I can't stop shouting for help. When my voice sizzles off, my throat tightens till I squeeze a belligerent wail out. If my eyes weren't so dry from hardly blinking I imagine my face would be soaked with tears. Why is no one coming to help?
My twitchy fingers reach for her pulse, but with her heart ripped from her chest, I'm not surprised when I'm disappointed by the verdict. She's dead. Still warm, with the heat quickly being sapped from her body. Her blood stains my sleeves but I'm not bothered by it. This girl is dead and I'm still breathing. My problems mean nothing in comparison.
Who is she? I've never seen her around school. Or maybe I wasn't looking close enough, so caught up in trivial drama. Is her mom waiting at home, wondering where she is and when she'll be home?
Now I'm really at risk of crying. Picturing my mom at home cooking dinner listening to the Rolling Stones and waiting for me to come home, only to hear hours later from the police that I'm dead. She would be heartbroken. My whole family would be. And this girl's family has no clue. They're living their day as if they won't soon receive the worst news imaginable.
A hand grabs my arm. I scream and jolt my elbow backwards into the assailant's abdomen.
He grunts. "Fuck, dude!" Reed grunts. "Chill out!"
I slide my arm from his grip, trembling madly. The entire archery club forms a half circle around me and the dead body. Rachel, Bridget, all those familiar faces. Most of them look stoic. Distress filters through Rachel's mask of indifference.
"Get him away from the body." Bridget commands. Reed and another large boy pull me away from the dead girl.
Bridget and blond, identical twins girls, tall and lanky, approach the body. They look down at the girl in an unsettling manner. Not the way most people would react to seeing a fresh corpse. In this girl's death, they're objectifying her as an interesting item to study. And then they push the envelope even further.
One of the twins inspects the girl, feeling her skin, moving her limbs. I almost vomit at the sight of her lifelessness.
"Only one penetrative wound," She reports. "Several bruises along the forearm suggest a struggle before the extraction."
"Lycanthrope?" Bridget suggests.
"No," she responds, eying the hole in the girls chest. "The wound is pretty clear cut, not much ripped skin. I doubt any claws were involved."
"Vampire?"
"With all of this blood pooled around her body, wasted." She says. "Unlikely."
Bridget sighs. "What the hell are we dealing with here?" She breathes, and I wonder if she's talking to the others or herself.
I realize that Rachel is rubbing my arm soothingly. Through tear-blurred vision, I make eye-contact with her. Her face reads pity, but not surprise like I would expect. Her cult is so calm and collected, I'm unsettled by how unfazed they are by death. A part of me wants to suspect that I shouldn't trust them, but I can't help but feel safer now that they're here.
"I'll take Jack back to the barn," Rachel says.
"Good idea." Bridget says. "We'll meet you guys there soon. Reed, Lauren, and Jasen, you three check the perimeter of campus. Look for any trail that the perpetrator might've left. Call me if you find anything. Thomas and Charlie, take the girl's body to the road. The police will find her and alert her parents. Elizabeth, take the footage from this afternoon from the security cameras. Make sure there's no trace of us being here. Let's meet by the end of the hour at the barn."
One of the blond twins approaches the apparent leader. "Where are you going, Bridget?"
She looks serious. "Drastic times call for drastic measures." Bridget answers. "I'm going to talk to the wolves. They might know something."
"What!" The blond twin, Alyssa I learn is her name, looks appalled. "You can't! It's too dangerous!"
Bridget looks irritated by her insolence, but I can tell Alyssa is an exception. She speaks to her calmly. "Whatever monster is perpetuating these attacks has brought the fight to school. Kids are in danger. The school is neutral ground, so it's only fair of me to involve the wolves."
"Let me come," Alyssa says firmly. "You'll need backup."
The group is already dispersing through the exchange. I fixate my attention to their conversation to distract myself from the corpse. People don't seem to be paying much attention to the two of them. Either because it's normal or they're more concerned by the dead girl. I assume it's the latter.
"You can't come." Bridget says firmly. "You need to return to the barn and wait for further instruction."
