CHAPTER NINE

 

Holden stood with his back to the mirror. He was craning his neck around to see his reflection. He was in his bedroom, and he’d only just gotten home from the party last night. It was ten in the morning.

There were long scratches on his back.

Funny. He didn’t remember Carrie dragging her nails down his back. But she must have, because he could see ten red, angry stripes from his shoulder blades all the way down to his waist. When he touched one, it was tender and sore. He winced.

“Did you just get home?” said Mel.

He turned away from the mirror to see his sister lounging in the doorway to his bedroom. “Yeah.”

Mel shook her head. “You never listen to me, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” He twisted his neck again to look at the scratches. How had he not even felt these things?

“Were you with that girl? The one who’s ‘different’?”

“Actually, I was.”

“And didn’t I tell you to take things slow?”

“I tried.” He glared at Mel. “She didn’t want it slow.”

“Yeah right.” Mel snorted.

“She didn’t,” said Holden. “I told you she was different, didn’t I?”

Mel made a funny face. “Did she do that to your back?”

Now Holden felt ashamed of the scratches. He felt like there was no possible way that Mel could understand. He’d forged a connection with Carrie, something strong. He knew it, and his body felt it. The scratches… the scratches were part of it. He shrugged into a shirt. “It’s nothing.”

“Wait,” said Mel. “Maybe I should meet this girl.”

Holden arched an eyebrow at her. She’d never ever tried to meet any of the girls he’d hooked up with. It was completely out of left field for her to say that.

“Holden, I’m serious,” said Mel.

He pushed past her out of his bedroom and headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower.

* * *

Carrie settled into a chair across from her school counselor, Mrs. Finch. It had been nearly three weeks since Mick had taken up residence in her house, and everything in her life had changed. She was close to graduation now, less than a month out. She had no idea why the counselor would want to see her. It seemed awfully late to clarify college plans. Carrie was enrolled in the local community college, because her parents hadn’t wanted to let her out of their sight.

Actually, she might want to change colleges, now that she thought about it. But she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that. It would require having access to her parents’ money, and no one knew they were dead.

As usual, she felt a painful stab when she thought of her parents’ demise, but it was fading. It wasn’t nearly as sharp as it had been in the beginning.

Mrs. Finch rested her hands on the desk primly. She was a tiny woman with a hook-shaped nose and frizzy red hair. “Hi there, Carrie. How are you doing?”

Carrie shrugged. “Fine.” One of the things Carrie hated about Mrs. Finch was that she always talked to her like she was a five-year-old. Of course, Mrs. Finch talked that way to everyone, even other adults. It was her normal tone. That didn’t make it any less annoying.

“I’ve had some concerns reported to me about you,” said Mrs. Finch.

Carrie sat up straight. “What? From who?”

Mrs. Finch shrugged. “Oh, you know, teachers, classmates, the usual.”

Carrie couldn’t believe that people were rushing to talk to Mrs. Finch about her. She supposed that her transformation had seemed miraculous to others, so maybe that was why. Still, it rankled, because none of this was anyone’s business. And besides, she was going to graduate in less than a month. Why did anyone care?

Mrs. Finch cocked her head. “What’s been going on with you, hmm?”

“Nothing.”

“Now, now, Carrie, we both know that’s not true. You’ve been behaving quite differently these past few weeks. You’ve changed your style of dress, and you seem to have started to associate with a different social group.”

Carrie snorted. “You mean I have a social group now? Because before, no one paid any attention to me.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“Is there a different way to see it?”

“You know, Carrie, sometimes when something traumatic happens in our lives, we adjust to it by drastically changing everything in our lives. It’s a defense mechanism. We feel so different that we don’t think we could possibly go back to the way things were before. But, unfortunately, it is only a way of hiding from our fears. Eventually, we must face the trauma to get past it. Please understand that if something happened to you, you can tell me about it.”

Sure thing, Mrs. Finch. See, I shifted into a werewolf and killed my parents. Like she’d ever say that out loud. Mrs. Finch would only call the SF, and Mick had told her the SF wasn’t anything good.

