Werewolf Chronicles

by Traci Briery

  "Did that wake you, too?" she whispered.

  "What?"

  "You didn't hear that? That loud noise?"

  "Oh, is that what that was," he mumbled. "My pillow was almost smothering me. How'd it get on my face?"

  "The way you crawl all over the place?" she said. "I'm surprised your head wasn't down there," she said, indicating the foot of the futon. "I think that was Roxanne."

  Loraine made to climb out of bed, but Michael held her gently in place and tried to kiss her. She gave in for a few moments, then pulled away and rolled into a sitting position. He tried again to entice her to stay by scratching her back. For a moment she gave in to this as well. Michael stopped himself when he noticed her leg bouncing up and down. The faster he scratched, the faster her leg bounced. He was quite amused, but stopped and watched Loraine behave as though emerging from a trance.

  Movement was heard beyond the door, so Loraine rose from the futon and found a robe to wear. She opened the door and peeked outside. Roxanne was moving about quietly in the kitchen. Loraine stepped out of her room and shut the door behind her.

  "Hi," Roxanne said. "Did I wake you?"

  Loraine shook her head. "I should be up by now, anyway," she said.

  "Are you working with Tamara today, too?"

  "Yeah."

  "She's got you doing some intense work, huh?" Roxanne said. "You've been out all day almost every day."

  "Yeah," Loraine said. "But then, you've been gone a lot, too."

  "Well, yeah, I've been at Linda's… uh, more often. Yeah."

  "Were you there last night?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "S'just wondering," Loraine said, rubbing her eyes again. "You didn't get in a fight, did you?"

  "No, why?"

  "Well, you usually don't come here in the morning when you go overnight with her. That's all," Loraine said, glancing back at her door.

  "We didn't get in a fight," Roxanne said. "I left some stuff here that I need this morning. But… we're roommates, but we've barely seen each other lately. You know, to talk. I don't even know how your job is working out."

  "I like it. Best job I've ever had."

  "Yeah, well, I was more concerned about… about, you know…"

  "I know," Loraine said. "I'm a bit… 'concerned' myself."

  "But how are you—?"

  Loraine's bedroom door opened again, and a sleepy Michael emerged. Roxanne appeared less surprised and disappointed than Loraine expected. Michael smiled and waved quickly at Roxanne as he approached.

  "Hey, Rox," he murmured.

  "Roxanne," she corrected.

  "Ah, Roxanne, sorry," he said. He stood behind Loraine and kissed her cheek before rubbing her shoulder. She smiled a guilty smile to Roxanne, who went back to her business in the kitchen.

  "I just came back to make breakfast and get my work clothes," Roxanne said. "I won't bug you guys for long."

  "Hey, it's your place," Michael said. Roxanne hustled out of the kitchen and into her room.

  "She still hates me, I see," Michael whispered.

  "Hnh? She never hated you," Loraine whispered. "She doesn't hate anybody."

  "Okay, barely tolerates me, then."

  "Michael…"

  He chuckled, then leaned over to kiss her cheek again. She was still tense and took his kiss stiffly. He noticed, but ignored it as he began nuzzling her neck. Loraine would not relax until a few moments later, when she let her head loll to the side. She was just shutting her eyes, when Roxanne emerged from her room again, carrying a small bundle of clothes. Loraine pulled away from Michael. He was mildly frustrated, but said nothing.

  "Well, I'll be leaving you now," Roxanne said from the front door. Loraine approached her. "I think I might be home tonight," Roxanne said.

  "So, you have a job today?"

  "Kind of," Roxanne said. "I'm helping Linda with one of her pieces. I won't get paid, though."

  "A volunteer job, huh?" Michael called from the living room. Loraine leaned close to Roxanne.

  "I hope we can talk tonight," she whispered as quietly as possible.

  "I'll try," Roxanne whispered, then mouthed the words: "Does he know?"

  Loraine shook her head. Roxanne seemed to consider this, then said aloud, "See you both later. Bye!"

  "Bye."

  Loraine went back silently to Michael and let him put his arm around her.

