Silver (8 page)

The rest of the day passed without incident
beside a few accusatory stares and the occasional jostle in the
hallway from Chet's gang. By the time Brock and I were alone in the
office, I was so tense my muscles shook.

Brock glanced down the hall toward the
teachers’ lounge where they held their meeting. He looked as
stressed as I felt. “Amazed we didn’t get jumped again?” he asked.
He pulled the office door shut and locked it.

“
The day isn’t over yet,” I
replied grimly. I studied both the long halls visible from the
office, but they were empty. I shook my head. “Let’s get this over
with.”

I followed him past the desks toward
Principal Stewart’s office; we stopped at a door on the left side
of the hall just before it. The keys jangled more than necessary in
Brock’s hand, and I glanced over to see him bite his lip.
“Nervous?” I asked quietly.

He grinned and shook his head. “Excited,
actually. I never thought to look in the student files for evidence
about the werewolves. Now’s my chance!”

I shook my head, not sure we would find
anything helpful. Brock opened the door and flipped on the light.
Neon hummed above, illuminating a tiny room with four filing
cabinets across the left wall and the same on the right. A short
table sat at the far end already piled with files. Brock went
straight to the third cabinet on the left. “These are the Junior
files.”

“
What about those over
there?” I asked, gesturing to the opposite row.

“
Those are students who
have already graduated.” He paused, a hand on the cabinet door. “Do
you think we should check those, too?”

I debated, then shook my head. “We don’t
have time. Let’s just pull files on Chet’s gang and go from
there.”

He started pulling files alphabetically from
the drawer. When he turned to set a few on the table, I grabbed
Mouse’s out and slipped it behind the ones I held. I fought back a
wry smile. Mouse’s real name, Nicky Strouse, left little to the
imagination as to how he had gotten his nickname.

I settled on the floor with my back against
a filing cabinet and flipped through Chet’s file. Brock leaned
against the table and did the same. We both searched silently
through the files for several minutes. I was amazed at how many
warnings and detentions Chet had received. But as far as I could
tell, he had never been suspended.

“
Um,” Brock broke the
silence a few minutes later. “What exactly are we looking
for?”

I shrugged. “Not sure, but I’m hoping I’ll
know when we find it.”

Brock turned back to his file and muttered,
“Very helpful.”

I fought back a grin and grabbed another
file. Two pages in, I stopped. I read the single sentence typed on
a plain white sheet of paper and my heart slowed. I grabbed Chet’s
file, found a similar sheet in his, then dropped it and grabbed
another file. Four pages in, I found the same thing. I dropped all
the files and leaned back against the metal cabinet; bile rose in
my throat.

“
Jaze, what’s wrong?” Brock
leaned toward me, his eyes bright with concern.

I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard,
willing the pages in the files to disappear. Only I knew they
wouldn’t. It made too much sense. “I found what we’re looking
for.”

Brock's eyebrows lifted. “Really? You look
like you found a ghost or something.”

“
Might as well have,” I
muttered. At his look, I opened Chet’s file and pointed at the
page. “Read this.”

Brock took it and cleared his throat.
“Parents killed in car accident Sophomore year.”

“
And this.” I handed him
one of the others I had found.

“
Mother died in house fire,
Freshman year.”

Wordlessly, I handed him another.

His voice grew quieter. “Father, Mother, and
older brother killed in car accident, Sophomore year.” He looked up
at me. “Jaze, what is this?”

“
There’s one in every file
I’ve looked at.” My throat tightened, but I forced out the words,
“Including my own.”

Brock stared at me as the implication hit
him. “You mean someone is killing the werewolves?”

“
The adult werewolves,” I
clarified.

“
Why would they do
that?”

My voice dropped as I fought to control the
anger. “Someone is killing off the older, stronger wolves. That
way, they can be in charge. And I have an idea just who that might
be,” I concluded with a growl.

“
Your uncle.”

I nodded and rose to my feet, jamming the
papers back into the files I held. “We’ve got to stop him.”

