The Amazing Wolf Boy Read online

  “A planter? Won’t it melt?”

  “Nope. I asked the manager. It’s fireproof, melt-proof, and everything-else-proof.”

  “Perfect.” I motioned at her backpack. “Is that the stuff for the potion?”

  “No, I left everything at home. I figure, we can’t start the potion for another couple of weeks. We can’t risk leaving the ingredients lying around. This is just a few things we might need—a big wooden spoon and a box of matches. I brought them to weigh down the cauldron.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. “You know what would be cool? We should redo the circle and leave it running while we’re gone. It will keep the raccoons out.”

  She smiled and crinkled her nose the way I always loved.

  As the morning progressed, I began feeling ill with the flu-like symptoms I always got on a full moon. Around noon, Brittany left to get ready for work, and I went home. I didn’t pedal as fast going back. As I pulled onto the driveway, I saw Uncle Bob sitting on the porch swing, reading the newspaper.

  He looked up and smiled. “Where you been, boy?”

  “Just out with Brittany.” I clomped up the steps and leaned against the rail. “I thought you’d be finishing your chicken coop.”

  “Nah. It’s Good Friday. People don’t like a lot of noise.”

  “Which reminds me,” I said, “Brittany invited me to Easter dinner. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  “Meeting the family. Sounds serious.”

  “It is, sir.”

  “Well, I hope you have a nice time.” He folded his newspaper. “You free tonight?”

  “Ah, yeah.”

  “Good. I’ll take you somewhere special.”

  “Great,” I said without emotion. “Looking forward to it.”

  I went into the house. My palms were sweaty, and I felt sick to my stomach. I pulled my laptop out from under my bed and checked the Yellow Pages on the Internet. The Sunshine Motel was near the new tattoo parlor in town. I must have passed it a hundred times and never noticed.

  I thought about the three wolves. What made them kill? Uncle Bob said it was the thrill of the hunt. I thought they were insane. Rabid dogs.

  A wave of nausea struck me. With a groan, I fell back on my bed, covered in sweat and chilled in spite of the midday heat. I needed sleep, but something told me to ride past the Sunshine Motel instead. I hadn’t promised I wouldn’t go there, although I knew Brittany didn’t want me to.

  Someone had to stop the pack. I couldn’t stand back and let them kill again. I would go to the motel. Not to confront them, just to let them know I was watching. Maybe they’d leave if they knew I was on to them.

  I heard Uncle Bob clattering around in the kitchen. At the doorway, I said, “I’m going into town. Do you need me to pick up anything?”

  “No, thanks.” He looked at me. “You okay?”

  “Just antsy. I have to get out for a while.” I started to leave, but turned back. “You aren’t like me. Sweating. Shaky.”

  “Over the years, I’ve become tolerant of the effects. I guess the body adapts. You should stop by Howard’s. He has some tea that will calm your stomach.”

  Herbal tea with snake blood. I remembered. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  I went outside to my bike. The sun beat down, its glare too bright. The racket of the birds was too loud. I pedaled away as fast as I could, my thigh muscles burning, my blood surging, and for the first time I was glad Uncle Bob hadn’t bought me a car. The bike was better. I needed the exercise.

  It was shortly after three when I got to the Sunshine Motel. The building was yellow stucco with rusty sprinkler stains. Brown grass edged the front walkway, and scraggly hibiscus rimmed the parking lot. I leaned my bike against a light pole and crept forward for a better look.

  The red Camaro was there.

  At the uneven edge of asphalt, I stood and scratched my head. What could I use as a calling card to let them know I was there? My socks. I could tack them to the door. That would be funny.

  Behind me, a voice said, “You looking to steal my car?”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  For a moment, I could only stare at the Camaro in the hotel parking lot. My stomach clenched, and I closed my eyes. I smelled the stranger behind me. Why hadn’t I noticed the stink before now? He reeked of sweat and unwashed jeans, and something indefinable that I thought was the wolf in him. It made my arms prickle, like my hair was standing on end.

