Hyena Moon (20 page)

She kept one foot on the board, but he lunged at her, hoping to throw her off balance. She slapped his arms away, skipping out of reach. Teresa was playing with him, using her longer reach to slap at anything that came her way: head, arms, shoulders, legs. He hated when she did this. It was almost as bad as when they were much younger and she'd put her hand on his forehead to keep him from reaching her when they fought. Humiliating.

Rafe decided to go all in and rushed at her, catching her around her middle and forcing her to the ground. As soon as he did it though, he realized it was a mistake. Teresa had just been playing with him before. She wasn't really planning on doing more than taunting him, but now he'd pissed her off. He tried to keep on top of her, but she was squirmy and strong. She flipped him over, their positions reversed so now she sat on top of him.

"Thought that was funny, huh," she breathed. "How's this for funny?" She began punching him in the ribs for real, fists thudding into his sides with all her considerable strength behind them. He bucked beneath her, trying to get out from beneath her knees. He threw his body sideways, throwing her off. In the process, he accidentally elbowed Teresa in the face.

They sat in the dead grass, staring at each other. Teresa's eyes were wide; he'd never really hit her in the face before, no matter how vicious she got with him. He knew he hadn't hurt her--it took a lot to hurt Teresa--but it had surprised her. "Ter, I'm sorr...."

"SHUT UP!" she screamed at him, scrambling to her feet. She walked over to his skateboard and picked it up. "Here's your skateboard back." With both hands on it, she used her foot to snap it in half. She dropped it on the ground next to him and went inside the house.

Rafe sat there in the yard for a few minutes, staring at the broken board beside him. He felt wrung out, too stunned to do more than sit there. Teresa had known how much the skateboard meant to him. That was why she did it, the small voice in the back of his head whispered. It was why she did everything, striking where it would cause the most hurt.

With a sigh, he picked up the two halves of the board and his backpack and trudged inside. His mother and sister were waiting for him in the front room. His mother looked scary and beautiful all at once, as usual. Her heavy red hair was piled high on her head and she wore denim shorts and a cropped top as if they were ceremonial robes. She was sitting in the hard backed desk chair, and Teresa sat beside her on one of the folding chairs they kept in the living room for extra guests.

Rafe stopped in front of them and felt awkward, like he should maybe bow or something. He wondered if they expected him to kneel before them like a penitent in church. He stood there and stared at them, running the punishment possibilities through his head. It wouldn't matter that Teresa had broken his stuff, wouldn't matter that she'd been the one to start things. She'd gotten to Mom first. And Mom liked Ter best.

His mother's next words surprised him. "Teresa told me you two had a fight outside. I wanted you both here before I listened to her story." She smiled at him and he tentatively smiled back. Maybe this wouldn't go Teresa's way for once. Maybe his mother would listen to him and believe him. "So Teresa will tell me her side and then you'll get to tell your side. Fair enough?"

He nodded. His hair was short then, not flopping in his face the way it did now. That was the last day he'd ever worn his hair so his face would show. "Go ahead, Teresa."

His sister sat with her hands folded quietly in her lap and began to lie. "Rafe had told me I could borrow his skateboard this morning before school. So I was outside with it when he just demands it back. I was going to give it to him, but before I could, he just went after me and..."

"That's a lie!" he shouted, unable to keep quiet any longer. "I never said she could have..."

"Rafael, be quiet. You'll have your chance t...." his mother began, her voice irritated at his interruption. It should have warned him; his mother’s moods were mercurial and he should have been watching for the changes in them.

"But she's lying. It didn't happen that way at all! You've got to believe me!" His voice was pleading.

"I said BE QUIET!" She was lunging out of her chair at that point, anger twisting her lovely features into a snarl.

He thought she was going to slap him, but instead of the flat of her hand across his cheek, her claws tore across it, the pain blossoming at his hairline. She must have transformed just enough to bring the claws out; having not gone through his own change yet, he wasn't sure how she did it. He screamed as her claws carved gashes down his face, the blood that poured out of the wounds hot and thick. He fell to his knees, half screaming, half sobbing. The room was blurring in and out and he felt like his heart was about to beat itself right out of his chest. Then he didn't feel anything at all.

