Finally, I looked over at him. “And I’ve made it.”
He held my gaze, eyes searching. I don’t know if he found what he wanted, but eventually he nodded tightly. He brought up his left arm, palm toward the sky. All the tattoos on his arms had faded except for one, which was a deep and earthy green. It was two lines waving in sync with each other. He rubbed two fingers over them and muttered under his breath. The air turned static and my ears popped. The wolves around me growled and I looked back at Elizabeth.
The circle flared briefly and then went black. Dull and lifeless.
And then I heard it.
Low growling. Snarls. Small and angry.
I took a step toward Elizabeth. I held out my hand.
She pressed her nose against my palm and breathed in and out.
And then silence.
Hands stretched over Elizabeth from her other side. Black claws.
“Joe,” I said quietly.
And he launched himself at me. Before I could move. Before I could think. There was a shout of warning, harsh growls. I was knocked off my feet, a heavy weight atop me. Claws dug into my shoulders, little pinpricks that burned. I saw flashes of teeth, eyes that flickered orange and red and blue and green. A nose was at my neck. My cheek. Inhaling me. Breathing me in.
He said, “Ox,” and it was low and dark and angry.
He was caught partway between boy and wolf, like Thomas had been. Thomas had been in control of his.
Joe was not.
White hairs grew and receded along his arms and face. Fangs pierced his gums, then grew flat. There was a boy. Then a half wolf. Then a boy again. He groaned and said, “Ox, it hurts it hurts it—” and the rest was lost as his wolf came forward and words dissolved into spitting growls. His eyes flew through the shifting colors and for a moment, the colors combined into something like violet and violence and the claws on my chest pressed down harder. I winced at the pain and heard others around me and it sounded like they were about to tear him away from me and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let them take him away.
I said, “My dad left when I was twelve.”
Everyone grew quiet.
The claws pulled away, only just.
“He drank too much. I told myself nothing was wrong, but there was. I think he used to hit my mom, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get the courage to ask her. She wore a dress to a picnic once and I think he tore it, and if I find out he did, if he hurt her and I didn’t know, then I would make him suffer.”
Joe whined, sounding pained.
“He put his suitcase by the door and he left. He said I was dumb and stupid and that people were going to give me shit. He told me he didn’t want to regret me and so he had to leave. The thing is, I think he already did. I think he regretted every single part of his life. But he was right about some things. I was dumb and stupid because I thought he’d come back. I thought he’d come back one day smelling like he always did, of motor oil and Pabst and sweat, because that is the smell of my father.”
And it was. It had always been that way.
“But he didn’t come back. And he won’t. I know. But it’s not because I did anything wrong. He was the one that was wrong. He left and we stayed and he was wrong. But I’m okay with that now. I’m okay with getting left behind because I have my mom. I have Gordo and the guys. And I have you. Joe, if I hadn’t gotten left behind, I wouldn’t have you, so you need to focus, okay? Because I can’t have anything happen to you. I need you here with me, Joe, and I don’t care if you’re a boy or a wolf. Stuff like that don’t matter to me. You’re my friend, and I can’t lose that. I will never regret you. Ever.”
It was the most I’d ever spoken at one time. My mouth felt dry, my tongue thick. I ached all over, from everything. I heard my father’s voice in my head, and he laughed at me. He said it wouldn’t work. “You’re gonna get shit,” he said.
I hadn’t known when Gordo had tethered himself to me. Not in a way that could be defined.
But I knew what it was now.
And I felt it. This warmth in my chest, up through my neck and arms. My face and legs. Like little flutters of sunlight through the leaves of a tree.
The wolves around me began to howl. Their song rolled over me, and I thought it would break me apart. I yelled along with them, melding my voice with theirs. I’m sure it was nothing like the song of a wolf, the measly cry of a human. But I gave it all I had because it was all I could give.
The howls died down.
The weight lifted from my chest.
I opened my eyes.
Above me stood a wolf. He was smaller than the others. Thinner. And he was pure white, not a single discoloration on his entire body. His ears twitched. His nostrils flared.
He looked down at me. His eyes were orange, bright, and beautiful. They flared briefly before they faded back to his normal blue, and I knew he was in there. I knew it was still the little boy who thought I smelled of pinecones and candy canes. Of epic and awesome. I tried not to think about how many things made more sense now, because it threatened to overwhelm me.
So instead, I said, “Hey, Joe.”
And he tipped his head back and sang.
THEY RAN through the clearing. Into the trees. Back out again. Chasing each other. Nipping at each other’s heels.
Joe was gangly at first. Unsure. He tripped over his own feet. Sprawled face-first into the ground. Got caught up in sights and sounds and smells.
He ran at me full speed. Feinted left when I braced myself. Yipped loudly as he flew by me. Turned back. Rubbed against my legs like a cat. Nose in my hand.
And then he was off again.
Thomas and Elizabeth stayed close by him. They’d growl at him softly if he started to get overexcited.
Mark sat next to me, almost as tall as I was. He chuffed quietly to himself while he watched Joe.
Carter and Kelly broke off into the woods. I could hear them crashing through the trees and underbrush. Stealthy predators, those.
And then it all hit me. It all crashed down upon my shoulders.
Reality shifted because it had to.
I inhaled sharply.
Mark whined softly at my side.
Gordo said, “Are you okay?” and I said, “Holy shit.”
Gordo didn’t laugh. I didn’t expect him to.
“They’re fucking werewolves!”
“Yes, Ox.”
“You’re a fucking wizard.”
“I’m a witch,” he said with a scowl.
“Why the fuck did you keep all of this from me!” I roared.
It wasn’t meant to come out like that.
It was meant to be reasonable. Calm.
But I was scared and angry and confused and reality was shifting. Things made sense, so much more sense now, but they didn’t. At all. The world was not full of monsters and magic. It was meant to be mundane and marred with little broken pieces of fucking retard and you’re gonna get shit, Ox.
And it wasn’t just meant for Gordo. No.
It was meant for all of them.
The wolves. The witch. The fucking tethers.
Don’t make me regret you too, my father had said, and for some reason, all I could think about were the motes of dust in their (her) room, dancing in the sunlight while I touched the curved stitches that spelled out Curtis, Curtis, Curtis.
But that was then and this was now.
Because I was (not) twelve anymore.