The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 42 - Researching the Wolf

Sheriff Brad was right about everyone rehashing Jana's party in class the next day. The school split into two camps-those who went and those who wanted to know all about it. Even Maxwell and Lonnie were in the limelight. I heard them say there were two bands-the Pink Spiders and some local group. They also said there were white horses wearing bridles fitted with unicorn horns. I bet the girls loved that.

At lunch, Brittany sat with me as if nothing had happened between us. We talked about teachers and homework. I was in a great mood.

Then I saw Jana rushing to our table. She held out her BlackBerry. "Did you see the new fairy pictures?"

The lunchroom crashed in on me. I realized the pictures of me in the trees weren't going away. Worse, now Brittany knew about them. I remembered her tear-streaked face as she and her brother lowered me to the ground.

"Oh, please." Brittany slapped the table. She didn't even look at the phone. "Those photographs are fakes. Give me a break."

Jana sneered. "Sorry you missed my party, Brittany. You should have told me you had nothing to wear. I could have lent you something." She spun about and stormed off, ponytail swaying.

Brittany put her hand over mine. "I know that you're angry, and I know what he did sucks. Eff is a total jerk. I get it. But I want you to promise you won't start a fight."

I pulled back. "He already started it."

"All we can do is keep saying that he's lying. If you respond, it will look like there's something to it. People will ask questions. Like why you heal so fast. You can't retaliate."

"Unless I do it in my wolf form."

She leaned close. "If you so much as jump out of the bushes and scare him and they trace it back to you, they'll dump all those other murders on your head. The sheriff is desperate. You'll be all the evidence he needs. I'll never see you again."

I looked into her eyes. She was right. We couldn't risk it. I had to lay low. "And let Eff get away with being a jerk."

"Don't worry." She brightened. "He'll get his. Bullies always do. Are you busy after school? I thought we could stop by the bookstore and do some research."

"Anything we need is on the Internet."

"But you have to ask the right questions. I already Googled how to stop being a werewolf and didn't get any hits. We need old books where the information is compiled for us."

"Good thinking." I would have agreed to anything if it meant spending time with her.

***

Ye Olde Bookstore was in strip shopping sandwiched between a women's clothing store called Eve's and a weight loss clinic. The books propped up in its display window looked ancient and expensive. A bell dinged as we stepped inside.

Cold air hit me in the face. It was like walking into a refrigerator. The shop held a tang of old paper and dust. The girl at the front desk nodded at us. She wore a jacket.

Brittany walked down the aisles, me in tow. I'd never seen such an assortment of old books. The leather bindings were faded, and the gold lettering was tarnished and worn. There were sections on the occult, sections on psychic abilities and ESP. No Shakespeare here.

We stopped at the area about shape shifting.

Brittany pulled several books off the shelves and carried them to a table. She patted the chair next to her. "Let's get started."

I thumbed through a book, reading at random. "How to become a werewolf," I said in a hushed voice. I felt like I was in a library. "One, rub a magic ointment over your flesh and then, two, place a girdle of wolf skin about your waist and, three, drink beer mixed with blood. Ugh. Sounds like something out of a college frat house."

"I've heard of the wolf skin belt before," she said. "It's supposed to be magical."

"I don't need to know how to become a wolf."

"We need to understand the process in order to reverse it." She put her book down and opened another. "Here's a different way to transform. In a deep forest, draw two concentric circles on the ground, one six feet in diameter and the other fourteen feet. Build a fire in the center of the smaller circle and bring a gallon of water to boil in an iron pot. Throw in a handful of aloe, hemlock, poppy seed, and nightshade."

"My mom's recipe for Christmas punch." I grinned.

"You stir the ingredients counter clockwise, all the while calling to the spirits of satyrs and werewolves. Then you sit outside the edge of the larger circle and smear your body with fat from a fresh kill mixed with anise, camphor, and opium. Opium, hmm. That would do it." She chuckled, then read, "But woe be to the wolf who treads upon the fourteen foot circle for he shall be trapped."

"How could a circle drawn on the ground trap a wolf?"

"You never heard of magic circles?" Brittany asked, her eyes sparkling. "If they can hold a demon, they can hold a wolf."

I sighed. At least, she didn't think I was a demon. "How do you know," I murmured, "that I didn't kill those women?"

"You wouldn't hurt anyone as a human, and you never tried to hurt me as a wolf."

I waited, expecting her to ask flat out if I did it, but apparently, she trusted me. A smile crossed my face.

We browsed a few more books, the stack of rejects growing.

"Here's something," Brittany said. "It says here that those born on Christmas Eve are in danger of being werewolves because their birth is an act of blasphemy. To be rid of the curse, they must prove themselves pious beyond reproach."

"Pious? You mean like a monk?"

"When were you born?"

"October thirtieth." I frowned. "Wait a minute. I was a preemie. My mother said I was due around Christmastime."

"Maybe you were supposed to be born on December twenty-fourth."

"It was Christmas Eve the first time I turned. I was in France." I remembered the terror I felt, running down strange alleys, not knowing what was happening to me.

"Was there a full moon?"

"Yes." I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the refrigerated air of the shop. I snapped the book shut. "This is a waste of time. Let's get out of here."

We returned our stack to the shelves and left the bookstore. I was so immersed in memories of that cold night in France that I was shocked to step out into a sunny, Florida afternoon. We crossed the parking lot and sat in Brittany's little green car.

"You okay?" she asked.

"It's late. I should be getting home."

She nodded, but didn't start the engine.

"You know, there's something that always bothered me," I blurted. "Why can't I turn into a wolf on nights other than a full moon? It's still there. Even a new moon is near the Earth, especially in perigee. I should be able to tap into it."

She gave an uneasy laugh. "You want to be a wolf all the time?"

"No. I want to be able to change at will. If I can control it, maybe I won't have to shift at all."