"But-"
"That's an order, Alyssa."
I feel Rachel tugging my arm, and I can hardly keep balance. My mind floats around my head. I'm high on adrenaline and discombobulation. I realize my biggest mistake. In the choice between Vincent and the archery club, I should've chosen neither. But now that I've seen the dead body, there's no going back.
**********************
A mug of steaming hot chocolate warms my palms. The mug is full, warm creamy liquid threatens to spill over the brim as my hands tremble. I can't be bothered to take a sip of the substance that would likely fill my body with warmth. My throat is still clamped up at the thought of my dead classmate.
"Are you okay?" Rachel asks cautiously.
We're sitting in a barn on the outskirts of town. The inside has been renovated into a space for the archery club. Weapons are stored all over the inside. There are boards with pictures and newspaper articles tacked to the surface. Old troughs have been flipped over and turned into benches. I sit on a stack of hay across from Rachel, who sits Indian style on the ground.
"This is just too much to take in," I finally say.
She nods in understanding.
I let out a shaky breath. "How are you not shaken?" I ask her.
Rachel shrugs her shoulders. "I was raised to be stoic. Our families have been combatting monsters for centuries. We can't afford to let our emotions run our lives. We have to be strong to protect others and survive."
"What now?" I ask.
"We wait for the others to return."
"Then what?" I press.
She sighs in exasperation. "We tackle this threat. It's been a long one in the making."
My thoughts immediately drift to the smiling figure in the woods. His skin so pale and glossy, beady eyes like buttons and those blood red lips. Was his kind the culprit of this homicide? Could I have met the same fate in the woods if it weren't for Vincent's bravery? My skin crawls at how close I laid near Death's feet.
But then an even more triggering thought protrudes. One of the figures had stood across from my home, appearing almost out of thin air and leaving no footprints of origin. The close proximity to my house is terrifying. This could've been my mom. My dad. Or Caroline.
I hastily jump to my feet. "I have to leave!"
Rachel is stunned, but her instincts are better than mine. She swiftly blocks my path out of the barn.
"You can't leave yet." She insists. "We need to be briefed by the others first. And they won't let you walk home alone when there's an active killer on the streets."
My head spins. She can't force me to stay, but her stance suggests she won't let me leave willingly.
"If it's my safety you're concerned about, lend me a bow. I can defend myself."
She looks for the joke in my expression, and when she finds none, she laughs.
"You make a couple of decent shots and suddenly you're prepared to take on a race of demonic slayers. Don't be stupid, Jack. You saw what happened to that girl. This isn't a fairytale. People are getting their hearts ripped from their chests."
I can't stop the helpless wail that slips out, no matter how much it validates her point. "But my family!" I insist. "I've seen one of them by my house. My sister could be in trouble."
My eyes begin to water. I imagine Caroline hopping around in the backyard, playing pretend. She sees the figure between the trees and he beckons to her. Obliviously she skips over to him, only to have her heart ripped out.
The tears begin to fall and it seems futile to fight them back despite the audience in the barn. Rachel's face is etched with empathy. Even if she were to let me leave, we both know I couldn't do anything to protect anyone. I've only made a few shots on a still target. From what I've seen, the creatures move faster than a piece of wood.
"I understand your concern," Rachel says soothingly, guiding me back to my seat. "I worry about my family's safety constantly. But you're in the fortunate position where a Beta wolf would jump in front of a bullet for you. I guarantee the moment Bridget spilled the beans on the murder he raced to your house. Your family is safe."
Vincent.
My heart drops.
I won't know for certain if my attendance was reported by Bridget until she returns, but even if she omits that information, he'll know when he goes to my house to find me absent. I can picture the look of disappointment on his face and it burns. I should've stayed home and listened to him. But if I did, I would feel even more helpless.
When Bridget and the others return, the atmosphere becomes increasingly somber. It's impossible to read whether her meeting with Vince's friends went well, but I presume we're about to find out. She shoots me a look and then convenes with the others. Apparently, as a novice, there is information I am at liberty of hearing, while there are still some things I am not ready to hear.
