The Frenzy Page 6

  There was a reason, some reason, but I couldn’t think of it.

  “How do you know Joey?” I asked because I didn’t have an answer for her. A question followed by a question followed by a question.

  “We’ve known each other since I moved to town.” Her blue eyes were rimmed with dark lashes; it looked as if she had elaborate eyeliner on or it could have been natural. She touched her hair gently, where the silver caught the light. “I would have had him bring you to me sooner but it wasn’t the time yet. You’ve been doing well so far but things are going to get harder now.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. It was dark outside; my mother would worry. I patted my pocket for my cell phone and took it out. She’d called. Corey had, too, probably. I wanted to reassure them and, in doing so, to reassure myself that I was okay, that I hadn’t lost my mind.

  “I have to get home.”

  “Yes, I know,” the woman said. Sasha. That was her name. “But there is something I need to tell you.”

  I wasn’t ready; whatever it was, I wasn’t ready. I looked away. I stood up. “I’m not sure I can find my way home.”

  “My boys will take you,” Sasha said. “Later. We need to talk.” She reached out her hand and I saw the long middle finger again like an accusation. She parted her lips and I saw her small, sharp white teeth.

  Suddenly I was so afraid I could hardly breathe.

  I stood up and went to the door. She followed me. I heard her make a sound, a soft howling noise. The night was as silvery as her hair, an almost full moon so bright that even through the thick trees it shone. I looked at the woman with the long fingers and the sharp teeth and I started to run.

  I didn’t know where I was going. I kept running, though, wanting to get out of the wood; it wasn’t a safe place anymore. It held the secret to who I was and I didn’t want it now.

  As I ran I heard footsteps behind me. They grew faster. The footsteps caught up and then they were all around me. Fear slammed my chest. They would take me down, these creatures. They would eat me alive. I would be the next one dead. My father would find my eviscerated body and try to solve the case. Was the moon full? It was almost full. It would be full the next night.

  But then I was running with the footsteps, not away. They did not catch me. They surrounded me in a pack and led me on.

  The footsteps belonged to men, seven young men with dark hair and pale golden eyes that flashed in the dark. A surge of freedom leaped in my chest as I kept pace with them. They were fast, like me, strong, like me. Sometimes one would look back and smile whitely at me with Sasha’s small, sharp teeth. I wondered if I was dreaming. I felt my heartbeat in my feet as if my center was low to the ground and the earth was guiding me.

  We reached the edge of the forest. I heard soft laughter, the snap of branches. I stopped, bent over, panting, out of breath.

  When I looked up the boys were standing there, watching me.

  My brothers, I thought.

  And I was relieved. And terrified.

  I recognized them from before; I had seen them all before.

  It was at the party where Carl Olaf kissed me. They were the boys I had seen on the road; I had never forgotten them. I had dreamed about them, too, especially the tallest one, the one who had looked back at me that night. About once a year I had a dream that he was in my bedroom, pawing through the diary I always kept by my bed. One morning I woke up to find it open, though I didn’t remember leaving it like that.

  The tallest boy, the one who had looked back, came forward and held out his hand. When I extended mine tentatively he took it and kissed it. I could feel the heat of his lips even after he had moved his mouth away.

  “This is Victor,” said one of them, a slightly smaller version of the first. “I am Sebastian.”

  A thinner boy danced forward, grinning, and took my hand next. “Felix.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  Sebastian said, “Marcos,” and a broadly built boy nodded his head at me.

  Sebastian said, “Gregory and Frederick,” and identical boys also nodded.

  The smallest boy, who looked a lot like a smiling Victor, shook my hand vigorously. “I’m Amorus.”

  I smiled a little. Part of me wanted to pat his head.

  Then Victor turned and the others turned with him, curving their spines around slowly until they faced the trees. He stopped and looked back at me. “I have been waiting for years to be formally introduced to you, Olivia,” he said. “You are a rare thing. We are at your service.” Then he was gone.

  I had been mystified by this boy before, when he had seemed to read my mind on the road four years ago, mystified enough to continue dreaming about him, even though I had tried to forget him. Now he had found me, and he had remembered me, or at least it seemed that way, by what he had said about being formally introduced. But what did he mean—rare thing—and why was he at my service? He was beautiful and interested in me, which should have been enough to make me want to find out more, at the very least, but instead I wished I had never seen him.

  He was connected to danger.

  But, as it turned out, danger was everywhere.

  When I got home my father was on the porch, waiting for me. He stood slowly as I approached and I saw the black outline of his football shoulders against the yellow porch light.

  “Where you been?” he asked me. His voice was deep and I could hear the liquor slurring it. My hands instinctively went to my throat. It was hard to speak.

  I slowed down and walked up the front path with my head lowered.

  “We tried calling you. You know you have to be home by eight.”

  I nodded and kept my eyes on the ground.

  “We called McIntyre. He didn’t know where you were either.” His breath smelled like booze and he stood shakily, leaning against the door frame.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I went to the woods and I fell asleep.” I was at the door now and I just wanted to go inside and lie down but he blocked my way.

