Hemlock (17 page)

For at least two years before that, werewolf sightings had been steadily on the rise—especialy in larger cities. And the reports weren’t just coming from crazy people or junkies tripping out.

Upstanding citizens were caling the police with stories about humans turning into animals, and ordinary people were walking into emergency rooms claiming they’d been attacked by wolves.

Even though I’d been only five, I could dimly remember sitting cross-legged in front of a battered television and watching the president make the announcement. It had been replayed on every station hour after hour for days. The government urged calm, and station hour after hour for days. The government urged calm, and everyone panicked, and Hank—in a rare moment of decent parenting—had promised he wouldn’t let anything get me.

Old people asked each other where they’d been when JFK was shot; my generation asked each other if they could remember the day werewolves officialy came out of the closet.

“Al right. What’s going on?” Tess sat on the edge of the coffee table.

“You’ve asked me that three times already.” I glanced up. “I’m fine, realy. I’m just doing homework.”

I’d planned on reading the books in my room, but with Tess peering through the door every half hour, I’d eventualy given up and sprawled out on the couch.

She shook her head. “You only had one egg rol with supper and you barely touched your rice. You love Chinese takeout night.” She reached out to touch my forehead. “Are you getting sick?”

I ducked. “Tess, realy, I swear on the stack of self-help books next to your bed, I’m fine.” A hurt look flashed across her face, and I felt like I had kicked a puppy. She was just worried about me. I sat up and marked my place in the book with a scrap of paper.

“It’s been five days since”—I fumbled the words—“since the hospital. You’ve got to stop watching me like a hawk.” I squinted at the clock in the kitchen. “You’re going to be late for work if you keep hovering.”

There was a knock on the door and I jumped, dropping my book.

With a concerned shake of her head, Tess stood and went to answer it.

Kyle.

Al the muscles in my chest contracted. Serena had said to talk to him—like that wasn’t the hardest thing in the world to do—but he hadn’t been in school this afternoon, and each time I picked up the phone to cal him, my hand trembled so badly that I could only dial the first three numbers.

He stepped into the apartment. “One of your neighbors let me in.”

Tess slid her feet into a pair of pink, Prada-wannabe shoes that she’d be cursing in less than two hours and grabbed her purse.

“Maybe she’l tel you what’s wrong,” she said to Kyle as she shot me a sad, troubled look. “God knows I can’t get anything out of her.”

She slipped out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

I bent over, grabbed my book from the floor, and clutched it to my chest.

Over the past three days, I’d practiced dozens of conversations with Kyle in my head—lying in bed, washing my hair in the shower, walking to school—but now, when he was in front of me, the words I had so carefuly constructed toppled like a house of cards.

He pushed his hair back from his face. There were shadows under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping. “I guess you didn’t tel her that I’m the thing that’s wrong.” He shrugged off his jacket and set it over the chair next to the door. He hesitated, almost like he set it over the chair next to the door. He hesitated, almost like he was debating something with himself, and then he walked across the room.

I stood, stil clutching the book like it was some sort of shield.

“You were right about the camps. I can’t just turn myself in.

People might assume you or my parents knew. With the Trackers in town, it’s not safe to have a werewolf in the family. Especialy with them offering reward money for turning us in.” Before I could feel any sense of relief, he added, “But I am leaving Hemlock.”

I dug my fingers into the cover of my book. “You can’t.”

Kyle shook his head. “I have to. It’s safer for everyone if I go. I don’t want the Trackers to have an excuse to hurt my parents. Or you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

His eyes flashed. “Like you did that night at Bonnie and Clyde?”

Without thinking, I hurled my book at his chest. He deflected it, easily, and I stalked to my bedroom.

I stared out my window, so hurt and angry that it felt like a physical ache.

The loose floorboard near the door creaked as Kyle stepped over the threshold. “I’m sorry. I should never have said that.”

“No,” I said. “You shouldn’t have.” Despite the anger in my voice and the hurt coiling in my stomach, I didn’t pul away when Kyle walked up behind me and gently put his hands on my arms, standing so close that his chest brushed my back.

