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I did it! I yip with excitement.

A red fox inches up to me, his head low, sniffing. Tavian can deny it all he wants, but he's seriously cute.

We touch noses, and he streaks away in a blur of orange. I race after him, then lose him in the grass. I circle, snuffling the ground. A chirp—I whirl in time to see Tavian pounce. We tumble, growling and nipping playfully. I fling him off. He rolls onto his back, his white belly bared, and paws the air.

I yip with laughter. Tavian cranes his neck to look at me, upside-down. He bares his sharp teeth—grinning, I hope. He leaps to his feet and lunges. We play-fight on our hind legs, our forepaws on each other's shoulders.

He buries his muzzle in the fur of my neck. I growl and nip at his ear. He grabs my ruff between his jaws. His teeth prick too hard, and I whimper. He loosens his hold a little, then drags me down and pins me. I squirm and growl.

He holds me there, his breath hot in my fur. I narrow my eyes and bite his paw. Not too hard, I think, but he yelps and withdraws. Then he lowers his ears and creeps up to me, his eyes apologetic, and nudges my chin with his head.

My bristling fur flattens. He licks my muzzle—a fox-kiss. How sweet.

Tavian changes back into a boy. The transformation ripples over him like a wave through water, or wind through a field of grass. Amazing. He crouches, unashamed of his nakedness, and dusts off his hands.

Laughing, breathless, he says, “I haven't played that way in a long time.”

I lie there, panting, and stare up at him—focusing on his face.

Tavian cocks his head, a smile in his eyes. “Stuck?”

Of course not. I shove myself into girl form a bit too hard and gasp at the effort. On hands and knees, I try to steady my breathing. Is he looking at me? I peek at him. Nope. I look away just as he steals a glance at me. We laugh and let each other look, trying to be nonchalant but blushing.

“No comments,” I say, holding up a hand. “Please.”

“Why?” he says in a husky voice. “You're beautiful.”

I smirk to mask my desire. “Oh, you only say that
after
I'm naked?”

He laughs, but his eyes stay serious.

My sense of smell remains heightened. He smells of crushed grass and musk. My gaze lingers on the feathery hair between his ear and cheek. I want to touch it, but instead I steal glances at his still-foxy, marmalade eyes.

He flicks his eyebrows upward. “You make a good vixen.”

I scoff, flustered, still acutely aware there's nothing but a few feet between us, and we're obviously stark naked. Let's not get that serious, that fast.

“Where are my clothes?” I say, trying to ignore the heat in my face.

“Back there,” Tavian says.

I make an impatient huff. “Back where?” The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I fold my arms tight, unease twisting in my stomach.

He cocks his head. “What's wrong?”

“I … do you feel like somebody's watching us?”

Tavian glances around in sharp, swift movements.

“Do you see anything?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “You?”

“No. But this was a bad idea. There's still a murderer on the loose, looking for Others.”

His eyes darken to black, and his teeth shrink to human bluntness. “Gwen …”

“What?”

“I really don't think he's going to take us out downtown, in broad daylight.”

I'm still embarrassed, and can't look at him. “Okay. So you think I'm paranoid.”

“I didn't say that. You just don't need to be so defensive.”

“I have good reason to be defensive, okay?”

I stalk away from him and find my clothes in the grass. As I yank them on, he gets dressed more slowly, his eyes reluctant.

“Hey.” He lays his hand against my cheek. “Gwen.”

The way he looks at me makes me melt. I don't even have to ask—I know he cares about me, and I care about him. Why am I shoving him away? I lean in for a kiss. When our lips meet, I sigh, the knot in my chest unraveling.

Electronic beeps interrupt us, and he checks his watch.

I exhale slowly. “Lunch break's over?”

“Yeah,” Tavian says. “I have to get back to work.”

I nod and kiss him again, letting it fill me with enough warmth to last through cold stretches of loneliness.

“Walk back with me?” he asks.

“Sure.”

Tavian and I walk hand-in-hand down Main Street. I see a guy with a blond ponytail looking into an antique-shop window … Zack.

twenty

“O
h, bollocks,” I whisper. My face heats, though my hands feel cold.

“What is it?” Tavian says.

“Just keep walking.” I quicken my pace.

Zack turns around. “Gwen!”

I pretend not to hear, but furtively try to wriggle out of Tavian's grasp. He won't let go.

Zack jogs over. “Hey.” Emotions tangle in his eyes. He presses his lips together, frowns, then tries a hopeful smile.

I grit my teeth. “Hey.”

“Who's this?” Zack says to Tavian.

“Tavian,” I say quickly. “Goodbye.”

I try to drag Tavian along, but he won't budge. Jeez, he's strong for five foot four.

“Is this your ex?” Tavian says, excessively loud.

“Yeah, I am.” Zack sizes up Tavian, who's so much shorter it's not even funny. “You?”

“Her boyfriend,” Tavian says.

Part of me gets a thrill from hearing him say that so possessively. The other part of me wants to smack him, for the same reason.

