Unleashed (6 page)

Maybe he’ll just go shoot us some
.

She tried to tell herself she was making a joke, but it wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. She hated it here.

Shoulders tight, arms crossed, she walked to the drainer in the semidarkness. She retrieved a glass, went to the sink, and turned on the faucet with a shaking hand.

Then she froze. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her face prickled.

Someone is watching me
, she thought.

But all she saw in the space between the curtains was the occasional strobe of raindrops falling in the moonlight, almost like blinking eyes.

Shadows shifted; something
was
moving out there.

Trees
, she told herself.
Squirrels
.

Katelyn couldn’t remember if her grandfather had locked the back door. She stepped forward, and then … that same scratching. She took a step backward. Then she heard something low and rumbling. Thunder, or a growl? Scared, she flew across the kitchen, smacking against the edge of the dining table. Wincing at the pain, she turned to flee.

She ran all the way up the stairs and into her room. She got her stuffed bear and held it to her chest and stared up at her skylight. The rain pounded down, hard, almost like someone knocking to come in.

“I’m not inviting you,” she said aloud.

But there
was
knocking—on her door.

“Katie?” her grandfather called. “Everything okay?”

Her face went hot. Now, with the light on, and having awakened him, she felt silly. “I went to get some water. I thought I saw something moving.” She hesitated. “And a noise. Maybe like something growling. Out back.”

“I’ll check.”

She grimaced, embarrassed, but she couldn’t deny the soothing feeling of relief that coursed through her—followed by a prickle of alarm, in case there
was
something out there.

“I’ll go with you,” she announced as she got out of bed, crossed the room, and cracked open the door.

He was already halfway down the stairs, carrying a rifle tucked under his arm. He turned and said, “No, Katie, you go on back to bed. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Then why do you have a rifle?” she asked.

“
Stay in your room
,” he ordered, and she flinched, stunned by the harshness of his voice. There was no way on earth he thought it was nothing.

Still, she did as she was told, crossing her arms and standing in the center of her room, certain something was about to happen. She shifted her weight, braced for another catastrophe. She could feel panic circling her. The walls of the room seemed to press in.

It felt as if she stood there for hours, tense, frightened, waiting. Finally she decided she’d had enough. She strode to the door, yanking it open—

And found her grandfather on the other side, with his hand raised to knock on it.

“Oh,” she said, startled. She took a step backward.

His clothes and hair were wet. The rifle was gone; he was wiping his face with a towel. He looked grim, and her heart stuttered. Had he found something?

“Here’s the thing,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

She nodded, moving away from the door. There was one chair; assuming that he’d sit in it, she perched on the edge of her bed. But he remained standing. He folded the towel as if taking a few moments to consider his words. He was scaring her, and the suspense was leaving her breathless.

“About two weeks ago, a girl was killed,” he began.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, alarmed. “Was it someone you knew?”

“She was mauled. In the forest.” He gave her a long look. “She was out alone.”

Katelyn waited. And then she got it.
They
lived in the forest. His house was surrounded by trees.

“I’ll stay out of there.” She nodded at him as the reality hit her. “I promise.” Then she added, “I’m not a hiker. Or a mountain person. I’m a beach person.”

“I’m not kidding about this.” He regarded her sternly. “She is
dead
.”

“I don’t mean to sound like I don’t care,” she said. She did care. In fact, she was terrified. “I swear to you. I promise you, I won’t go out alone.”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else. Then he sighed, nodded, and said, “All right. Good night, Katie.”

“Good night, Ed.” Her stomach churned. She was sorry for the girl who had died, but furious with her grandfather for dragging her to live where she couldn’t even go for a walk for fear of being ripped apart by a wild animal. She grabbed a pillow and almost threw it at the door. Instead, she hugged it against her chest, bowed her head, and whispered, “I want to leave. Please, let me leave.”

Katelyn’s grandfather’s news scared her, but more than that, she began to worry that they were never going to leave the cabin again, even in the daylight. It drizzled and thundered all weekend, and rain, lightning, and mud were all she saw of her supposed new hometown. Because of the weather—or so he said—there was no trip to the farmers’ market, no sightseeing in town, but Katelyn realized she was fine with that. She wasn’t ready to face the world. She missed her old one way more than she could stand.

The fireplace burned night and day, and Katelyn’s phobia—and all the animal heads—kept her out of the living room. She found a picture of her parents and her hanging on the wall next to the staircase and sat for a while and stared at them, all happy and laughing together, until she couldn’t handle it anymore. She was exhausted, and aside from talking to Kimi, mostly she slept.

She and Ed seemed to get along better, smirking at the howls and the drums beating away in the bad weather. Katelyn thought of the Wolf Man from the plane and pictured him sitting in a gray rain poncho, urging his inner executive wolf to emerge.

Though she slept a lot, she didn’t sleep well. Whenever she closed her eyes and began to drift, she was back in her house as it collapsed around her. She dreamed of her mother, falling, falling forever into blackness, arms stretched to Katelyn, who dove after her, plummeting and never catching her.

She jerked awake a dozen times, shaking, pulling the covers up around her chin and staring up at her skylight. Leaves plunked onto the wet glass, obscuring the view, which was fine with her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Though in the light of day she was sure that was just nerves.

On Monday, it was barely dawn when she got up. Her grandfather made her some oatmeal for breakfast; also, coffee. She was surprised again when he handed her lunch. He’d packed her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple. Despite herself, she found that completely sweet.

Trick showed promptly at six-thirty, in a creased brown leather bomber jacket, a white T-shirt, jeans, and his cowboy boots. Yawning, he asked for and received some oatmeal and coffee, too.