  "You sure she doesn't hate me?" he asked.

  "She doesn't hate you, Michael. She doesn't hate people. It's just… something else that's been going on."

  "Oh."

  "She actually cares a lot about you," Loraine said. "She cares a lot about everyone. She's just… concerned about my happiness," she added, then looked up at him and smiled. This was more than enough to distract him from the somber mood.

  Loraine was fifteen minutes late to work that day.

  "Michael called," Roxanne announced as her roommate stormed in. "Ah. I could be wrong, but it looks like you had a bad day."

  "Fuckin' bitch," Loraine muttered.

  "What?"

  "Sorry. Not you. I meant Tamara."

  "Really?"

  "She won't let me have those days off!" Loraine said. "In less than two weeks, the full moon will be here! And she won't let me have those days off!"

  "You mean you asked her to give you time off because it's the full moon?"

  "Yeah, right," Loraine muttered. "No, I said mat it was a family commitment and that I couldn't get out of it."

  "What kind of commitment? Like, a wedding or something?"

  "No, I was… I tried to keep it vague, you know? So she wouldn't try to trick me with weird questions."

  "Maybe you should've come up with something more detailed, then," Roxanne suggested.

  "I suck at excuses. You know that. I hate lying, too, but I can't tell her the real reason, you know?"

  "Well, no. But—what are you going to do then?"

  "No matter what she says, I can't be here those nights. I have to… maybe go to Griffith Park again or something."

  "Or quit."

  "I'm not gonna quit. It's a great job, why would I quit?"

  "Because_ you have this problem?"

  "But you're the one who dragged me to the audition in the first place," Loraine said. "Now you say I should quit?"

  "But you can't just stay here, either," Roxanne said. "You could_" she stopped herself and looked away momentarily. Her voice was low when she resumed. "You know what could happen."

  "I'll have to drive away as far as I can every night, then come back here to work," Loraine said. Roxanne seemed deep in thought.

  "Have you considered talking to somebody who knows about stuff like this?"

  "You already asked. You mean a psychic, right?"

  "Maybe more like a parapsychologist. You haven't talked to just a regular psychologist, have you?"

  "No," Loraine said tiredly. "I'd rather not waste my time with someone who'll try to convince me that it's all just some fantasy, and all I really need to do is remember that I was raped as a kid or some bullshit like that."

  "You were raped as a child?"

  "Noooo, I'm just telling you what psychologists do," Loraine said in frustration.

  "I'm just offering suggestions," Roxanne said. "You don't have to get mad at me, too."

  Loraine sighed. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do. I've tried to cure myself, to control it… I don't know what to do."

  Roxanne had a knapsack waiting for her on the table. She picked it up and went to Loraine. Loraine was looking down, but smiled in frustration.

  "I'll be at Linda's tonight," Roxanne said.

  "Why are you the only one I've been able to tell?" Loraine said, her eyes moistening. "Why can't I tell Michael? Or Tamara? Or anyone else?"

  "I don't know," Roxanne said. "You need to try, though." She pulled Loraine toward her into a tight hug.

  "You have to get out of here, too," Loraine said. "On those nights. Yo
u and Linda should leave L.A. and… go to Vegas or something."

  "I'll see what I can do," Roxanne said, parting from her friend. "But I don't want to have to run every month, too, if you know what I mean."

  "I'll find a way to get out of this," Loraine said. "And if I don't—"

  "Don't talk that way."

  "If I don't," Loraine said emphatically, "you're the last one who'll get hurt. I promise."

  Tamara was getting used to Loraine's strange mood swings. That is, during rehearsal Loraine inevitably lost herself in the music and became almost the personification of Dance itself. Afterward, she became somber, even melancholy, and sometimes grouchy. Many other artists shared this quirk, even if Tamara didn't. She did notice that Loraine was becoming even more moody, however. So far it was not affecting her performance, but it could, and at the wrong time.

  "Look, I don't like pulling a 'boss' thing on people, but sometimes I just have to," Tamara said after rehearsal. "I can't afford to have you go off somewhere right now, especially if you won't give me any details."

