The Night Has Teeth (13 page)

“That sounds more like a threat than a life
lesson.”

“I don’t need words to be a threat to
you.”

“I have no idea what your deal is, Arden, but
you’re making Boguet seem like a more welcome option.”

“You’re a fool ― a poor, misguided fool ― if
you’ve come all this way only to walk into his lair.”

Arden slips the spare helmet through his arm, pulls
down the black visor of his own, and tears away before another word
can be exchanged. I make my way through the front doors to the
sound of the motorbike screeching across the pavement and roaring
away. As I walk up the stairs to psychology class, Madison races
alongside me. I sense she’s about to say something, so I cut her
off.

“Don’t.”

“Testy!”

“Sorry,” I grumble.

“That’s some entrance,” she notes while keeping up
with my quick pace.

“Trust me, that was
not
my idea.”

“Obvs!”

“Where’s Josh?”

“How should I know?”

“I thought you two were BFFs or
something.”

“Are you going to make this weird?” she asks,
standing in front of me so that I have no choice but to stop
abruptly. “Because I don’t want things to get weird between all of
us.”

“You’re the ones with the unresolved
issues.”

“Trust me, they’re resolved.”

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief. In return, she
stands with her hands on her hips. There’s no way I’m getting out
of this conversation.

“Okay, for all intents and purposes, we’re all
young adults, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, sure. So?”

“Well, I’ve got zero expectation about life going
down like some kind of giant fairy tale,” she tells me
brusquely.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what Josh told you, but whatever
happened between us is history. Period. The accident? No magic wand
can undo it, and I don’t expect some Y chromosome to stick around
so he can fix my life for me.”

“I’m not the one you need to be telling this
to.”

“And what makes you think I haven’t told him all
this already?” she throws back. “Seriously, I don’t need a Prince
Charming climbing in through bedroom windows to save me.
Ever.”

“Look, I already explained about that.”

“I know,” she acknowledges, voice softening like
butter. “I’m just saying.”

Noticing the crowds starting to thin out as classes
start, I hasten to follow suit. “We’re going to be late.”

“Can’t have that, can we? The world would fall
apart,” she adds sardonically.

“It’s a hang-up of mine, okay?”

“You seem to have a collection of
them.”

I don’t have a comeback readily available, but it’s
not needed because Josh shows up just in time to save the day. He’s
wearing a rugby shirt and that same sad puppy dog look that he had
the last time I saw him. I feel for him, still pining over her when
she’s clearly moved on. It’s not like he doesn’t have options. I’ve
seen the way girls whisper in hallways as he passes by then get all
giggly and coy when talking to him. To his credit, he’s nice enough
to them, but superficial niceties are as far as his interest ever
goes.

“Rough weekend?” he asks as we all walk to class
together.

I’m too surprised to answer. Does he know what went
down after the party? I wonder if there are telltale signs of being
associated with werewolves.

“No offense,” he continues when I don’t respond,
“but you kind of look like a train wreck, Connor.”

All I can do is mutter something about pulling an
all-nighter.

“So I heard,” he says, his voice filled with
innuendo as he glances over at Madison. “B and E seems a little
extreme, bro. And stalker-ish. Most girls like flowers.”

Without thinking about the consequences of my words
and what they might mean to either of them, I say, “Yeah, well,
Madison isn’t most girls, is she?”

In spite of herself, she smiles.

“You’re right,” he agrees flatly. “She’s
not.”

At that moment, it dawns on me that I’ve said
precisely the wrong thing. As we seat ourselves, Josh takes us both
in. I don’t have the benefit of knowing what Madison told him
beyond the fact that I climbed in through her bedroom window, but I
get the sense that he wishes he could take back that first day of
school. Somehow, whether she knew it or not, Madison predicted it
right. I’ve made things weird.

