by Traci Briery
"What…" Phyllis said, startled, "what is it? What's wrong? Is it Linda?"
"No, it's not Linda," Roxanne said. "It's you, you goof! All this stuff that's been happening to you and… and I don't know how to deal with it! Are you sure it isn't drugs?"
"No, it's not drugs…
"Please tell me the truth, Phyllis!" she sobbed. "We don't mess with each other's minds like this! Let me help you… please?"
"Of course I'll let you help me," Phyllis said. "I want you to help me. But I should warn you that it could get dangerous, big time. I don't want you hurt, but I don't think I can do this without somebody's help."
"Do what?"
"Cure myself, of course," Phyllis said. "Cure myself from… from this!" she said, parting from her friend and watching her hand.
"What are you doing?" Roxanne said after a few moments of puzzlement.
"I don't know if I can do it," Phyllis said. "I don't know if I want to do it. But those books… they talk about different kinds of werewolves, different ways you can become one, and what happens after that. Did you know that some people turn into wolves by putting on something made from wolf skin?"
"Uh, no, I didn't."
"And the kind who change under full moons," she continued. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I got the impression that those are the least common kinds. Most of the ones they talked about could change on their own."
"Wh—why would anyone want to do that?" Roxanne asked nervously.
"I don't know," Phyllis said. "But maybe…"
Roxanne waited for her to complete the thought, but Phyllis turned away to sit cross-legged onto their sofa. She pulled her legs in tighter into a lotus position, and shut her eyes. Her roommate approached her cautiously.
"Um… what are you doing?" she asked. Phyllis said nothing, but brought a finger up slowly to her lips. After some hesitation, Roxanne moved to the smaller sofa opposite Phyllis, and settled in as quietly as possible. She watched her roommate nervously, looking behind herself occasionally, perhaps hoping for Linda to knock on the door at any moment.
Phyllis looked almost asleep; her face was completely calm, her breathing slow and steady. Then, very slowly, she began lifting an arm. Roxanne watched, and waited, and widened her eyes at a new sight. Phyllis's fingers were twitching, but not in a way that indicated tenseness. Unless she needed glasses, Roxanne watched the fingers appear to be getting smaller. Phyllis normally kept her nails neat and short, but not this time. They grew longer and sharper—much sharper. Phyllis's arm took up the quivering begun by her hand, but it was more controlled. At first glance it appeared to be turning gray, until the hairs became longer and more prominent, covering her arm with a brown fur.
Roxanne cringed back into her seat, holding her own arm out as if to stop it, and tried to call out, but could only manage some inaudible squeaks. Inaudible to her, that is; she could have sworn that Phyllis's still human ears pricked up. Phyllis opened her eyes and looked at her friend, whose face was frozen in fear. She looked at her arm and grimaced as it quickly shifted back to its more familiar form. Then she took another deep breath and straightened her legs. Both women sat in silence until Phyllis sniffled, and Roxanne looked to see her eyes reddening.
"Phyl?" she said. "Phyllis? You okay, hon?"
"What do you think?" Phyllis mumbled, wiping her nose. "I can't believe I even did that. How can I do that? Why is this happening to me?" She was fighting them, but Phyllis's tears were gaining strength. Roxanne gathered the courage to roll out of her seat and sit next to her friend.
"Shhhh," she said, trying to rock Phyllis, who resisted such movement. "It's going to be okay, Phyl. Linda's going to come here and—"
"And do what?" Phyllis snapped. "Cure me?"
"No, she isn't," Roxanne said. "What I meant was, was we want to help you. What about those books? What did they say? Didn't they say anything about… about this problem?"
Phyllis forced a quick laugh. "This 'problem?' " she said. "Yeah, they said all sorts of things."
"Tell me about them," Roxanne said. "What did they say about… well, what about becoming a werewolf?"
"God, there was so much crap in there…" Phyllis mumbled to herself. She seemed to be lost in thought, then pushed away a little from Roxanne and stretched her legs. "It told me how I got this way," she said. "That's part of why I was crying. It listed about eighty different ways to become a werewolf, and I get it the way everyone knows about."
