by Frankie Bow
“If you need to be sick, just go for it,” I said. “You’ll feel better afterwards. Then we can take you home.”
I heard the teenage boy shout something.
“You punks,” Ida Belle yelled back. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Yeah, check your privilege!” Gertie shouted.
“I should go give those two a talking-to,” I said. “Poor Justin is sick and all those little brats can do is stand there and—”
“Fortune,” Ida Belle interrupted me. “Gertie. A little help here.”
“Oh dear,” Gertie said.
I turned around to help Ida Belle, but Justin wasn’t there.
Justin’s clothes were crumpled on the ground. Standing on the pile, looking disoriented, was a something that was about Justin’s height, but covered in fur from head to toe.
Gertie placed her hand on the animal’s shoulder.
“Now listen,” she said. To the creature. “It’s like a hot flash. You just have to breathe through it.”
“That’s not gonna help,” Ida Belle scolded. “He doesn’t know what a hot flash is.”
I looked back toward where the teenagers were, but they’d apparently fled.
“Gertie? Ida Belle? Why are we standing here with Bigfoot? What happened to Justin? Are those two questions related? Tell me those two questions aren’t related.”
“We have to get him out of here,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie pulled off her nutria coat and draped it over the creature’s shoulders. Ida Belle fished around in her purse and pulled out a collapsible sun hat, a broad-brimmed number with a reflective silver finish. She stuck it on the animal’s head and pulled the brim down in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal its furry face. They positioned themselves on either side of the creature and escorted him back to the parking lot.
“Get his clothes,” Ida Belle commanded me. “When he shifts back, he’s gonna be naked.”
Chapter 11
Ida Belle, Gertie, and I sat around Ida Belle’s kitchen table, exhausted from wrangling a confused beast into, and then back out of, Marge’s Jeep and into Justin’s bedroom. Ida Belle had poured us all some sweet tea with a drop (maybe a few drops) of Sinful Ladies Cough Syrup. I knocked back my first glass in two gulps and pushed it over to Ida Belle for a refill.
“Does either of you want to explain what’s going on here?”
“Nope,” Ida Belle said.
“Not really,” Gertie agreed.
Ida Belle stood up and pulled a head of lettuce out of the refrigerator and went back to toss it into Justin’s room. I heard an appreciative snuffling sound coming from the back of the house.
“Doctor Broussard said if anything strange happens, we’re supposed to take him to the hospital,” I said.
“And just how are we gonna do that?” Ida Belle asked. “Fortune, you’re the one who doesn’t want to attract attention.”
“Good point.”
“Leave him be. He’ll be back to normal in a few hours. He’ll be better than new.”
“No he won’t,” Gertie said. “He’ll be really hungry. You know that.”
“Stop being such a worry wart, Gertie. We can go down to the General Store and pick up some instant noodles.”
“Instant noodles?” I said. “How do you know these things eat instant noodles?”
“I know college students do,” Ida Belle said.
“Right. Okay. Listen, did anyone see us at the fair? I mean, after Justin...do you think anyone in the crowd noticed anything out of the ordinary?”
“Those two kids,” Ida Belle said. “But they’re not gonna tell anyone, cause then they’d have to admit they were making out behind the tents.”
“There was that little girl with the phone,” Gertie said. “She took a picture of us. Remember, right before we got out to the parking lot?”
“Oh, great.” I rested my head on my folded arms. “I had one job. Don't draw attention to myself. How did this happen? What's going on here? Is this some real-life werewolf type of deal?”
“We're not supposed to say the w-word,” Ida Belle said. “It's not PC.”
“They want to be called ‘shifters’ now,” Gertie added. “It's more inclusive. I keep forgetting, though. I guess I'm old-fashioned.”
I sat up. “What was that word again? Rougarou. Why don’t people just say Rougarou instead of werewolf?”
“Some do,” Gertie said. “But if you want to be correct, Rougarou only refers to when they’re in their animal form.”
“So was that little girl out in Perd’ Espoir trying to warn Justin?”
