Dreamwalkers (13 page)

He straightens up and finally looks at me.
“It’s safer this way, Kayla.”

“I know.” I flop onto the bed and start
lacing up my sneakers. “I’m just feeling cooped up and crowded. I
was on the road by myself for months, remember? I was fine
then.”

“I thought you were with Daniel.”

Good point. “It felt like being alone. I
could come and go as I pleased.”

“I’ll stay ten feet behind you,” Remy
says.

I am having a hard time figuring out why I
want to be alone so badly. Why wouldn’t I want Remy working up a
sweat beside me, or far enough behind that he can appreciate my
assets? Maybe because I’m not a runner and I’ll probably ending
walking most of the way.

“Fine,” I say, making sure to sound as
annoyed as I feel.

Remy nods and pulls a pair of shorts out of
his bag and heads into the bathroom.

I rake my hair up into a ponytail and change
into a t-shirt and yoga pants. I’m tying my sneakers when Remy
emerges.

God, why does he have to be so hot?

It doesn’t make sense to my brain why I can’t
concentrate when he’s around, and I begin to think that maybe this
is why I need this run alone. I need to clear my head. Just for a
few minutes, a half hour, just to not have to deal with him.

Instead, we both exit the hotel room
together, me zipping up my hoodie and him cracking his neck. Then
we look at each other. Just like when we ran as wolves, we aren’t
sure who the leader is.

It’s an unfamiliar city, but I figure, what
can happen with Remy nearby? So I start jogging out of the hotel
parking lot in the direction of the diner where we had
breakfast.

Snow is melting fast, making the sidewalks an
obstacle course of puddles and slush and mud. This reminds me of
running through the forest and I can focus on avoiding the
obstacles instead of how winded I am already, or the general
ugliness surrounding me: the businesses aging into disrepair, the
rusting cars parallel parked on the street, the dirty snow banks,
the overflowing trash bins.

Behind me, Remy’s footfalls echo mine.
Exactly paced to my stride.

Careful to shield my thoughts from him, I
recall his brilliant plan. Get Daniel to lead Geo’s wolves into an
ambush? And we’re not planning on telling Daniel about this
plan?

Daniel’s life is hard enough without us
leading him into a trap. Where he could possibly be killed.

or maybe he could win

I’d feel better about it if Daniel was in on
the plan.

After a couple of months with Daniel, I got
the feeling we were being watched. There were a few nights that I
could smell them, and it was the same smell as before I left, so I
know they were Geo’s wolves. They killed some kid only a few miles
away from us. And then that awful night, when they baited
Daniel

blood on the ground

he was eating her

he devoured her

he ripped her apart

I slow down to a walk, try to catch my
breath. Remy slows behind me but stays back there, like he said he
would.

If Daniel hadn’t been so freaked out by the
whole thing, I wouldn’t have had to stay strong. I wouldn’t have
had to talk him down from the edge, literally. I might have allowed
myself to freak out. I wanted to freak out. It was a baby. A little
girl. They cut her and left her in the middle of a field, knowing
he was hungry.

I pushed him too hard

I starved him

I let this happen

“You okay?” Remy asks.

“Yeah.” I am breathing hard. “Just need to
catch my breath.” And I start running again, harder and faster than
before.

can’t outrun what you did

I don’t think Remy was able to hear my
thoughts, but he knows something is wrong. He gives me a wide berth
after we return to the hotel room. I spend a long time in the
shower, washing off the sweat and guilt.

While Remy showers, I look at the newspaper
article again. Martin Baker. I can’t imagine him as a wolf. He
looks too normal. Too weak.

Then again, how many wolves do I really know?
My family, and Remy. Geo’s wolves. The men all burly and strong

except for Daniel

This guy, the article says, enjoyed running
and competing in triathlons and those crazy Warrior Dash obstacle
course races. But his picture only shows a smiling man with
thinning hair.

By the time Remy emerges from the bathroom,
I’m watching a horrifically acted Lifetime movie about a woman who
hires a hitman to kill her husband. He sits and watches with me for
a while. I can sense a tension in the air as palpable as a live
wire.