Rafe awoke in his room, the entire right side of his face on fire. He reached up to touch his cheek but half his face was covered in gauze. He felt like he might throw up, so he lay still, trying to make sense of things there in the darkness. His whole body felt hot and sick, shivers running through him at odd intervals. He broke out in a sweat, and it chilled him, so he pulled the covers tighter around himself. He didn't bother turning when he heard his door open.

Teresa flicked on the banker’s lamp on his dresser and it bathed the room in green light. Rafe didn't look at her, keeping his eyes closed until he felt her weight settle on the bed near his shoulder. He thought about trying to pretend he was asleep but knew that Ter would be able to tell he was awake by his breathing. He opened the eye that wasn't covered in bandages.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, as if nothing had happened.

"How do you think?" His voice was a croak.

"It's not that bad. You'll have some scars, but she didn't touch your eye. You should be all healed up in a couple of days." She moved to adjust the bandage, but he shrank away from her touch. She sighed and said, "You really should listen to her when she says stuff, you know?"

He had to ask. He couldn't help himself. "Why did you lie? She wouldn't have punished you if you told the truth--we both know that."

Teresa got up from the bed. She stared down at him with an unreadable look on her face. It was both sad and gleeful, as if she couldn't decide which one to be. "Because I can, Rafe." She closed the door behind her.

He was sick for three days with a fever that kept him in bed. Teresa came in to change his bandages once a day and to drop off water bottles and made him swallow some aspirin, but primarily everyone left him alone. When he finally left his room on legs weak from sickness and hunger, he made his way to the bathroom to remove the bandages himself.

Looking in the mirror, he saw the wreck that his face had become. He'd never been vain, but everyone in their family was gorgeous, and he knew he'd been no exception. Now, three silvery white scars decorated his face--wounds inflicted by a were always healed white rather than red. He was marked. He was different.

As if he needed anything else to tell him that.

He went to the kitchen to get some food, hoping to avoid his mother and sister. He needn't have worried. His mother paused only to inspect her handiwork, her hand hard beneath his chin, and then she went back to ignoring him. Teresa had giggled and commented that he wasn't nearly as pretty now, and then had gone out to shop with some friends. Rafe had returned to his room.

Rafe felt cool hands on his cheeks, bringing him back to present day. He opened his eyes and Lenore was there, kneeling in front of him, her hands cupping his face. He felt a tear spill over and run down his cheek but she brushed it away. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her own eyes full. "I wish it wasn't this way for you." She pulled him into a hug and he let her, content to lean against her for a little while.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rafe looked around him. He could see the wereleopard guard out of the corner of his eye. His new shadow, supplied by Kess. Even with that though, this was probably the best night he'd ever had. Lenore was dancing in a knot of teens to the sounds of Cuban drums. He didn't really dance, but he was content to watch Lenore. She had such an easy way with people; it was as if she never met a stranger. He'd never had many friends--he just didn't have the knack for it. She'd fit in easily with the siblings of Kess' friends and, because of her, he fit in too.

Suddenly she was in front of him, grabbing his hands and pulling him into the press of people in the square. He tried to dig in his heels, but she kept on tugging. "I...um…can't dance," he protested, but she laughed him off.

"Come on, it's easy," she said, pulling him deeper into the group of teenagers having this impromptu dance party. "Just feel the beat."

She turned away from him, her hips moving to the pounding rhythm. He swayed a little bit, watching her, the way her lithe body moved in time to the music. He licked his lips and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Lenore turned back to him, face flushed pink with the dance and laughed. She moved closer to him, eyes on his and indicated her body with a wave of her hand. "Like this," she said, trying to show him how to move.

Rafe looked up at the sky and tried not to be so self-conscious. It was easier if he closed his eyes. He didn't have to see people looking over at him and laughing. He felt Lenore take his hand and move in closer so he could more easily match his moves to hers. It didn't help his dancing but for an entirely different reason.

