by Holly Hook
"Of course you are," she says the second I finish speaking. "Can you man the store tomorrow? Or woman the store if you want to be politically correct? I have another appointment I can't miss."
I know the right answer. "Sure thing. What time?"
"If you can start at eight, that would be amazing."
That means getting up early on a Saturday, but I nod. "Will do. Anything to help. What are these appointments? I don't mean to pry—"
"I'm working on a way to keep things afloat. That's all you need to know. There might be an out. But I will not tell you yet because I want to make sure it will work before I even make this public to anyone but myself." Aunt May's eyes fill with a shining worry as she spreads her arms for a hug. I take it and she enfolds me. "Deal? This is not a burden you need to take. I want you to have a normal life."
"Deal," I say. But it is. "No matter what, I want to help."
"It's not your conflict."
I say nothing to that, because right then, as I hold my terrified aunt, I disagree. I'll do everything I can to protect the only family in my life.
Aunt May, like she always does when she needs to blow off stress, heads upstairs and runs a bath. The pipes sing and groan in the old house as hot water flows through them. She'll be up there for about an hour, leaving me down here to my own devices. I pace around the living room, surrounded by Aunt May's countless books, which lay in stacks on the coffee table and choke bookshelves. Like the rest of the house, the smell of old paper is comforting, but now that old paper might hold answers.
Werewolves.
My mind has been trying to spit out the word for days, but only now has it risen to the surface and stayed there. The more I run over the events of the week, the more certain of it I feel. As the surrounding plumbing changes pitch and silences, I scan the bookshelf. Aunt May has collected books from old library sales and boxes from countless garages over her lifetime. There's everything from guides on old ships to edible herbs to—
Wolf Men and Shapeshifters. By Ron Sylver.
Bingo. Nervous tingles overtake my palms as I pull the book out and head up to my room. Aunt May won't notice it missing from the hordes of other books. The book itself smells like the nineteenth century. The cover's corners have banged into countless bookshelves and the gold leaf on the dark green cover has seen maybe hundreds of rubbing fingers.
Once in my room, I crack open the book and lay over the bed, turning the pages and scanning the chapters. The text is in old, slightly off-center print. Pencil-drawn illustrations of rugged men putting on wolf skin fill pages, while the full moon hangs over forests on other chapter headings. It reminds me of last night at the windowsill and of the woods that surround Breck.
I skim the first few chapters. Werewolves vary in legend. Some are people who can shape-shift into full wolf form whenever they want while others only transform during the full moon. Others still do both. There are wolfman forms, hulking beast forms, and full wolf forms all get a mention. Some werewolves of legend morph into wolves larger than normal.
And some have elevated senses of smell and strength, even while in human form.
But all have a weakness to silver.
As I read, I flip my pendant over in my hand.
Cayden's growls—
The wolf in the woods—
The dog's reaction—
His strength—
Asking me about my silver pendant—
Eyeing my open curtains, I close them.
Could Cayden be a werewolf?
I shake my head. It's suspicious, but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems.
I slam the book shut, getting up and leaving it on my bed.
"Come on, Brie," I say. "Come on. Stop letting this get to your head. There's nothing wrong with Cayden."
I'm going crazy.
Aren't I?
Chapter Eleven
Blinking sleep out of my eyes, I step back into class Monday morning after not having seen Cayden all weekend. I'm not sure how to feel about that. Being a werewolf might cause his mixed signals. His fear when I saw him making the dog submit. Most of all, my thoughts return to the wolf in the woods, the one with the coat matching Cayden's unusual hair.
I spot Cayden at what must be his locker, stuffing books inside and getting out another. He turns as if he hears me coming from forty feet down the crowded hall and faces me. We stop and look at each other.
He glowers, and something savage fills his hazel eyes.
He slams the locker door and walks away, refusing to look back.
I stand in the hall, shocked. Cayden's been aloof before, maybe even standoffish, but never like this. Now he's acting downright hostile.