I pick at my finger nails anxiously while they talk in hushed voices in a neighboring room. I can't decipher their words, but I can sense the severity in their tones. I feel my pulse quickening. All news feels like bad news at this point.
When they emerge, Rachel won't make eye contact. Bridget motions for us to circle up so she can address us from the center.
"At this time, we don't have much information about the threat." She speaks with eloquence beyond her years. "What we do know is that we're faced with a demonic presence that is preying on minors. From the intel supplied by the wolves, these creatures look strikingly human, so take caution with anyone no matter how normal they appear. They exceed us in strength and stamina. It took a mature Beta to take down one. This means no one is permitted to strike solo and we all need to travel in pairs at all times, including at school."
Even at school, a place where kids should feel safe from the dangers of the world, we are to be afraid. What next? We sleep in the same beds to have a buddy to keep watch while we sleep. Is there anywhere safe.
"Jack," Bridget addresses me individually. "I am returning you to the protection of the wolves for the interim. Of course, you are still welcome and encouraged to attend club meetings at lunch."
Hushed chatter ensues within the group and I feel my face heat up. I feel the earlier tension reawaken. As always, I feel like the alien.
"You're throwing him to the wolves?" A skinny, tall guy with shaggy black hair speaks up touchily.
Bridget shakes her head. "It's not like that. They want to protect him."
The rebel scoffs. "Yes, we should definitely trust the temperament of a wolf." He jests sarcastically.
To my surprise, plenty of the hunters appear to agree with his argument. Have they suddenly considered me part of the group? That seems rapid considering their initial reluctance. Even Reed is eying his leader skeptically.
"He came to us because he didn't want to be a wolf's bitch." The guy argues. "Seems sour to throw him back."
Bridget, who seems to value appearance, is trying hard to be resolved but her anger is seeping through. "Look he's the guy's mate. If we don' respect his wishes, then we will have two adversaries to deal with."
My voluntary voice of defense shakes his head in disbelief, but he can detect a losing battle. Bridget is right. Despite Vincent's current distaste for me, he has shown protective and possessive nature and it would be foolish to defy that. And after the events of today, I want to see him badly. So you'll see no arguments from me.
"Rachel and I will escort you home, Jack."
**************************
As Bridget's Honda Civic burns rubber down the darkened streets of Willow Lake, my attention is out the window, searching for the outline of an assailant in the woods. When I first came to this town, I saw the woods as boredom, but now all I see is looming danger. It's hard to believe I ever walked downtown alone in the black of night. If only I knew then what I know now.
I quietly devise a plan in the backseat. I was instructed by the hunters to not repeat any contents of the meeting to anyone. I am to act like nothing has happened to the ignorant and take advantage of the protection provided by the wolves. In the barn, surrounded by new friends, it felt simple to agree to. But as I approach home and the time when Rachel and Bridget leave me, my judgement takes a sharp turn.
I am compelled to tell my parents how endangered we are in this town. How the only logical solution would be to move away at the crack of dawn. It doesn't have to be Los Angeles. It could be Alabama for all I care. Anywhere without monsters and those who aim to hunt them. But if my parents knew the truth, they might think the best option is to call the authorities, and the would spell even worse trouble for everyone.
And that is best case scenario. Worst case is they think I have gone crazy and have me institutionalized, which would lose them Vincent's protection and trust.
There's also Vincent. As much as I don't really want to say it out loud, for pride reasons. I don't want to leave him. It's so dumb, really. We haven't known each other that long. But it feels like my life would be different without him. Not worse, necessarily. Just very different.
And I hate change.
"Told you he'd be here." Rachel's voice pulls me from my inner debate.
Sitting on the front stoop, dwarfing the size of the steps, is the handsome and stoic Vince. In the shadows, I can't read his expression, but I doubt there's much to read with how closed off he's been as of late. My fingers tingle with nerves.
"I hope you don't think I'm trying to throw you to the wolves, Jack." Bridget says with less authority in her voice than I've heard all day.
I muster as much of a smile as possible.
"I know."
