by SM Reine
She looked up at him. His gaze was distant. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did he live?” Seth mused. Rylie knew he wasn’t asking her, so she didn’t respond. “My father was the best in his field. Very accomplished. But my mother told me once that my brother and I were his greatest pride, and that we gave his life meaning. He lived for us.” He finally looked down at her, and his brown eyes were warm. “I am sure your father felt the same about you.”
Seth’s face was so close to hers. At any other time, Rylie’s heart would have been racing, but the weight of sadness pulled her down.
“He was my best friend,” Rylie said. Her chest hitched. “I think he knew that.”
“I’m sure he did.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Seth.” He held her for another minute. By the time he stepped back, her eyes had dried.
“The new moon is coming soon,” Seth said.
Rylie was grateful for the change in subject. It was easier to deal with the mind-bending horror of being a monster than her dad’s death. “I get it if you don’t want to help me again,” she began, but he interrupted her.
“We can do better this time. Last time almost worked, but I didn’t expect the distraction. We could try bear bells to keep your attention on me.”
“No,” she said. “It was crazy to make yourself a target for a half-changed werewolf. Crazy and stupid and dangerous. What if I’d mauled you instead of the fawn?”
“I’m not that easy to maul.”
“I won’t let you put yourself at risk.” Rylie worried her bottom lip between her teeth, choosing her next words carefully. “I thought about how we should do it this time, and I decided I want to be tied up.”
“It’s the new moon. You won’t be as aggressive as you were on the full moon,” Seth said. “I can control you. I’m sure of it.”
“You were sure last time, too. It’s not your fault I killed the deer, but I’m not willing to do it again. Okay? Just try to find somewhere safe. I don’t want to hurt anything.” Rylie silently plead with her eyes.
“It’s your choice.”
“Thank you.” Rylie frowned. “You would tell me if there’s a cure, right?”
His expression became blank. “What do you mean?”
“The Legends of Gray Mountain made it sound like there might be a way to avoid turning into a werewolf. Do you know anything about that?”
“You can’t be immunized against a curse,” Seth said.
“I know that.”
“I promise I will tell you if there’s a cure,” he said. “It’s time for me to go, but I’ll see you on the new moon.” The side of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Are you going to eat meat at dinner like I told you this time?”
Rylie winced. “I don’t know if I can do it. I threw up after the deer incident.”
“Better steak than a fawn, right?”
He had a point.
The night of the new moon, Rylie spent a good twenty minutes at the buffet line. They had all the ingredients for hamburgers: buns in one spot, cheese and lettuce and tomato in another, and hamburger patties in the middle. They were thick and juicy and nearly black from the grill.
They looked good. Really good.
The problem wasn’t that they made Rylie’s mouth water, even though Rylie wanted to stay a vegetarian. The problem was that she wished they were bloodier.
“Better a steak than a fawn,” she muttered to herself, taking three hamburger patties back to her table.
Rylie stared at the contents of her plate. Cows had been farmed in a factory for these hamburgers, and it was wrong to eat animal flesh. The smell made her stomach growl.
She tore off a small piece of patty, shut her eyes, and ate.
Physically, it was easy to eat the hamburger. Her body longed for meat. Mentally, it was a little more complicated. She couldn’t help but think of the pretty calves with long eyelashes near her aunt’s ranch in Colorado. But it was, as Seth said, easier than killing something with her teeth. She ate quickly and tried not to taste it.
The new moon sickness began creeping in not long after.
Rylie met Seth at the same place on the trail as last time. She felt queasy and weak. The hike out that far made her tired. “Where are we going?” she asked as he led her into the forest.
“You’ll see. I found a safe place.”
She was trembling by the time they reached the clearing high on the mountain. Her skin was hot, and her sweat was cold in the warm breeze. She wished desperately for a jacket, or a cold swim, or anything to make her feel better.
The clearing was dotted with crumbling pieces of foundation. It was fenced off by low barbed wire, and signs had been posted to forbid trespass. Seth draped his bag over the fence so they could climb over safely.
Dozens of ruined buildings stood in the middle of the forest, but only one structure remained intact: a gray stone box barely bigger than Rylie’s cabin. Parts of the roof had collapsed, letting starlight illuminate the dark innards of the building. Seth set a lantern on the edge of what might have once been a stone bench.
“This place looks old,” Rylie said, hanging by the doorway.
“It’s the remnants of a settler outpost. There used to be a lot more. The stone for this building was quarried from Gray Mountain itself, which is why it’s survived so long.”
Seth looped long, thick ropes around his arms and removed chains from his bags. They were meant for Rylie. She felt sick watching him work.
