3: Joshua
Blackridge had a lone wolf statue standing guard to the right of its front gate.
Joshua eyed the bronze wolf in confusion. He’d thought that there were a pair of statues flanking the wrought iron gate. He’d dreamed there were two—but there was only one.
As he stared at the black wolf in confusion, he remembered that his cousin, Jack Cabot, had told him that there once had been matching statues. Joshua’s birth mother, though, had smashed the one to the left when she flung it at his father. Cabot had mentioned the story in a constant flood of anecdotes and useless information like: if a girl gives you a condom, that means she wants to have sex with you. (Had Cabot actually looked at Joshua? Girls were not into short, hairy nerds with odd nervous ticks.)
Cabot’s story about the statues had washed over Joshua and was gone, seemingly forgotten. It must have made a deeper impression than he realized. In his dream, the two wolves guarding the gate in the past had not been a matched set. The one to the right of the gate was the same as it stood in front of him now: large, black, its right haunch worn smooth. The missing wolf on the left had been red with a little gold Star Trek insignia on its chest.
In this dream, the two wolves had carried on light banter while staying frozen in place, not even their mouths moving.
“He’s going to get it right,” the red wolf said.
“No. No,” the black wolf said. “He’s hopeless. We’re all clueless in things like that. I think it goes with our coloration. Black for dense.”
“It’s been every day for a month,” the red wolf said. “He’s not that stupid.”
“Shh! Here they come!” the black wolf said.
“They” were a teenage girl and a little boy in Blackridge uniforms. The girl’s tight sweater vest said that she had already hit puberty, but she was only a head taller than the kindergartener that she led by the hand. The two were ambling toward the wolves, slowed by the boy’s short legs. They swung their hands back and forth, singing in Russian. In a way that was only logical in dreams, Joshua knew the song was a grim lullaby warning a baby that if it slept too close to the edge of the bed, a wolf would drag it off into the forest. Joshua had also known that this was his birth mother, Anastasia, and the kindergartener was his cousin, Jack Cabot.
The pair stopped before the gate to rub the worn shoulder of the black wolf.
“Udachi!” the girl said in Russian and then repeated it in thickly accented English. “Good luck.”
“There he is!” the black wolf cried.
“He” was a lanky teenage boy in Blackridge uniform jogging down the street. Joshua knew this was his father, Gerald Tatterskein. In the school principal’s office, there was a picture of his father, painted shortly before he was killed. In the painting, Gerald seemed like a tall, regal prince. In the flesh, Gerald seemed like a younger, dorkier version of Joshua’s half brother, Seth.
“Get it right,” the red wolf whispered. “Get it right. Get it right. Get it right.”
“Hey!” the boy called. “Hi, Jack! Hi, Annie!”
The girl snapped around. “What did you say?”
“Oh, boy,” the black wolf whispered.
“Hi, Annie,” Gerald repeated, sounding slightly confused.
She snatched up the red wolf statue. “My name is Anastasia!”
“No!” The hapless statue wailed as it went flying toward Gerald. It plowed through the teenage boy, taking him with it as it sailed another dozen feet down the sidewalk before shattering into a dozen bloody pieces.
Gerald lay dead still for a moment, and then groaned out a curse, “Are you mad? That could have killed me!”
“Clueless,” the black wolf sighed. “Oh, I’m going to miss you, my dear, dear, friend. My soulmate.”
The wolf wept as the gray skies poured down rain.
The dream had left Joshua uneasy. Why was he having these weird dreams? Was the dream about the wolf statues a normal nightmare fueled by what Cabot told him, or like his weird Frog Pond dream, somehow real? If it was real, what was it trying to tell him?
His mom—the woman who raised him—always said that there was a person for everyone. She meant that he would get a girlfriend—someday—if he was lucky. That was when he was just short, hairy, and dorky. Now he was also a werewolf. He doubted very much that his social life would improve.
Joshua had known nothing about Boston when he left home in New York State, yet he had “seen” the very real statues around the Frog Pond in his nightmare. In hindsight, it was easy to see that dream had been a warning that the Wickers had set up camp in the parking garage under Boston Commons. Joshua had gone to the park, waded through Frog Pond, and never found any clues that the Wickers were literally right under his feet. Because he didn’t know how to decode the prophetic vision, it had been an utterly useless exercise.
Were the wolf statues another important nightmare that he couldn’t decode?
The only reason the wolf-statue dream seemed so “true” to him was because he could recall it with such detail. He knew that both wolves probably had been black. The red wolf with the Star Trek insignia was an obvious reference to security officers in red shirts being killed in the original TV show. He knew that Anastasia had lived with Jack Cabot’s family, so it was reasonable to imagine that she’d walked to school with Cabot. Had Joshua “seen” some version of the truth, or had the dream just been something his imagination knitted together from whole cloth?
And what about the talking penguin?
According to Wikipedia, there were around twenty different species of penguins. The one in his dream matched up to pictures of southern rockhoppers. They were one of the two types that the New England Aquarium claimed that they had. The webcam from the aquarium’s official webpage showed the same rocky island that he dreamed.
What’s more, southern rockhoppers could be found on the coast of Argentina. The internet said that the curse that the penguin muttered at him, “Sos un boludo,” was a phrase commonly used by Argentinians that roughly meant “dumbass.”
Joshua had known none of this when he’d gone to bed. Not the Argentinian insult, the breeding grounds of rock hoppers, nor the existence of an aquarium just a few subway stations away. How could he “know” all of that if his dream wasn’t—in some way—true?
