the streaks of poison heading toward the girl’s heart appeared to have lessened, but it was hard to say.

  “Three felguls,” Mrs. Stein repeated. “Are you sure?”

  I was sure a sarcastic answer would get me smacked given her serious expression, so I only nodded and said, “Very sure.”

  Mrs. Stein shook her head. “What are we to do, then? We can’t keep up with werewolves and felguls. They’re not working together, are they?”

  I couldn’t hide the distaste I felt when I shook my head. “Not in a million years. Our species hate each other.”

  She whistled through her teeth again and motioned for me to approach.

  “We’ve made enough paste for a few bites. Let’s see what you’re dealing with.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be fine with a little moonlight.”

  I tried to leave, but Alia barred the way with a glare belied by the concern on her face.

  “Not until you’ve been tended to,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before. Now let them take care of you before that felgi…felgin… whatever creature finds out where we live.”

  “Do we have to worry about that?” Ian asked with a concerned expression from the doorway.

  I shook my head and saw relief in the seventeen-year-old’s face. “They shouldn’t. Felguls hate werewolves. I’m surprised they didn’t run when I showed up.”

  “It’s probably because there were three of them,” Virgo said.

  The blue runes on his hands glowed from the remnants of whatever spell he had done for Isley. I hoped their ministrations were enough to help the girl.

  “Sit down,” Mrs. Willard said.

  She scooted a chair toward me and motioned for me to take a seat. “Stop being prideful and let us do what we can to repay you for saving her life.”

  The comment struck me. “I would have done it regardless.”

  Mrs. Willard gave me a small smile as I sat on the chair backwards. “Yes, but from what I remember Nathaniel telling the kids, a werewolf’s instinct is to protect him or herself first. Fighting three creatures like this doesn’t exactly scream self-preservation.”

  I gave her an amused smile and said, “Would you accept that I have a death wish?”

  She chuckled and replied, “If you had a death wish, you would’ve died the first night when Ian brought you home. You have the strongest life wish I’ve ever seen.”

  Alia laughed from the doorway. “A life wish? Mom, you’re making things up.”

  “Yeah,” James said with a laugh of his own. “Nobody has a life wish.”

  Mrs. Willard pulled the blanket from my back and the laughter stopped. Silence filled the room. I kept my face carefully averted from anyone else. I didn’t need to see their expressions to know how they felt about the burns and scars there.
The felguls’ claw marks would soon be just more mutilations to add to the collection.

  “That you’re still here is a life wish if I’ve ever seen one,” Mrs. Willard said quietly

  I shifted uncomfortably in the chair and didn’t reply. Jemmy picked up the bowl of black salve from beside Isley’s bed and brought it to her mother. Hands started to smooth the thick paste across my back. I gritted my teeth and ignored the sting of their touch.

  Chapter Nine

  My gaze drifted to Isley’s face. The girl looked completely exhausted. A fevered sweat had broken out across her forehead, making her skin shine. Her face was pale and her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids as though she was caught in a dream or a nightmare. I hoped it was a dream for her sake. Her hands clenched the quilt that had been spread across the bed, and sweat soaked the nightgown someone had put on her.

  “She woke up for a little bit while we were working on the bite,” Jemmy said, following my gaze. “She kept repeating ‘wolf, wolf’ over and over. At one point, she blinked and looked up at me. She told me that a scary wolf had fought the cats. Then she closed her eyes and passed out. It was the last thing she said.”

  I rose from the chair.

  “We’re not done,” Mrs. Stein protested.

  “I’ll take care of the rest of it,” I told her.

  I held out a hand.

  She watched me for a moment before she put the bowl of salve in it.

  I glanced toward the door and saw Alia’s surprised expression. The realization that I was being rude struck me. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and said, “Thank you for your help. I’m sure I can finish the rest on my own.” I gave what I hoped was a warm smile. “Thank you for taking care of Isley.”

  Mrs. Stein patted my hand. “Thank you for bringing her to us. You saved her life.”

  “I hope so,” I replied.

  James, Alia, and Ian backed away from the door when I approached. The thought that had been pushing at the forefront of my mind became too persistent to ignore. I paused in the doorway and said, “If it’s not too much to ask, could you, well….” I didn’t know how to phrase what I needed to say.