  I hated that I’d been caught snooping, hated that I had to face him unprepared. Mostly, I was embarrassed that I’d let him sneak up on me. When would I learn to be more aware?

  I turned. The man was about my height but more muscular. He had a thin mustache and long hair that hung in greasy waves. His eyes narrowed, and he smirked.

  And just like that, my nervousness vanished. I don’t know, maybe it was my inner wolf, but I felt instant anger. I narrowed my eyes and smirked right back. “If I took off in your car, would you chase it?”

  “Oh, a dog joke. You are too funny.”

  “About as funny as a nail through my favorite socks.”

  He chuckled. “Is that what this is about?”

  I squared my shoulders. “You’ve been following me, sniffing around where you aren’t wanted.”

  “Just looking for an introduction, is all.”

  “Why?”

  “You stand out in this town.” He motioned around him. “You don’t fit in. Thought you might like to join with me. See the world. My pack has an opening. You could be my right-hand man.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with you. Murderer.”

  “Just women.”

  “No more. It’s over. I want you and your friends gone.”

  “Or what?”

  I tightened my fists. “I’ll turn you in.”

  He sneered. “Over a few bodies? You can’t be serious.”

  “Watch me.”

  “What’s got you so domesticated? Is it that black-haired beauty at the video shop?”

  “Leave her alone.”

  “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. You’re the one who threw down the gauntlet.” My back stiffened, and he stepped close. “See, here’s what I think,” he said, his rotten breath in my face. “You don’t have a shred of proof to connect me to those kills.”

  “Maybe I don’t. Then, again.” I shrugged and lowered my voice. “You get pretty excited, ripping people up. Those little love nips you give your girlfriend get pretty deep.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my underling.”

  “You sure you left those crime scenes clean? No blood or other bodily fluids lying around? Nothing that the authorities could trace to you if someone told them where to look?”

  He took a step back. “You don’t want to mess with me.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to know you at all. So take it elsewhere.”

  His eyes flared. For a moment, I saw the wildness behind them. Then he strode past me, crossed the parking lot, and went into one of the rooms. When the door slammed behind him, I let out a quavering breath. Note to self—don’t get into verbal confrontations during a full moon. What was I thinking, spouting off to him like that? It was as if the moon took control of my mouth.

  I grabbed my bike and headed for home, my arms shaking with adrenalin overload. I was out of my mind, telling off a known murderer. He might have killed me, slashed my throat right there. I replayed the conversation, groaning. How could I have made that joke about him being a dog chasing a car?

  It took him by surprise, though. He didn’t know what to make of me. Probably expected me to bow to him like one of his underlings. Pretty funny, actually. He’d think twice before wanting me to join his pack.

  I couldn’t believe how I stood up to him. Temporary insanity. In any case, it seemed to have worked. I doubted I’d see him again.

  By the time I got home, I was laughing. The whole scene seemed funny. I wanted to brag about it, but since both Uncle Bob and Brittany wanted me to s
tay away from the pack, the only person I could tell was Butt Crack. Or maybe Howard. Neither of them was around.

  Uncle Bob sat before the television, watching the evening news while balancing several cardboard cartons on his knees. He smiled as I came in. “Feeling better? I ordered Chinese.”

  I sat with him and ate Moo Goo Gai Pan and super-fried chicken wings. He showed me how to twist the wing to pull the bones out clean and pop the meat in my mouth. It tasted great. In fact, everything was great. I couldn’t have been in a better mood.

  “I thought we’d be a little adventurous tonight,” Uncle Bob said.

  “Yeah? What are we doing?”

  “You’ll see.” He turned off the TV and stood.

  I gathered the empty cartons, carried them to the kitchen, and dumped them in the garbage. Then I closed the bag and carried it to the can behind the shed, my unofficial chore. I felt strong and competent. I looked at the darkening sky, reaching with my senses to Mother Moon. Soon I would embrace her once again.

  Uncle Bob waited for me at the truck. I got in and opened the window. It was too nice an evening not to let the wind blow. I settled back, not even minding his lack of music.

