Lynda nodded.
“Well, I finally got the courage to call him and ask him out Saturday. We saw
The Wolf Man
at the Hyde Park Cinema.” She grinned. “Matt's not half as shy in a movie theater as he is at school.”
Lynda's chin began to quiver.
Ellen's smile faded. “Are you all right?”
She waved her hand, as if batting away Ellen's concern. “Why's everyone so worried about me? What about Greg?”
“Greg?” Ellen's forehead wrinkled. “What about Greg?”
“The gang that grabbed me after Richard's party at-tacked us Friday night. They hit Greg on the head and knocked him out. Twice. When the gang leader started acting really weird, like he was going to rape me or some-thing, Greg stopped him.” Lynda's voice broke. “And got shot.”
Ellen's eyes widened. “Shot? You mean like with a gun?”
“A sawed-off shotgun. It nearly took Greg's arm off. The worst part was, the gang had tied me up, and I couldn't call for help, or stop the bleeding, or anything. Greg lay on the floor for hours until my brother Tom got home.”
She reached past Ellen, grabbed a piece of Kleenex from the box on her nightstand, and blew her nose.
Ellen rubbed her arms as if the room had suddenly grown cold. “Lynda, I am so sorry. Your mom called and said those gang members had hassled you again, and that you needed someone to come over and help you forget about them. She didn't say anything about Greg. Is he going to be all right?”
“I don't know! I heard some doctors—at least I think they were doctors—talking about a patient who was so badly hurt they thought he was going to die. One of them mentioned his last name was Ursek.” Lynda's voice rose into a wail. “Greg's probably dead and nobody cares!”
Ellen scooted over and put her arm around Lynda. “You care. I care. His parents certainly care.” She paused a moment. “Have you asked them how Greg is?”
“I tried to call them, but Mom took the phone out of my room. She says I need to rest.”
Ellen grabbed Lynda's hand and dragged her off the bed. “Come on. You can rest at my house.” She squeezed until Lynda's fingers tingled. “After you make that call.”
LYNDA INSISTED on going to school Monday morning. She left the house with a fresh dressing on her cheek and a false smile on her face. Turning down 59th Street, she saw Ellen waiting at the corner. Her friend waved and ran up to her. “Did you ever get through?”
“No. I must have called a dozen times after leaving your house, but all I got was the answering machine.”
“You'll just have to call from school, then.” Ellen glanced at her watch. “We better hurry. It's almost nine o'clock.”
They trotted along 59th Street. “I'm not sure that's a good idea,” Lynda said. “Calling the Urseks, I mean. If Greg's really ... I mean if he's...” She swallowed hard, but the word stuck in her throat.
“Dead?” Ellen completed the sentence for her. “I don't think so. I think the reason his parents aren't home and haven't return your messages is that they're at the hospital with him.”
Hope lapped at the iceberg that grown around her since Saturday. “Really?”
“Really. But you won't know for sure until you ask them.”
They heard the final bell ring a block away. Ellen sighed. “Sounds like we're late.”
“Go on ahead,” Lynda said. “I'll meet you in class later. No reason both of us should get detentions.”
Ellen snorted and she hooked her arm around Lynda's. “And leave you to make the call alone? Get real.”
THE PAY PHONE hung on the wall next to the cafeteria door. It felt spooky walking down the corridor during a period. Muffled words crept from under closed classroom doors, too quiet to understand, while the girls’ footsteps thundered on the worn linoleum. Over it all, the hammering of Lynda's heart grew louder and louder.
Ellen reached the phone first and handed her the receiver.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, Lynda dropped change into the box and dialed the number her fingers had memorized. One ring. Two. Three. She knew the answering machine picked up after the fourth ring. Four rings, and a deep male voice answered, “You have reached the Ursek residence. Please leave a message after the tone.” Lynda opened her mouth to leave yet another message, when a woman came on the line.
“Yes?”
Though the voice was edged with fatigue, Lynda recognized the low pitched, mellow tone.
“Mrs. Ursek? This is Lynda Malone.”
“Lynda.” Greg's mother sounded pleased. “How are you, dear? Are you all right? Are you home now? I'm sorry we haven't called, but I only just got home myself.”