10. Heads
Will Roll

O
ver the course of the next few days, it doesn’t get any
less weird. The infiltration of werewolves in my social sphere has
made me appreciate just how perfectly normal my teenage existence
was before. What I wouldn’t give to be invisible again, an
afterthought to everyone around me. I wouldn’t have to be concerned
that paranoia has become part of my routine. As the papers,
readings and assignments pile up at school, only one topic focuses
my attention: werewolves. Every once in a while I’m overcome by a
sense of being watched, sometimes catching a flash of pale red hair
like a ghostly sail in a breeze, but it’s never for long enough to
know for sure that it’s Boadicea or just a random
stranger.

On Saturday afternoon, while I’m trying to immerse
myself in homework at the apartment, it’s a welcome break from my
worry when I get a text from Madison:
CUS @ I <3 Sushi
? I save my assignment and head to J’m
Sushi, looking forward to the distraction from monotonous readings
and thoughts of the supernatural. Speaking of which, Arden forms
the perfect wolf-shaped barrier to my exit, asleep at the
threshold. When clearing my throat does nothing but perk up his
ears, I unlock the door with the thought of just pulling it open,
him with it. No sooner does the deadbolt slide open than Amara
appears from their bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“Out for sushi with Madison.”

“Wonderful,” she says and I assume that means
Arden will let me pass now that I’ve got her approval. Instead, she
heads toward us and gathers her things. “We will join you, as I am
famished and on my way out in any case.”

Arden scrambles out of our way, allowing Amara to
practically hoist me out the door and down the stairs. We’re at the
end of the block when he appears again, looking model-perfect as
usual, even though he had only minutes to transform and get
dressed. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I don’t like it. It’s
like having helicopter parents suddenly introduced into my life,
hovering around my every move. Maybe my host werewolf family has
decided to get warm and fuzzy with my friends. I don’t know how
long Josh and Madison have been at J’m Sushi when we arrive, but
it’s long enough that only scraps of tempura are left on their
shared plate alongside two sets of chopsticks. As we stand by the
table, it doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Arden’s left arm suddenly
appears around Amara, the tattoo of the wolf glaring toward them.
Thankfully, the awkward opportunity for small talk is abruptly
overcome by Madison, who waves us over eagerly.

“Oh. My. God,” she says dramatically. “You will
not believe this little tidbit of 411.”

She’s seated across from Josh at a four-top and is
patting the chair next to her for me. As I comply, she pauses for
effect. She wears a T-shirt that reads
Self-Rescuing Princess
with a bright yellow crown
above it. I have to wonder if it’s meant to underscore our
conversation from the other day. While Amara takes the free seat
across from me, Arden is forced to pull up a chair between us at
the end of the table. The look on Madison’s face is
self-satisfied.

“Let me guess,” Josh attempts lightly. “There’s a
Miyazaki film festival?”

Madison and I lean forward to look at him. Miyazaki
is like the way cooler Walt Disney of Japanese animation.

“Do
not
joke about that,” she warns. “No, I’ve just found out about
the most amazing underground party in the entire city of
Paris.”

“Underground?” Amara asks, thrown off by another
the figure of speech.

“Not literally,” I explain. “She just
means―”

“Um, yeah, literally,” Madison
interrupts.

“Like, what, in the subway system?” Josh inquires.
“Those parties are for hobos, Maddy.”

She looks daggers at him. “Do I need to put a muzzle
on you?”

The remark rankles him enough that I can see he’s
about to lip off, but he thinks better of it and sits back instead.
Even though there’s still tension between them, I guess he’s trying
his level best to bring their relationship back to the status quo
of Madison calling the shots and Josh not rocking the boat.

“As I was saying,” she chimes, her voice returning
to a happy sing-song, “it’s literally an underground party. You
remember the Catacombs we visited while playing tourists before the
semester started?”

“How could I forget?” Josh mutters.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“She completely flipped out,” he explains eagerly.
“Like celebrity level flip-out. I’m surprised we haven’t seen
anything on YouTube.”

