Fury's Fire (7 page)

Gretchen accepted the cup gratefully. “Thanks.” She placed it on the coffee table, causing Bananas to hop off her lap and strut away.

Johnny sat in the armchair and looked at Gretchen expectantly, as if he were awaiting instructions. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine. Aside from the fact that I made just about the worst possible impression at my new school.”

“God, Gretchie, that’s the least of it.”

“I know.” She sipped her tea.

“Well … everyone knows who you are now, I guess.”

“Not the kind of fame I want.”

He huffed in irritation. “Your sleeve caught on fire. Who cares what they think? Besides, I’m sure they’ll all forget about it in a week.”

She knew her dad was right. Still, these people were—in theory—her future friends. Things were lonely enough for her out in Walfang. She didn’t want to become a pariah.

The same thought seemed to cross Johnny’s mind. “So, how did you like the school?”

Gretchen gave him a half smile. “My chem teacher seemed good.” She preferred strict, no-nonsense teachers. “Oh, and I met the nurse. She gave me something else to give to you.” Gretchen picked up her backpack, which she had dropped at her feet. “My medical form is incomplete,” she said as she pulled it out.

Johnny frowned at the form. “I already talked to the office about this,” he snapped. “They were supposed to take care of it.”

Gretchen lifted her eyebrows, and Johnny blew out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t fill out this form, sweetie. We don’t know anything about your birth mother’s medical history.”

Gretchen nodded. She looked down at the coffee table and reached for her mug. The truth was, she never really thought about the fact that she was adopted. She wasn’t the kind of person who daydreamed
about her biological mother. But now that the question was put before her, she wondered why she didn’t wonder. “Do we know anything about her?”

Johnny pressed his lips together. “Just her name,” he admitted.

Silence hung in the air. Gretchen took another sip of tea, waiting.

“What is it?” she asked finally.

Johnny rubbed his sideburn again. “Saskia Robicheck.”

Saskia
. Something about the syllables struck a chord with Gretchen, and she wondered if she had heard them before. Perhaps one of her parents had mentioned it? It seemed familiar. “With a name like that, you’d think it would be pretty easy to get information.”

“You’d think,” Johnny agreed with a wry smile. “But it isn’t.” He looked down at the form. “Well, anyway, I’ll take care of this.”

Gretchen sipped her tea.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“I think I’ll just catch something at the diner,” Gretchen said. “I’ve got a shift later.”

Johnny looked horrified. “You’re not going to work.”

“Why not? I’m not hurt.”

“All right.” He still looked hesitant. “I don’t really know how I could stop you, anyway.”

“You can’t.”

Johnny pursed his lips and looked down at the form. Then he stood up and took Gretchen’s empty tea mug.

She sat listening as his footsteps retreated to the kitchen, as the mug clinked in the sink, as his footfalls proceeded down the hall toward his studio. In a way it was a relief.
I need some alone time before work
, Gretchen thought.
I need to relax a little
.

The sound of the howling wind as she crossed over the bridge filled her ears, and a chill ran down her scalp, as if someone had just touched her hair. Gretchen turned, expecting her father, but no one was there.

She sighed and settled back onto the soft couch cushions. Outside, the leaves dripped morosely, as if they couldn’t forget the storm that had passed by. Wet leaves stuck to the wood porch, slick and dreary. Fall always cast a pall of gloom over Gretchen. She never minded the frigid bite of winter. But even the hint of damp chill that came with early fall weather made her tired.

“Gretchen.”

The voice broke into her thoughts, rousing her from a half sleep.

“Coming.” She pushed aside the throw and hauled herself off the couch. She padded down the hall in thick woolen socks toward Johnny’s studio, then knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. She pushed it slightly ajar. Johnny was peering at his computer, his ears devoured by mammoth headphones.

Gretchen waved a little to capture his attention.

He lifted his eyebrows at her and took off the headphones. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

They stared at each other a moment.

“You were calling me?” Gretchen prompted.

Johnny shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Oh. I thought I heard—” It had been so clear. Her name. “Never mind.”

Johnny frowned at her. “Why don’t you take a nap, sweetie?”

Gretchen nodded. “Yeah,” she said, a feeling of discomfort growing in her chest. “Maybe I will.”

Even though they’d had an argument at lunch the day before, Gretchen still stopped by Will’s house before school, and he still climbed into the Gremlin beside her. Her long fingers clasped the gearshift, and he noticed the blue vein visible beneath her tanned skin on the back of her hand. He wanted to reach out and trace the vein with a fingertip, or sweep the loose hair behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her would have made him feel better, he thought. He just wanted to be
assured of her presence, her realness. But instead, what he said was, “I’m sorry.”

Gretchen sighed and started up the car. “I know,” she said as she backed out of the driveway.

The day was bright and clear, although there were still puddles along the edge of the road and a stiff breeze was blowing from the east. Gretchen didn’t seem so nervous going over the bridge this morning, and Will sat back in his seat, relaxing, as she turned into the rear parking lot and pulled into a spot right beside a white SUV. Jefferson Lang was just stepping out, and he smiled when he saw Gretchen. He smiled the smile that had slain a thousand hearts, and said, “Hey, fireball.”