  “Worried sick,” he said. “Your mother was. I’ll tell you what, I almost called my men out. You want to get torn to shreds like all those others? Next time I’ll drag your ass with me to see the autopsy. They don’t even look human.”

  I put my hand on the doorknob. He was drunk; his reflexes might be off.

  But no. I saw him raise his hand to strike and I cringed but I couldn’t move away. His hand came down hard against my cheekbone. Tears sprang into my eyes and the damp light was sprinkled with black dots.

  “Get your ass in there,” he said. “You’re shit out of luck if you think I’m going to let you wander around like this again.” I felt him watching me the way he did when he was mad, his eyes narrowed at my back as I

  headed for the stairs.

  “What the hell are you anyway?” I heard him mumble into the darkness. “You aren’t mine, that’s for sure. You never were.”

  He was right to ask. I didn’t know what I was. Or what had happened to me in the woods or why the beautiful boy, Victor, had any interest in being formally introduced to me. This last was flattering but it also scared me. Everything scared me. And now my father had hit me in the face. I suppressed the desire to turn to him, bare my teeth and growl. Spittle accumulated in the corners of my mouth. I gripped the banister and forced my feet to walk up the steps to my room. When I got there I took my last Xanax. Nieberding had given them to me for the times when things got heavy, when the Lexapro wasn’t enough.

  Until it worked, I wrote, over and over in my diary, the words to a prayer I’d made up: “May the river of peace flow through me. May the winds of calm blow anger from my mind. May love’s fire burn away my pain. May the great mother protect me and may I know how to protect her as I go.” I said it every night before I went to bed. This time I needed it more than ever—something to ward off whatever was coming on.

  I couldn’t let myself get angry. I couldn’t allow it. I stopped writing the words and gripped the sheets.

&nb
sp; May the winds of calm blow anger from my mind.

  The meds slowly started to work until very little mattered anymore except sleep.

  In the morning I checked my cell phone messages. There were five calls from my mom, one from Pace and three from Corey. I rolled over in bed and lightly touched my cheek where it stung. I knew it would be purple in a few hours if it wasn’t already. May the river of peace flow through me….

  I got up and went to take my Lexapro but I was out. Damn. The phone vibrated in my hand, like a live thing, as I held it. Corey.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry you couldn’t reach me.”

  “Where were you?” His voice sounded higher, shaky.

  “I went into the woods and I fell asleep,” I said. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.” It sounded lame, even to me.

  “That’s f’ ed up, Liv. I kept calling you. You can’t just go out there by yourself and sleep! It’s not safe.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I felt tears making the ducts in the corner of my eyes tingle. “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I was worried!”

  “I know. I just mean … my dad already …”

  “What?” I could feel Corey’s whole body tense, just from the sound of his voice.

  “Never mind. I have to go now. I’m already late for work.” My fingers gingerly explored the swelling on the side of my face again. At least no one would question it at work. Only Corey, Joe and Pace would care at all.

  “Liv! I need to see you!”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “Today after work. Meet me in the woods.”

  I was exhausted by the time I met Corey. My face hurt and I felt slightly feverish as I stepped from the air-conditioned ice cream parlor out into the heat. By the time I got to the woods I just wanted to lie down and sleep for hours.

  Corey took me by the shoulders and examined my face. He touched my cheek gently.

  “What happened?”

  I shook my head, turned my face away and reached for his hand. We walked in among the trees. I tried to remember which way the cabin was but I had no idea. It really seemed as if I’d dreamed the whole thing, but then a lot of my life felt that way.

  We sat by the creek in the dim light and I kicked off my shoes and leaned against his chest. I was so relieved to be with him, here in the quiet. His heart was thumping. I traced my fingers along his bare forearm where the skin was satiny smooth and the veins pushed up slightly under the surface.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said. “Tell me why you didn’t call me.”

  “I told you. I fell asleep.”

  “Liv, that’s bullshit. You don’t go alone into the woods where four people got whacked and lie down and sleep. And what happened to your face?”

  “My dad,” I said. “He was drinking.”

  Corey drew away and balled a fistful of dried leaves in his hand. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Shhh. Don’t say that. Kiss it.”

  He bent down and pressed his mouth lightly to the bruise. I could feel the imprint of his lips on my cheek, warm and soft with tiny lines running over the surface.

  He kept kissing me, moving toward my mouth. I turned my lips up to his and gasped as he ran his tongue lightly over them.

  “Corey …”

  He hushed me with more kisses. I knew I couldn’t do this. Not today. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself—maybe not. After what had happened in the cabin and then with my dad I didn’t feel in control at all.

  May the river of peace flow through me….

  Corey put his hands in my hair, stroked my face and neck. His fingers hesitated, lingered above my breasts. I sighed and my chest lifted against his touch as if my heart were trying to get closer to him. He slid his hand up my T-shirt and fumbled with my bra. It came unclasped and warmth radiated from his hand, through the center of my back and out into my limbs. He smoothed both hands down over my hips and I wriggled in his arms so that my back was pressed against his chest and my hips to his groin. Then he reached down into my jeans and I arched my back and turned my head so that our mouths found each other again. My teeth caught his lower lip and I wanted to bite down and taste the salt sea of his blood. I wanted to take off all my clothes and take off all his clothes and nuzzle his neck, nip his chin, bat him with my paws, lick him with my tongue, our loins locked together, my tail raised, brushing against him …

  I sat up. “I can’t.”