"You were bitten?"
Phyllis nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Could I be attacked by some dog or a bear in Wisconsin? No, of course not. I have to be ripped up by some… fucking werewolf!"
"You think so?"
"What else was it?? No one even saw the thing but me, and I was hit too fast to get a decent picture of it. That's what killed Uncle Bill. That's what ripped through his fence and tore open his llamas and… killed him. Some fuckin' vacation. Rabies I could deal with. Maybe even AIDS, but—this!"
"Well, didn't it say anything about getting cured?"
"I couldn't find anything that made much sense," Phyllis said. "But I'm not letting anyone shoot me with any silver bullets, I'll tell you that much."
"I wouldn't even know where to get any," Roxanne said. "Uh—! I meant, not that I'd shoot you! I meant_uh…"
"Never mind," Phyllis said, smiling. "I should probably do it myself."
"Don't say that," Roxanne said. "Please don't say stuff like that."
"I'm not going to," Phyllis said. "Unless I have to. First, I have to get back to Wisconsin."
"How are you going to do that?"
"Why, by borrowing from you, of course," she said, then smiled. "Nahh I can't afford another plane trip, so I'll have to drive."
"Drive? You think your car can make it?"
"Well, I drove it here, from New York," Phyllis said. "Wisconsin's about half the distance."
"But that was years ago," Roxanne said. "You shouldn't drive that thing so far now. And who's going with you? You shouldn't go on a trip like that alone."
"Why not?"
"Well, because it's too dangerous, that's why."
"For who? Me or the guy who tries to rape me when I turn into a big monster on him?"
"I'm serious," Roxanne said. "How do you know you'll be able to defend yourself? Besides, do you even have money for gas and things?"
"Gas won't cost that much," Phyllis said. "I can save money by sleeping in my car."
"No way, you can't do that," Roxanne said. "That's way too dangerous. You know, I had a friend who was driving to Florida to visit her fam—"
"You know someone who's been attacked for every situation," Phyllis grumbled.
"But this is true—!"
"Would you rather wait for the next full moon to change your mind? I can't stay here!"
"But… but I thought you could control it now. I saw you making yourself change, then you stopped it."
"Look; look, Rox," Phyllis said, stopping her friend's next sentence. "This isn't something I can just sit around and hope will go away. This isn't like a bad cold or a flu; if this is a disease, it won't kill me, it'll kill other people! It may already have! I just wish I could remember more details. That's why I have to get back there."
"How do you know you can find this… guy that did this to you?"
"It could've been a girl, for all I know," Phyllis said. "It's a start, though. Maybe I can sniff them out like a dog now, I don't know."
"You're not a dog."
"Only during the daytime."
"Wait a minute," Roxanne said, standing up abruptly. "You're not gonna change tonight, are you?"
"I don't think it's a full moon anymore," Phyllis said. "There couldn't be one for more than three nights in a row, could there? I mean, how many phases does the moon have, anyway?"
"I have no idea," Roxanne said. "Maybe four?"
"Forget it," Phyllis said, waving her off. "I'll have to look it up somewhere. I'll have to look up everything I can find about this 'problem' of
mine. Meanwhile, I don't think you and Linda should be here tonight. It's too dangerous."
"No," Roxanne said. "We're going to stay here tonight with you. You wouldn't hurt us, even as a… wolf. I know you wouldn't."
"How do you know?"
"I just know. You wouldn't hurt us; you love us, remember?"
"Maybe, but I thought you always hurt the one you love. Right?" Phyllis asked.
Roxanne had no answer.
Chapter Seventeen
Before Linda showed up, Phyllis made Roxanne promise not to bring up "that subject" anymore. They could talk about Phyllis being ill, but hot specify the illness. Phyllis excused herself early in the evening to retire to her room and read. Roxanne made a small protest, hoping that company might give her friend some comfort. Phyllis spent the time staring out her window before hitting the books.