Lynda gripped the receiver until her fingers turned white. “Is Greg all right? I heard the most terrible things in the hospital about him. They said he was going to die. He's not dead, is he?”
Her heart boomed like a bass drum while she waited for an answer. Mrs. Ursek took a deep breath. “It's very complicated, dear, but Greg is alive and doing as well as can be expected.”
“When can I see him?”
Behind her, Ellen whispered, “Yes!”
“I'm not sure. Not for a while, at any rate. His condition is still very delicate.” She paused as if considering something. “If you're feeling up to it, stop by our apartment this afternoon. Bernard will be home after three. Perhaps between the two of us we can explain Greg's situation.”
“That would be great. I'll be there about three-thirty,” Lynda said. “Thank you, Mrs. Ursek. I've been so worried.”
“We'll expect you this afternoon. Until then, don't worry. Everything possible is being done.”
“If you see Greg, will you tell him I called?”
“Yes, of course. Take care, Lynda. We'll speak further this afternoon. Good-bye now.”
With a decisive click, the connection broke.
“Good-bye,” Lynda said into the dead phone.
“Is he okay?” Ellen asked after Lynda hung up the receiver.
“I think so. He's alive, at any rate.” Lynda looked at her friend, and over forty hours of despair evaporated. Her throat tightened; her eyes overflowed. Lynda smiled through the screen of tears. “Ellen, he's not dead! He's alive, and I'm going to see him if I have to camp out on his parents’ doorstep.”
“Good for you!” Ellen took Lynda's arm and led her toward the office. “For now, though, let's see if we can talk our way out of a detention.”
LYNDA'S EUPHORIA seeped away as the day dragged on. Terrifying scenarios ran through her mind. Greg alive, but in a coma. Greg alive, but horribly crippled. Greg with brain damage. Most terrible of all, Greg dying alone in the hospital, while she begged his parents to let her see him. A cold weight had settled in her heart. It grew heavier with each step toward the Ursek's apartment.
Mrs. Ursek buzzed her in on the first ring. Lynda heard the apartment door open before she reached the top of the stairs.
“Come in, dear. Here, let me take that.” Greg's mother held out her hand, and Lynda handed over her striped wind-breaker. “Bernard is waiting in the dining room. Go on back. I'll join you after I hang this up.”
“Thank you,” Lynda said, but Mrs. Ursek had already left for the coat closet. Taking a deep breath, Lynda started down the long corridor.
“Hello, Lynda.”
Greg's father stood by the window. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them. “My wife tells me you wish to visit Gregory in the hospital.”
Though spoken as a statement, Lynda felt it required an answer. “Yes, sir. He got hurt because of me. I want to make sure he's all right.”
Lynda heard Mrs. Ursek walk up behind her. “It wasn't your fault.”
Even before she turned, Lynda could feel the compassion in Mrs. Ursek's clear, blue eyes. Greg's mother didn't fit a fashion model's ideal of beauty, but Lynda found her soft warmth infinitely more appealing.
“If I could just see him—”
Greg's father cut her off. “That, I am afraid, is impossible.”
Lynda blinked back rebellious tears. “Why? He's going to be all right, isn't he?”
“We hope so, dear,” his mother said, putting her arm around Lynda. “But we don't know for sure. Here, sit down and Bernard will explain.” She pulled a chair out from the table.
He waited until Lynda perched on the edge of the chair. “When I received your call Saturday morning, I realized that my son was in great danger and that the source of much of that danger was you.”
“Me!”
“Certainly. In the course of your ordeal, you must have observed that Gregory is not an ordinary boy.”
“During part of it, he wasn't a boy at all!”
Mr. Ursek spoke slowly, as if weighing his words. “Exactly. It must have been most disconcerting. No one would have blamed you if you had felt the need to share this revelation with your parents, or perhaps the police.”
“But I didn't. I didn't tell anyone.”
He smiled for the first time since she'd entered the dining room. “I know. The story you told the police was ingenious. They shared parts of it with us when they came to see if Greg could be questioned. I do not know how much was truth, how much careful fabrication, but you did an excellent job of explaining all the curious details in unrevealing ways. Knowing my son, I suspect it was his teeth that inflicted the fatal injuries. I also suspect that his state of dress was a result of his transformation. You are not the sort of girl to invite a young man into her home and proceed to undress him.”