“No,” Gertie said. “She was asking him, are you one of us.”
“Guess he is now,” Ida Belle said.
“One of us? There are more of them? Wait a minute. Is that the deal with the Roche family?”
“Maybe,” Gertie faltered.
“Desiree Roche’s family is a pack of werewolves, or whatever you’re supposed to call them?”
“Shifters,” Gertie said. “They're not wolves. They're cougars.”
Ida Belle snapped her fingers. “Desiree did this to him. She's set her sights on him for whatever reason, so she attacked him and turned him. Then she came to the hospital to make sure she'd done the job.”
“But Ida Belle” I said, “If she was the one who attacked Justin, remember, you shot that animal in the shoulder. Desiree had no visible injury when she showed up at the hospital.”
A knock sounded on Ida Belle's door.
“Little early for the mail,” Ida Belle grumbled, and went to answer it.
“It doesn’t make sense that it was Desiree,” I said to Gertie. “Unless werewolf—I mean, shifters can heal that fast. Can they heal that fast?”
“Why don't you ask her yourself?” Gertie said.
Standing at the door, wearing a sleeveless flowered green dress and a light sunburn, was Desiree Roche.
Ida Belle got Desiree a glass of sweet tea and poured Gertie and me a second serving.
“I was afraid of this,” Desiree sighed. She was disheveled but still lovely, her pink sunburn giving her a glow. Maybe Justin wouldn't mind being doomed to be her soulmate for eternity after all.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Fortune.”
“Madame.” She reached across the table and clasped my hand in both of hers. “Justin speaks well of you.” She pronounced his name with a soft “j,” as in “garage.”
“And I’m acquainted with the two other Mesdames,” she added, with a wry smile that indicated they hadn’t always been on the best of terms. “Little Aimee saw you walking with Justin out of the fair. She got a picture. You see?”
She took out a smartphone in a pink case and brought up a photo. The fairgrounds, including the row of tents, were clearly visible in the background. I was thankful to see that I wasn’t in the picture.
“I guess we weren’t that inconspicuous after all,” Gertie said.
“Well, you’re walking out of the fair in the company of a man-sized furry thing wearing a brown fur coat and a silver hat,” I said. “So probably not.”
Desiree examined the phone.
“Over five thousand views already. I think Mayor Celia will be very happy for the publicity.”
“Mayor-in-her-own-mind Celia,” Ida Belle snapped. “She’s not officially mayor yet.”
“Is Justin here? May I see him?”
“Desiree, you know Justin’s not a wealthy man,” Ida Belle said. “I know you think he can help your family out financially, but he really can’t. His prospects already weren’t that good. And now, with this condition, he’ll be lucky to get any job at all.”
“Oh no, Madame, you are mistaken.” Desiree looked shocked. “I am not interested in money.”
“Well what then?”
“Maybe he has a nice personality,” I suggested.
Desiree blinked rapidly and looked down at her half-finished glass of tea. “Justin made an unexpected discovery. Out in the woods.”
>
“Ew, that thing,” Gertie said.
“She was not a thing, Madame.” Tears were running down Desiree’s cheeks now. “Her name was Felice.”
Gertie pressed her lips together, embarrassed, as Ida Belle glared at her.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“When I was en famille we were so happy. And then—ah, you know how it ended. A few terrible hours, then fin. This is not an accident, Mesdames. It is a curse on my family.”
Toby LaRoquette had said the specimen was a felid, a kind of cat. If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have said that Desiree Roche was delusional. But I’d just watched a man turn into a—a what? A Rougarou? Now I didn’t know what to think.
“And you think Justin can help you lift the curse?” I asked gently.
“Yes. I hope so.”
“What about…” I was about to suggest she go to the hospital, but I realized if she went in claiming that she’d given birth to a dead kitten-monster, they’d just lock her up.
“Yes, Madame Fortune?” Desiree turned her tear-streaked face to me.
“Well, there’s the…” The university? This could make someone’s career. Imagine the government grants.