The aquarium’s webcam showed only normal-looking penguins doing normal penguin stuff. But in the dream, the penguin that talked to him looked like all the others.
Was there an Argentinian were-penguin—or some weird monster that just looked like a rockhopper—at the aquarium? Did it want to hire him? To do what?
And should he be even thinking about it right now? He was about to start his first day at a new school—as a werewolf!
At his old high school, Joshua was the target of every bully. It was as if he had a huge flashing sign over his head saying Tease Me that offered a free prize for anyone who scored a hit. Joshua used to imagine that the prize was a giant stuffed animal that the winner could give their girlfriend to carry around as a status symbol. “I’m dating a stud” the toy would proclaim to all. It would explain why the bullies ignored the fact that Joshua had a brown belt in judo. He could and would wipe the floor with them. He had been able to since he was nine. He routinely proved that he wasn’t an easy target—and yet the bullies continued to pick fights with him.
It was that illogical compulsion of bullies to pick on Joshua that made him worry. He was a werewolf now. He wasn’t always the person at the helm of his shared body. His wolf was inhumanly strong with no impulse control.
“There’s a school legend about that statue.” A black Asian girl stood just inside the gate. She wore a school uniform with dark blue blazer, white sweater over a blouse, plaid skirt, and knee-high socks. She couldn’t have been standing there long, as it was near freezing out. Her long black hair was up in pigtails. She wore black fingernail polish, lipstick, and eyeshadow. “They say a wealthy couple met here as students, fell in love, and got married. They picked out two wolves to guard the gate that they used to walk through together. The statues were to be a lasting symbol of their love. Shortly after the couple got married, though, the girl was killed. They say that the male wolf went off to find her killer.”
That was…romantic? Joshua wasn’t sure. If what Cabot had told him was true, the left-hand statue had been smashed before his parents fell in love.
His face must have shown his disbelief in the story because the girl shrugged.
“Yeah, the story isn’t completely accurate,” she said. “But oral histories are like that. Everything grows and changes and evolves in the telling, but at the very heart of it is a seed of truth. Two young lovers. One missing wolf. They’re tied together with one tangled red thread.” She reached into her pocket and held out a piece of bright red Twizzlers licorice. “Candy?”
His mom and dad—the parents who raised him without bashing each other with statues—told him never to take candy from strangers. The girl seemed very strange. His wolf had the licorice in Joshua’s mouth, however, before he could say no.
A second piece and then a third followed. The fourth she kept and nibbled on. The red was vivid against her black lipstick.
“I’m sorry,” Joshua said once his mouth wasn’t filled with candy. “Who exactly are you?”
“Ji Su Wise.”
“She’s so wise?”
“No, if I was truly wise, someone else would be standing here, talking to the—to you.” She held out another piece of candy to distract the wolf from whatever she almost said. “Ji Su.” She said it again, even slower. “Jeeee Suuu.”
The wolf growled with annoyance.
“Close enough.” She handed him the rest of the bag. “Moving on. It went through the grapevine that you’d been enrolled and would be starting this morning. Everyone thought that someone should welcome you to Blackridge and make sure you had what you needed.”
“Everyone?” Joshua glanced toward a knot of girls about his age walking past, not even giving him a second look.
“The Goths. Or at least, that’s what the normal kids call us. Some of us embrace the image. Some don’t. As a black Korean, I’ve learned that you don’t get to pick your labels. People just stick them on you. To the Koreans, I’m black. To the blacks, I’m Korean. Frankly, I’m glad to have a group that no one can debate whether I’m part of it or not.”
“And by Goths, you are…?”
“We’re the gifted.”
In his old school, the “gifted” were the honor roll students. They were called mostly geeks, nerds, and teachers’ pets. They were the ones who secretly ran the school in terms of AV, theater, and the after-school clubs that didn’t involve chasing balls.
“Who told you about me?” The penguin had known all about him. That Joshua was Seth’s brother. That he went to Blackridge. That he lived with Decker.
“Spirits talk,” Ji Su said.
“Who?” Joshua said.
“Spirits. They know things that you don’t expect them to know. It’s like they’re all connected up to a supernatural internet and have nothing better to do than to share memes.”
“Memes? Wait. By ‘gifted’ do you mean…” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He fiddled his fingers and went “oooOOOooo” to mean spooky horror movie stuff.
Ji Su huffed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, we have certain powers. You’ve met Winnie Whitebrow. I’m a medium like her.”
Joshua glanced around. Winnie’s spirit guide towered over her like some ghost tree. There weren’t any weird towering shadows around them.
Ji Su cleared her throat and pointed downward. A snakelike shadow hid behind Ji Su’s ankles even as Joshua glanced down. It looked like a rat snake with a head and eyes that indicated it wasn’t poisonous. It had a blotchy brown-and-tan pattern on its scales like camouflage.
“This is Nam-gi,” Ji Su said. “He is a very young imugi.”
“A what?” Joshua shifted to the side in an attempt to look it closer, but the ghost snake ducked back out of sight behind Ji Su’s legs.
“They’re dragons…well, almost dragons,” Ji Su said. “They can become a true dragon if they catch a yeouiju which has fallen from heaven.”
“A what?” Joshua had the feeling he was going to be saying that a lot today.
She gave him a “come on” wave. “It would be best that you’re not late for homeroom on your first day.”
