Perfect Scents

by Heather Karn

  Chapter 2

  At seven thirty the next morning my alarm clock began making its racket to wake me up. I cursed myself for the dumb idea to get up early to hit the library. Once the alarm was off, I curled back up under the blankets and let the heat under them lull me back to sleep.

  Minutes later my second alarm started blaring. Groaning, I wondered how long it could make such an annoying sound before I was forced to escape the covers to turn it off. I didn’t make it thirty seconds before I tossed the covers away, slid out of bed, and crossed the room to where the clock sat on my dresser.

  With blurry eyes, I made my way to the bathroom, thankful I’d showered the night before so I wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over the high tub lip this morning. It was hard enough to keep my eyes open to put makeup on but by the time my mascara was applied, I was pretty much awake.

  After I was dressed in jeans and a light sweater with my hair tied back in a ponytail, I snuck out the front door and locked it. Gram and Aunt Gwen slept late on Saturdays, and I didn’t want to wait to hitch a ride from Gram in the old car. I preferred my bike, and if I was already gone, Gram couldn’t stop me.

  The morning air was heavy with fog. I could almost taste the moisture in my mouth as I took a long breath to relish the cool air. No doubt the added moisture would make the ride a bit cooler, but the smell of it was divine. I tried to come up with the right words to describe it, but even words like cool and crisp meant little. There just weren’t words.

  With my jacket on, I strapped my helmet in place, slid the backpack which held my laptop onto my back and grabbed my bike from the back porch. It was older and would need to be replaced soon, but for now, it did the job I required of it.

  Bike in hand, I put my ear buds in and walked to the front of the house and down the steep driveway. It had taken riding down the drive once to cure me from ever trying it again. The ditch across the road was several feet deep, and I’d almost become better acquainted with it. I wasn’t looking forward to pulling my broken body and bike out of it anytime soon.

  While the sun rose at my back, I made my way down the gravel road to the mountain trail which led to town. The trail actually went past the town, but there was a turnoff that took me right into downtown.

  The bike dipped under me as I reached uneven ground and a small hill. The path was muddy in some places as I rode closer to the river which ran alongside the trail, and I grinned at the smell of it. To some people, mud smelled weird, funky or dirty. To me, it smelled better than half the junk I smelled on a daily basis.

  The library was on my side of town, and I arrived a little after nine in case Chrissa was actually on time, which she didn’t appear to be. After locking my bike to the bike rack at the front of the building, I strode inside. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the familiar scent of books. Some of them gave off an old book smell, which almost had me sighing with pleasure. I stopped myself in the nick of time. Only the odor of old books could compete with that of chocolate.

  With the sweet scent of the hundreds of books in the room came a sour tang I’d never smelled before in my life, and it left my stomach nauseated. It hung over the room like fog clings to the air in a forest: you know the forest smell is there, but the fog blankets it all. Only this wasn’t the comforting smell of fog, and it continued to turn my stomach the more I tried to scent out the books.

  It took me a few seconds to realize that the librarian, a middle-aged woman with short, curly black hair was watching me from the circulation desk. My cheeks heated as I smiled back at her, and made my way over to where she stood, wondering what it was that she’d seen as I stood there with my nose in the air.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve stepped into a library,” I stated as an explanation for my odd behavior.

  Her laugh was deep and gravelly for a woman’s laugh, but it was welcoming. “I understand. Only someone who loves books can appreciate that smell. I’m glad some of the younger generation does. Too many are moving to those tablets and eBook readers. There’s nothing like a good solid book in your hands.”

  “Now that’s the truth.”

  “My name is Mildred. Most people call me Milly.” She extended a well-manicured hand in greeting, and I accepted it, returning her firm handshake. Her nails were painted orange, with black eyes and mouths painted on them, so they resembled jack-o-lanterns. “What can I help you with?”

  “Well, I hear that you have information on weregals, like newspaper articles.”

  “Weregals, huh? We don’t get many people wanting to read about them anymore. Most people around here would rather forget they existed. You are an inquisitive teenager, aren’t you?”

  “Actually, I have to write an English essay on them. I’d never even heard about them until yesterday. It’s still pretty crazy for me to think that creatures like that exist.”

  “You’re new to the area?”

  “Kind of. Were you living here when the weregals were around?”

  Her eyebrows rose as she let out a startled laugh. “Me? Oh, thank heavens, no. I moved here not long after they disappeared. Didn’t even know about them until I got here. I needed a change of scenery and for whatever reason, I chose to put down stakes here. Something about this area called to me, I suppose. It felt right.”

  “Yeah, this place just isn’t for me. So, where is the weregal information?”

  Her green eyes sparkled. “Actually, we digitized all of the weregal records a few years back, and you can find it all on the library’s website now. Do you need help finding it online?”

  “Nah, I can find it. Do you have Wi-Fi here?”

