Walking Wolf Road (Wolf Road Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

Levity flowed back into the evening like sensation returning to a numb limb, until the early hours of the morning when Fen’s mom came home. Her weary shadowed eyes told what kind of night she’d endured, and we moved back into Fen’s room without a word.

Since space was limited, we piled on Fen’s bed and watched
An American Werewolf in London
instead. We turned the lights off and passed around a bowl of popcorn. In the dark I mused without anyone noticing, and I zoned out through most of the movie.

I wanted to write off the Ouija board…   Any of them could have influenced the curser, hell I
did
, but the name bothered me. I saw where the curser was headed, but that wasn’t possible… was it? God,
nothing
was ‘impossible’ anymore
…

I slept through most of the three-day weekend. With the close of the first quarter, I traded third period Gym for Myths and Legends. Best. Trade. Ever. Leaving gym behind meant that I was leaving Jack and Malcolm’s territory as well, and their best opportunity at retribution.

It didn’t come a moment too soon either; the football team got slaughtered at the state final and everyone who knew about my role in Jack’s fall from grace seemed to want my head on a spike. I expected the figurative glaring daggers part to turn into a more literal Julius Caesar event at any moment.

So naturally, as I walked into to my new Mythology classroom, I spotted Bo near the windows. Apparently we shared an interest in Mythology…
dandy
… I looked around the room, and picked a chair in the corner as far from Bo as I could manage. I had just worked myself into a good glower when Loki dashed in just before the bell rang. We grinned when we saw each other, and I risked relocating closer to Bo so I could steal the seat next to her.

Of course, the irony of two werewolves attending a class on myths and legends was enough to keep a stupid grin on our faces all period.

The injuries from my spat with Jack and Malcolm left only shiny pale lines of scar tissue behind. November broke over our little slice of the world, and the weather grew too miserable for us to spend lunch outside. We tried the cafeteria, but we had to constantly censor ourselves and yell just to be heard across the table. After about a week of that, I had an epiphany and asked Mrs. Ashcroft if we could eat lunch in the art room. She said she usually ate in the teacher’s lounge anyway, so Fen or I just had to stay behind to let the others in.

Things went well until my report card arrived. My gut twisted when Mom handed me the gray carbon paper envelope. I folded the edges and opened it; Mom leaned closer to try and read past my shoulder, and then jumped when I screamed in her ear. Mrs. Ashcroft gave me an A, no surprise there, but I also managed to worm out an A- in English despite my distraction during the midterm.

The thing that killed me was the B in P.E. I grabbed Mom and crushed her with a hug as I laughed, and she congratulated me. I felt like I could dance, despite the ominous C in Math. John asked to see it at dinner, and then launched into another lecture that I tuned out with a practiced ear. It was like he didn’t even see the As and just fixated on the C.  

“But this is good right?” I prodded. John sighed, and my smile wilted as I waited for him to shoot me down.

“Honey…” Mom muttered, and touched John’s arm.

“Just watch those grades; if they drop again, you’ll lose your guitar.” He was quiet for a moment while he chewed a bite of spaghetti, “So, I finally got word on the bid for the Victory church contract today.”

“And—?” Mom paused from eating.

“And, we got it!” He grinned, while Mom jumped up and hugged him.

I stared at my plate and kept eating.

Clouds rolled in the next day as Fen and I walked downtown to the library, a big masonry building just a few blocks off Main Street. Geri went hunting with his dad for the weekend, and Loki wasn’t interested, so it was just the two bibliophiles. The roads were wet from the gently falling sleet, and reflected the glow of the streetlights as we sloshed across the cold asphalt and up the steps. The musty odor of aging patrons and even older paper greeted us as I pushed the dark wooden door open and shook off what water I could onto the soggy carpet.

Fen seemed to know the place like the back of his hand, and dragged me around everywhere while he rambled about his favorite books. After checking in at the library’s card-catalog computer next to a middle-aged man who smelled like rotten fruit and patchouli, Fen made a beeline for a secluded section in the back corner of the library. He pulled a book off the shelf as if he’d memorized its location, and handed it to me. I read the cover,
The Book of Werewolves
by Reverend Sabine Baring-Gould. The spine had been fixed at least twice that I could tell; the corners tattered and rounded off by the years.

“Be careful with this one, it’s seen more than its share.”

“No shit… how old is it?” I flipped to the title page and looked for the print date.

“Well the good Reverend wrote it in the late nineteenth century, but this particular copy’s about a decade old. This should help you understand where we come from better. A lot of our history, accurate or not, is in here. Most of the stories I’ve told you were from here. As well as some of the reasons why we don’t advertise what we are; folks who do that don’t tend to live very long.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine…” I flipped through the yellowing pages, paragraphs of text broken only by a rare illustration or two, copies of old woodcuts. “So, is this where all the baby-eating stories come from?”

“What is it with you and eating babies?” He shot me a look. “Should I be worried?”

“I dunno…” I looked him over and licked my lips theatrically, “You’re a little old and gangly, but a little A-1 should do the trick…” He laughed and I glanced at my watch.

“Crap, I’ve gotta take off or else I’ll be late for dinner. Uh, thanks for the book Fen!” I turned to leave and his face fell as though I’d slapped him.

“Oh, um… I guess I’ll see you at school then.” He faked a smile and turned back to the books. I stood there a moment, confused, and then headed toward the checkout. As I walked home under the slate gray sky, his reaction bugged me.

Fen was lonely. His mom was always working, and he obviously spent a lot of time at the library, but he didn’t really have any friends outside of the Pack. I was the only one who read anywhere near as much as him, the only one he could share that part of himself with, and I’d just shrugged him off.  

I’d make it up to him, I told myself; I couldn’t be late.

