Liz and I faced each other on the couch with the small table between us. "How did you learn to control your wolf, Liz?" I asked. "When you were first joined together?"
Liz let out a heavy sigh, drumming her nails on the table lightly. I remembered my mom always tapping on our granite counter like that when she was thinking, or when I annoyed her with questions. I'd been curious about everything as a kid, and I drove both my parents crazy with endless strings of questions.
"The first step is learning to communicate with your wolf," Liz began. "Learning who she is, what she wants, and how she thinks. It's the what we do anytime we enter a new body and have to join together with its current soul. You need to understand each other."
"Okay," I nodded. "So how do I do that? How do I communicate with her?"
"Here's the problem," Liz continued, "when we were joined with our wolves, the connection was already there. There was already a streamway set up between our souls—a channel allowing us to hear each other's thoughts and feel each other's consciousness. It was just a matter of coming to terms with our differences and learning to work together and understand each other rather than fight."
"But I don't have that," I filled in the next part for her when she paused.
"Exactly," Liz said. "You've said you don't even recall what happens during the shifts, right?"
My gaze turned to the window, and I watched the trees and occasional cars rushing by. I thought back to last night—the first time the shift was complete.
Flashes of screaming. Cold snow beneath my feet. Running . . . and the feeling of terror.
"I don't know." I turned my eyes back to Liz. "I guess I do have some memories of it, but it's like scenes from a nightmare. I only have a few flashes and the sensation of what I felt." Terror.
Liz scrunched up her face. "Okay."
"Do you think since I remember bits and pieces, maybe that means I could make a connection with her?" My leg twitched, and my knee bounced against the bottom of the table. "Maybe a streamline is there, but I just have to open it. Like it's blocked or something."
"Maybe," Liz drew the word out. "I think the first thing we should try to do is figure out what your wolf wants. Why the shifts have been happening. If you can understand that, it might help you to form a connection with her."
"Aren't they tied to the full moon?" I thought back to my conversations with Alex earlier that day. "That's why they've been happening once a month for the past year."
"They can be." Liz looked out the window for a moment before turning back to me. "But then the question becomes why have they only just started this year . . . and why did you shift last night and this morning? It's only the 30th today. The full moon isn't until the 31st. Halloween."
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. She was right. The moon almost made sense, but there was still a piece missing. I put my hands on the table facedown and shrugged.
"Allison." Liz reached across the table and took my hands in hers, squeezing lightly. "Why do you think you shifted last night? What was happening?"
I bit down on my lower lip and stared at my hands.
"Not right now, Blake. I said just a drink."
He cocked his head to the side. "Are you sure?" He moved in closer, running his fingers through my hair again. His cold hand grazed my cheek, his thumb running over the corner of my lips. A shudder rushed down my spine. It felt like a snake crawling over me.
I ground my teeth, the burning of shame washing over me. I knew I shouldn't be ashamed about what had happened, but I still felt guilty over it. I had gotten myself into that situation. I could have just gone back to my own bus. I didn't have to join Blake for a drink.
A part of me must have known deep down what his real intentions were, and yet I went anyway. I'd wanted to get myself in that situation, maybe just for the attention. It fed my need to feel wanted.
And now Blake was dead.
"I-I don't know," I finally replied to Liz's question, my voice shaking. I met her eyes.
She frowned, and then her face softened. "Do you think there is any chance your wolf was trying to protect you?"
Instinctively, I tried to snap my hands from hers, but she squeezed back, holding me in place.
She was right. That had to be it. I was feeling threatened, so my wolf took over to protect me. Maybe it was as simple as that.
"Do you think that could be it?" I asked. "I was just feeling threatened?"
"Maybe," Liz said.
"But what about at the gas station? I wasn't in any danger there. I was just looking through the aisles to get a snack." Or a drink.
Liz scrunched up her face. "Threats don't have to be physical," she said. "They might not be obvious. This whole event has undoubtedly been overwhelming and frightening for you. Your wolf might have picked up on something even before you did. Maybe there was some emotional trigger."
I remembered what Alex had told me about he and Liz's other child.
One night, he never changed back.
A chill rushed down my spine just thinking about it. Could that have been it?
That wasn't really a threat though, just frightening. And it wasn't something my wolf would be able to protect me from, because the threat was my wolf. A frightening voice in the back of my head whispered another idea: What if that is her goal?