Zack's eyes betray a deep hurt.

“Zack …” I say. “I …”

He smiles thinly. “I never expected this from you, Gwen.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Zack can't keep up his smile. “That you would move on so fast.”

“Hey,” Tavian says, stepping between us. “We don't need your drama. Go audition for a soap opera or something.”

“Drama?” Zack's eyes lock on mine. “What did you tell him?”

“What happened,” I say, dread weighting my stomach.

“Everything?”

I shrug. “Define everything.”

“For your information,” Tavian says to Zack, “Gwen's going through a lot right now. She doesn't need you making her feel worse.”

“I can speak for myself,” I say, irritated at being referred to in the third person.

Tavian steps aside with a wave of his arm, as if ushering me to take the stage.

“Zack,” I say. “I thought it was over between us. Nothing left.”

“I needed time to think.” Zack looks away, straightening his sleeves and the collar of his shirt. “You didn't even give me another chance.”

Tavian rolls his eyes. “Lame.”

“Shut up,” Zack says.

Tavian laughs. “Make me.”

“Screw you.”

Jealousy crackles between them.

Zack stares over Tavian's head. “Gwen, I keep thinking about you.”

I fortress my feelings with snarkiness. “Really? Then why didn't you do anything?”

“That's not—”

I slice the air with my hand to shush him. “I don't want to keep talking about this. It's too late, Zack. You should have been here sooner.”

From the look on his face, my words have hit him like barbs. But he says nothing.

“I'm sorry.” I clench my jaw and force myself to stay calm. “Goodbye.”

Tavian clasps my hand, but I slip away and stride down the street alone. He jogs after me and catches up easily. “You're not totally over him, are you?”

Now he's angry, too. Wonderful.

“You still care about him?” Tavian asks. “Even after everything he's done to you?”

“For heaven's sake,” I say. “We dated for over a year. He was my first boyfriend.”

Tavian presses his lips into a thin line. Outside Slightly Foxed Books he tries to kiss me goodbye, but I turn away and he bumps my cheek.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I'm just not in the mood anymore.”

“Okay.” Tavian sighs. “Bye.” He lets the door to the bookstore slam behind him.

I grimace, a headache thumping against my skull. When I get home, I slam the front door so hard it makes even me wince. I prowl into the kitchen, swipe an apple, and retreat to my bedroom lair. Why do guys have to be so infuriating? I wish they came with instruction manuals. Or maybe I need an instruction manual for myself.

Later that day, I get an email from Zack.

Oh,
now
he wants to talk, after he sees me with Tavian? I'm tempted to delete the email, but I read it anyway.

Dear Gwen,

I started reading about pookas, but I don't know what to believe any more. Tell me if any of this is true. Pookas are malicious or mischievous shapeshifting spirits. They vandalize crops and homes. They become black horses and carry riders into ditches and bogs, even over cliffs. Or pookas drown riders, tear them to pieces. I didn't read anything about female pookas, or pookas that seduce humans. I hope you will reply.

Best,

Zack

P.S. My condolences. I didn't know Chloe as well as you, but she will be missed.

His email sounds so formal that I clench my jaw. My fingers rattle the keyboard.

Dear Zack,

Pookas do NOT kill people. Don't think that for a minute. You're mixing us up with kelpies. Also, I'm only half pooka. I have no idea what my pooka dad did in Wales, but I have never dumped anyone in a ditch or a bog. Pookas aren't supposed to seduce people, if you believe the stories. My mum and dad had a fling. People do that. I'm laughing if you think I seduce guys. You know me better than that.

Gwen

P.S. Thanks for the condolences.

All too soon, I have a reply. I almost don't want to open it.

Dear Gwen,

Thank you for answering my questions. I wasn't sure I could believe most of the things I read about pookas. The Internet is full of misinformation. I asked my parents, but they don't know anything. The Bible certainly doesn't mention pookas, either.

Confused,

Zack

P.S. I can't say that I love you because I don't want to lie to you. You deserve honesty. But I hate seeing you with another guy. Even if you're Other, even if it's impossible between us, it drives me crazy.

Tears sting my eyes. He thinks
he's
confused? Why does he say he doesn't love me if he hates seeing me with another guy? If he keeps thinking of me every day? I shouldn't have replied. Before I do something else stupid, I turn off my computer and curl on my bed. Emotions tumble over each other inside me. It's so hard to forget the guy who gave you your first kiss, and who you gave your virginity to.

I feel like a horrible traitor to Tavian for thinking of Zack, and to Zack for dating Tavian.

“Gwen!” Mum calls. “Come see the news!”

I jog downstairs.

On the TV, it's Ms. Fakey Blonde yet again. “… On suspicion of murder. This follows investigations into the deaths of Chloe Amabilis, Orrin Quigley, and several other victims. Police made the arrest based on circumstantial evidence, including eyewitness testimony that Lowell was seen at the crime scenes.”

“What?” I say. “Lowell?” My brain isn't working fast enough.