Lynda thought about Greg's naked body, and felt her cheeks heat. She shook her head, refusing to be distracted. “If you know I didn't tell anyone, why do you say I'm dangerous?”
“Because he cares for you too much. He takes foolish chances to be with you, in this case a nearly fatal one. Once he can travel, I am sending him home to Santa Cruz with his mother. He will object, of course, but in time I hope he will understand why it is better that he not see you again.”
“Well I don't understand! I know his secret and I don't care.” Lynda turned her eyes to Mrs. Ursek. “Why can't I visit him in the hospital? I promise not to upset him. I'll only stay a moment, but I have to see him. I don't even care what species he is, as long as I can make sure he's all right.”
Greg's mother lay a hand on Lynda's shoulder. “What harm could it do?”
“The boy's infatuation grows too deep, if we do not interfere now he may never recover.” Leaving the window, he approached Lynda. “My dear, please do not construe this as a criticism. You are an admirable young woman. Perhaps if you were older—”
Lynda flew out of the chair. “What does age have to do with it?” She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “I'm going to see Greg. If you won't tell me where he is, I'll call every hospital in Chicago until I find him.”
“I told you it wouldn't be easy,” Mrs. Ursek murmured.
Her husband sighed. “Perhaps further explanation is needed.” He sighed again. “Sit down, Lynda, and I will try to explain.”
Lynda glared at him, before dropping back into her chair.
Greg's father turned and started pacing the room in front of her. “I could invite you to call every hospital and clinic in Chicago. I guarantee you will never find Gregory that way. You could search every hospital room in the state and not find him. He is not in a hospital.”
Lynda felt as if he'd pulled the floor out from under her. “What?”
“You must understand, Gregory is not human. His body does not respond as yours would. Normally, any in-jury he received while in his bear form would heal over the course of an evening. I think it has something to do with the accelerated metabolism required to complete the metamorphosis. Surely you have heard the old legends of the werewolf, that he can only be killed by a silver bullet? These have their basis in the fact that shape shifters heal so quickly, it is very difficult to kill them.”
“Bernard,” his wife interrupted. “You're lecturing again.”
He continued as if he hadn't heard. “It is extremely unusual for an injury to carry through a transformation. A wound that has not healed is almost always fatal.”
“But not in this case.” Lynda said.
Her head was spinning with the implications of what Greg's father was saying. She clung to the one thing she understood. Greg was alive; his mother had said so. Mr. Ursek paused in front of her chair, and his dark eyes bored into her.
“Not in this case,” he agreed. “Somehow, he survived both the night and the transformation back to his human form. But his condition had deteriorated by the time he reached the hospital.”
“You see,” he added, apparently noticing Lynda's con-fusion. “Once he was human, he lost the metabolic advantage he had enjoyed earlier. The doctors in your hospital were amazed he had survived the night. They felt that the only hope for his survival lay in massive blood transfusions and the amputation of his arm.”
Lynda felt the blood drain from her face.
“Luckily, I knew of another option. I called our personal physician, Dr. Lavar. He is more experienced in these matters and agreed to admit Gregory to his private facility.”
“Private facility?”
“For Lycanthropes. Do not look so surprised,” he said. “Surely you guessed that Gregory is not the only one.”
“But how many...”
“Few, and growing fewer every year. We live careful, secret lives.” Lynda blinked at the “We,” but managed not to interrupt. “Few of us meet someone we can share our secret with. A very lucky few.”
He smiled at his wife. “However, we are still numerous enough that in a community as large as Chicago there are services available to meet our special needs. Dr. Lavar's clinic is one of these.”
“So Greg is in this special facility for werebears? Since I'm already in on the secret, why can't I visit him there?”
Mr. Ursek sighed. “You are persistent. The problem, young lady, is that Gregory is falling in love with you. Do not smile so,” he barked. “This is very serious business. A normal boy might fall in love many times in his life before settling down. Werebears are not so fickle. Once Gregory commits his heart, it will stay committed. Like wolves or wild geese, werebears mate for life. Many of our kind live out their lives alone because they fell in love too early, or with the wrong person.”
Lynda bristled. “And I'm the wrong person?”