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, trying not to listen to the lie. And then I remembered the conversation I'd thought I'd overheard Jake and Alex having.
I'll do what needs to be done.
Jake's back had been facing me, but I had a clear view of Alex's face. He was far away so I could have missed it, but I could have sworn his mouth didn't move.
What if they hadn't been speaking to each other. What if . . .
"Liz," I said slowly. "Can werewolves read . . . minds?"
Liz froze, her grip on my hands suddenly loosening. I realized she'd been squeezing them so tightly she'd left behind red marks.
"Yes," she finally replied, running her hands back through her hair to push it out of her face. "Well, sort of. It's only with other werewolves. And it's not so much mind reading as it is telepathy."
"Aren't those the same thing?" I asked.
"Telepathy is communication through thoughts. It isn't mind reading. We can't just sneak into each other's heads and see what's going on in there. It only works when we want to project our thoughts to each other."
I nodded as the gears in my head turned. "So, is it possible that a werewolf could listen in on the telepathic conversation of two other werewolves?"
Liz bit her bottom lip and glanced up to the front of the bus. "Only Alex can do that."
"Why only him?" I asked.
"Alex is the leader of our pack. So, he can hear all of our conversations."
I raised my eyebrow at her. "But why?"
She leaned her head back, exhaling through her nose before looking back to me. She drummed her fingers on the table, and I was again reminded of my mother when I was a child and presented her with a string of curious questions.
"Here." She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After fishing around a little longer, she retrieved a crumpled receipt and a small neon-green piece of plastic. She lay the four items on the table in front of us.
"What's this?" I picked up the hollow, lightweight piece of plastic and fidgeted with it.
"It's a plastic hand grenade," Liz replied, like that was a normal thing to keep in a pocket. "It came with a drink I got in New Orleans once."
"Why do you still have it?"
"Luck, I don't know," she said. "It isn't important." She took the hand grenade from me and set it back on the table with the other items. "Pretend this lighter is Alex. I'm the hand grenade, Jake's the pack of cigarettes, and Reggie's the receipt.
She spread the items so they were all in a triangle around the lighter. "Alex is in the middle. If anyone wants to talk to Alex through the telepathic link, they can, and vice versa. It's a one-way link." She traced a line with her finger between the hand grenade and the lighter, and then between the pack of cigarettes and the lighter.
"But, if I want to communicate something to Reggie or Jake," she continued, "I can't do it directly. The message has to go through Alex first." She traced a line from the neon hand grenade, to the lighter, and then to the crumpled-up receipt. "Like that."
"Like a phone pinging a satellite?" I picked up the miniature hand grenade again. It fit perfectly tucked against my palm. I ran my thumb over the plastic, feeling the rough ridges of the tiny cap.
Liz shrugged. "Yeah." She collected the other items from the table and put them back in her pocket, even the receipt. I didn't know why she didn't just throw it out.
I reached out to return the piece of neon-green garbage I had taken a liking to.
"I think you should have it," she told me with a slight smirk.
I cocked my head to the side. "Why?"
She shrugged. "It seems like you like it. It's always been a good luck charm for me . . . Maybe it will come in handy for you sometime." She paused and winked. "Pun intended."
I chuckled a little. "Okay." I put the tiny hand grenade in the pocket of my jean shorts, running my thumb over the ridged cap one more time. "Thank you." I didn't believe in good luck charms, but two days ago, I hadn't believed in werewolves either, so who was I to say?
Liz picked at a small peeling piece of plastic on the corner of the table. "Back to what I was saying, in addition to all communication having to go through Alex, he can also sometimes pick up on our thoughts even when we don't want him to." She paused. "He tries not to do that, though. He says it's disorienting for him, and he knows it's intrusive."
"So, he can read minds?"
Liz rested her chin in her hands, her elbows on the table. She exhaled heavily, closing her eyes as she shook her head. "Yes. I suppose you're right. Alex can read minds."
"What about me?"
Liz chuckled. "We can test it now. I'm thinking of something, and it's not a miniature, neon, plastic hand grenade. What is it?"
"No, no," I shook my head. "I mean, do you think Alex could read my mind? Maybe he could talk to my wolf. Maybe he could figure out what she wants, and then he could help me make a connection with her!"
"Oh, Allison," Liz said. "I don't know if that's possible."
"But he could try!"
She nodded. "I suppose you're right. It wouldn't hurt to try."