Never Cry Werewolf (12 page)

Ariel put her hand on my shoulder. “You and Austin stay here and talk about set design stuff,” she said with a wink. “I’m thinking some kind of fairy tale.”

“That could work,” Price said, nodding. “Let’s go, Ariel.”

“Shelby,” Ariel whispered, leaning over to me. “I’m trying to help you out here. You can thank me later.” With that, she and Price went off, chattering about their ideas.

Austin had taken a seat in an empty chair next to me. He glanced at me expectantly as I sank back down into my seat. “Frightened to be alone with me now?” he said.

“No. It’s not that,” I said. “I mean, it is kinda that, but kinda not.”

“I expect it’s difficult to grasp what you saw last night.”

I blinked at him. “Uh…yeah.”

Austin nodded. “You’ve taken it better than I thought.”

“How was I supposed to take it? You told me you’re not human.”

“I didn’t say that at all,” Austin said, his eyes darkening. “We’re humans with a genetic anomaly.

We’re far more human than most humans I know. Tell me, do I seem like an animal to you?”

I swallowed the response on my tongue—that any guy who would snarf down raw, bloody meat wasn’t exactly normal. As far as him being human, he sure looked like a regular guy sitting next to me now, but in the dark last night he’d seemed like a ravenous wild animal. I wasn’t sure what he—the wolf

—was capable of.

He moved his chair closer to mine and said, “I’m not a mind reader, Shelby, but I can see you’re
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frightened. You needn’t be. This is merely a genetic trait passed down through my family’s bloodline.

Though people have, over the years, infected others.” He sat there, quietly watching me from behind his dark bangs.

I chewed at my lower lip. “So, your whole family is…?” I leaned in closer to him and said, “I mean, you’re, like, descended from a line of…people like you?”

Austin nodded. “My ancestors were the scourge of Eastern Europe in the twelfth century. Over the years, we’ve evolved. Our feeding habits are a lot more selective these days.”

“Except for your father’s,” I said.

Austin colored slightly. “Yes. He enjoys the whole lifestyle. Howling at the moon, letting himself go wild out in the countryside. That’s why we own several large estates. He loves working our private hunting grounds and going on safari. Of course, it’s all nonhuman prey.”

“What about your mom?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

The redness left Austin’s cheeks and his body seemed to relax. “She wasn’t born Lycan. She went through the change when she fell in love with my dad. Then Dad’s band went worldwide and they could afford to hire the chemist who developed the serum. It inhibits the hormones that make me change and masks the parts of my DNA that are beyond human. Mum always wanted me to have a choice.”

“She sounds cool.”

“The best,” he said.

“So there wasn’t, like, any fortune of the werewolves or anything? Your dad had to make himself rich?”

“We don’t steal. You’re thinking of vampires.”

I did a double take. “So they
are
real, too? Holy crap.”

He nodded. “Another genetic anomaly. Of course, they’re the undead. We’re very much alive.”

“I still can’t believe it,” I said. “There’re other people like you out there. For real?”

Austin seemed to brighten. “Yeah, world-renowned ones, too. Wrestling stars, heads of state, even a Miss Universe.”

“She had to shave a lot, huh,” I said with a little giggle.

Austin smiled but didn’t laugh. “We’re normal people with a horrible secret to bear. It’s not like the movies.”

“Yes, you’re a very evolved community. You don’t attack people. I feel tons better,” I said, hoping Austin couldn’t tell that I was still freaked.

“What do we have here?” Charles said. “Wasn’t working out with the blond chicks, huh, Bridges?”

Austin glared. “We’re having a private discussion. I emphasize the word
private
.”

“Excellent. Don’t let me stop you.”

“What is your deal?” I said.

“Wow. She does like you! Unbelievable.” Charles shook his head. “That’s taking quite a risk. I guess you like to live on the edge, Shelby.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Austin stood up so that he was chest to chest with Charles. It looked like he was about to pop him a good one.