  He took back roads through fields of tangled scrub and pine. We passed a campground—a nice one with landscaped berths for the RVs. I remembered the old camper in Brittany’s front yard, and wondered if this was where Grandpa Earle took Butt Crack when Brit’s family first moved down.

  With my eyes half open, I breathed deeply. The air filled with mingled scents. Deer. Gator. Giraffe? I sat forward.

  “Do you recognize where we are?” Uncle Bob asked.

  I nodded. “We’re near the safari park.”

  “That’s right. Tonight’s all about identifying scents. Not killing. We kill to eat. You’ve already had dinner.”

  “Gotcha.” I bounced with excitement like a little kid.

  He turned down a road bordered by a rusted chain-link fence. There were coils of barbed wire at the top and No Admittance signs every few yards. Beyond the fence stretched a wide field. The grass was long and yellow with drought, dotted with islands of Australian pine.

  I heard faraway parrots, peacocks, and monkeys chattering in three-part harmony. Then I heard a deep-throated roar. “The lions are hungry.”

  “Probably. They’re fed in the morning. Nine-thirty sharp.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s one of the attractions. Everyone wants to see a lion eat.”

  “Will we see lions tonight?”

  “From a distance.” He grinned. “We’ll see lots of animals, although the handlers move most of them into pens for the night.”

  “Like cowboys on a cattle drive?”

  “Around these parts, zookeepers use Jeeps to round them up. It’s not a big deal. Animals are creatures of habit. They practically put themselves to bed. Take giraffes, for example. Every day when it starts getting dark, they mosey down the trail to the barn and dinner. Pavlov’s response.”

  “Sounds like a cushy life.”

  “I think they’re well treated.”

  “But they’re supposed to be wild. They’re so domesticated,” I said, wondering where I got that word.

  “These are expensive animals,” Uncle Bob said. “They need to be kept safe.”

  “From predators. Like us.”

  “Thieves, more likely.”

  I thought about it and nodded.

  Ahead, I saw a white van parked on the grass. Uncle Bob pulled behind it. I closed the window and jumped from the truck just as a woman climbed from the driver’s seat of the van. The redhead I saw before.

  She was of average height and bone thin with a mane of flyaway curls. Not particularly good-looking. But when she saw my uncle, she smiled, and it transformed her face. She had a wide mouth, showing even her back teeth. It made her look friendly and easy-going.

  Uncle Bob motioned me toward her. “This is my nephew, Cody. And this is Rita.”

  She turned her dazzling smile on me. “I’m happy to meet you.”

  I took the hand she offered, and a sense of otherness struck me. “Uh,” I said with my usual wit. She was a werewolf. A she-wolf. I grinned, proud of myself for figuring it out so fast. I was getting pretty good at this. “Nice to meet you, too. Do you live around here?”

  “Just passing through, I’m afraid.”

  She motioned at the van, giving me the impression that she slept in back. It’s strange, but when I saw her with my uncle on the porch that night and thought she was moving in, I felt like she was an intruder. Now that I knew she was a wolf, I was happy to have her live with us. I would have said so, but it wasn’t my place.

  “Shall we?” Uncle Bob slipped his arm around her waist.

  They walked to the fence. My uncle opened a slit in the chain link. It was so well disguised by the fence post, I hadn’t noticed it. Rita crawled through on hands and knees, and I followed. My uncle came last, tucking the fence behind him so the hole vanished again.

  I stood and faced the stiff breeze and caught a nose full of exotic scents. A lion roared. This was going to be a great night. We walked together across the open field. I figured it was a sort of buffer zone between the zoo and the real world. Gnats and mosquitoes rose from the grass. Stars sprinkled the sky.

  “It’s almost here.” Rita took my uncle’s hand. “Can you feel it?”

  I could. The moon was cresting the horizon. Its presence was a warm wash of water bathing me.

  “Head in that direction.” Uncle Bob pointed toward a group of trees.

  We stepped up our pace. The copse formed a little island in a sea of grass. Dry palm fronds hung low, creating a shelter. A bird took flight as we entered.