"It's really a win-win situation," She proposes. "He protects you and the tension between all of us can be put on a hold. I really do hope you come to practice tomorrow."
My smile falters.
"I'll think about it." I say, slipping out of her vehicle. "Thanks for the ride."
I'm halfway up the sidewalk when I hear a door shut and turn to see Rachel approaching. Her appearance is rather nervous in contrast to her regularly confident demeanor. She speaks in a hushed tone, indicating she is speaking for herself, and not her cult.
"I know it's nice to have protection. But still consider how important it is to be able to protect yourself." Rachel levels with me. "I want you to come to practice tomorrow, but not for any reason other than so you can feel safe in your own skin, not just when you're under Vince's arm."
With that, she retreats to the vehicle and I digest her advice as they disappear around the corner. In their absence, I feel colder than ever. The sense of dread that was numbed for a few hours returns in full force, and I am more alone than ever. Except I'm not, and I feel Vince's presence behind me.
"How is the Yearbook coming along?" He asks dryly.
I don't even jump at how quickly he closed the distance between us. I just cringe at the indifference in his voice. I slowly turn to face him.
"Yeah, I lied," I see no point in putting up a charade. "I'm sorry."
He chuckles humorlessly. "Don't apologize to me." He says. "Apologize to your parents. They're inside, watching the news and worried sick."
Of course, the girl's body must've been found by now and no doubt every news outlet in this small town is reporting on it. If Caroline stuck to the story and told my parents I was still at school, they must be out of their minds knowing I was at the scene of the crime.
I don't immediately rush inside though, because there's unsaid words between Vince and me.
"Are you mad at me?" I ask.
He tries to hide his surprise with a patronizing look.
"Oh - so, now you care what I think." He says like it's a big joke. "Interesting."
I adamantly hold back tears. Maybe his words aren't nearly as harsh as I deserve, but with the events of today, my emotions are unstable. All I want is to jump into his arms and sob into his neck, but I can't. We aren't there. I've blown past the point of that.
"I guess I'll go inside then."
"Yes," He sternly agrees. "You will."
I side-step his towering frame and stalk towards the front door. I vow not to let the tears spill until I've crossed the threshold. I can't let him see that he won. He can't know that I do feel the same crazy passion for him as he does for me. Because it's too much and it's not me.
"You stay inside with the door locked until I collect you and your sister for school." He demands from the front yard.
I stop. "Ok."
"And you don't leave this house without me ever, do you understand?"
"Yes."
There's a prolonged silence. I turn back, feeling the tears brimming my eyes but hoping they're hidden in the shadows. This time he is unable to hide his confusion and he looks at me like I am unrecognizable.
"Why aren't you being stubborn?" He demands.
"I suppose I know when it's time to throw in the white flag."
The following moments are a blur. My parents rush to the door and envelope me in a hug. My mother and sister are in tears. My dad is yelling, but my expression is blank. I can hear what they say and I can see how they feel, but I'm numbed to it all. My eyes are on the television in the living room showing the body of my dead classmate.
With the promise of explaining myself and the situation to them in the morning, I retreat to bed. My excuse is that I am exhausted, but I hardly believe I'll ever be able to sleep again. There's just one last thing I need to do.
In the privacy of my bedroom, I dial Christine's number and call. When the dial tone runs long I let the fears get to me and worry the worst has happened again. But that is quelled when she cheerily answers the phone.
"Tell me everything!" She says excitably. "What did you decide? You went with the archery club, didn't you? I could totally tell that was what you were leaning towards when we talked."
Her attitude is telling.
"You haven't seen the news, have you?" My voice is weak.
"What?" Her voice is laced with genuine unfamiliarity. "No, I didn't what happened?"
I take a deep breath, knowing I'm betraying a great deal of trust.
"You wanted proof of the supernatural. Turn on the news and see for yourself."
"Ok..." She trails off.
A minute of silence goes by and all I can hear is her shuffling in the background. I vaguely hear the voice of the same reporter on the screen downstairs.
Another minute of silence passes.
"Christine, are you there?"
Nothing.
"Christine?"
The line goes dead.