* * *
Joshua had only a few scattered memories of grade school. They were like snapshots: isolated moments with no clear order to them. He wasn’t sure if this was normal or something to do with being a werewolf.
He remembered being excited about the prospect of starting kindergarten. His older adoptive sister Bethy went to school every day; he wanted to do whatever she was doing. Judging by the artwork she brought home, there would be lots of crayons and clay involved. He loved Play-Doh. His mom stopped buying it because he ate it all. (When he was little, he had a bad habit of chewing on anything that he got his hands on.) He was sure that grade school would be the most wonderful place on Earth.
He could remember part of the first day of kindergarten. They sat in a circle, each kid introducing themselves. It had been going fairly smoothly until the boy sitting beside him said, “My name is Timmy Tinkles.”
“Tinkles?” someone on the other side of the circle cried. “Your name is Timmy Goes Pee?”
The room erupted into cries of “Timmy Tinkles!” and laughter.
Joshua laughed until he realized that Timmy was crying. He felt guilty. The teacher got the class quieted down to soft giggles and then asked Joshua, “What’s your name?”
He said it loudly to drown out the whispers of laughter. He said it without fear because he never had considered what his surname sounded like. Maybe if Timmy Tinkles hadn’t been in his class, no one would have made the leap because it wasn’t something your mother said in innocence. He couldn’t remember who shouted his name and made it clear how it could be twisted into something cruel. He couldn’t remember deciding to attack the boy (it was a boy, that much he could remember). He could remember leaping across the circle with a snarl of anger worthy of his wolf.
Everything else after that was blank. He knew he graduated from kindergarten because first grade followed.
He had a handful of good memories from grade school. At some point, the dorks and nerds and social outcasts drifted together and became friends. He couldn’t remember the first tentative hello, or the decision to play together, or how it came to be that they all sat together at lunch. Their friendship just was from a very early time. The kids who were his fellow outcasts in first grade were his only friends in twelfth grade with the exception of Chris and D.J., who had drifted off and somehow become popular. They also ended up dead at the haunted house with the prom committee, the football team, and one teenage witch.
He couldn’t remember how he made friends in his old school. How did it work? Did you just slowly fall together until it became a forgone conclusion? Had he forgotten some mysterious rite that made them friends?
Were those kids really his “friends” or just fellow residents of the country of Unpopular? It was not so terrible a place. They huddled together at lunch, talking about their shared obsessions with science fiction and fantasy books, television shows and movies. They’d spend the hour fighting over who was the better Star Trek captain or which Avenger was strongest or comparing Easter eggs they’d found in the newest video game. They shared the dream of escaping their backwater existence for high-paying tech jobs in a big city.
After Joshua learned judo, though, it seemed like he’d become the standing army of Unpopular. As such, he was expected to defend the nerds and geeks who sought asylum within Unpopular’s safe borders. Again, and again, he’d been drawn into disputes between one of the citizens of Unpopular and one or more of the various bullies who lived in Popular Country. Usually the bullies started it, but not always. Having a standing army sometimes made the most cowardly geek cocky.
Decker was inhumanely resilient and had a powerful regenerative ability. He took no lasting harm every time he startled Joshua into judo-throwing him. (The vampire was far too quiet for his own good.) A normal high school bully, however, wouldn’t survive being tossed across the room…through a wall…out a window. Joshua needed to get through half a year at Blackridge without killing anyone. It meant that he needed to make friends—and not with the inhabitants of Unpopular. He didn’t have enough control over his wolf to be the standing army at a new school.
Was Ji Su meeting him at the gate a preemptive strike? Were the Goths claiming him as their champion? Nothing trumped a werewolf at the lunch table.
Seth had been proud and wistful showing off his—their—family’s school. He claimed that all of the teachers and most of the students had no clue that werewolves existed. Joshua wasn’t sure how they could be so clueless as there were pictures and statues of wolves everywhere. The school’s mascot was a black wolf wearing a gold crown.
Seth explained that the original school structures had been clapboard but those had been replaced a hundred years later with the present-day stone buildings. As ruthless businessmen who could heal from almost every type of wound and were immune to all diseases, their forefathers had flourished in the new world. The Tatterskeins had gained an unsavory reputation that they wanted to shield their children from. If the blue bloods of Europe sent their kids to fancy cathedrallike schools, so would they. No money had been spared building Blackridge and it showed. That it was designed by werewolves for werewolves also showed. There were massive trunklike columns scattered everywhere. Some were for structural support, but most were there merely to make the wide hallways seem like a forest. Wooden ceiling beams stretched out like tree limbs. Light filtered through green-and-gold-stained glass, creating a dappled sunlight-through-leaves effect.
His wolf liked it. It wanted Joshua to like it too. It was giving little pleading whines.
Ji Su ignored the whining.
It seemed as if everyone else noticed Joshua’s uneasiness—at least at some unconscious level. Joshua’s progress down the hall was like a wolf plowing through a herd of sheep. Everyone in the hallways scuttled into rooms, fleeing the conflicted werewolf. In Joshua’s wake, doors slammed shut.
“Exactly how many people here are Goth?” Joshua asked. Maybe the population of Unpopular was so large that it ruled the school.
Ji Su snorted. “Normal people can pick up that something is wrong if you run around dialed up to eleven. You need to calm down.”