Brock took the files before I could mangle
them too badly and proceeded to put them back in the cabinets. “If
he’s killing off the stronger werewolves, then he’s got two alphas
left here.” He glanced at me. “Do you think he’ll try to kill you
next?”
“He’s already tried.”

“
When?” Brock asked in
surprise.

“
Remember the knives when
we were attacked in the hall? Silver knives are one of Mason’s call
signs.”

Brock frowned. “But aren't there werewolf
laws against this sort of thing? Something to stop one werewolf
from becoming too powerful?”

I nodded numbly. “There are Elders who
enforce the laws. They should be handling this. I don't know why
someone hasn't noticed that all of the Alphas are being
systematically killed off.” Rage filled me so intensely that I
couldn’t contain it anymore. I left the room before I damaged
anything.

“
Where are you going?”
Brock yelled down the hall.

“
Home. I’ve got some things
I’ve gotta do,” I shouted over my shoulder. I turned the deadbolt
and shoved through the glass doors that led out of the
office.

Brock ran after me and stopped at the doors.
“Be careful, Jaze!”

I hesitated and turned. “You have a safe way
home?”

He nodded. “Mom was planning to pick me up.
Clothes shopping or something like that.” He shuddered. “Looking
forward to it.”

I nodded. “Okay, be safe. I’ll meet you
tomorrow at your place.” I turned and jogged down the street,
glancing back once to make sure that Brock locked himself safely
back in the school.

When I reached our house, I went straight to
my room and pulled out the chest with Dad’s belongings. Until that
point, I hadn’t truly wanted to believe that Uncle Mason, my
father’s own brother, was the one who had killed him. But in light
of what I had found, and with Mason showing up today, it was
undeniable. I pulled the leather jacket up to my face and took a
deep breath. Dad’s scent, the wild warm smell of the woods, the
hunt, and a touch of Mom’s flowery perfume surrounded me. I closed
my eyes tight against the tears that spilled down my cheeks.

He had been a good dad, the best a boy could
ask for. He had taken me to little league games, taught me how to
fish, catch, camp, and the intricacies involved in werewolf life.
With him, nothing had seemed impossible. Now, everything did. I
thought of Mom, the way she tried to hold everything together by
moving us to this new place. How would she feel if she knew Mason
had been the one to give Dad up to the Hunters, and that he knew
where we were now? I wouldn’t run again, but she wasn’t safe.

I leaned against the bed, the jacket across
my knees.

“
What would you do, Dad?” I
whispered past the knot in my throat. There were too many people
here who would be hurt if I left. Chet, for all his bravado and
hostility, had a pack to take care of, a pack that would be turned
over to Mason if my uncle got rid of him. Then I thought of Nikki.
What if she was there when Mason went after Chet? I had to warn
her. But how?

I put the jacket back in the chest, looked
at Dad’s few remaining belongings one last time, then shut it and
pushed it back under the bed. I surveyed the cardboard boxes around
my room, then opened the first one with the old computer Mom had
given me.

My muscles tensed when the front door
opened. “Hey kiddo, I’m home,” Mom called. The door shut and she
made her way to the kitchen followed by the sound of plastic bags
and a few paper ones dumped on the table. The scent of orange
chicken and rice wafted up the stairs. My stomach growled and I
followed it down to the kitchen.

“
I brought Chinese,” Mom
said in a muffled voice, her head buried in the refrigerator. She
then looked back at me with a warm smile. “But I guess you already
knew that.”

I laughed. “The nose knows.” We repeated
Dad’s favorite saying at the same time, then stopped and looked at
each other. I couldn’t take the sadness in Mom’s eyes, the rush of
memories and the knowledge of what was taken away from us. Anger at
Mason came so quickly it stole my breath and I had to look away for
a moment, afraid of what she would see on my face. I took a breath
and forced a laugh as I turned back. “Dad always said I could smell
food from a mile away.”

