Apparently there was some kind of pack drama going on.
I spent the last class of the day worrying about a mob of footbal players, led by the J-team, stalking me at my locker. I tried to take deep, calming breaths, but the memory of the earlier attack caused my hands to sweat.
The salty sweat made the half-moon circles, where I had dug my fingernails into my palms, sting like crazy.
Fortunately, Emma was waiting for me when the last bel rang. The relief must have been apparent on my face, because she pushed herself away from the doorframe, where she had been leaning, and did a little satisfied twirl.
“Hey, girl,” Emma said. “I thought you could use some company.”
“You’re the best,” I said, smiling.
“I heard you had a run in with the J-team today,” Emma said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I also heard you won this round,” she said, raising her hand to bump knuckles. “You rock.”
“Wel , it wasn’t al me,” I said, walking to my locker.
“Cal was there. Which is something that has been bugging me. Did Cal mention how he knew I was in trouble?”
“I think it was his wolf hearing,” Emma said, shrugging.
“We were leaving the cafeteria and his eyes just glazed over. He had his head tilted to the side, like he was listening to something, and then he went running off down the hal . He must have heard Jay saying something threatening to you and gone to check it out.”
“That’s one mystery solved at least,” I said. “Now only a gazil ion more to go.”
We had final y reached my locker and there were no jock thugs, paid assassins, or flying kil er monkeys waiting for me.
Just tons of homework.
I spun the lock with shaking fingers, trying to grip the dial with my fingertips, but even the very tips of my fingers were sweaty. I looked at the chipped, black polished fingers angrily as I rubbed them down the front of my shirt.
Traitors.
Emma reached over and opened my locker before I could say BFF, or have a break down.
“Thanks,” I said, pul ing my homework out and shoving it into my backpack.
“No problem,” Emma said.
I watched Emma’s posture stiffen, and her eyes narrow, as two jocks in athletic jackets walked toward us.
One of the guys was belching the alphabet while his friend cheered him on. The two jocks didn’t even look our way, but I could see Emma prepare herself for battle. It was nice to know that my friend had my back.
“They’re gone,” Emma said.
“Why are jocks such pigs?” I asked, pushing the last book into my bag and slamming my locker shut.
“I blame their diet,” Emma said. “Most male athletes eat large quantities of meat. Some even start the day drinking raw eggs.”
“Gag me,” I said, shuddering.
We were final y leaving school and heading to Emma’s car. The prospect of grabbing a meal at Mr. Green Genes, and the familiar anti-meat banter from Emma, helped me to relax. I was stil coping with a spirit-induced migraine, but the knot of tension between my shoulder blades had started to unwind.
My stomach growled out loud, interrupting Emma’s rant. She looked at me with eyebrow raised and we both burst into peals of laughter.
For the first time today, I was feeling hopeful. With the help of my friends, I would help Dylan’s ghost find peace by figuring out the mystery of his death. That would mean no more stinky smel impression, painful headache, and hopeful y—fingers crossed—no more threatening run-ins with the J-team.
*****
When Emma pul ed her car up in front of Mr. Green Genes, I found out just what kind of drama had kept Cal from meeting me at my locker—the Simon kind. Simon was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, angrily waving his hands in the air. Even angry, he managed to swagger in his tight, faded, blue jeans and was attracting a lot of attention—a lot of
female
attention.
Of course.
Simon was a gorgeous werewolf somewhere in his thirties…you know, older than God. Unfortunately for females everywhere, Simon also thought he was a God, or at least God’s gift to women. The fact that he had a jagged scar, that bisected his ear and extended down his cheek to meet the corner of his lips, didn’t seem to detract from his male beauty. If anything it only added to his bad boy persona. Not that he needed any help.
Simon was the ultimate bad boy. He was a werewolf with a wild streak and a death wish. His wild nature was due to being born ful y aware of his wolf spirit. Members of the Old Blood didn’t usual y become aware of their wolf spirit until they reached maturity, with most pack members beginning to shift into wolf form in their late teens. Simon’s early awareness had given him the gift of knowing how to control his wolf spirit better than many of the elders, but it also left him a bit…off.