No denying it, I was nervous as hell. I kept reminding myself that this wasn’t a date or anything, but—still—this was the closest I’d ever been to one. When I got home, I spent nearly ten minutes deciding what clothes to wear, and barely picked at a single plate of food.
Gawd,
I was pathetic!

The doorbell rang and I froze like a hunted rabbit, my heart pounding, before I bolted up the stairs two at a time. John had already let Loki in and I greeted her as I gathered my guitar and amp, and tried to keep my nerves from showing. She’d had the forethought to bring a large umbrella to protect us from the frigid drizzle.

A big red crew-cab pickup idled at the curb; its headlights ignited the splotches of slush that fell though their beams. Loki opened the back door for me to load my stuff, and I climbed in after.

“Hiya Jimmy, it’s nice to finally meet you!” A big man in a cowboy hat twisted in his seat to extend his hand, his face was obscured by a shadow from the wide brim of his hat. I smiled and reached for his hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I was shaking.

“Pleasure to meet you too, sir.” His hand was warm and firm, rough bits of callous scraped my skin; working hands. His grip was confident and well-practiced with none of my uncertainty. I pressed back as hard as I dared, and he nodded and released me as Loki buckled in.

“So I hear you’re gonna teach Jess’ how to play that guitar she’s been farming dust bunnies with?” It took me a second to remember that Jessica was Loki’s real name; it didn’t suit her any better now than it did the first time I heard it.

“That’s the plan anyway. I’ve never taught anybody but myself, so I hope I don’t just make her worse.”

“I don’t really think that’s possible,” Loki pitched in, “I think it’d be safer if you just assumed I’d never laid eyes on a guitar until tonight.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad.”

Her dad coughed into his hand. “Worse!”

Loki smacked him on the shoulder, “Dad! You’re horrible!” she cried.

“Look who’s horrible? He’s just a poor guy clearing his throat; you’re the teenage hoodlum assaulting him!” He and I both laughed, and Loki glared at me over the seat.

“You’re awful, both of you.”

“Oh c’mon Jess, we’re just having a little fun!” I heard the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, at
my
expense!”

“Precisely.” I said.

I caught sight of bright blue eyes in the rearview mirror, framed by crow’s feet in his smiling face. We chatted until we pulled down the long driveway to Loki’s house, and trudged through the slush to the back door. Loki removed her muddy shoes, so I followed suit.

Her dad walked past us, “Jimmy, we’re not neat freaks, you don’t have to take off your shoes if you don’t want to.”

“Ugh!” Loki cried, “I don’t want him dripping crap all over my room!”

“You mean on the clothes all over your floor? I swear girl, I can’t even remember what color your carpet is.” He shook his head, “Anyway Jimmy; welcome to our home. If there’s anything you need, just ask.” He smiled at me and walked off. He didn’t know that I’d already been here, and what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

We carried my stuff to her room, and I looked inside for the first time. Every inch of wall space was plastered in band posters and pictures from old wolf calendars. A cornucopia of Goth accessories, makeup, and school supplies cluttered her dresser, intermingled with small wolf statues and busts. A black electric guitar sat in the corner on a stand, its dusty little amp next to it, and in another corner a two-foot high pile of laundry sprawled like a fungus. Belts and buckled boots littered most of the floor like booby-traps for the unwary. “Yeah, this suits you a
lot
better.”

“I told you my room was messier than yours.”

“Why don’t you clean it?

“Cause it pisses my mom off.” she said brightly.

We fumbled around for a power outlet for our amplifiers, and in the process my eyes fixed themselves on a bit of a crimson and black lace bra that stuck out of a pile of discarded clothes. I swallowed hard as I became
very
aware that we were a boy and a girl alone in said girl’s bedroom.

I felt the blush creep up my face, and somehow wrenched my eyes away. My stomach tightened with awkward uncertainty, not just because I didn’t know where to even
start
with her lesson, but also because she was an attractive girl in close proximity, and the walls suddenly seemed a lot closer.

I shook my head to try and clear it, and my voice almost broke when I said, “So, uh, shall we get started?”

“Yeah, what’s first, sensei?” she chirped, her emerald eyes disastrously mesmerizing.

What the hell did come first?

Shit…

“Um, well, I basically taught myself by learning to play my favorite songs. What are some of your favorites, the ones you know by heart?”

“Hell if I know; let’s just cheat.” She pulled out her MP3 player, turned it on shuffle, and hit play. She skipped through a dizzying selection of music, everything from death-metal to pop. I kept a mental tally as she went, checking off the ones I knew or knew I could get. I stopped her when she hit “Of Wolf and Man” by Metallica. We had a winner.

I showed her how to make a power chord, and blushed when I had to move her fingers into the right place on the strings. Then she strummed it and we both winced.

“I think we should tune the guitar first…” I apologized as she blushed as well. The hour passed too quickly after that. We turned off our amps and I set my guitar down, and then slid onto the floor by Loki’s legs as doubts nagged me. Was I teaching her wrong? What if she quit because of me? She didn’t seem upset though, and she sighed and inspected her sore fingers.

“Damn, I’ll get it eventually,” she muttered, and then pulled her legs up onto her bed. I heard her move, and then jumped when her arm draped over my shoulder and across my chest.

“Can I ask you something Jimmy?” Her mouth was right behind my ear, her voice like velvet as my heart raced.

“Sure…” I whispered, just waiting for my voice to crack like a freshman’s. My mind whirred as I tried to anticipate her question.

“What do you think of Fen?”

“How do you mean?” What did she suspect?

“Like, as a person; do you like him?”

“Well, yeah. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and he helped me find my wolf. He gave me a place where I could finally belong.” I squeezed her arm as I said that. “Is that what you meant?”