Does it have to do with me seeing him interact with the dog in the store? That has to be it. It's the only thing that's changed since we met last.
But it doesn't stop my chest from hurting. I told this guy stuff I've let no one else know, and now—
He might be a werewolf.
I've got to know the truth. I should just keep away from him and pretend he doesn't exist, but there's no going back now.
Leonora and I don't speak during school hours since our paths don't cross, but I head back to her locker that's way down in the Fine Arts wing. I've spent the weekend reading about werewolves once I got over my original panic. Working at the store has prevented me from finishing Wolf Men and Shapeshifters, but last night, I found a section on another werewolf weakness.
If anyone will have what I'm looking for, it's Leonora.
"Hey," I say to her as she shuffles through the horrendous mess that is her locker. "Do you, um, have any Wolfsbane lying around?"
She faces me and turns her freckles up in a smile. "Need to kill a werewolf?"
"It's that well known as a werewolf killer?" I put on a happy act which poses no problem, but struggle with the lie. "It's for the play. Mr. Saffron wants us to stock the pantries with herbs and stuff that won't spoil. He's going all out on the props this year and make them authentic." That sounds ridiculous. "We get bonus points and a pizza party if we meet our goal. And your family finds everything in the woods, so I figured if anyone would have some, it would be you. And I'm not looking to kill any supernatural creatures."
The thought makes my stomach turn over in horror. I don't want to murder Cayden. He's done nothing to hurt me or anyone else...yet. It's more that I want to see how he reacts. "You sure?" she asks. "If you didn't want to kill a werewolf, a small amount of Wolfsbane might slow them down."
I can live with that. "You actually have some?"
Leonora reaches into her locker, parting two backpacks (she must share with someone) and drawing out a glass vial of what looks like crushed roots. "We have everything."
"You keep a toxic plant root in your locker."
"Tell nobody. I keep them for a friend, and no, I'm not going to explain what they're used for."
I check the hallway, but the Fine Arts hall is the emptiest in the school. Only a couple of guys chat near a classroom door. "Why not? If you won't explain that to me, at least tell me more about wolfsbane and how to use it. Mr. Saffron is giving bonus points for research."
"Lots of people buy herbs from my family," Leonora says. "Wolfsbane got used in hunting back in ancient times. Tipping arrows with it was the way to go. It could even take down bears. If you use this, be sure to keep the cork in at all times. It can irritate your skin."
My stomach flips a second time. Wolfsbane is that dangerous?
Leonora grins. "Remember, you need only a tiny amount to slow down a werewolf."
* * * * *
I can't figure out why Leonora would have strange herbs in her locker—maybe to sell to naturalist hunters?—but as lunch draws near, I think of my plan and peek in my backpack to make sure the tiny vial is still there. It's not much at all, maybe the size of those vials Aunt May once used to check the water quality in her old fish tank, but after what Leonora told me, every time I see it there, a shudder races ov
er my skin.
She can't believe I'm using this as a simple stage prop.
The bell rings for lunch, and after grabbing my tray from the line, I spot Cayden already sitting at his usual table with his sister. The big guy hasn't showed up yet. My heart races as I stare at him, but he has his back to the line as if he doesn't want to face me.
Then I eye my normal table. Noah, Sarah, Ellie and the other theater regulars haven't showed up yet. If I will try anything, I have to do it now.
Taking a breath, I walk up to Cayden's table.
Though I take careful steps, he hears me approaching. Cayden turns, faces me for a second, glares, and then goes back to his food.
"Hey," I say. "Doing okay with math?"
He nods as he chews without facing me. His sister, however, catches me in a hazel stare.
"Where's the big football player guy?"
The sister finishes chewing and sets down her plastic fork. "I know he looks like a jock, but he's a genius." Her words are bland. Cold.
"I never said the two were exclusive," I say. "I know not all jocks are like Matthew." I glimpse him sitting on the other side of the cafeteria, away from the Lowes' table. He keeps his back to us. "And I know not all big guys are jocks."