  “Yes, of course. Here take this brochure. It has the password on the inside.”

  She handed me a bi-fold brochure about the local library system and pointed out where the password was. As she did, her scent grabbed my attention. It was the sour tang I had smelled when I’d stepped into the building. I had to be going crazy. No one smelled sour.

  With the internet password in hand, I thanked Milly and walked between bookshelves to the back of the room and found a small desk where I could have some privacy. I thanked my lucky stars it was next to an electrical outlet since my laptop didn’t have a long battery life. Once it was out of the backpack and starting up, I put my earbuds back in to drown out any noise Milly made and to distract me from her odor.

  The library’s website was on the brochure as well. From the website, it was easy to find what I was looking for with a simple search. The archive had more newspaper articles than I’d expected and there were even statements from some of the townspeople and obituaries for people killed by the weregals. Missing person’s information was the last of the links available to search through. With a wave of excitement I’d yet to feel about this topic, I clicked on the newspaper article’s link. I had to find something interesting because I didn’t have any idea what it was that I was looking for in all of this.

  A quick scroll through the page told me that the first newspaper articles to feature the weregals were written over fifty years ago. I skimmed through the first few and didn’t learn anything new. When I got to the fourth article things started getting interesting. This article had a black and white photograph of a weregal in his human form. Chrissa had been right. The men were rather good looking.

  I wasn’t too sure about his black eyes, though. He stood close enough to the camera that I could tell they were completely black, and not shadowed. His wavy hair appeared dark and hung to just below his ears. I’d thought it would be all matted and tangled since he was an animal most of the time, but it was neat and straight, and one side was even tucked behind his ear. His cheekbones were high which extenuated a strong jaw line. His clothes were those worn by any human. The only thing giving him away as not human were his eyes.

  Shifting my attention to the lower section of the picture, I found that he stood in front of a very large tiger which was lying on the ground. Its back came up past the man’s hip, and I doubted he was a short man. A sh
iver went down my spine. These things were huge.

  The article listed his name as Derek, and the tiger was his mate, although it didn’t state her name. They were to be present at a town meeting to write a treaty between the town and the weregals. Moving on to the next article I found that this treaty hadn’t lasted long. A local farmer had shot and killed two weregals on his land the following week. It came as no surprise that the farmer was Tom Hildebrant.

  Someone tapped my shoulder, startling a small squeak out of me. I turned to find Chrissa standing next to me wearing a wicked smirk. It annoyed me that I hadn’t smelled her coming, but then again I couldn’t smell much over the sourness in the air.

  Chrissa was dressed for winter in a heavy sweater, jeans and fur lined boots. Her head sported the popular slouchy beanie in a light brown color, which made her blonde hair appear more golden. I almost sighed with envy. There was no way I would ever look that good in any outfit. It was no wonder that guys never noticed me with girls like her around.

  “You’re late,” I teased as I pulled my headphones from my ears.

  She grabbed a chair from a neighboring desk to sit beside me, and I scooted my own over so she could see the computer screen. “I forgot to set my alarm.”

  “Did you really forget?”

  “Yes, it’s Saturday. Who sets their alarm on a Saturday? Now, what’ve you found?”

  Her smile fell as she leaned on the table while I filled her in on what little information the internet and Gram had provided me. The moment I mentioned humans running away with weregals to become their mates she flashed me a cheeky grin. When I told her there was a picture of a weregal online, her grin crept into a wide ear to ear smile that had me smiling back at her.

  “Show me.” As the picture of the weregal man appeared on the screen, she let out a gusty sigh and drew closer to the laptop screen. “Why can’t I find a guy who looks like that?”

  My snort at her comment didn’t even faze her. “Well, keep looking. This one already has a mate.”

  “Too bad. I guess we keep searching for more information.”

  “Weren’t you coming to work on your essay?”

  “Nope, I’m here to help you with yours. Maybe we’ll find something juicy.”

  Maybe, but I doubted it.

  It took over an hour to finish reading through all of the articles, during which time I noted important or interesting quotes and typed them out as well as their source. It wasn’t any new information, but I’d need the quotes to prove the points I wanted to make in the essay.

  I may not have found much about weregals in the articles, but I did learn that when we were reading a boring article, Chrissa’s foot would begin tapping her frustration. During one particularly dry article, I had to place my hand on her knee to stop her leg from fidgeting and knocking into the table. It wasn’t easy to read a shaky screen.

  Next were the statements from the local citizens. The first two were again fruitless as they said pretty much everything I’d already learned from the newspapers and Gram. The third gave us a new tidbit of juicy information. A statement from a Mrs. Johnson stated that weregals had the ability to change their black eyes to look like human eyes for a short period of time. This gave them access to the townspeople without them knowing a weregal was among them. They were only caught if their eyes changed back before they could leave town.