He heard Lenore laugh again. "You are so stiff," she said, and he opened his eyes wide. She couldn’t possibly tell, could she? But she was only referring to his lame attempts at rhythm. He shrugged. He had told her he wasn't a good dancer. Giving up, she led him over to a vendor to get something to drink.

They sat down on some benches nearby where it was quieter. "You really weren't kidding when you said you don't dance. You had it for a second and then you just stopped."

He nodded, his dark hair hanging in his eyes. "I don't like feeling like people are looking at me."

She smiled up at him and nudged him in the ribs. "People look at you alright, but it has nothing to do with your dancing." He must have looked confused because she shook her head, amused. "Hello, look in a mirror much? You're a total hottie! Nina and Rose almost got in a fistfight over who got dibs on you tonight."

His hand crept up unconsciously to the scars on his face, but Lenore smacked his hand away lightly. "Stop that," she scolded softly. "It's not because of those either."

He shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"Believe it, buddy. You are grade A prime. That's why people stare at you. They're wondering if they've seen you on a magazine cover."

Rafe cleared his throat. There was something he wanted to know, but he wasn't sure he would like the answer he got. But what the hell, he'd always been a glutton for punishment. Just ask his sister. "So, um, what do you think?"

Lenore looked over at him, giving him a thorough once over. As her eyes skimmed over him, he saw her face grow serious, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. "You'll do," she said in a quiet voice.

Rafe leaned in closer, daring to do something he'd been thinking about since he'd first met her weeks ago. "Yeah?" he whispered.

"Yeah," she said, her lips close to his.

Cue shrieking. Nina and Rose scrambled over and dragged Lenore away to dance, screaming with delight. She turned her head and mouthed
bitches
at him and he laughed. He watched the girls dance for a few minutes then decided to stretch his legs. He couldn't just sit still after that.

He caught the guard's eye, indicating that he was going into a nearby restaurant to use the bathroom. The guard followed at a discreet pace, but stayed at the door of the restaurant so he could keep an eye on Lenore. Rafe walked into the men's room and headed towards the mirror, taking a good look at himself.

He'd almost kissed her. And, more importantly, she'd almost kissed him back. He grinned then, observing his reflection in the mirror. He was still the same him. And Lenore liked him. Like, liked him liked him. He thought he'd never been so happy in his entire life.

He heard someone come out of a stall behind him, then the scent hit him. Teresa.

"Clean up good, Rafe," her familiar voice said from behind him. He whirled around, eyes coming to rest on his sister. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose tail and she was freckled from the sun now, but the malice glittering in her eyes was still the same.

He watched her as she took in his clothes: Chucks, jeans that actually fit his lanky frame, an expensive t-shirt designed to look distressed. He realized he filled out the clothes now too. He had developed muscles that she wasn't used to seeing. He'd had another growth spurt too—they were almost the same height. Funny what proper care and feeding could do for someone.

He scowled, trying to hide the spike of fear he felt. "What are you doing here, Ter? If Kess found out, you could be killed."

"Aw, do you really care, Rafe? I'm touched." She took a step closer and it was everything he could do not to take a step back. "Mom sent me to check up on you."

Rafe didn't say anything, couldn't. Nothing made sense to him anymore. "But the phone call?" His mouth hardened into a thin line. "You're lying."

"So that was you on the phone. Ah, I was just screwing with you. You never could take a joke." Teresa shook her head. "I'm not lying now. In fact, I've been in and out of town all summer, checking on you for her." She smiled at him. "She misses you. Don't ask me why."

"She does?" This made no sense. She'd been the one to leave him here with no guidance or anything.

His sister nodded. "Yeah."

He looked down at his sneakers, then spared a glance at the door. He wondered vaguely if he could outrun Teresa and get out of the room. Teresa saw his look and went over and locked it. He swallowed nervously. "Did she say anything else?"

Teresa turned around, a sly smile on her lovely face. He watched her warily, trying to get a read on her body language, alert for an attack. She seemed totally relaxed, even though she was technically on enemy ground. She leaned against the sink beside him.