“You look good,” he told her. She was wearing an embroidered indigo jacket, a long-sleeved gauze blouse, jeans, white socks, and Mary Janes. She and Kimi had snagged all of it except for the socks at various vintage shops and thrift stores in West Hollywood. Underneath the blouse, she was wearing a blue silk camisole.

“Thanks.” She didn’t know what people wore at Wolf Springs High School. Her mind filled with images of girls in cutoff denim shorts and guys in overalls, twirling pieces of straw in their mouths. She knew that was snarky but she couldn’t shake it.

She expected his car to be a beat-up truck like her grandfather’s and was surprised when he led her toward a lovingly restored vintage light green Mustang with black leather interior. He grinned at her and held open the door while she climbed in, settling her backpack on her lap.

“Sweet ride, right?” he asked proudly, slipping behind the wheel.

He turned on the engine, which purred like a tiger, and they began to roll. From the porch, her grandfather waved. She gave him a little wave back. It began to rain.

They blazed away, into the rain and the greenery. The Mustang held the curves and Trick punched on an iPod. “Smoke on the Water” poured through car speakers.

“Cheery,” she drawled, then cocked her head casually. “So … my grandfather told me you get beaten up for writing poetry.”

“Oh, shit.” He laughed. “Maybe when I was four. He’s just trying to make me sound like a loser to lessen your attraction to me.” He shot her a grin and pressed down on the gas. “He wants me to be your androgynous best friend.” The car shot through the trees and flew around the corner. “Just FYI, Kat, I’m not androgynous.”

“My name’s not Kat,” she replied, hiding her own smile.

“It is now. Okay, you can get cell coverage here. Go for it.”

Even though she knew it was rude, Katelyn texted Kimi for the rest of the ride. Kimi had been waiting to hear from her, so she was texting back at what was an ungodly hour in California. Katelyn glanced up every now and then to steal a glance at Trick. He didn’t seem to mind being ignored. He just kept driving like a maniac through the dense woods and heavy rain; she half expected to wind up in a ditch. Then as they began to climb upward, Trick gave the car more gas. Trees bowed above them, creating a tunnel of total darkness. Still the rain came down. The beams of the Mustang’s headlights cast blurs of yellow on thick trunks, which Trick dodged with ease, and strobed against the raindrops.

“Brace for impact,” he said.

Katelyn turned to ask what he was talking about right as they shot out of the tree tunnel. Then, pressing through the rain, they crested a plateau and Katelyn caught her breath. Below them, a Victorian village spread out like a miniature Charles Dickens town beneath a Christmas tree. Intricate brick-and-wood structures were topped with gables and chimneys. Baskets decorated with orange and red flowers hung from curved lampposts. The streets were narrow and cobbled. Rain fell in buckets.

It was nothing like she’d thought it would be. No tractors parked on the street or broken-down trailers. “Is this a theme park?” she asked, only half joking.

“There’s the school.”

She followed his hand as he slowed and joined a parade of cars and trucks—lots of trucks—feeding from another road down a steep hill. There was honking and waving. Two yellow buses pulled up beside a large wooden building with wraparound porches on both floors. A pitched roof folded in angles among overhanging turrets and dormer windows. On top of the building an LED sign spelled out
W-O-L-F-C-O-U-N-T-R-Y
.

“Crap, I forgot my hoopskirt,” she moaned, mostly to make his smile bigger.

Score.

“Does this bustle make my butt look big?” he said, playing along.

The parade wound down the side of the village. The overabundance of cute was cut by a low gray self-storage building and a ramshackle convenience store. She couldn’t wait to tell Kimi that they had been 90 percent wrong about Banjo Land—which was a relief.

“We’ll park in the senior lot and then I’ll walk you to the admin office,” he said. “But then I’ve got to leave you. I’m keeping my head down around the principal.”

“Because of the court thing.”

He nodded. “Completely unjust, but it’s adding to my aura of mystery. Hey,” he said, his voice suddenly urgent and somber. “I have to talk to you about something.”

She waited. His green eyes seemed to grow darker, the planes and hollows of his face to accentuate. She held her breath, waiting to hear what he had to say, mesmerized by his good looks.

“Just before you got here, a friend of mine was killed.”

The girl in the forest. Of course he would have known her. Everyone knew everyone else here. “My grandfather told me,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She meant it.

His expression didn’t change. “What, exactly, did he say?”

“That she was killed. She was in the forest alone.”

He glanced back at the road as he maneuvered into the parking lot. The space between them seemed to fill with tension. She wondered if he had been close to the girl. If she’d been his girlfriend.

“There are a lot of urban legends in a small place like this.” He grimaced, revealing deep dimples on either side of his mouth. “Not urban, sorry. I guess they’d be called
country
legends. In any case, us country folks talk about haints and all like that. Her name was Haley, and her death was the hot topic until everyone heard that a movie star from Hollywood was moving here.”

“Oh, my God, you mean me?” She burst out with a shocked guffaw, but he didn’t crack a smile. Then she realized that he was not only upset, but angry.

“People brought teddy bears and candles, pictures, all that stuff, to school. Everyone hugging, crying. We all went to her funeral. Now it’s almost as if she never existed.” His voice lowered as he added quietly, “But I’ll never forget.”

“I’m really sorry, Trick,” she said sincerely.

He gave his head a shake. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m blaming you for showing up.” He slid his glance at her again, and he studied her for a second. “I just want …” And then he forced a smile onto his perfect mouth. “You just be careful, ya hear? And not just in the forest.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. She figured he was warning her about making her way as the new girl in school. She was pretty nervous about it, too.