She wandered along the walls to distract herself, gazing up at the boarded windows. There were still a couple pieces of stained glass in the narrow frames. Rylie traced her fingers along the warped, bubbled windows. It hinted at beautiful art that had long since been destroyed.
Shifting through some of the rubble, she found two pieces of brass that looked like they had once been bound together. When she held them so the grooves aligned, they formed a cross. “Was this a church?”
“I think so,” he said.
“What destroyed it?”
“Time,” Seth said, dropping the chains on the floor. Metal rang against stone. “And an attack. They fortified this building as a safe haven against werewolves and other animal spirits. The log cabins were easy to break or burn, so this was their fortress.” He fixed one end of the chain to a bracket on the wall. “I think they bound werewolves in here for questioning. It should be strong enough for you.”
Rylie swallowed hard. She was going to be tied up somewhere other werewolves had been tortured in the past. It was almost enough to make her back out.
“And this is something you read in another book of yours,” she said. Seth didn’t respond. “Where did you find this stuff?”
“They used to offer rock climbing at Golden Lake until there were too many accidents. The storage sheds still had all the equipment for it. Try to break this.” He offered her one end of the chain.
“Are you kidding?”
“You’re a lot stronger than you used to be,” Seth said.
Rylie wrapped the chain around her forearm, gripping it hard, and yanked. The metal was securely moored in the wall and held firm.
Seth began harnessing Rylie using a combination of ropes, chains, and karabiners. She held her arms up so he could harness her chest and hips. By the time he was done, Rylie was restrained by ropes around the thighs and upper arms as well, connecting her to several of the metal rings.
He backed up to survey his work. “Does this hurt?”
Rylie shook her head, suppressing a fresh bout of chills. “Isn’t this overkill? I get weak on the new moon.”
“You got weak on the last new moon,” he corrected.
He moved further away. She wished he would stay with her, but he needed to be out of arm’s reach, especially if she got teeth and claws again. “What about the muzzle?”
“Do you want it?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I wouldn’t have killed the fawn if I’d listened to you last time.
”
Seth tied it around Rylie’s face. It hung loose in the front where her snout would elongate to fill it. He gave her a half-hearted smile and squeezed her hand before stepping away. Rylie didn’t think she imagined his fingers lingering on hers.
“I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t go anywhere,” he said, perching himself on the back of a pew.
Rylie sat on the ground to wait for the change. She couldn’t find a comfortable position with all the chains restricting her movement. “I don’t feel as sick as last time. Am I really going to turn again?”
Seth glanced at his watch. “Did you eat meat?” he asked. She nodded. “It makes it easier. You’ll feel the moon’s call soon.”
He was right.
Rylie shut her eyes and tried to brace herself against it, but she was too weak. There was no energy within her to struggle. The wolf rose from the depths of her mind. It wasn’t as hungry and desperate as it had been on the full moon, and it felt almost as lethargic as she did.
“Don’t watch me,” she whispered to Seth. She wasn’t sure if he obeyed.
This time, her fingers began to snap first. She dug her fingernails into her knee caps, gritting her teeth against the pain. When the claws began to bite into her skin, she clutched at the chains instead. Her claws made a metallic screech rubbing against them.
Her face began to fill the muzzle as her ears perked and slid up either side of her head. Blood throbbed through every pore of her skin.
The shrieks that came from her were neither animal nor human.
She strained against the chains. The wolf twisted her legs until they were bloodied by the ropes. The metal rings in the walls creaked and groaned, but held firm.
Rylie’s flesh itched and burned like a million bees swatted at her with razor wings. Fur tore from beneath her skin, sweeping from her shoulders to her hands and down her body. She was on fire and she couldn’t escape it.
When all the changes were done, she slumped to the ground. The wolf felt weak and vulnerable lying on the floor of a human structure. She let out a whimper.
Something moved, and her eyes flew open.
A human stood overhead. He had captured her.
She threw herself against the ropes, snapping her teeth. The human’s face was drawn and grim. He smelled of hunters—the kind of prey that tried to be predator. The kind of prey that might skin her for her pelt if given the chance. The wolf thrashed harder, but he didn’t come within reach. He still had the faint, lingering odor of another wolf’s pheromones on the bag at his feet.
“You’re going to injure yourself struggling like that,” he said. The sounds that came from his mouth made little sense to her. “I have something to help you relax and sleep tonight. I hope for your sake that you don’t remember this tomorrow.”
Reaching into his bag, he removed a handful of shriveled blue flowers. The smell wafted over to her. It was vile. Sour. Toxic.
The wolf let out a warning growl.
“It’s aconite. Wolfsbane.” He moved forward, crumbling the dried flowers in his palm.