Ms. Fakey Blonde adds, “It has also been verified that Lowell suffers from lycanthropy, better known as the werewolf disease.”

They show police leading a man, handcuffed and in an orange jumpsuit, down a sterile white hall. He shuffles past, his shaggy head bowed, then glances up at the camera. Feral rage simmers in his eyes.

I gasp. “Randall!”

My heart's torn between sinking and soaring. Is Chloe's killer really behind bars?

“Whoa,” Dad says. “He's got that killer look.”

Randall does look like a criminal, unshaved and unsettling.

“
And
he's a werewolf,” Megan says, sounding smugly knowledgeable.

“So?” I say.

“What do you mean, so?”

I frown at her. “‘Werewolf' doesn't automatically equal ‘evil incarnate.'”

Megan cocks her head. “Why are you suddenly on their side? I thought you hated them.”

“I'm not on anybody's side,” I say. “There
are
no sides. Do you think we're all members of Team Other or something? No. Everybody keeps fighting with everybody else, and it's up to the prejudiced, incompetent police to catch the murderer.”

“Gwen!” Mum startles me, standing right behind me. “Keep your voice down.”

I open my mouth to reply, but decide it's not even worth it. I skulk upstairs and sit on my computer chair, swiveling around, then notice an IM window is open on my screen.

FoxFire88: Hey, Gwen.

FoxFire88: You there?

FoxFire88: Guess you're busy …

I quickly type a reply.

r3dgw3n: Sorry, I was away. Still there?

FoxFire88: Yes.

r3dgw3n: Did you see the news? Randall got arrested!!!

FoxFire88: Yeah! Crazy.

FoxFire88: You know how you thought someone was watching us at Wilding Park? Maybe it was your ex, but I've been having that feeling more and more lately.

r3dgw3n: Really? Like what?

FoxFire88: Like someone's keeping an eye on me, maybe following me.

r3dgw3n: Be careful!!

r3dgw3n: My friend Chloe also thought somebody was watching her, and then …

FoxFire88: Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

r3dgw3n: That's what Chloe said.

r3dgw3n: You think it really was Randall?

FoxFire88: I hope so. Then all of this will be over.

r3dgw3n: Yeah.

r3dgw3n: Okay. Switching topics.

FoxFire88: Go for it.

r3dgw3n: I'm sorry about this afternoon. I really didn't expect my ex to show up.

FoxFire88: It's cool.

r3dgw3n: I hadn't heard anything from Zack for a while, so when he just popped up and said he still thinks of me, I was totally thrown off.

FoxFire88: I understand.

FoxFire88: Is he still bothering you?

r3dgw3n: He emailed.

FoxFire88: What did he say?

r3dgw3n: Just asked some questions about pookas. Said he was confused.

FoxFire88: He sounds like he has major issues. You should avoid him.

r3dgw3n: Agreed.

r3dgw3n: Don't worry, you're a lot higher on my list than him right now.

FoxFire88: You have a list!?

r3dgw3n: lol

FoxFire88: I hope I'm number one. ^_^

r3dgw3n: lol, yes.

r3dgw3n: Well, it's getting late. I should go to bed.

FoxFire88: Sweet dreams, Gwen. ---,--'[email protected]

r3dgw3n: Let me guess. A silver rose?

FoxFire88: ^_^

FoxFire88: Most certainly.

r3dgw3n: <3

r3dgw3n: Night!

r3dgw3n went away.

When I get another letter from Maris, I stare at it for a full minute.

Gwen pleas write to me. The Bad Man is very very close and I cant hide very much more. He nows where you are too. He wants to hurt you. Next morning I will wait by the river and the big black tree. Pleas come and help me.

Your freind,

Maris

I really can't believe this is from Chris or Brock. And Randall is in prison now.

I grab my cell phone and call Tavian. “I got another one. Another letter from Maris. It's the third one, come to think of it.”

“Read it to me.”

When I do, he doesn't say anything.

“What should we do?” I ask. “We can't ignore this one.”

“Do you mean you want to go to Boulder River and meet Maris?”

“Yes. She knows who the Bad Man is.”

“Gwen, did it occur to you that this might be a trap?”

“I …” I frown. “Well, even if it is a trap, we'll find out who the murderer really is.”

“Hello, Mr. Murderer, my name is Tavian. Would you like to try and kill me?”

I laugh, without humor. “I'm not saying we rush over there recklessly. We're going to have to do this sneakily.”

“Sneakily.” Tavian sighs. “You're hell-bent on finding him, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I'm coming, if only to keep you from getting killed. And no, I don't think you're a damsel-in-
distress
. Crazy, yes.”

I snort. “Why, thank you.”

I skip breakfast the next morning, my stomach preoccupied by butterflies. I'm halfway out the door when Mum asks me where I'm going. I tell her Tavian and I have a date, and she frowns. My chest tightens at this lie. What if I never get the chance to tell her the truth, because this is the last time I talk to her? No, don't even think like that.