The CIA would kill to have access to shifter technology.
Literally.
“On the other hand,” I said, “I can see the benefit of keeping a low profile.”
We heard a door open, and Justin wandered out, rubbing his face. He was back to his old self and dressed (thankfully) in sweatpants and a baggy Mahina State University t-shirt.
“I’m starving. Eh, Desiree. Howzit? Aunty Ida Belle, you get anything to eat?”
Ida Belle waved him to the refrigerator. Justin fixed himself a piled-high plate of strawberries, steamed cold sweet potatoes, and watermelon slices. He brought it over to the table and practically dove in face-first. We watched him suck down his meal. When everything on his plate was gone, he came up for air.
“I’m kinda scared to ask,” he said. “What happened to me exactly?”
“Oh, cher,” Desiree gently placed her hand on his.
“What? Aw man, I’m so hungry.”
“Help yourself,” Ida Belle sighed, and Justin got up to refill his plate. When he came back to the table, Desiree had the phone out.
“Look here, cher.” Desiree set the phone down in front of him. He stared at the photo for a few seconds before recognition dawned on his face.
“That’s me?”
We all nodded.
“Between Aunty Gertie and Aunty Ida Belle?”
We nodded again. Justin’s brow creased.
“I was a panda bear?”
“Didn’t you know?” Gertie asked gently.
“Aw, man. I felt like I was da kine, like, Kamapua’a. All massive an’ fierce. I felt all this animal energy like…I was a panda?”
“You were really cuddly,” Gertie said.
“Don’t tell him he’s cuddly,” Ida Belle said. “Men don’t want to be cuddly.”
“What did it feel like?” I asked. “When you changed?”
Justin shook his head. “I can’t explain it.”
“It’s like a hot flash,” Gertie said.
“I told you,” Ida Belle scolded, “he doesn’t know what that is.”
“The other nature takes over,” Desiree said. “You become truly yourself, and you feel so strong. We say that one is en forme.”
Justin shook his head. “It was kinda cool I guess, but kinda pilau too. When all that stuff happened on the fairgrounds I felt real sick to my stomach an’ like I couldn’t get enough air. Maybe the process required a lotta oxygen.”
“Do you know who did this to him, Desiree?” Ida Belle asked.
She shook her head.
“No. It was not me.”
“So what’s the deal?” Justin examined his hands. “Is it gonna happen again?”
“I do not know,” Desiree said. “Sometimes the episodes become less and less often, and finally they’re only now and then.”
“Like LSD flashbacks,” Gertie said.
“Honestly Gertie,” Ida Belle said, “you’re not helping at all.”
“Can I learn to turn it on and off if I want?” Justin asked. “Maybe it’ll come in handy one day.”
“Like when you got nothing left in the fridge but bamboo?” Ida Belle asked.
“I am so happy to see you have come back, Justin. Some people, the bite is too strong and they never come back to themselves.”
“You mean they stay in animal form?” I couldn’t believe that I was really asking this.
“Sure,” Gertie said. “That’s what happened to those two back in the fifties. What were they called? Remember, Ida Belle, the two scientists that were down here poking around? Real Yankee names, I remember.”
“Fordyce and Whittingdon,” Ida Belle said.
“You know what happened to Fordyce and Whittingdon?” Justin looked shocked. “Professor Nakamura was telling me about ‘em. She said they disappeared, no one knew what happened to ‘em.”
“Rumor is, they were turned into a pair of alligators,” Ida Belle said.
“Being an alligator sounds pretty good until you remember what the fashions were back then,” Gertie added.
“Is Justin in danger?” I asked. “Whoever did this to him, are they going to attack him again?”
“I do not know,” Desiree said. “Maybe he was just trying to send a message.”
“So you know it’s a ‘he’?” Ida Belle asked.
“Or she.”
Justin licked the empty plate, and then looked around the kitchen.
“You got any more salad, Aunty?”
I went back home to find Ally happily tallying up her day’s sales. To my amazement, all of her disgusting pies had sold.