It occurred to her to call up Aunt Joanie to "warn" her of her visit. The phone rang for a while, and Phyllis realized that she had woken up her aunt. She never could keep her time zones straight.
Joanie was grateful for the call and surprised at the news. Things were going as well as could be expected at the ranch. A new stud had been brought in. She already had customers for it. But why did Phyllis need to come again? she asked. Phyllis would only tell her that she might have caught something from that animal, and Joanie accepted this explanation, albeit with professed concern. Eventually she agreed to take Phyllis in when she could get there.
The thought did occur to Phyllis to arrange for her absence with her employers. At the moment she was still on temporary leave from the health club, but had just resumed her work at the restaurant. Asking for another "vacation" might not be met with great understanding. Phyllis enjoyed her work at the health club, but waiting tables was waiting tables.
Phyllis spent the rest of the evening packing her necessities for the trip; arranging time off would come later. Roxanne and Linda interrupted her briefly. As far as Linda knew, Phyllis was only "sick," but Roxanne may have been checking to make certain that Phyllis hadn't grown any extra hair or teeth that night. Idle chitchat broke out occasionally until Phyllis became increasingly distracted by her packing, so Linda excused herself first from the room. Roxanne paused at the door after Linda rounded the corner to the living room.
"Phylly?" she said quietly.
"Yeah," Phyllis said, still somewhat distracted. There was a long pause before Roxanne spoke up.
"Be careful," she whispered. "Okay?*'
Phyllis looked up from her open drawer of lingerie, then stared at her friend. She stepped forward to pat Roxanne's shoulder, then pulled her toward herself into a brief half-hug.
"I will," she whispered. "When I come back, I'll be normal. I swear I will."
"No!! Shit! No!! Shit! No!! Shit! No—!!"
"All right, all right, just shut up a minute, willya?"
"You don't understand, this can't happen to me now," Phyllis said. "You don't understand how important this_
"Try it now!" her neighbor said. He set down his hammer on Phyllis's air filter. Phyllis cursed to herself once more, and tried the ignition. The car made a spitting noise, and nothing else. She tried again, then again, and again, until her neighbor got her attention enough to stop.
"What the hell is it?" she demanded. "What the fuck is wrong with it??" Her car gave no reply. She listened to the neighbor whack at her starter with the hammer and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"Try it again!" he shouted. Phyllis muttered threats to her car and tried again. It spat at her in response. She cried out and slammed her fists against the steering wheel and didn't care when the horn occasionally went off.
Her helpful neighbor, Marty, went to her window to calm her down. She was ready to tear the seats apart, but for his sake, Phyllis calmed herself down and climbed out of the driver's seat. Marty smiled weakly, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
"Hey, I'm sorry," he said. "My starter's gone out before, and you just whack it a few times when that happens, but I guess yours is really out."
"Fuck," Phyllis muttered to herself, then turned to Marty. "I know you were trying to help. Thanks for trying, man. Old Faithful was going to lose its faith someday. But why the hell did it HAVE TO BE TODAY??" she yelled, kicking the car door. "How much do these things cost, anyway?" she mumbled.
"You mean a starter?" Marty asked. "Oh, at least a hundred bucks. That's just for the part, too. They ain't cheap."
"Noooo, they aren't," Phyllis said, pacing slowly now.
Then she slapped her thighs and straightened up. "I guess I'll just stay here and be doomed, then."
"Doomed to what?"
Phyllis waved him off as if she'd just told a bad joke.
"I've been trying to leave L.A., uhhhh, you know, take off for—I'm just kidding," she concluded. "But hey," she said, patting Marty on the shoulder, "really, thanks for trying to help."
Marty held up the hammer and smiled.
"No problem," he said. "If you need someone to whack at something with a hammer, I'm your guy." He smiled and waved at her awkwardly while going back into the building. Phyllis waved back and briefly wished that he really were "her guy." Too bad he was already his wife's guy.