“Did something happen?” said Mrs. Finch.

“No,” said Carrie, pressing her lips together.

“Maybe someone close to you passed away, or maybe there’s trouble between your parents at home. Maybe you and a close friend argued. Maybe—”

“Nothing traumatic happened,” Carrie snapped.

Mrs. Finch narrowed her eyes.

Damn it. She guessed that denying it so vehemently made it sound suspicious, didn’t it?

“No one’s seen your parents in weeks, Carrie,” said Mrs. Finch. “I called your father’s work, and they said he was on an extended leave of absence to deal with the estate of a dead relative.”

“That’s right,” said Carrie. “He and my mom went to take care of my great-aunt Agatha.”

“And they left you here all alone?”

“I’m eighteen years old. I’m legally an adult.”

“But you are still in high school, and you are still very young. Being essentially abandoned by your parents—”

“I’m fine.” Carrie glared across the desk. “I’m just trying to have a little fun before I graduate. That’s all.”

Mrs. Finch raised her eyebrows. “And are you having fun?”

“Yes.” Carrie folded her arms over her chest.

“Do your parents know about this fun?”

Carrie sighed. “Is that your business, Mrs. Finch?”

“I wonder if you’d mind giving me a number where I can reach your parents.”

“Impossible,” said Carrie. “There’s no phone service in Great-Aunt Agatha’s house, and it’s too far out for cell towers.” She was making this up as she went along. “I can give you the address if you want to send a letter.”

Mrs. Finch gave her a hard look, as if she was trying to see if Carrie was lying just by looking into her eyes. “Fine, then. Write down that address for me.” She handed Carrie a pad of paper.

Carrie scribbled nonsense on it, making up a street name and number. She picked the name of a remote town that she knew about because one of her friends in elementary school had gone there in the summer and been unreachable for months. She slid the paper across the desk. “I don’t know the zip code. Sorry.”

Mrs. Finch took the paper. “Since you and Holden Rane have been spending so much time together, I suppose you know Melanie Rane, his sister.”

Actually, Carrie hadn’t met any members of Holden’s family. Whenever she and Holden were together—which was often, Mrs. Finch was right about that—they didn’t end up talking much. They hadn’t had sex again, though. She’d managed to keep from progressing to that point again, and Holden wasn’t pushing her there. Instead, they made out. A lot. Carrie shook her head. “Um, no, not really.”

“Well, but you know that Melanie is his legal guardian since his parents are dead.”

Actually, she hadn’t known that. Why hadn’t Holden told her? It seemed like such an important thing. How could she feel so close to him and not know this about him? “Um… actually, no.”

Mrs. Finch looked grim. “Well, Carrie, Melanie is a bit concerned about your relationship with Holden.”

Oh. That was why Carrie was here, wasn’t it? These teachers and classmates weren’t real. It was only Holden’s sister. Why would she be concerned about Carrie?

“I know Melanie, because she graduated from this school, and she’s been given such a hard task trying to raise her brother on her own, and so she and I are in communication, just as I am in communication with Holden. I told her I would speak to you, make my own assessment.”

“Assessment of what?”

“Of whether you are stable,” said Mrs. Finch.

Carrie gave her an indignant look. “Mrs. Finch, you’re a school counselor, and I don’t think you’re supposed to be using your job to do favors for someone who doesn’t even go to school here anymore. You can’t assess me for her. Besides, I’m totally stable.”

“I’ve talked to some other students about you, Carrie. They say you’re like a different person these past few weeks.”

“Like I said—”

“Someone also told me that there was a big rug in your living room covering up a stain on the floor.”

Carrie went cold all over. “What?”

“They said you had a party,” said Mrs. Finch, “and that in your living room, there was a stain on the floor. It looked like blood.” She cocked her head to one side. “The last time anyone saw your parents, it was the night of the full moon. And you seem to have changed.”

“What are you saying?” said Carrie, her heart pounding.

“I’m saying that unless you can prove to me that your parents are fine, Carrie, I’m calling the SF. Because I think you’re a werewolf.”