Blood and Chocolate (5 page)

Vivian took a lesson from Pudgy Boy and made an unmistakable gesture in their direction, behind Aiden's back. Then her fingers curled in Aiden's hair.
I will teach you to be less polite,
she thought.

6

That week Vivian couldn't tell if the singing in her blood was for Aiden or for the ripening Midsummer Moon. Each night she ran for joy, but
It's not love,
she argued to herself at breakfast as she traced Aiden's face in her mind.
I'm only having fun.

She came to school early so she would have more time with him, and they stole kisses in the hallway between classes. She liked to watch the color rise on the cheeks of the young men who passed, and see the envy on the faces of the unkissed girls.
I am someone now,
she thought.

Aiden had a job after school in a video store so she couldn't hang out with him then, but he called her in the evenings, waking her from her prerun nap, and it turned out they had a lot to talk about. He liked to play “what if.” He'd say, “What if a mysterious illness wiped out everyone on Earth but us, what would we do?” and they'd make up all sorts of possibilities.

Vivian was reluctant to answer his questions about her family at first, but before long she revealed that her father had died in a fire, and that she was always fighting with her mother, although she didn't tell him what those fights were about. He never made fun of anything she cared about, and he was always interested in what she had to say. What a relief to have someone to listen to her, even if she could only talk about half her life.

Kelly stopped showing up in the quad at lunch, and she took the gigglers with her wherever it was she went.
Smart choice, girl,
Vivian thought.
'Cus one wrong move and I'll be on you.
The thought crossed her mind that maybe now she understood why Esmé fought Astrid. She shrugged that off fast. Esmé had no right to fight for Gabriel; he was too young for her.

“There's an antiprom party at Bingo's house Saturday,” Aiden said one day. “Her parents are away. It'll be wild.”

“I like wild,” Vivian said, nuzzling his ear. Saturday maybe she'd make him hers for sure.

But on Thursday night when she flung up her bedroom window and looked at the sky, she realized that the moon would be full on Saturday. There was no way she could go to that party with Aiden. The hair prickled roughly on her arms. She climbed hastily onto the porch roof outside her window, leaped to the yard, and the change was upon her almost before she reached the cover of the riverbank weeds.

The nearer to full moon, the quicker the change, the less control; and the night Earth's sister loomed round and whole there was no choice—a
loup-garou
must change no matter what.
Saturday,
Vivian thought with dismay as she shuddered to all fours. But then the perfume of the night wiped away her thoughts.

Before dawn Vivian stretched into her human shape amid the weeds, wiping the river mud in smears across her naked abdomen. She yawned wide, tongue curling. Time for another nap before school.

The tall grass rustled, but there was no wind. Vivian's eyes narrowed. Then she sniffed the musky smell of wolf-kind and her hairs lay flat again.

“Vivian,” a harsh voice whispered. Rafe crawled from his hidden nest. He waved her underwear at her. “I've been waiting for you.”

“Gimme those.” She snatched them from him.

He crouched, watching her dress. “I miss you,” he said.

Vivian shrugged. “You see me.”

“Not like before.”

“We grew apart. You know.” They'd been through all that.

“I don't understand you, Vivian.”

“You sound like my mother.”

Rafe stuck his face in hers. “You broke up with me because of the girl I killed to get Axel out of jail,” he said. “But I bet if you got a sniff of human blood you'd get your muzzle wet.”

She jerked away.

When the Goddess, the Lady Moon, gave wolf-kind the gift to change, she warned the first
loups-garoux
to pity humans for their soft, immutable flesh, for wolf-kind had once been like them. “Use your eyes,” the Goddess said. “Look at them and praise my name for changing you; kill them and kill yourselves.” But humans were vulnerable and preylike. They triggered the instinct to hunt.

“We should stay far from humans when we're changed.”

“They are ours to hunt,” Rafe said. “Axel knew. He couldn't hold back any longer. We were losing our balls in West Virginia, Vivian.”

“You can hold tight to your balls and twist,” said Vivian, dragging her T-shirt over her head.

How many of the pack yearn to hunt like the Five?
Vivian wondered later as she crawled into bed.
How long do we have until we are destroyed?

The phone rang while Vivian ate breakfast with Esmé. Rudy answered it. After a short conversation he came into the kitchen. “That was the last agreement. The Ordeal is on.”

“It can't be this full moon,” Esmé said.

Rudy sat down at the table with them. “I know. Orlando says that by law we have to allow a full month in case others want to come from afar.”

“So it's July then,” Esmé said. “July thirteenth?”

“Sounds right.” Rudy shook his head. “I wish it wasn't so far away, though.” He finished his coffee and stood up. “Gotta get to work.”

“Yeah, me too.” Esmé said. “Wash up for me, babe. Okay?” She left, followed by the sounds of Vivian's protests.

“I'm grounded,” Vivian told Aiden at lunchtime. The idea that someone could limit her freedom was mortifying, but the excuse was something Aiden could understand.

“Grounded?” He looked at her in amazement. “What did you do to get grounded?”

“Stayed out all night with my cousins smoking dope.” She was damned if she'd pretend to be grounded for some tame reason.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he digested what she'd told him. Silently, she dared him to tell her off. Apparently he decided not to comment. “How long?”

“Until I talk my mother out of it, which is usually a week.” That was a tiny bit of truth.

Aiden's dark eyes lowered in disappointment. “I guess the party tomorrow night is off, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Never mind,” Aiden said, kissing her ear. “When you're sprung, we'll have our own party.”

He was gullible, Vivian thought. That irked her slightly. But he had no reason to distrust her; why shouldn't he believe?

