Fatal (16 page)

I went over to get into the spaghetti line, casually scanning all the tables full of students for Adam. The big room thrummed with conversation, with the metallic noise of fork and knife on plates, with the sizzle of cooking.

There didn't really seem to be anywhere to sit, either. But that was okay; we could worry about that after I'd secured myself some supper.

"There you are. Let's go," Adam said, taking one hand out of his jacket long enough to tap me on the arm.

"But... Aren't we getting supper?" I said. My stomach was hollow.

"No. Not here. Come on, if I leave the car out there too long they'll tow it."

He grabbed the red plastic tray out of my hand and set it back on the stack. Then he pulled me out of the line. The students behind me filed forward to take my place.

"But... food
.." I said as he pulled me slowly around the knots of people towards the exit. My stomach seemed to lag behind me, unwilling to leave.

Why couldn't he just tell me whatever he had to say right there at the cafeteria?

Instead, he let me outside into the cold night air. That actually helped a bit with the hunger as my body contracted against the chill. It really was frigid out. There seemed to be ice crystals floating around, glinting a little in the light.

"Get in," he said, opening the door.

It was a late-model BMW sedan, its black coat shiny and smooth. I sat down and clicked my seatbelt in place by muscle memory, my eyes and thoughts still on the double exit doors from the cafeteria.

The car jounced a little as Adam got in, and the engine purred like some purebred cat when he turned the car on.

It was a strange contrast. The BMW had all the luxury accessories: leather seats, a GPS right in the dash, the speedometer and all the other gauges projected onto the windshield. And in the driver seat sat a guy wearing a torn leather jacket, blue jeans with torn, thready knees, and a few days worth of stubble on his cheeks.

He even looked uncomfortable there, shifting to find the right position. The automatic mirrors kept whining as they tried to follow his movements.

He pulled away just as one of the campus' Crown Victoria security cruisers pulled around.

"Where are we going? Did you find Jenn?"

"Not yet. But I did some checking, and I think I might have an idea what's happened."

I turned towards him, the cafeteria gone from my mind. The shoulder strap dug into my flesh.

"Really? What is it?" I said.

Adam sighed, his eyes scanning the road ahead. There was another car waiting to pull out of the campus, its
brake lights a sinister red.

"I... I can't really explain it here."

"So, where are we going?" I said.

"My place.
My parents' place. It's just on the other side of town.”

Hazelglen
was so small it didn't really have anything resembling a rush hour. In fact, I thought it probably only had a couple intersections with traffic lights. And that was on Main Street. The rest of the town was all four-way stops.

There weren't many pedestrians, either. Everyone wanted to stay out of the frost, I guess. A few people scurried down the sidewalks, their shoulders hunched.

We passed the police department, which was a rather modern-looking building nestled between two houses. A couple cruisers sat in front of it, and I could see the officer sitting at the front desk in his black uniform. If I called them now, would they consider Jenn a missing person? It should have been long enough.

The BMW's engine purred louder as we started up the other side of the valley. Was his place outside town? The bright blue halogen headlights lit the trees and the shoulder of the road in spectral light.

I would have missed the driveway if we didn't turn onto it.

The old house was surrounded by an impenetrable tangle of trees. Even with no leaves, their branches were all so close together I couldn't see the sky. The house sat on a circular
plot, the dead grass cut short right up to the edge of the tree line.

The house was three floors high, with a central turret poking a bit over top of the tree canopy like some sort of snorkel.

There were no lights on in the many windows. It was the sort of place you might expect to see in a ghost story. Except the shutters were all in place, none hanging loose to flap and whine on their hinges in the breeze. The paint, from what I could see of it in the car's headlights, looked fresh and not chipped.

Despite the obvious care taken for it, a shiver ran down my spine and I shifted
uncomfortably on my heated seat.

"Is... Is anyone home?" I said.

"Only me. The family doesn't like to spend a lot of time around here. It's hard to shake a reputation in a small town."

"So why are you here?"

He killed the engine. The headlights stayed on for a few moments before dying as well. A shot of fear ran down through the center of my chest. Keep calm, I told myself, it's just an old house. But what did it have to do with Jenn?

Adam stepped out of the car, his feet crunching the gravel on the driveway. Cold air rushed into the cabin, forcing my little pocket of warmth out. The windshield started fogging with my misty breaths.

"Tradition. All the Arnold men go to Redeemer. Come on, it's warm inside. And there's food," he added, snorting a little laugh.

The front door was up four steps, surrounded by a covered porch. At that moment, the patio furniture sat in the dark
were mounds of monstrous shadow.

Adam unlocked the big old oak door and tugged it open. Even with it dark inside, I could feel how big the room inside was as my senses reached out into it.

He flicked on the light.

"Home, sweet home..." he said,
sounding like he'd rather be anywhere else at that moment.

"Wow..."

An enormous chandelier suspended from the ceiling (which seemed to go all the way up through the first and second floors here) lit the hall. There was a broad spiral staircase ahead. More rooms let off from this one. I thought I saw the end of a long dinner table through a set of French doors.

"You live here?" I said. It seemed like a grand old hotel.

A grand old haunted hotel, that is.

"I try to spend as much time away as possible. There are people who come once every few days to make sure everything's still clean, but usually I'm all alone here."

"Is Jenn here now?" I said, hoping this was all some big surprise reveal about how he'd found her and nursed her back to health here.