The movie breaks for a commercial, and he
speaks.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“Did my mom hire you as a therapist or
something?” I shoot at him.

“Whoa.” He holds up his hands. “It was just a
question. No need to be hostile.”

“I was under the impression that guys didn’t
like to talk about their feelings,” I say.

“That’s a bit sexist,” Remy fires back. “It
seems to me that you’re the one who doesn’t like to talk about
feelings.”

“Since when do my feelings matter?”

“I care about your feelings.”

I exhale and stare at the television, willing
the movie to return and distract me. But the screen goes dark, and
I whip my head around to see Remy with the remote.

“Look, you are making this a way bigger deal
than it needs to be,” he says. “I know something’s wrong. You
closed off our bond. I guess that’s easy for you to do, but I’ve
only ever had a bond with my parents, so this is all really new to
me. I feel… hypersensitive. I’m asking you if something’s wrong, if
there’s something you want to talk about, because it’s a feeling
I’m having right now that I’ve never felt before, okay?”

What is there to say now except, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Oh yeah, he was asking me a question before
all this, and he still wants to know the answer. “Sorry. I’ve been
thinking about Daniel.”

Remy didn’t say anything.

“Do you really think it’s fair to use him as
bait?”

“Everything’s fair in time of war,” Remy
replies.

“They’ve been following us for a long time,”
I say. “When I was with Daniel… I felt them. It was around
Halloween. They killed some random kid that night, a homeless kid,
and they followed us for a while after that. I tried to keep ahead
of them, but they… they took this little girl, she was probably two
years old, well they hurt her, got her blood everywhere, and left
her, and Daniel was starving and exhausted because I was pushing
him so hard and—”

Remy moves to my bed. He doesn’t try to hug
me or put his arm around me. He just sits with the outer edge of
his hand touching mine.

“He killed her,” I say, blinking at the tears
filming over my eyes.

“Were they Geo’s men? Could you tell?”

“I don’t know. It was just this smell of
‘other.’ Maybe they weren’t Geo’s men. I thought I would recognize
their scent after–after what they did to–”

I can’t even say it.

Remy puts his hand over mine. “The pack might
not all have the same scent. I don’t know for sure. Your pack does,
because you’re all related. But Geo’s pack? It’s huge. There might
be some pack members who have never met Geo.” Remy shifts so more
of his arm touches mine. “And after that?”

“They attacked us. Maybe a week later. There
weren’t many of them, five or six. He sensed them before I did.
Long before I did. He destroyed all of them, every last one. I
helped a little, mostly finished off the ones he ripped through
that weren’t totally dead. And after that I couldn’t sense any
other packs following, which makes me think it wasn’t Geo’s pack at
all.”

“Could be the Rocky Mountain wolves,” Remy
muses. “They’re always after new territory.”

“But if they’re after new territory, why
wouldn’t they just try to kill us? It seems like they missed out on
a lot of opportunities to just kill us in our sleep.”

Remy stands, as if infused with sudden
energy. “Or maybe they want more than just territory. They’re a
large pack, but Geo’s pack is still the most powerful. They might
be after Daniel, to get him as a warrior or a weapon to use against
Geo. They would bait him to see if he’s as good as the rumors. They
might have sent those few wolves in to try to convince him to join
them.”

I shrug. “Guess we’ll never know. We didn’t
talk to them. Daniel just ripped them apart.”

“Could be the leaders wanted a better display
of what Daniel could do, and those wolves were just pawns.”

Kind of like what we were making Daniel into.
A pawn. Dangle him out there and see if anyone bites. I only hope
Daniel can take care of himself.

That night, after studying Martin Baker’s
grainy photograph for a while, I dreamwalk into a crowded mall–like
Black Friday Christmas shopping crowded. At first I don’t even see
Martin amidst the shoppers. I go to a railing to get out of the
crowd’s path, gazing over at the floor below. I’ve never actually
been inside a mall before. There aren’t any malls in our desolate
part of Montana. Just Walmarts. It’s amazing, really, how many
stores and how many people. The mall is decked out for the holidays
with garlands and lights dangling over the atrium.

I’m wondering how I’m ever going to find
Martin in this dream when I hear the screams.