Cayden continues to study his food. I finger the vial in my pocket as he does. The cork slips up and almost off.
"He works on a science project all the time, so he doesn't have time for football," the sister says. "It's not his thing."
Is that because he'd crush everyone with werewolf strength? If he is a werewolf? I don't ask.
"That's cool," I say, feeling stupid. The girl radiates no warmth and Cayden continues to ignore me—again.
The girl nods. "I suppose so. Got to get a drink." She stands, pushes in her chair, and leaves the table. It's a silent cue for me to leave.
It's just me and Cayden now. Or maybe she's given us a moment?
"Hey. If you ever want tutoring again, hit me up," I say.
"Not a good idea," Cayden mumbles through food. He leans over his tray, back raised. Or hackles raised? And then, as I stand there, he leans over and ruffles through his backpack.
My fingers close around the cork of the vial and pop it off. Drawing it from my pocket, I catch a bit—just a miniscule piece of wolfsbane—and sprinkle it on his salad. It blends in with the ranch dressing and sinks within it. Sweating, I place the vial back in my pocket, checking to see if anyone's noticed. So far, everyone buries themselves in rumors, phones, or food.
Without a goodbye, I flee the table and head to mine, heart racing. Putting the cork back into the vial, I join Noah, who's just arrived, and put my tray down on the table. The vial pokes into my hip, reminding me of what I've done.
As if satisfied I'm gone, Cayden bites into his salad. Do werewolves even like salad? Apparently, this one does.
"You look like a bag of nerves," Noah says.
I jump and face him. "What would a bag of nerves even look like?"
"Hmmm. Good point. I've never thought of that," he says, scratching his chin. "I imagine it would be creepy."
The minute amount of Wolfsbane won't kill Cayden. It might make him sleepy or a little sick. I wait for him to rise from his table as his sister returns, but he doesn't. Cayden continues to devour his meal as if nothing's amiss. He spears a piece of beef and devours it with relish. Maybe I didn't use enough or the small amount could delay any effect.
Or he's not even a werewolf. And if he is that book got written over a hundred years ago. Things might not be accurate. Cayden's a fantastic actor and he could have used his talents to scare the dog out of his way in the store. And the wolf in the woods was just a coincidence. His throwing Matthew back? Martial arts, maybe, or good body mechanics. His hearing? Sound carried well through the store and the cafeteria, or Cayden just stared at me the whole time and I only noticed when I checked him.
"Brie," Leonora says from behind. She taps my shoulder. "You have a minute?"
She sounds freaked, so I whirl in my seat.
"Sure," I say, aware of Noah and the others watching her. Leonora isn't a common sight in the cafeteria. I'm not sure where she eats at lunch—only that she avoids cafeteria food like the plague.
I start to stand, but she speaks right in front of everyone.
"I realized I gave you foxglove instead of wolfsbane. Some crushed herbs look the same. I'm so sorry. But foxglove is also toxic if you're not careful with it."
"Huh?" I ask. I don't want to ask why she keeps at least two poisons in her locker.
And worse, I don't want to think about what else this could mean.
Maybe Cayden is a werewolf, or I didn't use enough of the herb to affect him. Worse, I still gave him something toxic.
"What are you talking about?" Noah asks. "Does this have to do with Olivia? I hope not."
"Why would we be plotting her death in front of you?" I ask. If I don't get out of here, my lie to Leonora will fall apart. Noah will tell her Mr. Saffron has no props pizza party on the horizon. I rise from the table, determined to get her out of there.
"Well, this sounds like the opening to a murder mystery," Noah says.
"Shut up," I say, forcing a grin. Everything turns to a storm. I rush out of the lunch room, waving Leonora out with me. She follows, leaving Noah to wonder what's going on.
I give back the foxglove once we stand outside the cafeteria doors. "It wasn't a pizza party or a props thing, okay?"
She raises an eyebrow at me. "It wasn't? So, do you use herbs for like, magical rituals?" She asks as if casting spells is a normal thing with no need for coverup. The last thing I want is to add witchcraft into this mess. My mind wanders to why she keeps this stuff in her locker again.