I was also learning more about what caused his reckless behavior. When Simon was just a young man, he was in a relationship with another werewolf. It had been love at first sight. Simon and Meredith were inseparable, so when Meredith was accepted into the University of Edinburgh, he went with her. Simon and Meredith had the kind of love that most people dream about, but it wasn’t meant to last. While racing together in wolf form, across the fields of Perthshire, Meredith was shot by hunters.
Simon managed to transform into his human form and drag Meredith away, but she died in his arms.
Their story is as tragic as their love was true. The loss of Meredith changed Simon and it didn’t take a brainy, rocket scientist to see that the guilt continued to eat at him every day. Simon was a survivor, but I often wondered if he regretted that ability. His reckless behavior seemed to indicate a desire to join Meredith, sooner rather than later.
The one thing that Simon hadn’t bargained for was Cal. Cal had been born with the spirit of the alpha wolf inside of him. When Cal reached maturity and began to communicate with his wolf spirit, he also became the alpha of the werewolf pack. Not only was Cal the pack’s alpha, the one werewolf they were bound to obey, but he had also earned the respect of his pack members—including Simon. Simon had become loyal to Cal, and when Cal was put into a coma while fighting to save a young pack member, Simon had stepped up to fil his shoes as pack leader. When Cal returned to consciousness, and learned of al that Simon had done, he nominated Simon to be his second in command. Now Simon had something to live for.
So what was he doing freaking out in front of Mr. Green Genes?
“Someone needs to switch to decaf,” Emma said, turning off the car and pul ing her keys from the ignition.
“Do we go out there or stay here, you know, where it’s safe?” I asked, only half joking.
Simon had become a good friend and I trusted him, sort of, but he looked real y upset and I had been manhandled enough for one day. I picked at my nail polish while debating what to do.
“We might as wel go save the day,” Emma said, rol ing her eyes. She pushed away from the steering wheel and climbed out of the car.
“Yeah, but where’s Cal?” I asked. “Isn’t that, like, his job?”
I may have taken a bit of extra time gathering my things while scanning the growing crowd looking for a certain shaggy head of hair. Where the heck was Cal? I spun in a circle one more time and final y caught sight of him. Cal stood with his hand on the chest of a guy I’d never seen before. Had he just broken up a fight between Simon and this stranger?
I turned to show Emma where Cal was, but she was already walking over to Simon.
Nothing like tossing a bit
of fuel on the fire.
Emma and Simon never went a day without arguing, so I wasn’t confident that Emma could calm him down.
Son of a dung beetle.
I jumped over the concrete parking marker and onto the sidewalk, running to keep up with Emma.
“How dare he?” Simon shouted, waving his arms in the air. “How could he hit me
in the FACE
?” Simon was shaking his head in anger and disbelief, but I caught sight of a bruise forming below his right eye.
Not good.
Simon may have become used to the jagged scar that crossed his face—he claimed it added to his rugged charm—but a black and blue, puffy welt was not something he was going to accept. Simon was the most vain guy I had ever known. There were top models who didn’t gaze into mirrors as often as Simon. No, he wasn’t going to just walk away from this.
“Let me look at that,” Emma said. She interrupted his pacing and reached up to press on the bruise.
“Ouch!” Simon shouted. “Bloody hel woman, what was that for?”
“I’m sure you did something to deserve it,” Emma said.
“Wel , you’re not going to do that again…ah!” Simon said, wincing.
“Stop being such a baby,” Emma said. “Nothing is broken.”
Emma was our medic, and veterinarian. If she said he was fine, then there was nothing to worry about.
Except for
Simon seeking revenge.
“You could have at least warned me first,” Simon grumbled, holding his face.
“Would you have let me examine it then?” Emma asked.
“No,” Simon said.
“My point exactly,” Emma said.
“So who is that guy?” I asked, pointing across the street to where Cal was stil trying to restrain the stranger.
“Is he the one who hit you?”
Simon sighed and turned away from us, staring down at the sidewalk. Emma and I stole a questioning glance at each other. What was going on here? Simon spun back around with a haunted look in his eyes.
“That’s Gabriel,” Simon said. “Meredith’s younger brother.”