The crowd parts.

His face is twisted into a wolf-like mask
I’ve only seen once before–on the wolf-boy from Daniel’s dream.
Teeth pointed, mouth wide and almost grinning, nose elongated into
a tiny snout. Martin’s eyes are yellow, and his hair is thick
around his jaw. Ears pointed.

Unlike the boy in Daniel’s dream, Martin is
still able to speak. He’s calmly watching people shriek at the
sight of his face and back away from him. “What’s wrong?” he asks
conversationally. “The doctors said I’m fine. I’m not contagious or
anything.”

He comes closer to me, and as he does, the
crowd’s reaction becomes more and more fearful, and he begins to
plead. “I’m not a monster. It’s totally normal, I’m sure of it! I’m
a teacher, you don’t have to run away!”

Now he’s staring at his hands, how the
fingernails are claws, and he sinks to his knees in the middle of
the mall and howls.

I sigh.

“Martin,” I say, and when the screams of the
dream-crowd drown me out, I bellow, “Martin!”

The crowds disappear. So do most of the
lights. The mall is dim and deserted.

“I’m not a monster,” he says.

“I know you’re not,” I say, getting closer.
“You’re a werewolf.”

He stares at me.

“I am too,” I say. “No big deal. Look, you’re
just stuck halfway right now. You can have a totally normal
life.”

“I was bitten,” he says. “While I was
jogging.” That’s when I notice he’s wearing a track suit. I press
my lips together to keep myself from laughing. “I went to the
hospital and they gave me rabies shots and everything, but I don’t
think they worked. Obviously this is some kind of hallucination.
That’s a late symptom. I’m probably going to die.”

“You’re fine.” I take a deep breath to try to
keep my patience. “So, you went to the hospital? They said you were
fine?”

“They gave me stitches, but by the time I got
home it was healed. The stitches just fell out. Is that
normal?”

“Yes, accelerated healing is normal. When did
the transformation happen?”

“Not until last night. I was feeling achy…
that’s another symptom of rabies, you know. Flu-like symptoms.”

“Yes, and?”

He swallows, licks his wide lips with a flat
tongue. I shudder. “It was the full moon, I think. I could see it
out my window. It felt like sharp pains everywhere, in my joints. I
thought I might be getting arthritis, it does happen to young
people sometimes, and I’m in my mid-thirties…”

“So you realized you were shifting?”

“Shifting. That’s a good word. Only it felt
more like crunching. Or breaking. Like my bones were breaking. I
thought it was a hallucination, you know, from the rabies. Oh, God,
it hurt—”

I move my hands in a rolling motion. “And
when you looked in the mirror, you saw a monster, and you couldn’t
shift back, and now you’re worried that you’re going to die from
rabies, yada yada yada. Sound about right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Martin says.

“Okay. So you haven’t been able to shift back
to human?” He shakes his head. “And you haven’t fully shifted into
a wolf?” Another shake. “Um, has anyone… contacted you? Since you
were bitten?”

“Contacted me?”

“You know. Um, maybe some people who could
also be werewolves knocking at your door? Asking you how you’re
feeling?” I wrack my brain. How would Geo do this? “Maybe a note
telling you to meet someone someplace? Or have you noticed people
following you?”

He shakes his head and wrings his hands. “You
think someone knows about me? Are they werewolf hunters?” After a
moment, he adds, “Are they CDC?”

“I have no idea what that means,” I say
somewhat harshly. “And I don’t know any werewolf hunters.”

As Martin waits for me to tell him something
useful, perhaps a diagnosis with a miracle drug to cure whatever
disease he has, I wonder why Geo’s men would turn someone, then
leave them to their own devices. Maybe they rejected Martin due to
his hypochondriac tendencies.

“Okay.” I put my hands on my hips. “Here’s
the deal: some people might be coming for you soon. A pack. They
needed some more wolves in their pack, so they turned you.”

“Oh, God,” Martin begins to wail.

I cut him off. “I’m going to be checking back
in on you. Keep your eyes and ears… and nose… open. The pack who
turned you is trying to attack my pack, and you can be my spy.”

“What? No! No, I can’t do that. I can’t do
anything–”