  “What? Why not, Liv?” He was breathing hard.

  “I thought we decided …”

  “We’ve been together for years.”

  I put my face in my hands. “I know.”

  “I’m freaking out, here, Liv. First you disappear. Then you tell me your dad is beating on you.”

  “I’m sorry!” I was shouting now.

  Corey stood up. “At least explain it to me.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I don’t understand myself. It just doesn’t feel … safe.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “I’ve never been with anyone else. I have a condom. I always bring a goddamn condom.”

  “I know, Corey. I’m sorry. But don’t … don’t make me mad.”

  I could feel the moon swelling in the sky beyond the trees. There was too much saliva in my mouth and my teeth ached. My jaw felt like it was cracking, more teeth trying to burst through the surface of my tender gums. My hips ached, too, in that strange way, as if the joints were loosening, the bones elongating. Something was happening and I couldn’t push it away anymore.

  Once my mother had called me over to the computer. She had showed me some pictures online of dogs and sheep ripped apart, bloody carcasses with chunks ripped out, down to the bone. She wanted to convince me that killing the wolf hadn’t been wrong. Suddenly I understood why those pictures made me want to die, and it wasn’t just that they made me think of what I’d heard about the deaths of Reed, Louden, Dan and Bob. Evisceration. Carnage. That was me. That was what I was and what I could do.

  I staggered to my feet and pushed Corey away with my hand on his chest.

  “What are you doing?” Corey was staring at me in a way I’d never seen him look before. It was like he didn’t recognize me. I had to get out of there fast.

  I turned and ran away from him, then, into the forest to find the ones who were just as brutal and dangerous as I was.

  I ran and ran. The forest thundered with sounds around me. My ears twitched and turned. I could hear every leaf crackle, every insect move its wings. The smells overwhelmed me, too—rotting plants and small animal carcasses under the sweeter fragrance of summer growth. The fading light flashed through the dark branches and I kept running until the darkness was everywhere. I could feel the pull of the hot summer moon though it hadn’t fully risen yet. I could feel every root and pebble under my bare feet.

  My feet …

  I looked down and saw that they were covered with hair. I fell forward onto my hands and my hips and back arched, stretched out, lowered to the ground.

  Everything ached with a fierce pull. My head ached as if my skull was stretching out, using all the energy in my body. Weakness permeated my cells. When had I eaten last? The thought of the ice cream at work made my stomach clench.

  Somewhere nearby I caught a familiar scent. My brothers, I thought without reason. My mother.

  Just as I thought it I felt something grip my shoulder. But my shoulder was lower and smaller, not really a human shoulder at all.

  It is time for you to hear the story, she said.

  The Curse

  I lay beside my brothers on the floor of the cabin. They smelled of leaves and moonlight. The closeness of their bodies comforted me now. I no longer wanted to avoid what they were, what I was. I felt a certain relief, the relief of surrender, even to something dangerous. The dangerous thing had happened—I didn’t have to fight it anymore—and, at last, someone was going to explain it to me.

  In front of me was a slab of freshly killed meat, still steaming. Deer.
I tore into it with my sharp teeth. It buzzed with recently faded life. The weak feeling went away. My mouth was dripping with blood, rich and strong as liquid iron.

  The moon was rising outside the cabin window above the trees. Through the glass and the scaffolding of dark branches it was huge and white and completely round.

  Sasha sat in front of us. Her silver fur shone. Her eyes shone, too, in the pale light.

  Are you all right? she asked after I had finished my meal. Asked may not be the right word; she made sounds—a soft, low, throaty groan—and I understood them.

  I swept my rough tongue gingerly over my arm. But it wasn’t an arm anymore. The hair tickled my mouth. I wasn’t entirely myself and yet I wasn’t all that different. I wished there was a mirror so I could see, but part of me didn’t want to.

  I have to tell you now, Sasha said. It is time. You will be going away soon.

  I have to get home. I wasn’t really speaking either but that is what I communicated to her. My dad …

  He won’t hurt you this time.

  How did she know? She didn’t know him. I lowered my head.

  As if she could read my thoughts, she said, It would be worse for him to see you like this. We’ll make sure you are safe.

  I looked at the pack of young wolves surrounding me. They were fierce and strong with thick fur and golden eyes. Victor, Sebastian, Felix, Marcos, Gregory, Frederick and Amorus. I now understood that they lived here as young men most of the time—the men I had seen on the road after the party and again last night—until they became animals. They watched their mother carefully.

  I’m not going away soon, I told her.

  I think you will, when everything comes to a head.

  What do you mean? How do you know all these things? Who are you?

  I am the daughter of Ivan, the one your mother killed from the helicopter with her father, Sasha said. He was the largest and the strongest of them all. Everyone loved him. He and my mother, Elena, were inseparable.

  Ivan was running through the snow when she shot him from her helicopter. She shot him again and again. The snow was stained with blood.