Mom laughed too, tiny laugh lines at the
corners of her eyes. “And he could smell it from two.” She rose to
her feet with a sigh. “I keep pretending he’s away on a business
trip or something; that one of these days he’ll come through the
door with a vase of daisies.”

I nodded. Though my heart protested, I gave
in to the urge to talk about him. “I dream about him sometimes,
about running through the forest as wolves, and of the first time
he took us to the lake. Do you remember that?”

Mom laughed. “He was like a little kid at
Disneyland. That was when he taught you how to track. You couldn’t
have been more than eight or nine.”

“
Seven,” I remembered. “He
kept saying seven was magical because that’s when werewolves turn
into wolves for the first time.”

“
He was so proud when he
found out you were an Alpha,” Mom said. She reached over and
fondled my dark blond hair. “Who would’ve thought?”

“
I still wonder why. You’re
not a werewolf. At the most, I should have been a gray.”

Mom nodded. “Our little miracle.”

I had stopped believing in miracles, but
didn't say so. I threw out my next thought. “I worry about you all
by yourself, Mom. Do you want to visit Aunt Sam or something?”

She looked at me in surprise. “And leave you
here by yourself? There’s no way I could do that.”

“
I’d be okay, I’ve got
friends at school, and Brock could stay over.”

She shook her head, already protesting. “No,
I don’t want to leave you alone, especially not now. The full
moon’s coming up and you shouldn’t be alone.”

I grimaced. “I have a week. It’ll be
okay.”

She shook her head again with the stubborn
look on her face that said she wasn’t going to budge. “I’m not
leaving you, and that’s the end of the discussion. There’s too much
going on right now and I can’t leave my job anyway.”

But the way she said it left a slight hope
that I might be able to make it work if I handled it correctly. I
dropped the subject as quick as I could. “Okay, no problem. I just
worry about you, that’s all.”

She set some paper plates on the table and
smiled at me. “Worry about me? I’m the parent, I should be worrying
about you, and I do.”

“
I’m fine, really.
Everything’s going great at school.” I had never been a very good
liar, but luckily she was occupied with setting out the food and
didn’t notice.

“
I’m glad to hear it.” She
handed me a pair of chopsticks and I took the seat across from her.
We both glanced at the empty chair that would have been
Dad’s.

“
He wanted what was best
for us. He’d want us to be happy,” she said quietly.

I nodded. “We will be.” I hoped I sounded
more positive than I felt.

I must have because she grabbed my hand
across the table and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“
For what?”

“
For being the best son a
mother could ask for,” she replied. Tears glistened in her
eyes.

I shook my head. “Mom-“

“
No,” she replied firmly,
“I’m serious. You’ve just gone through something no boy ever
should, and you’ve handled it so maturely. Losing your dad, going
to a new school, starting a new life. I’ve had to work and I
haven’t been there for you like I should. It hasn’t been easy, but
you haven’t made it harder.”

I blinked back tears at the pain in her
voice. “It’s okay, Mom. We’re going to be okay.”

She smiled at me and gave my hand one last
squeeze. Then she sat back and wiped her tears away. “You’re right.
We are going to be okay.” She smiled down at her food and attempted
to set her chopsticks in her hand correctly so she could use them
to eat. They kept slipping until she finally tossed them on the
table and grabbed a fork. “I never could get those right,” she
laughed.

I waved the chicken I held firmly in my own
chopsticks and she threw a fortune cookie at me. “Show off!”

Chapter 9

I grabbed my skates by the back door and
pushed it open.

“
Wait,” Mom called from the
living room.

I turned reluctantly. “Yeah?”

She appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You
going out? Isn’t there a curfew or something?”

I shrugged. “Just to keep the kids out of
trouble. You know me, I’ll be good.” I fought back a smile.

She caught sight of the skates and her
eyebrows rose. “You’re going roller skating? You haven’t worn those
things for years.”

“
I have some friends I’m
meeting up with.”

She looked skeptical, but finally shrugged.
“Okay, just don’t get in trouble. I don’t want to get on a first
name basis with the sheriff like our last town.”