The truth was, I did kind of blame myself.

Everything that was happening to Kyle was my fault. Maybe not him getting infected, but a lot of what had happened after. If he him getting infected, but a lot of what had happened after. If he hadn’t hurt Jimmy, Kyle might never have wondered if he was a monster.

“If you hadn’t saved me,” I said, “you wouldn’t have considered turning yourself over to the LSRB. And you wouldn’t be thinking about leaving town now. This whole mess is my fault.”

Kyle exhaled, a soft rush of breath that stirred my hair. “No.

Half the school showed up for Derby’s information session. It’s not safe for anyone with LS. I’ve spent the past three days trying to convince Heather to go stay with her grandparents for a while.

She’s leaving on Saturday.” He gently squeezed my arms. “I’d be thinking about going even if I hadn’t . . .”

Even if he hadn’t hurt someone.

I leaned back against him, and after a moment, he slid his hands down my arms and placed them lightly on my waist.

“What happened that night wasn’t your fault.”

I wanted to believe him. “I didn’t have to confront Jimmy,” I whispered.

“You were trying to help someone. And you couldn’t have known what would happen. What he did . . . there was no excuse.

Life in a camp is too good for him.”

I turned around. “I don’t want you to go.”

Kyle brushed a bit of hair back from my face. “None of this is about want. It’s just better for everyone if I leave. And it’l be easier on you if I don’t complicate things before I go.”

“Complicate . . .” I stared at him, eyes wide, suddenly getting it.

“That’s why you said kissing me was a mistake?” My voice rose with the lunacy of the idea. “Because you think it’l make things with the lunacy of the idea. “Because you think it’l make things harder on me if you go?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and backed up a step. He stared out the window, like the view of the fire escape and parking lot was riveting. After a moment, he nodded.

I closed the gap between us. “Kyle David Harper, sometimes you are supremely stupid.”

His eyes darted to mine.

“It doesn’t matter whether you kiss me or not. When you leave, it’s stil going to kil a part of me to lose you.” Then, before he could object, I stood on tiptoe and firmly pressed my lips to his.

Kyle used the wal as a backrest and I curled up next to him, my head on his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, trying to ignore the fact that it was beating much faster than a human heart would.

Werewolf fast.

“Saturday is so close,” I said softly. It was
too
close.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I know.”

“Maybe . . .”

“No,” he said. “No maybes. It’s the way things have to be.”

“But—”

He twined his fingers around mine. “What would you do if our roles were flipped? If I was stil human and you were infected?”

My hand looked smal in his.

I turned my face into his chest, caught off guard by the sneakiness of the question. “I don’t know,” I lied.

“Of course you do. You’d try to protect me. And Tess. And Jason. You always try to protect everyone. Even when they don’t Jason. You always try to protect everyone. Even when they don’t deserve it. Even when it hurts you.”

I thought about Jason and how I kept trying to pick him up off the ground even when it felt like it was breaking my heart. And then I thought about the stack of papers in my backpack and my theory that the Trackers would stay in town only until Amy’s kiler was found.

If the Trackers left, Kyle wouldn’t have a reason to disappear.

There were werewolves hiding al over the country—some people said there were tens of thousands of infected people running around outside of the camps. Why couldn’t he just keep hiding in Hemlock?

My heart raced and I pushed my hair back nervously. “I have something to tel you.” I reached over the side of the bed and grabbed my backpack. I unzipped the bag and took out my computer printouts and notes. “I’ve been looking up stuff on the werewolf attacks,” I confessed, handing Kyle the stack of paper.

His brows knitted together as he flipped through the pages.

“Why?”

I took a deep breath. “The Trackers are only in town because Amy’s grandfather asked them to find her kiler. I thought that if I found the werewolf first, they’d clear out.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “I just have this feeling that they’re not doing everything they can—like Derby wants to draw out finding it so he can stay in town longer and generate bigger press or something.”