  "Yeah, I know," Loraine grumbled. "Forget I asked."

  "If you want," Tamara said. "But really, I'm sorry. We've all made a commitment to this, and we can't let anything stop us."

  "Not even being sick?"

  "If it's bad enough, yeah, but even a flu wouldn't keep me off stage. I've done it before."

  "You've gone on with a flu?"

  "Yeah," Tamara said. "I know I shouldn't have, but as long as I'm not flat on my back, I keep going."

  "That's probably not a good idea."

  "Everyone tells me that," Tamara said. "I can't help it, though. If I'm sick, it's like I forget that I am when I'm performing, you know what I'm saying?"

  "Yeah. I 'know what you're saying.' "

  Loraine was ready barely in time for Michael to pick her up for the charity banquet. She had nothing like a ball gown, but it was her prettiest dress, so it would have to do. Michael made no complaints, regardless of whether he had noticed or not. They spoke little on the way. Loraine's mind was racing to try to figure out what to do come the next full moon. She only came back to reality as a flash went off in her face: a photographer's bulb. It had not occurred to her that she was a celebrity's date, and was therefore as vulnerable to the paparazzi as Michael would be. They waded quickly through the barrage of flash bulbs and took their seats inside.

  The noise was such that it was difficult to make even idle chitchat. They were seated with two other couples, two of whom seemed familiar to Loraine. They could have been actors or some other sort of performer; she wasn't certain. One of the women tried to speak to her, and Loraine leaned closer to her. The other woman's eyes widened for reasons unknown to Loraine, then she smiled and continued her conversation. Loraine barely remembered the conversation as soon as it was over, but the woman pointed to Loraine's ears.

  "That's so weird," she said. "I've never seen anyone do that."

  "Do what?"

  "With your ears," she said. She cupped her own ears and moved her hands back and forth. "They were moving like this."

  Loraine felt her ears quickly. From under her hands she felt them turning to follow sounds throughout the room. They felt human, but they weren't acting human. Loraine's face turned crimson, and she smiled at the woman, more afraid than embarrassed, but the woman could not tell. Loraine quickly moved her hair around to cover her ears as best as possible, and changed the subject.

  "Uhhh, were you in a movie?" she asked. "You look familiar."

  "Yes, I have been."

  "With a French guy? You were married to a French guy? In the movie, I mean."

  The woman seemed amused. "Uhhh, yes…" she said.

  Loraine knew exactly who at least one of her dinner companions was now, but their conversation was interrupted by the evening's first speaker. Loraine had never been to a charity dinner before, and did not even know how much each dinner cost. Each course was served in between speakers and performers, guaranteeing a very long evening. It took her a very long time to relax enough to look around the room and spot other familiar faces. Celebrities were everywhere, but in spite of her love of movies and television, Loraine could never be accused of being starstruck.

  She felt her ears pricking up from under her hair.

  Loraine had been touching them all night ever since the actress's comment, but now there was a real reason for it. The full moon was a week away, yet she felt them changing shape. It was a small change, in the end; they became just a little more pointed, but it caused her to stand up abruptly and excuse herself. First she went the wrong way to the restroom, then almost knocked over a waiter's tray.

  There were other women in the restroom, so Loraine locked herself into a stall and waited. Meanwhile she scrutinized her hands, arms, and face for any signs of extra hair. Seeing and feeling nothing unusual, she returned her attention to the ears and tried to fold them over as if this would cover the point. She heard herself growl quite inhumanly in frustration, then made herself cough to cover it up. Another feeling came over—a familiar one. Her "secret admirer" had returned. She looked up, for that was where the feeling originated, but saw nothing. She listened carefully to the women outside, but heard only gossip and girl-talk. She looked at her watch: 8:43 P.M. Then she—

  Loraine rubbed her eyes. She felt as though she had been sleeping. A knock came at the stall door.

  "Ma'am? Are you all right in there?" an unfamiliar voice said.