“I don’t think you need me to repeat the story,” Charles said casually.

“Searching for more lies?” I said.

“Searching for stories—not lies,” Charles said. “This place is a gold mine of information.”

“Stay away from me,” Austin said, his voice almost a growl.

“Yeah. Not going to happen, Bridges. Not till I find out what’s really going on with you. And I’ll be keeping an eye on Shelby, too. I smell an exclusive.” Grinning, Charles backed away and then walked off.

Austin slumped down in his chair. “That bloke is a problem,” he said, closing his eyes. “Perhaps you see what my family’s had to deal with. It’s difficult enough keeping my father out of the press as it is.

Not to mention our other problem.”

“Yeah, if you don’t get the serum and Charles sees you…” I murmured. If Austin changed in the
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middle of camp, not only could someone take a picture, but what if he was in his cabin at the time and couldn’t get out? The kids might freak and attack him, or he them. I shuddered, thinking of how wolves ripped flesh from their prey.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to involve you in all of this.” Austin took one of my hands in his, and my first instinct was to pull my hand free.

But I didn’t do it. I didn’t want to let go of him. Austin seemed totally honest. I hoped he was telling the truth about the control he had over the wolf. I hoped he was the good person he appeared to be. And deep down, even though maybe it was one of my faults or whatever, I wanted to be able to trust him.

I let my hand relax in his grasp. It was hard not to notice how warm and dry his hand was as it wrapped around mine. I felt a little flutter start in my belly. He definitely was having an effect on me. One part fear, one part irresistible pull. And somehow it felt right.

The next day, while everyone hurried off to the boys’ and girls’ therapy groups, I walked directly to the camp director’s office to scope out just what Austin was up against. There had to be some way to get to the serum.

A little nervous I’d be seen, I slipped inside the rustic office building and gently closed the door.

No one was around. I walked to the office door and checked out the lock. It was pretty standard. I’d been hoping for a cheapie bathroom door variety you could pick with a butter knife.

The door to the building opened behind me, and I whirled around. In the same instant I noticed Mr. Winters and the security cam above the entryway—its red light blinking.

“Shelby? What brings you here?” Mr. Winters said.

“Oh. I was passing by on my way to group.”

Mr. Winters smiled thinly. “You’re late. Did you need to talk?”

“No, I, um…”

“Being late to group adds another day to your weeding chore,” Mr. Winters said.

I pressed my lips together, holding back a curse. “Fine. I better go.”

“Wait,” Mr. Winters said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah?”

We stood there looking at each other for a second before he said, “You came here to see me.

What’s on your mind?”

My friend is a werewolf who needs his medicine.
“I, uh, was just coming to ask you if I had to garden again today, and now I do, I guess,” I said, thinking on my feet.

“Shelby, you don’t have to lie to cover your embarrassment,” Mr. Winters said, shaking his head.

He led me over to two chairs huddled in the corner near a dying ficus tree. “Look, I think I understand why you’re here. Of all the young women at camp, you have a real chance at remaking yourself, if that’s what you’d like to do. I hope you’re here because you want to talk. I hope you’re perceptive enough to realize that you are the only one who can change the direction of your life.”

“I don’t think it’s going in such a bad direction,” I said, feeling just a bit uncomfortable now. I prepared myself for the onslaught of professional advice that was sure to come. So much for an easy reconnaissance mission.

“Shelby, your father wrote on your application a little of your recent family history. I’m sure you’

ve probably heard this, but losing a parent is one of the hardest things a child can experience.”

I gritted my teeth. I
had
heard that before—from everyone who looked at me with the poor-Shelby expression and whispered about me as they walked away. It was cold comfort to have people pity you.

He continued, undeterred by my stony glare. “You’re a strong, obviously brave young woman after surviving that kind of loss,” he said. “No one can prepare a kid for that pain. It takes courage to go on after that.”

I blinked. “As if I had a choice in the matter,” I replied.