  “I’ll change over there.” Rita’s fingers slipped from my uncle’s grasp. Her smile lit the darkness. “You can’t expect me to disrobe in front of your young man.”

  “I don’t mind,” I stammered.

  They chuckled, and my face went red. All I meant was I would have turned my back.

  But she disappeared in the bushes. My uncle stripped off his shirt, so I did the same. I felt hair sprout from my knuckles.

  “This isn’t our usual spot,” Uncle Bob said in a gravelly voice. “We’ll have to remember where we left our clothes.”

  He shifted into a wolf almost before he got the last word out. I was aware of the wet, gloppy sound he made. It really was gross. I closed my eyes and allowed the moon to take me. My face stretched, and my legs twisted. The pain was excruciating—but only for a moment. When it was over, I shook myself from head to tail.

  Uncle Bob lifted his leg against a tree, marking it. I thought it was a good idea. The scent would help us find our way back. But before I could follow his example, Rita stepped out of the bushes. Her coat was reddish, and her eyes were gold. She was more beautiful as a wolf than a human. Uncle Bob nipped her ear in greeting, and she nuzzled his chin.

  I felt embarrassed. Pushing through the palm fronds, I left. Somewhere, the deer and antelope played. I headed toward their scent at a trot. After a moment, Rita and my uncle caught up. We came to another chain-link fence. It was three times as high as normal. On the other side, I saw a steep trench. Trees grew inside, but the gorge was so deep, all I could see were their tops.

  A dirt road ran along the outside of the fence. It led to a padlocked gate. I noticed the gate was the only spot that didn’t have barbed wire. The road passed through, built up like a bridge across the ravine.

  Uncle Bob leaped twelve feet to the top of the gate and clambered over. Rita went next. Giving an inward shrug, I followed, surprised at my ability to jump so high. The dirt bridge had chains stretched over it, evidently to catch the hooves of wayward grass-feeders. We picked our way through it. And just like that we were on the savannah.

  We romped over the dung-rich grass, scattering rabbits and armadillos. Bats crisscrossed the sky, feeding on moths. We came across a structure. It was whitewashed cinderblock on three sides;
the fourth opened on several stalls. Inside, I saw a water buffalo with horns so wide I wondered how it lifted its head. Its nostrils flared as it turned cloudy white eyes toward us. Old and blind. I padded forward for a better look, but my scent gave me away. It kept its horns pointed at me whichever way I moved.

  We continued across the preserve, meeting more roads. One carried the stench of fuel, and I knew a vehicle had passed recently. Zookeepers or security guards. It reminded me there were humans in the park.

  At a water trough, antelope and impala milled about. Another structure stood nearby. Evidently, each pavilion had its own paddock away from the public eye. This one was empty. Perhaps grass grazers were last on the zookeepers’ nightly lists.

  As we approached, the animals grew skittish. They took off, and we gave chase, barking and nipping their heels. They didn’t run so much as bounce, touching down lightly and leaping in a different direction. I laughed as I herded them. Their hearts thundered as loudly as their hooves. Foam flecked their mouths, and their eyes rolled. They ran far from the structure meant to house them for the night. The zookeepers would have fun trying to round them all up again.

  We continued exploring. Here, the trees wore chain-link coats to protect their bark. Many hooves pockmarked the dry ground. I smelled giraffe and knew this was the trail leading to their barns. I wished I could see them, but they were tucked in for the night.

  We came to another ravine and a dirt bridge lined with chains. I hated the chains. I tripped and stumbled across. My arrival must have startled an ostrich, because she hissed and kicked at me. We took turns goading her and having her chase us about. Finally, we let her run us off.

  We were in rhino country. We found them in a cinderblock paddock munching lettuce, quite content to ignore us. I wondered if they’d be so complacent in the wild.

  Beyond them, we saw the lion pavilion. They were also housed in cells. There was no getting near them. The usual gorge surrounded the pavilion, and the road had two gates, too close together to jump individually and too far apart to jump as one. I had to content myself with watching them from across the ravine. They roared and paced in challenge, their eyes glinting in the dark.