She led him to his locker and walked him through opening the combination lock. He had brought everything that he thought he might need. His backpack was stuffed with notebooks, pens, calculators, and his laptop. He also had a massive, insulated lunch bag and a gym bag with a change of exercise clothes. (Yes, his gym class was on Wednesday, but he wanted to be prepared for anything just in case that “naked at school” nightmare was a prophetic dream.) He was glad that the lockers were roomier than those of his last school. He left the gym bag, lunch bag, and coat in the locker but took his backpack with him.
“Okay, one more thing before homeroom.” Ji Su led Joshua to a boy standing at his open locker, hanging up his heavy winter coat. “This is Ajax Ayres.”
Ajax glanced over his shoulder. “Hi, Jiji.”
“This is the new transfer student that I told you about.” Ji Su flicked her hand toward Joshua. “Ajax will be your study partner on Thursday during sixth-period study hall for AP Comparative Government. You’ll be meeting in the library.”
“What?” Joshua said. “Study partner?”
Ajax was surprisingly short—one of the few guys that Joshua had ever met that he could look straight in the eye. While they were both in the same school uniform, the other boy was clean and neat in a way that made Joshua feel like a scruffy mutt. He could smell the product in the boy’s stylish short brown hair. Did the other guys do that? Joshua glanced beyond Ajax to the boy at the next locker down. Ajax’s neighbor was taller with broader shoulders, but he too was using some kind of product to guarantee a sleek, combed-back hairstyle.
“We have class together right after lunch on Thursday, so I can catch you up to speed afterward with it all fresh in your mind,” Ajax said.
Ajax didn’t look Goth. He was cute in a boy-band way—the innocent baby-faced one—and stylishly groomed. Maybe he was one of the “Goths” that didn’t embrace being different.
Joshua pointed at the boy. “Is Ajax one of you?”
Ajax shot a hurt and angry look at Ji Su. “That’s so not cool.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Ji Su fended off the look with upraised hands.
“It doesn’t matter what my birth certificate says,” Ajax said. “I’m just as much a normal American boy as you are.”
“What? Is he…a…a…you know?” Joshua twiddled his fingers in the air to mime what Winnie did to send Fred off to fetch dead spirits.
“Transgendered!” Ji Su said loudly.
“Oh! So…he doesn’t have a…” Joshua trailed off while pointing down at the shadow that was Ji Su’s spirit animal.
“That—that’s private information,” Ajax said firmly.
Ji Su pressed her hand to her forehead. “Ajax is the valedictorian for your class and your class president. He volunteered to tutor you. That is all.”
Not Goth. Normal. “Transgendered” finally sunk in. “Wait.” A hard look from Ji Su warned Joshua not to probe. He scrambled to insert a reasonable question. “Where’s the library?”
“I’ll tell you later. Come on. Homeroom bell is going to ring.” Ji Su backed away, gesturing for Joshua to follow. Once they were out of hearing range, Ji Su added, “I’ll let you know when someone is a ‘Goth’ like me. There’s only a handful of us per grade. The trustees have never demanded Blackridge be a profit generator, so it can afford to refuse someone with deep pockets and little social graces.”
“What?” Joshua said.
“They don’t admit bullies. There’s a screening process that winnows out idiots that would try to go toe to toe with werewolves. The trustees saw no reason to lower their standards after the massacre. We Goths are given high school scholarships to tie our loyalty to your family. We get to have a quality education at a school where bullies are banned. You have no idea how hellish a public school can be when you have ‘an invisible friend that talks to you.’ We’re even given opportunities to qualify for a college scholarship. It matters a lot to us.”
In other words, Ji Su saw herself in debt to his family. She was determined to pay them back by taking Joshua under her wing—even if he scared her silly.
A bell rang. It made Joshua jump and Ji Su curse.
“That’s the library.” She pointed at set of closed double doors. She turned to point at an open doorway across the hall. “That’s your homeroom. You’re with Mr. Williams. I’m a junior. I’m upstairs.”
Quiet started to fall as the classroom doors were closed.
“You have two Goths in your homeroom.” Ji Su held up two fingers. “Allie and Tal. Allie went home for Thanksgiving, and she got stuck in Albany because of the blizzard. I don’t think she knows what’s been going on. If you have any question, ask Tal.”
A second bell rang. Ji Su winced. “Stay chill. You’ve got this.” She gave a wave and dashed off.
Joshua stared after her, feeling lost. Was he going to be able to tell which girl was Allie? Was Tal a girl or a boy?
* * *
The forest motif continued inside the classrooms. The arched leaded-glass windows had wooden frames carved to look like trees. The cherry wainscoting was capped with a carved frieze molding of running oak leaves and acorns. The walls were painted a rich green. His wolf liked it. Joshua clenched his jaw against the pleading whine.
I like it, he told his wolf despite his misgivings. You don’t need to whimper!
His old school had had steel chairs with built-in desktops. They had been little islands of safety. He could subtly shift them away from a bully’s reach under the guise of dropping his books onto the desk or slinging his backpack onto the chair.
Blackridge had long oak tables and wooden chairs. There were seats for twenty students. Only a dozen had been taken but the remaining seats all put Joshua shoulder to shoulder with a stranger. The boys—with their uniforms and hair product—all looked weird to him. Too polished. The boys at his old school never looked like Hollywood stars. None of the six girls looked “Goth.” Which one was Allie? The girl with glasses and braces? The girl with purple streaked hair? The Asian girl staring at him with open curiosity? How could everyone seem to be able to tell that he was a werewolf at first glance, but he couldn’t pick out the “gifted” from normal students?