“Actually, you did.” Mr. Winters gave me a sad smile. “And I have a feeling, knowing you even
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for a short time, that you were staying strong for your dad. You probably felt like you had to be strong for him.”

I sucked in a deep breath, wishing the conversation was over. “Look, I just did what I had to do.”

“I’ve known a kid or two in similar circumstances. You didn’t break down. You didn’t want your dad to see you sad because you thought he was already sad enough. But, when you’re young, parents are there to support you, not the other way around.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” I said.

He smiled again. “Why don’t you tell me how you see it?”

I shook my head, my eyes tight against the tears I could feel behind them. I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of some random counselor guy who thought he knew me after a few days of pulling weeds with him.

He patted me on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I want you to know everything you’re feeling, and everything you felt back when your mom died, is okay. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could do but love her, which obviously you did very well.”

I wiped my moist eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know where this old guy got off saying all this stuff when he wasn’t there, he couldn’t know how I’d felt, even if he was a good guesser.

“That’s right—just go with the feeling,” Mr. Winters said.

I sniffled. “Uh, I should go, girls’ group and all. Fun, fun, fun.”

“You don’t like girls’ group?”

“What’s not to like?” I said with a laugh. “Another session of let’s talk about becoming a woman?

Who wouldn’t love it?”

He didn’t react to my sarcasm. “You find it boring?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s embarrassing and totally unnecessary. I’m sixteen. Technically, I’ll be an adult soon. I don’t need to hear all this becoming-a-woman crap. In a couple of years I’ll be off at college far away from rules and stepmothers and people like you who think I’m some kind of head case.”

“I don’t think that, Shelby. Do you?”

Gah! I stared at him and said, “No, I don’t think that. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You sound pretty angry for someone who feels fine.”

“Duh! I’m angry at people butting into my business and telling me what to do and who to be and what to feel.”

He cocked his head at me, looking like some kind of hairless St. Bernard with that big head of his.

“That makes sense, Shelby, but following your parents’ rules builds trust between you and them.

Consider it logically.”

“Sure. Are we done?”

He nodded, so I walked to the door.

“Enjoy girls’ group,” he said. “I’ll see you in the flower beds after.”

“Yeah, great.” Forcing myself not to slam the door, I left the building. I felt truly angry. It was easier to be at home where nobody talked about all this stuff than to be here where adults who barely knew me made a bunch of assumptions. I was totally fine—and other people had way worse problems than I did. Problems that were supernatural.

The rest of the day went by slower than ever, beginning with the weediest flower bed I’d done yet and ending with the most boring of all of Dr. Wanda’s lectures instead of a campfire. It was all about the transformation ceremony we were supposed to have in a few days.

That night I was so tired I fell asleep almost as soon as I zipped up my sleeping bag. I dreamed about Orlando Bloom, who I’d once seen in real life, shopping at Beverly Center. In the dream, I was working on his movie set as a script supervisor, and he kept asking me for his lines. Then he asked me to come to his trailer and help him rehearse. I was about to follow him when…
bam
!

My eyes popped open and I sat up straight in my bunk in Spotted Owl. That was definitely not a forest noise. Maybe it was a shutter banging in the wind or a loose screen door. A line of goose bumps
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traveled up my arms.

I glanced around the dark cabin, barely lit by the moonlight peeking in through the far window. No one else was awake or even seemed to notice the sound I heard, though Cynthia snorted in her sleep and turned over on her cot near the door.

Go back to sleep
, I told my busy brain. I settled back into my bunk and shut my eyes hard.

Eeeee!
I heard the squeal of something, some animal.

That was it. I sat up again and reached down into my backpack to get a flashlight. What if it was Austin out there? A chill whispered over my skin, but a part of me really wanted to see him do it—

change into a wolf.

I put a hoodie and yoga pants on over my cami and shorts and stuck my feet into a pair of flip-flops. But tiptoeing in flip-flops was hard, so I took the things off until I got by Cynthia’s bed. Then I nudged open the door and eased out onto the porch.