*****
Meredith’s brother was everything his namesake implied. Gabriel was gorgeous, more beautiful than handsome, his cherubic face surrounded by a halo of curly blond hair. He looked like an avenging angel as he stormed toward Simon, emerald green eyes flashing.
Gabriel was just as tal as Simon, but where Simon was al lean muscle, Gabriel looked wil owy by comparison. He may be angry with Simon, but Gabriel didn’t stand a chance against him in a fight.
“It’s al your fault,” Gabriel said, stopping directly in front of Simon. “She never should have been running that morning. My sister is dead and it’s your fault.” Simon, who was never at a loss for words, stood in anguished silence. For a moment Simon let his mask of indifference slip and the look on his face was one of raw pain.
And were those tears in his eyes?
Emma slid between Gabriel and Simon, placing her hand firmly on the younger man’s chest.
“Leave him alone,” Emma said.
Surprise Gabe, we have our own avenging angel.
Gabriel did look surprised by Emma’s interference, but he wasn’t backing down.
“Gabriel, this isn’t how we handle things,” Cal said. He had moved to Gabriel’s side and was staring at him intently. “You have a right to speak your mind, but this is not the time or place.”
I smel ed the scent of wet dog and knew that Cal’s wolf spirit was emerging. Pulse racing, I panicked, until I realized that Cal was intentional y bringing his wolf to the surface to exert his dominance. Cal was pack alpha and he was making sure that Gabriel didn’t forget it.
It was an impressive display of his wil , and of the peace that Cal and his wolf spirit had achieved, especial y for someone so young. Al of those weekends and long nights practicing with Simon had paid off. Cal had brought his wolf spirit to the surface just enough to display his dominance to any surrounding wolves, and smel sensitive girlfriends, but not enough to make humans in the vicinity uneasy.
Gabriel stepped away from Emma and Simon, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets as though he didn’t trust what they might do if left free. Simon continued to be ogled by his entourage as he resumed his pacing up and down the sidewalk, but he no longer looked angry.
Emma was keeping an eye on him, so I went to Cal who was running his fingers through his wavy hair.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I could use less excitement today, but I’m fine,” Cal said, reaching out to pul me closer.
“That was impressive what you did with your wolf spirit,” I said, keeping my voice low.
Al eyes were on Simon and Gabriel, but I didn’t want to take any chances. We didn’t need a passerby to overhear and become curious about wolves in Wakefield. Protecting the pack was important to Cal and I wasn’t going to be the one to risk their safety with a slip of the tongue.
“Real y,” Cal said, raising one eyebrow. “Do I get a reward?”
“Of course,” I said.
I reached up behind his neck, and on tiptoes, pressed my lips to his.
“Very, very impressive,” I said, running my hands through his hair.
“You should be dead, not her!” a voice shouted.
Son of a dung beetle.
It was Gabriel. Apparently Cal’s authority was less effective when he was lip-locked with a human. Who knew?
Emma jumped in between Gabriel and Simon and I had a bad case of déjà vu. Didn’t we just do this, like ten seconds ago?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, dude,” Emma said, thrusting her finger into Gabriel’s chest to punctuate each word. “He may not always show it, but Simon is a good man. He’s kind, and loyal, and I lo…” Suddenly Emma looked sick, real y, horribly sick. Her face shifted from its normal shade of pale to a greenish shade of gray as she ran for the al ey beside Mr. Green Genes.
I lifted my backpack off the sidewalk and ran to fol ow her into the al ey.
Emma was bent over a beat-up metal trashcan, her fisted hands pressed against the brick wal . I pul ed a black hair elastic off my wrist and pul ed her hair up into a high topknot. She may look like Tasslehoff Burrfoot, but at least she wouldn’t get puke in her hair.
She can kill me later.
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” Emma said. The continual muttering turned into a moan and she shuddered as the first spasm of vomiting hit.
Gross, I was so not treating for
veggie burritos at Mr. Green Genes now.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
What was wrong with Emma? She had seemed fine at school today. Wait. She wasn’t pregnant was she? But who could be the baby daddy? Gordy? No way. I was Emma’s best friend. If she had made it past first base, I would have been the first to know. No, something was definitely wrong with Emma, but she wasn’t “in trouble” as my mom would say. Did she have the flu? Could you even get the flu that fast?