Kyle pressed his fingers to his temple like he had the mother of al headaches. “Don’t you have any self-preservation instincts at al headaches. “Don’t you have any self-preservation instincts at al? Derby already threatened you once. What do you think he’l do if he finds out you’re sticking your nose into the murder case he was brought here to solve?”

I sighed. “You could try giving me some credit. I
can
be sneaky, you know.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Anyway, if the Trackers leave Hemlock, you wouldn’t have to.”

“Mac . . .” Kyle closed his eyes, just for a moment, looking suspiciously like he was praying for patience, and then climbed off the bed. “I’d stil have to leave. Even if the Trackers were gone.”

He paced. “Al it would take is for me to lose control at the wrong time, for the wrong person to get suspicious. At least if that happens in another town, you and my folks wil be okay. If it happened in Hemlock, everyone would assume you knew. So you going on an insane chase after Amy’s kiler won’t make a difference. And if this is something you’re doing because you think it’l somehow protect Jason—”

Heat rushed to my face. “It’s not an insane chase,” I said as I climbed to my feet. I struggled to keep my voice steady. “And it’s not something I’m doing just for you. Or for Jason.”

I walked over to Kyle. “I keep dreaming about Amy. Bad dreams. If they never find out who did it—if I don’t at least try to figure it out on my own—I’m going to keep having them. This is something I have to do.” I crossed my arms. “This is something I
am
doing.”

He stared down at me. “How can I make you change your mind He stared down at me. “How can I make you change your mind about this?”

I shook my head. “You can’t.”

Kyle let out a low, frustrated groan. “I can’t leave,” he muttered.

“Not if you’re going to go after a kiler werewolf on some crazy crusade.”

A wave of hope hit me and I tried to keep it from showing on my face.

Kyle walked out of my room and headed for the apartment door. My fragile hope turning to apprehension, I folowed.

“I’l stay and I’l help—it’s the only way I can keep an eye on you. Besides, if there is something to find, I owe it to Amy to at least try.”

He looked so desperate that my heart twisted and I wondered if teling him had been the right thing to do.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and puled it on. “But after this—if we find the thing responsible or the Trackers do—I realy am leaving.”

I swalowed and nodded.

It was only a reprieve, but I would take it. I’d take it and try to figure out a way to make it permanent.

“Where are you going?”

“I promised my mom I wouldn’t be out too late. A couple of Trackers showed up at the house this morning. One of the neighbors is a member and he told them about the noise coming from our place Sunday night. The whole thing realy unnerved her.”

A knot formed in my chest as I remembered the damage A knot formed in my chest as I remembered the damage Heather had done to the Harpers’ kitchen. The idea that there had been Trackers at Kyle’s house was
way
too close for comfort.

“What did she tel them?”

“The same thing I told her and dad: it happened when no one was home and was probably a bunch of kids messing around.

Incidentaly, they think I was over here that evening.” He reached into his pocket and took out his car keys. “Anyway, the Trackers asked if they could take a look around, but since the mess had already been cleaned up, there wasn’t anything for them to find. It was lucky it took the neighbor a couple of days before he thought of mentioning it.”

Lucky. Right. It could have been worse. So much worse.

Kyle frowned. “Mom wanted to cal the police when they got home Sunday night, but Dad said there wasn’t any point.”

“Do you think he knows?” Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Kyle’s father figured things out. Maybe he could help, somehow.

“I don’t think so. I hope not.” Kyle opened the door and stepped into the hal.

Like usual, the smel of cigar smoke hung heavy on the landing.

I folowed Kyle out of the apartment and down to the street. His Honda was parked in front of the building.

I sniffed my T-shirt. “I swear, living across the hal from the guy in three A is going to leave me permanently smeling like a smoke shop.”

Kyle grinned. “It’s not that bad. Trust me. Superior nose and al.”

Superior nose. “Kyle . . .” I bit my lip. It couldn’t be that easy, Superior nose. “Kyle . . .” I bit my lip. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? “Can you smel other werewolves?”

He shook his head. “Only after they’ve started to transform. The rest of the time, they just smel like regs.”