Aiden didn't have to be at work until six so Vivian allowed him to drive her home. “But you can't stay long,” she told him to keep up the act. “My mother will be home soon.” That was true, anyway. Esmé worked the day shift around the full moon. Biting customers didn't make for good tips.

They sat on a log at the far edge of the backyard under the broccoli-headed summer trees.

“Which is your room?” Aiden asked.

Vivian pointed to the window above the screened-in back porch, and he sighed loudly to tease her.

“I'll miss you tomorrow,” Aiden said. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He was a creature of warm sun and comfort.

“What made you write about werewolves?” she asked, thinking of the dark forest in his poem.

Aiden shrugged. “I like all that stuff—witches, vampires, werewolves. It's exciting.”

“Why's that?”

“I don't know. I've never thought about it. Because I want to be like them, maybe? I don't want to be like everyone else.” He carefully allowed an ant to crawl from his wrist to a blade of grass.

Vivian laughed. Any one of the Five would have crushed that bug. “I don't think you'd make a good werewolf.”

“Sure I would.” He grabbed her hand and playfully bit her fingers. His teeth set loose tiny lightning within her.

Raucous hoots filled the woods behind them, and bodies crashed through the undergrowth. She pulled her hand away.

“What's that?” Aiden asked.

“My cousins,” she answered. “Damn them.” They couldn't find him here with her. Not that she couldn't handle them, but she didn't want to raise any questions she couldn't answer for Aiden. And what if he blamed them for getting her grounded? Great Moon, they'd laugh.

“I've got to go in,” she said. “I promised not to hang with them while I'm grounded. They've only come to screw around outside and piss off my mother.”

“Some family,” he said, and tried to kiss her.

She hated to push him away. “Go, go, go. They're trouble.”

He glanced at the woods and she saw worry in his eyes, but his lips took on a stubborn hardness.

“Please, for my sake,” she said, to save his pride.

He hesitated. “Well, okay. See you before you know it,” he promised, and left by the side path.

 

Saturday evening stretched on forever, golden with sun and rich with the smell of honeysuckle.

“Come with us,” Esmé begged. Most of the pack were going up to the state park to run.

“Not this time,” Vivian said. She wanted to be alone. There would be fights, she knew. They would call it playing but they would be testing each other, seeing who had what it took for the Ordeal. She didn't feel like fights. She only wanted the clear smells and the crazy stars. There was a new warmth in her and she wanted to embrace the night in peace.

You are smitten,
she told herself, and she stretched like a happy puppy.

Up in her room she worked on her mural. She painted herself in her skin, watching the running wolves. It didn't look right. Maybe she should show herself changing, ready to join them.

I wish I was changing clothes to go to that party,
she thought, and threw her brush down.

Red dappled the sky, fireflies flickered outside her window—little wantons looking for a night of love—and the voices of the dusk grew loud. The fine hairs on Vivian's back rose, eager for the change.
Wait a while,
she told herself,
wait till it's fully dark.
But it was hard to wait for the night at full moon.

There was muffled laughter in the yard below. What now? A chorus of ragged voices split the air, drowning out the insect song. “Ahwooo! Ahwooo!”

She stuck her head out the window. “Quit that howling out there.”

The howling dissolved into more laughter.

“Come out and run with us, Vivian,” Willem called. “Please, please.”

“No way,” Vivian called back. She climbed out onto the roof and looked down. Finn appeared disgusted as Willem wrung his hands theatrically. Ulf was fidgeting as usual, hopping from one foot to the other as if he wanted to pee. Gregory grinned glitteringly bright; his teeth were already pointed. “Come on, Viv. We're gonna have a great time.”

Rafe beckoned with a claw. “The moon feels good on your back, Viv.”

Vivian could feel the wolf inside uncurling, but she laughed derisively. “It's not the moon you picture on my back. Go visit your head-banger sluts and see what they think of you with your fur on. They probably won't notice the difference.”

Gregory's pointy grin got wider at that suggestion and Ulf giggled.
Great Moon,
she thought.

Willem looked up with huge, disappointed eyes. “Aw, Viv. You never come anymore. The rabbits are getting sassy. One poked its tongue out at me last night.”

She softened slightly. She and Willem used to have the best times rabbit hunting. “Another time, okay, Willi? But not full moon.”

Rafe put his arm around Gregory's shoulders. “Come on then. That bitch is too stuck up to hang with us anymore. She prefers meat-boys. Didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food?” he yelled up at her.

Willem shot her an apologetic glance, and Gregory blew her a kiss. Finn nudged Ulf in the rear with a boot, making him squeak. When they reached the gloom of the woods she saw Rafe toss his shirt in the air and saw Finn tip forward to stand on paws.

She sat on the porch roof, allowing them plenty of time to leave. They usually ran toward the city to find mischief in the urban debris; she would run upstream through local parks and quiet neighborhoods.

A pleasant hum coursed through her. The night began to look different—the hairs on a leaf stood huge like a forest, the edges of the trees were crisp. She lay back to enjoy the stars.

Did we come from there?
she wondered.
Are we an alien race that was marooned? Perhaps our transmuting power was a survival trick, and now we've forgotten that human wasn't our first form.
Perhaps belief in the Moon Goddess was only an echo of an ancient truth.

The shingles beneath her were rough and pleasing to her sensitive skin. She already felt the beginning creak of bones reforming, the pop of sinews changing. She forced down the cramp in her gut; she would have to leave soon. She couldn't change on a rooftop lit by moonlight. What would the neighbors think?

As if on cue, she smelled the odor of a human. Someone taking an evening stroll, perhaps?

There was scrabbling down where the drainpipe emptied. Rat? She rose to a crouch. No, someone was climbing the pipe. She heard a muffled grunt of effort and the tiny
ching
of metal against metal.