Mr. Williams was a young African American man who looked more like a student than a teacher. The man was attempting to grow a beard to separate him from his charges, but it merely looked like he’d forgotten to shave for a week. “Yes, I was told to expect a…special…transfer student.”
The man sounded annoyed but that might have been because of his slight accent. Joshua guessed that it might be British or perhaps something more exotic, like Jamaican. Joshua had only heard both on television, so he wasn’t sure. What did “special” mean in terms of “transfer student”?
“Listen up!” Mr. Williams called to the classroom. It quieted instantly, a huge difference from Joshua’s public school experience. “We’ve got a new student.” He waved to Joshua. “Introduce yourself.”
“What?” Joshua had a sudden flash to kindergarten.
Mr. Williams indicated that Joshua was to address the class. “Introduce yourself.”
Everyone in the room looked at Joshua.
The wolf’s enthusiasm for the classroom vanished into annoyance. It didn’t like everyone staring at him.
Joshua swallowed down the urge to growl. “Hi.” He waved until he realized how stupid it looked. “I’m Joshua.”
“Joshua what?” Mr. Williams said. “You need to give your full name when you introduce yourself.”
“I’m Joshua…” He almost said his old name but caught himself in time. “I’m Joshua Tatterskein.”
“All the Tatterskeins are dead!” a girl in the back of the room stated loudly. Everyone turned in their seats to look at her. She sat at the last table glaring at Joshua like he was lying. Her brown hair was cut in an asymmetrical shaved bob and streaked with purple. She’d picked the version of the school uniform with slacks, blazer, and tie that gave her a very boyish look.
“All the Tatterskeins were killed three years ago,” the girl continued. “Everyone knows that. Seth was the only one that survived the massa—” The girl caught herself before finishing the word “massacre.” She swapped in the official story. “Seth was the only one that survived the fire at their house. He was in New York City when…when…when the fire broke out.”
The Tatterskeins weren’t killed in a fire. A breach had opened in the subway tunnels under Boston. Magic had flooded out of the tear in reality. It transformed every living creature in its path into monsters. Mice. Rats. People. Only magical creatures were immune to the effect, protected by their link to their source of power. Decker and the Grigori had joined forces with the wolves to try and contain the monsters while the Prince closed the breach. The fighting had spilled into the connected basements of the town houses where the werewolves lived. Seth’s mother, elderly grandmother, and all his little brothers had been torn to pieces before their father managed to close the breach. The Wolf King and his Thane arrived shortly afterward to mop up the remaining monsters. By then, all the werewolves and half the Grigori were dead. Since the town houses had taken heavy structural damage, the Wolf King had decided to burn the Court down to cover the otherwise unexplainable deaths of the entire Tatterskein family. In the matter of hours, Seth had lost his parents, his little brothers, his entire extended family, and his ancestral home.
“Allie,” the boy on the other end of her table murmured in warning. “Look closely. You’ll see. He’s a Tatterskein.”
Joshua guessed that meant that the boy was Tal.
“I can see what he is but that doesn’t mean he’s a Tatterskein,” Allie complained.
“Miss Thompson, this is not debate class,” Mr. Williams said.
“I’m Seth’s older half brother,” Joshua said. “My mother was Anastasia. Originally my name was Ilya but it…it got changed. I’m Joshua now.”
“O. M. G. they found you?” Allie cried. “The…The…The kidnappers didn’t kill you?”
The word “kidnappers” made everyone turn and stare at Joshua. He put his hand over his mouth to keep from growling. Mr. Williams gave Joshua a surprised glance. Apparently, no one had warned him about Joshua’s past.
“Miss Thompson.” The teacher’s tone warned her to be quiet or face consequences. “Our private lives are that: private. We do not push people on their religious view, their sexual preferences, or their economic background.”
“But this is different,” Allie said.
“We do not force people to talk about things they consider private,” Mr. Williams said firmly.
The girl huffed but stopped asking questions.
“Mr. Tatterskein, will you please find a seat?” Mr. Williams waved, indicating that Joshua was to take any free chair.
The wolf didn’t want to sit anywhere near Allie. Joshua didn’t trust it not to snap. He sat down in the front row in the chair closest to the window. It was snowing again outside. He ate the rest of the candy, trying to think of calming thoughts.
Mr. Williams tapped on his desk. “Today was the last day to turn in your permission slips for the field trip. I’m missing two.”
“Field trip?” Joshua echoed. In his penguin dream, he had been on a field trip.
“I have yours,” Mr. William said as if that explained everything. “Your guardian signed it when you were enrolled.”
Who was his guardian? The Wolf King? Jack Cabot? Seth? Surely, they didn’t let a sixteen-year-old sign the permission slip for his older brother.
Mr. Williams considered a list on his desk. “Miss Hatcher?”
“I’ve got an orthodontist appointment,” the girl with braces said. “They’re finally coming off. There’s no way I’m missing it. I will snowshoe to my doctors if I have to.”
“Considering the weather report, you might have to,” Mr. Williams said. “Mr. Palfrey?”
“Yeah?” Mr. Palfrey was Tal, sitting in the back of the room with his fellow Goth.
“Permission slip?” Mr. Williams said.
“It’s signed but I’m not going,” Tal said.
Mr. Williams snapped his fingers together, demanding the paper.
Tal stood up. He wore something made of thin black plastic instead of pants. It hung from his waist like a skirt. Everyone stared in surprise.