  The second new information she gave was that when weregals changed form, the clothes they were wearing changed with them. They could easily change to their human form at the edge of town, walk through town and change back on the other side and no one would know what they were. No one knew how it was possible, and according to the statement, the weregals weren’t sure how it was possible either.

  “Well that’s a bit disappointing,” Chrissa mumbled, finishing her read of the article seconds after me.

  “Let me guess, you wouldn’t mind seeing a butt naked weregal walking down the street.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”

  “I think I should remind you that there were female weregals around too.”

  “Way to make that awkward.”

  “Anytime.”

  We continued on, but there wasn’t much new information. The fourth statement mentioned what I’d already figured: that most of the male weregals in human form were tall.

  By this point, my brain was mush from boredom.

  “Okay, seriously, this information is useless.” Chrissa glared at the computer screen in frustration. “It doesn’t tell us anything. It’s like no one bothered to find out anything about them.”

  “I agree. Humans know nothing about weregals.”

  “Mrs. Huckabee doomed you when she gave you this topic.”

  “And you thought I was lucky.”

  Her laughter held a hint of relief. “And now I’m glad it wasn’t me. No, what we need is to find a real weregal. Otherwise, you’re going to have a hard time making the length on this essay.”

  “I could always make the font size a little bigger and the line spacing a smidge over double spaced.”

  “You’re evil, Joey, and I like it.”

  I grinned back at her. “You know what else is interesting? Maybe it’s me, but after reading these articles, it feels like the humans were the aggressors, not the weregals. It’s like the humans were killing them because they appeared dangerous and they killed in return to protect themselves.”

  “Yeah, I picked up on that too. I wouldn’t go that route for your essay, though. If anyone happened to read it, they’d send a lynch mob your way.”

  “Tell me about it,” I responded in a dry voice. “If Gram found out I was defending them she’d most likely have a coronary. But you know another thing I found curious was that no one mentioned where they originated. Could they be from another planet?”

  “They don’t seem like the spaceship kind,” Chrissa pointed out, and I had to agree.

  Conspiracy theories began to flow through my head as I made a few final notes on the laptop. There was still well over an hour left before the library closed, but after sitting and staring at the computer for so long, I was ready for some fresh air and to stretch my muscles on another bike ride.

  “Well, I’m ready to head home. I’ll need to come back again to look over the obituaries and missing person reports, though,” I told Chrissa as I turned off the laptop and put it in my backpack.

  “Let me know when and I’ll join you. This is more fun than sitting at home alone watching TV. I need to run too. I’ve got plans this afternoon.”

  “Thanks for coming. I wish we’d have found something useful.”

  “Yeah, me too. Maybe next time. I’ll see you at school Monday.”

  After finishing our goodbyes, Chrissa walked toward the front of the library, leaving me envious again that I didn’t have any fashion sense whatsoever. Maybe shopping with her wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. It couldn’t hurt.

  “Did you find what you needed?” Milly asked as I appeared around the bookshelves that had hidden me from her. “You were so quiet back there before your friend came that I had to check on you a few times to make sure I hadn’t missed you leave.”

  Because that didn’t sound creepy.

  “Yeah, I found a bit of useful information. I’ll be back, though. I wasn’t able to get through all of it,” I said, continuing toward the door. Stopping would mean that I wanted to start an in-depth conversation with her, which I didn’t. She was nice, but her smell still gave me the willies.

  “Good luck. Let me know if you need any help.”

  I waved a goodbye as I exited the building, and went to unlock my bike. Now that the sun was higher in the sky, the air was warming up, and I had a feeling it might be a good day to drag my butt on a longer ride home. I’d just swung my leg over the bike to start down the road when someone called my name.

  “Joey, hey, wait up!” Chrissa yelled from the library’s parking lot as she ran toward me from her car.

  �
��What’s up?”

  “Ok, so you know how Halloween is in two weeks, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, some people are getting together at an abandoned house out in the woods and having a party. I wanted to invite you. Please come!” she begged, bouncing up and down as she spoke.

  I almost cringed, but stopped myself in time before it showed on my face. I’d avoided the party scene all through high school until now. Maybe I was a bit antisocial, but I’d never felt the pull to go to a party. But here I was making a new friend, and she wanted me to go, but I didn’t want to go.

  “I have to ask Gram if I can come. She may not let me.” There was nothing worse than telling someone you had to ask for permission.

  “Seriously your grandma won’t let you? If you don’t want to come, that’s okay.”

  “I’m not a big partier.”

  “That’s okay. Neither am I, but it’ll be fun.”

  “I do have to ask Gram, though. It’s her house and her rules. ‘Out past ten and I better know why.’” I quoted in Gram’s funny accent, which caused Chrissa to giggle.

  “You could always tell her you’re staying at my house, and that would be true because you should come over, and we can get ready together and spend the night talking about boys and whatever. Oh, and binging on Oreos and peanut butter.”