“Dead people freak me out,” she
retorts.

“What did you expect to see in the Catacombs,
Mad?” he presses.

“I expected all those nasty bones to be in
coffins,” Madison answers testily. “Not just piled up and ready to
topple over on us at any second.” She pauses to shudder
melodramatically. “Anyway,” she continues, “there’s apparently a
whole city of tunnels and caves and whatnot under Paris.
Without
dead people. And this fab party
happens somewhere down there, like, once a month. We totally have
to find our way into the next one.”

Amara wriggles uncomfortably in her seat. “The
parties you are talking about are not legal.”

Madison rolls her eyes in a silent but
meaningful
Duh
.

“They are also quite dangerous,” Amara insists, as
though that would be some kind of deterrent. “The pathways are
unmarked, not maintained, and a labyrinth of sorts. I have heard
about people who lose their way or are injured or both.”

“Okay, but it’s supposed to be epic,” is Madison’s
response.

Amara gets up, announcing that she has to work,
while Arden stays firmly seated.

“I thought you were hungry,” I say. My suspicion
about them tagging along for ulterior motives seems increasingly
justified.

Almost imperceptibly, her eyes flash to Arden. “I
will take out some sashimi.”

She leans over his ear to whisper something. He
casts her a devilish look of amusement.

“Promise,” she insists, batting his
arm.

He crosses his heart, falsely solemn, which she
accepts with a sigh. But as she bends to give him a kiss on the
cheek, I see her fingers digging into his shoulder to emphasize her
meaning, and her eyes flit to where Madison and I are sitting. I
can’t be sure whom the look is meant for. Before she places her
order to go and leaves the sushi bar, she gives him a final look,
one that’s full of a trust that is self-aware of how misguided it
is.

“You know something,” I accuse.

Arden answers with his non-committal shrug.
Collectively, everyone across the table from him edges forward.

Josh backs me up. “You do, too. You know where this
party is, don’t you?”

Arden simply leans back in his chair and waves us
off with a gesture that makes it very clear there’s no point
forcing the issue with him. Besides, the fact that my idea of a
party involves either a structure that meets fire safety codes or
the great outdoors, socializing underground is more the realm of
C.H.U.D. or Morlocks. Getting lost in a crypt doesn’t seem like the
smartest course for me right now either way.

“Spill it,” Madison demands, refusing to be
out-stubborned.

“I made a promise,” says Arden flatly. “I’m
supposed to discourage you. This is me, discouraging
you.”

“Oh, whatevs,” she says. “Promises are meant to be
broken.”

He shakes his head stoically. “A promise is a
debt.”

“I’ll write you a check.”

They’ve reached an impasse, each knowing the other
won’t back down. Of course, Arden could just leave. It wouldn’t be
the rudest thing I’ve seen him do. Yet he doesn’t. He seems to be
enjoying the little game.

“Okay,” Madison carries on in a tone that winds
up. “Well, here’s what I know.”

Arden slings an elbow casually across the back of
his chair to face her directly, waiting to hear her out.

“The entrance is somewhere near Val-de-Grâce
Hospital. Parties happen once a month, sometimes twice. And they
start at midnight, which means they probably don’t end until
dawn.”

So far he seems unimpressed.

“There are cataphiles all over this city,” she
continues. “That’s what they call underground urban explorers. I
saw a bunch of them online. I even found maps. We’re going. With or
without you.”

I wish I had her confidence. To know that when you
say something, it will happen. That your friends will be there for
you no matter what. Arden is quiet, not calling her bluff. I don’t
know if it’s just my imagination, but I catch a glimpse of animal
in his expression for a flash of a moment. But it’s gone just as
fast, and he’s Joe Cool again. It’s impossible to know, based on
his expression, if Madison is right about any of what’s she’s found
out. For all we know, she could be making all of it up in the hopes
that she’ll hit on some fact.