“What are you wearing?” Mr. Williams asked.
“It’s a Hefty thirty-gallon garbage bag in black.” Tal lifted his shirt to show off that he’d used the bag’s plastic pull tie like a belt. “It features a fashionable neon blue drawstring and a regulation at-the-knee hemline.”
Tal modeled the garment as if it had been handmade in Paris. The class erupted into laughter.
“Why are you wearing that?” Mr. Williams indicated that Tal was to bring him the paper.
“A truck splashed me.” Tal lazed his way up to the front of the room. The garbage bag crinkled as he walked. “I thought it was just slush and I could ignore it. There was something mixed into the snow. Sour milk and rotting flesh. It smelled awful once I got indoors. My mom is bringing me some pants to wear. I’m supposed to pick them up at the office at the end of second period.”
“You didn’t have gym shorts or something?” Mr. Williams said.
“Really, Mr. Williams?” Tal held out his signed permission slip. “If I had shorts to put on, do you really think I’d be wearing this?”
“I have found it best not to form expectations when you are involved, Mr. Palfrey.” Mr. Williams took the offered slipped. “You always surprise me. Why aren’t you going to the aquarium?”
“Because I hate the aquarium,” Tal said. “My mom says if the roads are bad, I can stay home.”
Aquarium? Joshua flinched at the word. We’re going on a field trip to the aquarium?
“What is wrong with the aquarium?” Mr. Williams added the permission slip to a folder. “It’s world class with sharks and sea turtles and penguins. It’s more interesting than the Paul Revere House.”
There was a groan from the class in response of “Paul Revere House.” Apparently, the class was well familiar with the Revolutionary war hero’s home.
Tal lazed his way back to his chair while explaining. “When I was little, my dad took us there on the weekends that he had custody. Every trip was the same. He waited until his time was almost over to go to the aquarium. My sister would have meltdowns when we hit the penguins the second time because it meant we wouldn’t see him for another two weeks. It made me hate penguins.”
“The MFA, Sturbridge, the Paul Revere House, Plymouth Rock, and the aquarium,” another boy listed. “They’re the only places we go to. There are other places in New England.”
“Six Flags!” someone suggested.
“Your field trips are for educational reasons, not your amusement,” Mr. Williams said. “You are seniors. I know that most of you believe you have college acceptance in the bag. You’ve done the SATs and ACTs, the glowing letters of recommendation, and all the grunt work of applying. You think that you can kick back and relax. But these next few months are like an exit on a highway. If you mess up, it’s hard to get turned around and get back on track. You might get hopelessly lost. Trust me. You want to get this right the first time. Keep focused.”
Joshua snorted. When he focused, the wolf snuck out. It filled up the shopping cart with junk food, took candy from strangers, and tried to pee on nearby fire hydrants. Staying focused was bad. As Mr. Williams pointed out, he was done with all the grunt work of applying for college. He had a four-point-zero grade point average, extremely high scores on his college placement tests, and top scores for the Advanced Placement classes that he’d taken in his sophomore and junior years. He’d even joined a lot of clubs to make his submission package look better. Seth implied that Joshua’s acceptance to Harvard was a done deal. Joshua only needed to get through the rest of his senior year without losing control of the wolf.
Morning announcements started. The principal greeted the students, gave the day’s date, and quoted Yeats with “Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.” Announcements were then read regarding team practices, club activities, and upcoming special events. It reminded Joshua of when he graduated from middle school and started high school. The bell had sounded different. The smells of the room had been strange. But the order and nature of the announcements remained the same. It had a comforting cadence despite the names and activities being unfamiliar.
The school had a crew team, which seemed to be some type of rowing. They also had lacrosse, tennis, and archery teams but seem to be lacking in football. They had the normal Math Club and Chess Club. They also had ones that sounded more highbrow than his old school with “Mock Trial” and “Model United Nations.” Several of the clubs were raising money via the sale of candy.
The familiar cadence of the morning announcements and his deep breathing exercises from judo helped calm the wolf.
Then the bell ending homeroom rang and everyone bolted from their chairs, heading out the door in a control scramble to get to first period.
His wolf whimpered.
“I can do this,” Joshua whispered. Then, reflecting that his problem was that he wasn’t truly alone in this mess, added, “We can do this.”
* * *
The hallway was filled with a flood of students, all moving in cross patterns with each other. His wolf laid back its ears and balked at the idea of going into the hall.
“Joshua!” Ji Su called from a quiet nook under the grand staircase. She flicked her black-painted fingernails at him, summoning him to her side. Her spirit guide, the little snake called Nam-gi, was wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet.
Joshua’s wolf cooperated—either because of Ji Su’s quiet haven or because it was hoping she had more candy.
Ji Su’s breath still smelled of cherry licorice as she leaned close to whisper, “You do know that not all witches are evil? Right?”
“Who is a witch?” Joshua’s voice was suddenly deeper than normal. It was full of dark menace. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. Stupid wolf.
“Easy,” Ji Su pulled out an unopened bag of licorice. She ripped open the bag and took one red strip for herself. As she handed the bag to Joshua, Nam-gi crawled up under her sleeve to hide.
Once Joshua had his mouth full of candy, Ji Su stated firmly, “Not all witches are evil.”
In other words: he was going to cross paths with a witch shortly. Considering his dangerous-sounding voice, he couldn’t trust his wolf not to attack someone if he was surprised.