  That food combination explained her scent and had me smiling from ear to ear. This girl and I were very different, but so very similar. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. I’m sure Gram would let me come over. I’ll just neglect to say anything about a party.”

  She let out a wicked laugh. “And if she finds out we’ll say I sprang it on you last minute.”

  “That works for me.” I gave her a crooked smile, knowing that if I got caught Gram was going to kill me for sure.

  “Okay, well, gotta run. We can plan more of the details this week at school.” She turned to run back to her car and called over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to think of a costume.”

  My smile was forced when I nodded and said goodbye again. That was the thing I hated most about Halloween. I chuckled to myself as I thought about what would happen if I dressed up as a tiger.

  The ride home was as uneventful as the ride into town, but that was okay. Nature was liberating, and so was exercising.

  When I walked into the house, I found Gram and Aunt Gwen sitting in the living room. Gram was knitting, and Aunt Gwen was crocheting. After Mom and I had moved in they had tried to teach me. I didn’t have a talent for either one, or the patience to keep trying. Aunt Gwen gave up first, but it took Gram almost a week after that to throw in the towel. Now I enjoyed watching them sit in the living room most evenings as they created masterpieces.

  “You were gone for a while,” Aunt Gwen told me as I closed the door. “We thought we were going to have to send a posse out after you.”

  “Only Gwen and I are the posse,” Gram muttered as she started to take out a knot in her yarn.

  I shook my head at them as I laughed. Gram may have been a crotchety lady when she wanted to be, but she could always make me laugh. She was a sweetheart, and no matter what I said or how I acted around others, I loved this woman. I just couldn’t say it. I watched them as I hung up my coat, and I hoped they realized that I loved them both. With Mom’s passing, I was having a hard time expressing my emotions to anyone, even them.

  “Well did you have any success?” Aunt Gwen asked as I flopped on the floor to stretch after my ride.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I learned a bit, but not as much as I’d hoped.”

  Gram stopped messing with the knot to watch me with narrowed eyes. “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know.” I laid back on the floor and stared at the ceiling. “Didn’t anyone ever ask them where they came from? Or how they change? What caused the hatred to begin with? Nothing I read mentioned it.”

  I sat up to watch them when neither spoke. “Does anyone know how the feud began?”

  “I doubt it.” Gram finished with the knot and began knitting again. I couldn’t tell what she was making, but it was purple and green striped. “Someone probably killed someone else, and the whole thing dogpiled.”

  My sigh was rather loud, which drew attention from both of them. “It’s times like this when I wish I could talk to one and get the answers that I need.”

  Gram chuckled without humor in her voice. “You see one of those things you grab the Winchester and shoot it.”

  “I couldn’t kill it.”

  “I said shoot, not kill. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Fine. Oh, Chrissa wants me to come over to her house on Halloween, and I think she wants me to spend the night.”

  “That’s great.” Aunt Gwen’s face brightened with the subject change. “What are you girls going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe eat food, tell ghost stories or watch scary movies. We haven’t quite decided on the details yet.”

  “Well good for you. I’m so glad you’re finally making friends. Gwen and I have been so worried about you.”

  I laid back down on the living room carpet. I knew they were worried, and they had every right to be. I was quieter now after Mom’s passing and interacted less with people, or I tried to anyway. Maybe time was helping me, or just a human need to be with people.

  “I miss them,” I whispered. I hadn’t planned to say anything, but my thoughts spilled out of my mouth. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to live with, and I’m sorry.”

  Gram’s sigh was soft as she put down her knitting. “Come up here, Joey.”

  I stood up and sat next to her on the couch, pulling my feet up beside me. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me close for a firm, warm hug. We sat like that for several minutes, and little by little my melancholy mood lifted.

  When she spoke it was in the kindest voice I’d ever heard out of Gram. “I know this has been so hard on you. We each grieve in our own way. Maybe for me, it isn’t as bad because I know that I’ll be seeing your parents again soon, unlike you and Gwen who have so much longer to go. But you’ll be all right. You’ll have each other.”

  “I hope so.”

  “What can we do to help you, Joey?” Aunt Gwen asked slowly.

  “I don’t know.” I leaned away from Gram. We all sat in silence for a while longer before I began to be restless with the quiet. “So, what’s for lunch?”

  Gram’s burst of laughter had me smiling along with her. “You really do just ask questions out of the blue, don’t you?”

  “Well, if you’re up for one more, I have another random question.”

  She eyed me warily. “What is it?”

  “What would you do if the weregals came back?”

  “I’d move us all to Australia.”

  “Why Australia?”

  “First, it’s halfway around the world from those things. I’d go to the moon if I could. And second I’ve always wanted to visit.”

  “Fair enough. Now, I’m starving. Let’s eat.”