Gretchen smiled back at him, and Will frowned as she said, “Hey.”

Jefferson barely nodded at Will. Instead, he leaned against his car door and gave Gretchen an up-and-down look that irritated Will. “So, I wanted to let you know that I’m having a party this weekend,” Jefferson said. “You should come.”

“Oh.” Gretchen sounded surprised. “Okay.”

Jefferson gave Will a fleeting glance and added, “Bring a friend,” in a way that made Will grit his teeth. He suppressed the urge to call out, “Sounds like fun, Lang, thanks for the invite!” Will was never the master of sarcasm, and he knew that it would have sounded ridiculous.

“I didn’t know you knew Jefferson Lang,” Will said as they headed toward the school building, and immediately wanted to kick himself.
Gretchen gave him a sidelong look. “You don’t want me to talk to him, either?”

Will sighed. “No—I just … I just didn’t know you knew him.”

“He’s in my chem class. I know he’s good at passing out papers; that’s about it.”

“Right.”

Will touched her elbow as they walked toward the rear doors, and at first he wasn’t sure that was the right move, but she didn’t shake it off.

“So, are we going to the party?” Will asked.

She stopped in her tracks and lifted her eyebrows at him. “You want to go to the party?”

He released her elbow. “Sure, why not?”

“
You
want to go to the party. You.”

“Sounds like fun,” Will lied. He hated parties, and he knew that Gretchen knew it. But he just didn’t want to let her out of his sight. Particularly not to go hang out with Jefferson Lang.

She stared at him for a moment, as if she were trying to read his mind, and Will felt his face flush hot. He wasn’t a big blusher, but he knew he was blushing now. Still, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

Gretchen opened her lips to say something, and Will heard, as if from far off, a shout. Then another shout, and a scream, and when he turned, Will saw a large yellow dog streaking across the wide green lawn. It was racing toward the school, coming right at Gretchen. It was barking madly, a leash dangling uselessly behind.

Will felt a flash of confusion, then fear, as he heard the dog snarl. Gretchen cried out and he heard himself scream as the dog leaped at her, slamming full force into her body and knocking her to the ground.

Gretchen was aware of someone screaming, but the noise was far off, almost dreamlike. Pain racked her arm. She had thrown her hands up to protect her face, and the yellow Labrador sank its teeth into the first thing it encountered. She hit at its muzzle with her other hand, but the dog had latched on and clearly had no intention of letting go.

Her jacket was of thick denim, which meant that the dog held her in a crushing vise instead of piercing her skin. An elbow to the head did not even manage to dislodge the dog’s teeth. She grunted with effort as she tried to roll over on top of the dog, but it writhed away, shifting everything but its grip. It held on with the tenacity of a lunatic. It was seventy pounds of lupine sinew with madness burning in its golden eyes.

Golden eyes.

There was something about those eyes that struck her as human, and familiar, but she didn’t have time to think, only to react. Heat rose in her, burned through her body. Her right arm was limp, broken perhaps, but she felt a surge of strength. She reached over with her left arm and ripped the dog from her
body. Gretchen managed to fling the dog from her and leap to her feet. A canine snarl, bared teeth, a body tensed to spring—but a moment passed and Will shot forward.

“No!” Gretchen screamed as the dog lunged at him. She thrust her body between the dog and Will. Will stumbled to the ground as Gretchen landed on top of the dog, which still writhed and snarled, even pinned under her weight. Gretchen held on, ignoring the throbbing in her arm, tensing all of her concentration on subduing the dog. It was then that she became aware of a woman in a colorful sweater screaming, “Coco! Coco!” and Gretchen managed to register the irony that this ferocious beast descended from wolves had such a ridiculous name.

Someone must have called 911, because a police cruiser pulled up. The woman’s pitch rose and her scream turned hoarse as an officer darted out, gun drawn.

“Shut up!” the officer shouted, but the screamer didn’t shut up.

“You can’t shoot!” Will shouted, and stood in front of Gretchen. The officer growled at him, but Gretchen was splayed across the dog, and Will was right—the officer couldn’t have taken a shot.

The other officer was running, shouting into her radio, as the dog flailed in a final, violent motion to free itself. “Get the Taser!” she shouted.

Gretchen hesitated a moment—an image of Guernsey tore through her mind, half paralyzing her with pity—but she flattened her arm across the dog’s neck.
It barked, an earsplitting challenge, and its golden eyes glittered with hate. And then suddenly the dog went limp.

Not with death, but with surrender.

Gretchen’s body was stiff with tension for a moment, then—degree by degree—began to relax. Finally she released her arm from the dog’s neck. Coco looked at her with big eyes and whimpered, then licked her hand.

“Don’t,” Will warned, but Gretchen had already rolled away, removing her weight and strength from the dog, who lay there for a moment, then struggled to its feet and shook itself.