“Who is a witch?” Joshua repeated. When Ji Su just glared at him, he added. “Look, things go badly when I’m surprised. The wolf steps in and takes control while I’m standing around going ‘derp.’ I need to know. Who is the witch and in which class?”
“I don’t know everyone’s class schedule,” Ji Su said. “I didn’t have time to plan that far ahead. People don’t choose to be a witch; they’re born with their powers.”
“Like mutants?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know! It is genetic somewhat in that it runs in families. There’s an old legend that the first witches were actually members of the Grigori tribes, although the legend doesn’t say if they were lost or exiled. Some people think that the Grigori ‘angel’ forefathers might have been breach monsters. They could have been Neanderthals that were transformed into super beings that then crossbred with ‘humans.’ But don’t ever repeat that to a Grigori.”
“Doh!”
“But if you follow that line of logic, then Grigori children are like werewolf younglings. Even prior to receiving a magical wound that allows them to freely access their source, they are strongly influenced by it. They’re born linked to it in some way.”
“Oookay,” Joshua said. Was that why he always had trouble making friends? Could other people tell he was linked to his wolf long before it could step in and take him over?
“It’s possible that each witch bloodline can trace back to magic-warped ancestors like the angels or the werewolves,” Ji Su said. “Where did the Wolf King come from? How did he get so many wolves without having them massively inbred?”
His wolf growled.
“Sorry!” Ji Su raised her hands to fend off attack. “I’m trying to explain weirdly complicated stuff shrouded by time and mystery. I’ve gone to Blackridge since kindergarten. I knew all your half brothers and cousins. I know that the Wolf King has never told them squat. Maybe Alexander doesn’t remember. Maybe he had the worst case of alpha amnesia in recorded history. Maybe he wants to keep it secret so no one can use the information to build their own little army of unstoppable monsters. Sorry!”
This was because his wolf growled again.
“Not all witches are evil?” Joshua tried to put the conversation back on track.
“Witch”—Ji Su made air quotes around the word—“is a term used to describe a particular range of supernatural abilities. The Grigori consider some gifts as ‘divine’ in nature. Dowsing. Psychometry. Precognition. Postcognition.”
“What is psychometry?”
“It’s the ability to discover facts about a person or an event by touching an object associated with them. Some people refer to them as ‘touch witches’ but not the Grigori. They believe that divine gifts recognize the underlying pattern in the world which the Grigori see as God’s blueprint. The Grigori believe that only people who are somewhat divine in nature can possess divine gifts.”
“Okay,” Joshua said slowly as he processed the information. He had wondered why Elise’s family allowed Decker to live. Decker’s dowsing ability apparently was the difference between being monster or non-monster. “That…kind of…makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. Far as I can tell, the Grigori might all be descended from angels but some of them are infamous pricks. Considering what their angelic ancestors did—basically flipping the bird to God—you can’t even consider true angels as ‘inherently good’ based on their actions. The people who are witches are labeled as such because they were born with a certain range of gifts, not because of their nature or their actions. Very few witches are evil, despite their name.”
“So, you’re saying that these ‘gifts’ are like magical handguns? It’s not having the ability that makes people evil, but what they do with it.”
Ji Su squinted at him for moment in silence, phrasing through the sentence. “Yes. Basically.”
“How many witches are there at Blackridge?”
“Half the Goths.”
“What?”
“Like I said, ‘witch’ is a broad term! The only reason I’m not a ‘witch’ is because no one slapped that label on me when I was born. I volunteered to be your intermediary because you’re already friends with Winnie Whitebrow. I thought I would be safe with you. I’m not sure why a medium isn’t considered a witch when an inverse empath is.”
“A what?”
“Inverse empath. You know what an empath is, right?”
“Deanna Troi on Star Trek: The Next Generation. ‘I sense confusion.’ Like that?”
It surprised him that Ji Su actually had to think a moment to get the reference. The Blackridge Goths weren’t nerds. Maybe they were also popular. Now that he was over his initial paranoia and looked past the black makeup, he saw that Ji Su was actually cheerleader pretty.
“Yes,” Ji Su said. “Empaths can tell what other people are feeling; for reasons I don’t understand, it’s considered divine in nature. Inverse empaths are the opposite—they can make people feel something. Persuasion is a type of inverse empathy, which is probably why both are considered witchcraft.”
“Persuasion?”
“It’s what allows witches to bend people to their will. Make them puppets. Persuasion can implant a script for the puppet to follow even after the witch stops focusing on them. It’s also the ability that allows Wickers to create constructs by using blood magic to animate them.”
The wolf started to growl.
“There’s no one in school that has Persuasion!” Ji Su said. “Even if the wolves allowed a witch of that caliber to enroll, the Grigori would probably kill them.”
“Why are we even talking about inverse empaths, then?”
“Because…” Ji Su paused to frown at him. “You realize that Thanes have already screened all the Goths and deemed them harmless, right?”
“There’s an inverse empath at school?”
“Yes. They’re harmless. You’ll probably like them.”
Ji Su was carefully avoiding pronouns. Maybe there was more than one inverse empath in his upcoming classes.
Joshua pushed on, following suit. “How do I know that I’ll actually ‘like’ like them and it’s not them making me feel things?”
“Inverse empathy only allows someone to know what the witch is feeling—be it fear or anger or happiness. It’s useful in that it transcends language but that’s it. While it lets you know what the witch is feeling—and thinking in strong witches—it doesn’t change how you feel. If you’re sad and they’re happy, you’ll know how they’re happy, but you won’t stop being sad. See—it’s totally different from Persuasion.”