"No. Come on; kitchen's this way. Sorry I had to pull you away like that, but there's not a whole lot of time."

"Time for what?" I said.

Then he grasped my hand. My body responded, buzzing with
a contented warmth. This was what I'd wanted after our date (I know he never said it was a date, but I'm saying it was!). His palm was warm and dry, and his fingers squeezed just tight enough around mine as he led me away from that massive entry hall.

Chapter 23

The kitchen was huge, with massive stainless steel appliances and beautiful carved cabinets. A marble-topped island ran most of the length of the room, with its own sink.

So it was a bit of a letdown when he pulled a loaf of bread out of a basket, a jar of peanut butter from a cupboard under the island, and a plate and a butter knife from a
dishwasher. Even so, my mouth still watered.

He smeared the peanut butter over a slice of bread as he talked.

"You know how I told you that there's a family curse? I'm sure Jim's talked about it, too," he said.

I nodded, licking my lips as I watched the knife blade spread the smooth, brown peanut butter over the white bread. He went right to the edges with it.

"Well, there really is a curse. I'm sure you've heard of all the witch trial stuff that went on in New England?"

"I've seen
The Crucible
," I said, "So... you guys are witches or warlocks or something?"

He snorted and shoo
k his head as he cut the crusts off the slice. He did the same thing with the next piece as well, then he pushed the plate bearing the peanut butter bread across the island to me. I grabbed it up and took one bite, closing my eyes as it stuck to the roof of my mouth.

"No, not witches or anything.
But there was a witch. My great-great... whatever grandfather denounced her to the witch hunters that came into the area. Anyway, it turns out my grandfather was having an affair with this witch, and he probably told the hunters out of spite or something. No one in the family's sure why..."

I'd already finished one slice of bread. Normally, I would have asked for a glass of water or milk or something, but I was so hungry I didn't mind the way it gummed up my mouth.

It sounded like a familiar story. Man cheats on wife, decides he doesn't want mistress anymore, tries to get rid of mistress. Mistress tries to get even.

"So... what did she do?" I said, leaning my elbows against the cool, hard marble.

Adam shrugged and brushed some strands of hair off his face. He still hadn't taken off his jacket.

"They found her guilty and went to burn her.
Right in the center of town. So they tied her up at the stake, lots of wood and kindling and all that at her feet."

I shivered and looked over my shoulders at the long, quiet room. What a poor woman. I thought about what it must have been like, tied to some wooden post, angry, ignorant Puritans waving torches. Would she smell herself cooking? What a morbid thought.

"So she calls my ancestor up to the front, who's just hanging out, waiting for the burning to start. For some reason, he walks right up the wood pile to stand in front of her. Maybe she had him under a spell or something. But he kisses her, and she bites his lip to draw blood. The villagers drag him away after that. Just as the fire really starts to get going, she calls out the curse in some awful tongue no one can understand but my ancestor."

The second piece of bread only had one bite out of it. My eyes felt dry, but I couldn't blink. This was awful. I kept picturing it all in my head, the witch tied up, the flames licking at the hem of her dress, the ends of her hair beginning to smoke as she cackles...

"What? What did she say?"

Adam ran his fingernails through the stubble along his
jaw line, making a scratching sound that had me wincing. He took a deep breath and glanced up and down the room.

"She said that the firstborn son of his line in every generation will be cursed to walk the earth in the skin of a wolf. It was blood magic, that's why she needed him to kiss her. It sealed the deal."

I blinked, my eyes grateful for the moisture. My first reaction was anger, hot in my chest.

"What is this, a joke? Are you trying to tell me that you're a werewolf?"

"Yes, actually. I can control it most nights..." he said, looking down at the butter knife smeared with peanut butter, twisting the blade between his fingers, "But then, when I went out with you..."

I pushed away from the island.

"You are such an asshole! What does all this crap have to do with Jenn? Did you even look for her?"

"I know it sounds crazy. But it's true. I also know you don't believe me, but you will."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He came around the island as I leaned against the big fridge. The stainless steel door felt pleasantly cool against my back as I rubbed at my eyes with my wrist.

"Because I feel good around you, normal. I don't know why, but I think we have a connection. I noticed it that first night I saw you, at one of Jim's parties."

He stood in front of me, putting one of his hands over my shoulder against the fridge door. I became aware of how close we were, of how he smelled. I swallowed heavily as he looked me in the eye.

"I like you, Steph. A lot, I think. I thought you needed to know the truth about me, that maybe you wouldn't think I was such a monster."

He swallowed then, too, his eyes flicking down to my lips and back up.

"You're scaring me," I said, I kept thinking of what Vick told me.

My body buzzed with heat, and it was hard to get
enough air into my lungs. My heart slammed against my ribs.

"There's just one thing I want to do first, before I tell you the rest," he said.

"The rest of what?"

My hands slid along the fridge door trying to find the edge so I could pull myself out of there. The last time I'd felt anything like this was with Jenn, that night, with her hand on the back of my neck, pulling my face towards hers.

But there was more fear this time, more uncertainty mixed with the desire to feel him against me. I didn't know what I wanted to happen anymore. The guy believed he was a werewolf!

My fingers found the edge of the door and I started pulling.

Then he kissed me. His stubble was rough against my skin, and his mouth insistent. And hot, so hot. I put my hands on his shoulders, ready to push him away. But I pulled him closer so our hips touched.