One of his hands moved for her face. She jerked back, trying to bite him. Something held her jaw. The wolf rubbed her nose on the ground, trying to push it off with a hand. The human’s shoved the powdered wolfsbane through the side of the muzzle, forcing it onto her tongue.
He withdrew his fingers and jumped back so her claws swiped at nothing but air. The flower burned her mouth and throat. The wolf growled and whined, pulling harder at the ropes. It felt like acid creeping through her bones and melting away the tendons so she couldn’t control herself.
Slowly, one muscle at a time, she relaxed. Her body slumped against the wall. Her eyes fell closed, and with a tiny whimper, she passed out. Seth watched her through the long night.
The dark moon crossed overhead unseen.
Thirteen
Trouble
Rylie felt awful the next morning. Seth didn’t tell her why.
“Keep eating a lot of protein,” he advised. “And try to get some sleep.”
She managed the first instruction at breakfast that morning, devouring scrambled eggs and bacon by the dozen. Rylie was aware people were staring at her—Louise especially—but she was too hungry to be subtle. She started out by sneaking a spoonful of eggs, but she went back for seconds, and then thirds. Finally, she loaded a plate with nothing but thick slices of ham, bacon, and eggs, and devoured it without bothering to sit.
“Did you enjoy breakfast?” Louise asked as they walked toward the field where they would be having a scavenger hunt.
Rylie didn’t respond. It was hard to be hung up on the nagging thoughts of all the pig she had just eaten when the wolf inside was practically purring with contentment—not that wolves purred.
Getting sleep was much harder. Rylie daydreamed of the comfort of her cot all day, but as soon as she lay down, her racing mind refused to let her sleep. She stared at the ceiling’s wooden beams until they were touched by the morning light and dragged herself out of bed to stumble through another day.
When she got back the next evening, though, she didn’t immediately climb into bed.
Something was different.
It wasn’t that anything was misplaced, other than Byron the Destructor tipped on his side. Rylie sniffed the air.
Someone had been there. She could smell the oils from their skin on her clothes, the individual strands of hair that had drifted to the floor as they picked through her belongings and replaced them exactly as they had been before. Bending to put her nose close to the drawers, she could just make out the odor of their sweat.
She had smelled this at the boy’s side of camp. It was the werewolf in human form. It had been searching through her belongings, but for what?
Rylie had to tell Seth.
She immediately wrote a note on a clean journal page: The werewolf was here. We have to talk. She wedged the paper in her window like usual, and waited.
And waited.
Seth didn’t arrive to take the note that night. She fell asleep shortly before dawn and woke up to find the note still in place.
Rylie stood outside the cabin while everyone else showered, staring into the forest. Was the werewolf still watching her? Was it out amongst the trees, waiting to see how she would react to the invasion?
She took deep, even breaths, letting her eyes fall closed so her sight wouldn’t distract her. After a moment, she found the lingering smell of the werewolf. It wasn’t far away—too far to see, but with the wind going just the right way, close enough to detect. It had moved through camp the night before, and the day before that. It might have been lurking nearby for days.
Now that Rylie knew what to look for, the range of scents painted a colorful picture in her mind. The wolf had mud on its feet from the dark, shady places much higher on the mountain where snow never melted. The cold bite of winter lingered on the edges of the summer shrubs. She even picked up musty old stone quarried from the mountain, and rusty chains.
The werewolf had been to the same ruins as Rylie.
“Who are you?” she whispered as though it would hear her and respond.
Rylie could tell the werewolf had paid special attention to her books. They smelled the strongest. It had even examined The Legends of Gray Mountain, but it left the folder. The werewolf wasn’t looking for that. What did it want?
Her journal. The werewolf wanted her journal. It was never left amongst her belongings, not since Amber and Patricia had read it. Maybe it was trying to confirm Rylie had begun to change.
She ran her nose over the pages of The Legends. Breathing in again and again, savoring the woodsy musk, Rylie memorized the werewolf’s smell. In human form, she needed to concentrate to differentiate smells, but she would remember it next time she changed.
She could track the werewolf to its den.
Checking the seam of her window, Rylie found the note to Seth where she left it. She didn’t want to wait anymore. The werewolf was getting closer, and she
had to talk to him.
Rylie and Seth needed to move against the werewolf.
She spent the day trying to decide how to reach Seth. The hike over to Golden Lake was long, and Rylie wasn’t sure she could make it there and back between Louise’s checks on the cabin. She also didn’t have a canoe or any way into the supply shed to borrow one.
The counselor’s ATVs caught her eye on the way to dinner, and an idea blossomed.
Rylie caught up with Louise after they ate. “How long have you been a counselor here?” she asked casually.