The wolf rumbled with unhappiness.
“Werewolves are immune to Persuasion,” Ji Su said. “The only reason why werewolves historically kill witches—or more accurately Wickers—is because they can use people as puppets. A trusted human—a teacher, crossing guard, a vet, a butcher—can be turned into a time bomb. There’s no one in school that can do that. You’re the only dangerous one.”
Joshua pointed toward the door of his first-period classroom. “There’s a witch in there?”
“If one uses appropriate terms, yes. Scared out of their mind. There is nothing they can do to hurt you. Your wolf can rip them apart before you could stop him. You’re the only one that can stop you in this whole school.”
Joshua closed his eyes and focused on taking deep calming breaths. “I promise…” Promise what? He couldn’t keep his wolf from doing anything. Even when he was deep asleep, it was down raiding the fridge. “I need to know what to expect so I can keep ahead of my wolf.”
Ji Su pursed her black-painted lips. She didn’t like trusting him. “Maisy Carter is an inverse empath. She’s in the front row. She’s doesn’t talk. Well…she can talk…but she doesn’t. I don’t remember her saying anything aloud in the last…” Ji Su paused to think. “I think she said something in seventh grade—or was that sixth grade? Seventh. She used to talk a lot more in grade school, but her powers got stronger, she stopped needing to say anything aloud.”
Deep cleansing breaths.
“You’ll probably like her,” Ji Su repeated. “Your cousin Alyssa was her best friend.”
“I had a cousin Alyssa?”
Sadness rushed over Ji Su’s face. “Yeah.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “She was one of my best friends. She was the youngest daughter of your aunt Enid.”
Youngest daughter—meaning that there were a lot more cousins that he knew nothing about.
Seth and he had talked mostly about being a werewolf and how to keep control of his wolf and the current political situation in New York City. They never talked about dead relatives. Joshua needed to start a list of questions to ask his brother.
Before he had the thought completed, the wolf had his notebook out and was scribbling.
“Not now,” Joshua whispered.
The “questions” were a series of stick figures. Ji Su was identifiable by her almond-shaped eyes. Candy floated around her like a sugar halo.
The real Ji Su looked seriously worried.
A second bell rang loudly in the empty hall.
“I need to go in.” Joshua headed toward the closed door to his next class.
“Oh, please, be careful,” Ji Su said.
“I’ll try.”
“There is no try,” Yoda had told Luke Skywalker. There was only “do or do not.”
But Yoda didn’t have to share his body with a thousand-pound wolf.
* * *
Maisy Carter was a small, frightened rabbit of a girl with huge brown eyes and a very cute pixie haircut. She was sitting in front by the window. She stared in alarm as Joshua went through the entire “introduce yourself to the class” ritual.
The teacher then added an unexpected twist. “Everyone, introduce yourself. Maisy, you start.”
Maisy pressed a trembling hand to her chest, as if to say “Me?” She begged Joshua with her eyes not to sit in the empty seat beside her.
“I’m John Dana,” the boy behind Maisy stated as if she had answered aloud and was done with her turn. The rest of the class followed suit.
“We’re having a pop quiz,” the teacher announced, picking up a stack of quiz papers from his desk. “Grab a seat, Joshua, and get out a pencil. Calculators are allowed.”
A pop quiz? On his first day? Joshua hadn’t been in a classroom for over a month. He’d crammed all weekend but there was no way he was up to speed. This was going to kill his grade point average. Joshua headed for the second row, hunting through his backpack. Had he remembered his calculator? Yes. There it was.
He took the paper and scanned the questions. The first few seemed very basic. Perhaps the teacher had designed the test solely to find out what Joshua knew. Joshua was writing his name on his paper when he realized that the wolf had detoured to the front row and sat taken the chair next to Maisy.
He glanced at her.
Maisy stared at him in surprise and dismay.
“Stupid wolf!” Joshua whispered. He glanced behind him, thinking of moving.
Maisy shook her head, giving a meaningful look toward the teacher.
He leaned toward her, intending to whisper “I’m sorry” or “I didn’t mean to sit here” or “the stupid wolf picked this seat” or simply “I’m an idiot.” He wasn’t sure. He didn’t get to say anything. As he got in range of her face, the wolf licked her on the cheek.
Her eyes went wider. She covered her cheek with her hand and stared.
Joshua felt embarrassment go through him like a forest fire. It was so hot and burning that he was sure that black fur would follow. He slapped both hands over his face, taking deep breaths, willing to stay human. Deep breath. Stay calm. Don’t wolf out! He sunk down under the table just in case.
He felt Maisy pat him on the head. He spread his fingers to peer out at her.
She grinned, her nose wrinkling. Joshua suddenly knew what she was thinking as if she’d spoken out loud.
It’s okay, she thought, I understand how hard pretending to be normal is. I like you too.
And with the words came a flood of warm affection like sunshine spilling into a dark room. The knowledge of her fondness washed away much of his anxiety.
Wow, Joshua thought. So that’s what inverse empathy is like? How cool!
The wolf wagged its currently nonexistent (let’s keep it that way) tail.
“Mr. Tatterskein?” the teacher called hesitantly.
“Dropped my pencil!” Joshua cried. He slid back up into his chair. “Here it is! Everything is fine!”
Nothing to see! (Oh, thank God.)