“So there’s no swamp rat pie left?” I asked optimistically.
“Not a crumb.” Ally was radiant.
I got a Coke from the fridge and sat down at the table with her.
“Who bought them all?”
“I don’t know. Carter was watching my booth for a little bit while I was helping Aunt Celia with her TV makeup. I was sold out when I got back. I asked him, who bought all the pies, and he said no one in particular that stood out, just people coming up and buying them like you’d expect.”
“Why was he there at all?” I asked. “I thought he was supposed to be home resting.”
“Aunt Celia wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She said just cause he wasn’t healed up enough to resume all of his duties didn’t mean he couldn’t earn his keep at the jamboree. Of course, now that she got Carter and me and all those kids from the high school to help out, she’s taking credit for all of it. Oh, and someone even showed up in a panda bear costume. In this weather, that's what I call dedication. Fortune, are you okay?”
“I'm fine. Just a little clumsy, I guess.” I grabbed a stack of napkins to wipe up my spilled Coke. “So. A panda bear costume, you say?”
“Oh, yeah, it was real cute. Someone took a photo and it went viral. Didn’t Gertie and Ida Belle tell you? They were in the picture with him.”
“Were they, now. No, they didn’t mention it.”
“It's been getting all kinds of publicity. Someone tweeted that the Jamboree was going to be the next Burning Man.”
“Great. Whatever Burning Man is.”
“Aunt Celia's over the moon. This is a huge success for her. It's really got her all pumped up for the Watermelon Day Picnic. And now she’s putting all her energy into promoting her Sinful Moments video channel. She set it up so anyone can upload video to it.” Ally finished her calculations. “Five hundred ninety-five dollars and seventy-six cents. I’d say my pie booth was a success.”
“That’s great, Ally. I’m proud of you.” Six hundred bucks was nothing compared to what the Sinful Ladies Society cleared from selling their moonshine cough syrup, but I was happy for Ally. “Now what’s this about Aunt Celia's video channel? Is there going to be a cam
era set up or something?”
“Nah, she’s going to leave it open and let anyone upload stuff. She said the latest thing is tapping into the wisdom of crowds.”
Having been present at an uprising or two in my day, I had to wonder about that expression—whoever claimed crowds were wise obviously didn’t have much actual experience with them.
“Fortune, you want to be on video?”
“Nooo. I want to avoid it. I do not want my face out on the internet.”
“Oh, I remember,” Ally said. “That stalker problem you had when you were out on the pageant circuit.”
“What? Oh, right. Yes. That.” That was the reason I’d given for not having much of an internet presence despite being a former beauty queen.
A brisk knock on the door turned out to be Gertie.
I invited her in.
“How's Justin?” I asked. “Ally, I didn't mention it, but he still wasn't feeling that well today.”
“Oh, poor thing,” Ally said. “I had no idea. Come to think of it, he didn't look that good when I saw you guys at the pie booth.”
I didn't like hiding the truth from Ally (any more than I already was), but I honestly couldn't think of any way to tell her what I had seen. At least, not without sounding like a crazy person.
“He's doing a lot better,” Gertie said. “He has his appetite back. He cleaned out Ida Belle's fridge, so she had to go out for more. He's staying behind at the house, though, to be on the safe side. In case he has a relapse.”
“Maybe I should go over and see him,” Ally said.
“No!” Gertie and I cried at the same time.
“He might be contagious,” I said, exactly at the same time Gertie said, “He’s not up to company yet.”
Chapter 12
Nick Santiago was still around the day after the festival, and sticking to me like gum on the bottom of my shoe. When I stopped in for breakfast at Francine's I saw the top of his bald head sticking up from behind a newspaper in a corner booth. When I went across the street to the General Store after breakfast to pick up some toothpaste, there was Santiago again, studying a display of men’s support socks.
I still had no idea who he really was. That photo I’d gotten of him hadn’t brought up any matches. If he managed to sneak a picture of me, on the other hand, my face would immediately set alarms ringing from here to Langley.