  "Hnh? Uh, yeah," Loraine said, standing up and flushing the toilet, even though she had not used it. "Yeah, I'm done here." She looked at her watch again: 8:50 P.M. Didn't I just look at this? she wondered. A confused look was still on her face as she emerged from the stall. A woman appeared to be waiting for her.

  "Oh, I didn't mean to bother you," she said. "You sounded sick. Like you were in pain?"

  "I did?" Loraine glanced at her watch again. Still 8:50. "Uhh, yeah, I was just, uhhh… you know. Couldn't go when I needed to?"

  "Oh! I'm sorry," the woman cried, now red-faced. Loraine was not laughing when she left, however. She felt her ears, which were round once more.

  A comedian was entertaining the diners when she returned. Michael stood and helped her back into her seat.

  "I ordered another white wine for you," he murmured, leaning close. "I hope you don't mind."

  "I don't," she said. "Thanks. Uhh, do you think it's too late to get my order changed?"

  "You wanted the lobster instead?"

  "No, I just wanted to change how my meat is cooked," she said. "That's all."

  "Sure, I'll look for our waiter," Michael said. "I don't think they'll mind if you want it cooked longer. Not for two fifty a meal; they better not," he added, then laughed.

  "Yeah," she said. "I wasn't thinking about cooking it longer, though."

  Michael looked at her blankly. If he was puzzled, he was hiding it very well.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Loraine expected the bizarre dreams to come as the moon grew fuller. Usually they involved running in some unknown forest and hunting. The last one that she had before the first full moon caused her hands to shake even after waking. As usual she had been running through a forest and over hills, when she came to a dead stop in front of another wolf. It stood on two legs and held out its arms as though pleading with her to follow, then smiled and laughed. Loraine awoke just as she leaped at the beast.

  Tamara let everyone leave early that night. Loraine was in too much of a hurry to thank her properly. She raced to her car, threw in her duffel bag, and sped away as fast as traffic would allow. Her plan was not to run away this time. She intended to drive as far away from populated areas as possible, but hoped that she would not be alone. Her mistake had been to believe her "secret admirer" to be her own, inner Wolf. But tonight she would find the one truly responsible for this curse.

  Her apprehension grew along with her determination. After all, she had already tried to find the other wolf, but only seemed to en
counter it in dreams. It had followed her to places that seemed to have no hiding places, and still avoided detection. Yet it was real, and she would spend the next three nights, or the rest of her life, trying to find it.

  Traffic allowed her as far as the San Bernadino Mountains. Finding a place devoid of people proved impossible. Loraine was regretting that she had not retired to Griffith Park once again. She pulled into several secluded lanes, all of which led to rows of houses for the rich and snobbish. The sun had set a half an hour before she found a reasonably safe place. She peered over the edge of the steep incline beside which her car was parked. She appeared to be just another sightseer to the motorists who raced by on the curvy roads, ignoring the speed limits.

  Sometimes she poked her foot over the incline as if testing the temperature of a pool of water. There was no water in sight, however. To guarantee other people's safety, she would have to climb down the cliff and hide in the woods until dawn. Loraine was no mountain climber, nor even a hiker at that. She could see virtually nothing past her own body; a flashlight provided little other illumination.

  Fewer cars zoomed by now. From just behind a distant mountain, the night's sun peeked out. Loraine sat down cross-legged, took several deep breaths, and closed her eyes. Meditation had not worked yet, nor had physical resistance, anger, or even magic. Something was bound to work if she just kept trying, so she meditated. It took some time before passing cars did not startle her.

  Loraine concentrated on daytime images. She had not tried this yet; perhaps filling her mind with the sun and daytime scenes would make the wolf forget about the moon. She imagined the warmth of the sun on her face, and the ocean lapping at her feet while she walked along the beach. She passed a happy crowd of volleyball players and frisbee throwers. Some children were working on a sandcastle. Loraine paused to watch them pat it down and reshape it into the snout of a howling wolf. She rejected this image and moved on hurriedly. More frisbees were thrown in her path. One of them was intercepted by a golden retriever, which leapt into the air, only to land on all fours, twice its size and covered in black fur. It looked at her and snarled or laughed—she could not tell.