"The truth is," I swallow. "The truth is that my Aunt May was asking for some, but she won't tell me why."
Leonora shakes her head. "She never tells you anything. Do you still want some wolfsbane?"
Heavy guilt lingers in my chest. "That might not be a good idea."
"Totally understandable." Leonora waves and heads outside to where the picnic tables wait.
Instead of re-joining Noah and the others, I head to the bathroom and stay there for the rest of the lunch period.
Its events swirl through me for the next couple of hours until at last, as soon as I enter Algebra, Cayden gives me a small wave. Once again, he's changed his whole attitude. Now he's fine. Are mood swings a werewolf thing?
Or is he glad I'm not freaking out about yesterday?
I could have hurt him, but at least he's okay.
I gave him poison. There's no way I deserve even a smile.
The class drags on, and when the bell rings, he stays behind and takes his time gathering his backpack.
"Sorry about being a jerk at lunch," Cayden says once most people have cleared the room. "I get that way sometimes. I've just been having, um, family issues. Things are catching up with me."
"It's okay," I say. How can I be angry at Cayden for glaring at me and shutting me out when I tried something much worse? Heck, I snapped at Noah. My friend must be wondering about me. "You're forgiven."
And why did I let myself think Cayden's a werewolf?
"Awesome. Hey, I'll see you around," Cayden says, smiling at me.
Then he leaves, striding through the hall and outpacing everyone. I hike up my backpack. Not bothering to stop at my locker, I follow him outside, keeping my distance. It's not because I'm stalking, but because I happen to be heading in the same direction. Emerging into the parking lot, I scan the area for the SUV that the Lowes boarded the other day, but it's absent. Cayden's siblings aren't giving him a ride home, and he's walking toward the woods again.
"Hey," I shout. "Do you need a ride?" It's the least I can do after the stunt I pulled. As I ask, the heaviness in my chest dissipates, allowing me to breathe.
Cayden waves. "I like to walk. Thanks, though!" He continues walking, passing the picnic tables as the sun teases out his strange red highlights.
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And then he once again vanishes into the woods.
"He's not a werewolf," I say to myself as I eye my beater car.
But why does Cayden go into woods, having heard the howls before?
That's it.
I'll follow him again, and this time I'm not leaving without answers.
Chapter Twelve
Leaving the noise behind, I enter the woods. As before, Cayden has ducked through a wall of wild vines complete with clusters of tiny grapes. The entrance is almost hidden even when up close, and I have to duck to keep my face out of the foliage. There's a reason most people don't stray into the woods. It's as if the school itself planted thick vines around it to keep people out. That's not true, but I've always wondered.
This is stupid, but the thought of going on with my day and dragging this out any longer is unbearable. Besides, after how I acted at lunch, I'm not sure if I can face Noah.
My senses sharpen as I face the same narrow trail Cayden took days before. Weeds have snapped down as if he's taken this route more than once. Looking back to check the parking lot, I spot no one else following. This is an obscure entrance. But once all the way through, the woods open and trees tower overhead. It's as if I've entered the largest natural room in the world.
Cayden runs ahead. The sound of his footfalls crunching pine needles echo back at me. Not looking back, he turns to the left, leaving the narrow trail behind and crashing through underbrush. As he runs, he removes his jacket as if it's bothering him.
It's not that hot. In the shade, the temperature is almost low enough to make me shiver.
What if the foxglove has a delayed effect? Fever? I've read nothing about it.
Cayden might drop from poison out here and no one will find him except me. I might be his only hope of getting the medical attention he needs.
Heart racing, I break into a run and follow.
There's no trail here. It turns to shrubs, rocks, needles. Cayden continues, which might be the only reason he hasn't detected me. There's desperation in his stride but also grace. He leaps over a three-foot-high boulder as if he's jumped over hurdles of that size a thousand times. With each second, he puts more distance between me and him. Maybe the foxglove is causing hallucinations and terror.