This had been about a week after the first full moon. The restaurant manager would not allow Phyllis another hiatus for at least a few months, even though she had gone back to work since the untimely death of her car. To both Phyllis's and Roxanne's delight and relief, there had been no "relapses" since the third night of the full moon. Since the third night, Phyllis had checked out a book on the moon and had gained superficial knowledge of lunar phases. The most important thing she learned was that there are indeed three nights to each phase of the moon, including full moons.
Roxanne came home one night to catch her roommate in a most unusual position. The sparse furniture had been pushed against the walls, leaving an open area in the living room. Phyllis was on the floor, as were various open books spread about herself. The most unusual part was that she sat in the middle of a crudely painted pentagram, with each point of the star covered by a lit candle.
"Oh, my God," Roxanne whispered, dropping everything that she had been carrying. Phyllis looked up. Roxanne barely remembered to shut the door behind her.
"It's not what you think," Phyllis said quickly, jumping to her feet. "I thought you were gonna be home late tonight."
"Um… um… I was just… picking up some stuff, and… um…" Roxanne stammered, unable to pull her gaze away from the pentagram.
"Look, I-I know this looks like some Satanist thing or something," Phyllis said, "but one of these books was talking about this as maybe a cure. I just wanted to try it, to try anything."
"Um… what…" Roxanne said, now able to divert her attention to Phyllis, "What others things have you tried?"
"This is the first thing, actually," Phyllis said. "Well, next to meditating. Yeah, I was trying that, too."
"Has it helped?"
Phyllis let out a heavy sigh and scratched her head. "It might," she said. "I don't know. I tried it that last night that I changed, you know, when I took off for Griffith Park. It made it less painful, but didn't stop it. I don't just want to learn how to control this, and leave it at that. I want to stop it. I want a full cure!"
"And… this is supposed to do that?" Roxanne asked, indicating the mess of their living room.
"That's what I want to find out," Phyllis said. "I pretty much just sat down when you walked in."
"I don't like all this," Roxanne said. "I don't like… devil stuff. Isn't that a sign for summoning demons? What if you can't wash that paint off? I don't want a pentagram sitting permanently in—
"I used watercolors," Phyllis said. "I already tried it off in a corner somewhere and it came right off. Believe me, I don't want this thing on our floor forever, either."
"Well… what exactly are you supposed to do in that thing?" Roxanne said, now stooping over to pick up her dropped items.
/> "Well, there's this poem, and—wait," Phyllis said, and raced off to snatch one of her books and bring it back. She pointed to the passage that described the ritual. Roxanne took the book and skimmed it. She glanced over at another page.
"What's this about virgins hitting you in the face?"
"Huh?" Phyllis said, snatching the book away. "Oh, that. That's another thing. If this doesn't work, I might have to try that, too. Except, I don't think I know any virgins. Do you?"
"I know… one person," Roxanne said, trying to remember. "Wait a minute, I can't believe I'm trying to help you with some magic spell."
"I gotta try something," Phyllis grumbled.
"Look, you know I'm anything but some rabid Christian," Roxanne said, putting her load onto the eating table, which was now pressed up against the counter. "But… occult stuff makes me nervous. Even ouija boards scare me!"
"Oh, those things are fun…"
"Well, they aren't to me!"
Phyllis started to smile, but it was halted by Roxanne's tone and piercing gaze. She was not joking. Phyllis closed the book quietly and placed it on the table.
"I'm sorry," Phyllis said. "Seriously, I thought you wouldn't be back for a while. I was fully planning on cleaning everything up before you even got here. But please try to understand how… how desperate I am right now. I've got barely two weeks to the next full moon, and I don't have enough money to get to Wisconsin now."
"What makes you think getting there will help?"
"I don't know," Phyllis said, falling onto the couch with a sigh. "I'm hoping maybe that I could find the guy… well, the thing that did this to me, and… maybe make him cure me. If that's even possible. But I do know that I can't be around here at all the next time."
"Um…" Roxanne said, scratching her head, "you said that the full moon is two weeks away. Did you remember that Tamara Taylor has her tryouts in one week?"
"I remember."
"Oh, good. That is, I was wondering if you'd been working on your choreography. That's your real strength, and—"
