CHAPTER THREE

 

The sun woke Carrie. It was in her eyes, and she rolled over, murmuring. She reached for her blankets to pull them over her head, but they weren’t there. In fact, she realized that she wasn’t in her bed at all. She was lying on the floor of the living room, on the hard wood floor, and something smelled—

She sat straight up, looking down at her body.

She was naked.

She was smeared in something reddish brown. It was all over her hands and arms. It stained her breasts and belly as well. It was sticky. It smelled horrible.

She let out a small cry.

She knew what it was, but she couldn’t think it. Not yet.

Instead, she turned, and she saw the bodies. Both of her parents, splayed out in front of the fireplace. Their bodies were mutilated. Her mother lay on her back, but her chest was open. Her ribs were red stained and exposed. Her father was on his stomach. Half of his face had been torn away. There was a strip of his cheek dangling away from the raw muscle of his jaw.

Carrie scrambled backwards.

She was shaking, making little mewling noises. Her chest was tightening, and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. And even though she didn’t want to, her brain was putting together what had happened. Last night, the last thing she remembered was thinking that she was a werewolf, and now…

Her parents…

Carrie abruptly began to sob. Her body was overtaken by the force of her crying. Tears streamed down her face. She bowed her head, and gave herself over to crying.

Her mother and father. All she had in this world.

Dead.

And she had done it.

She’d killed her parents, and she’d never wanted that to happen. She got angry with them sometimes. They treated her like a child, and they wouldn’t let her grow up, but that didn’t mean that she’d ever—

Except that wasn’t true, she realized with a growing sense of horror that only caused her sobs to deepen.

She had wished them dead. More than once. On many occasions. Sometimes even out loud. She was sure that she’d told Joan how much she wished they’d just die already.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whispered. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”

And she started to cry even harder.

She forced herself to look at the ruined bodies of her parents, and she sobbed for a very long time.

* * *

Carrie wasn’t sure how long she cried. It felt like a very long time, but it couldn’t have been that long, because the sun was still streaming through the windows, and its position hadn’t moved that much.

It made her feel guilty that she didn’t cry for longer. She knew that she should be destroyed by what had happened. And she was. Utterly destroyed. But she was still, well, functional, and that was the hell of it. If the sight of her mutilated parents’ bodies could have sent her into a catatonic state or even a state of absolute insanity, it might have been easier in some ways. At least then she wouldn’t be aware of how she was reacting, and blaming herself for reacting the wrong way.

She felt bad.

She felt horrible.

She felt wracked with grief.

But.

Well, it wasn’t exactly her fault. She knew about this. It happened sometimes. In fact, two years ago, she’d heard about a party held by Reagan high school, one of her own school’s rivals. And that party had been attacked by a werewolf. It had been one of the basketball team players. He’d gotten infected with the lupine virus, and so at the full moon, he’d shifted into a wolf and killed almost everyone at the party. There were only a few survivors, and they’d all been bitten, so they were taken away, since they’d become werewolves too.

There were several ways to get the lupine virus. It could be passed on by bites, from sexual contact, from blood transfusions (although that rarely happened anymore, since most werewolves were identified and kept from donating blood), and it could be passed from mother to child if the mother was a werewolf. She’d learned all about it in health class.

If people turned into werewolves, they were supposed to turn themselves in to the Sullivan Foundation, which was an organization that taught wolves how to control their shifts.

So Carrie got herself up off the floor and staggered out of the room where her parents lay dead. She made her way down the hallway, looking down at her bloodstained body. The blood was dry, and it was cracking, and it was flaking off all over the floor, which upset her, but she couldn’t seem to stop it from happening.

Anyway, it wasn’t important. What was important was that she get to a phone and that she call the SF.

That was what she was supposed to do.

She’d seen it on PSAs on TV. There was one where a girl had a bandage on her arm, and her boyfriend asked her what happened. The girl was real vague and obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Then the screen showed the boyfriend calling the SF. A big word SAFE flashed on the screen. Then the screen showed the boyfriend and the girl out in a car under a full moon. “You sure that bite’s okay?” said the boyfriend. But then there was the sound of a snarl and a howl and the guy was yelling. A big word SORRY flashed on the screen.

Better safe than sorry. Call the SF if you suspect a werewolf, said the ad, followed by the number for the SF.

Carrie picked up the phone in the foyer.

She felt better now that she knew what she was supposed to be doing. She was still panicked over her parents’ dead bodies, and she still felt horribly sad, but it was better having something to accomplish. She needed to turn herself in. Then the SF would come and take her away. After a month or two, she’d go through training, and then she’d be allowed to come back to her life. And she wouldn’t have to worry about this ever happening again.

But her hands were shaking anyway.

She dialed the phone, trembling all over.

“What are you doing?” said a low voice, dark and velvet.

She dropped the phone, screaming. Someone was here with her?

He stepped in front of her, and then she remembered. The guy from the Ferris Wheel. He’d shown up at her house last night, right before the… the shift.

But now, the guy from the Ferris Wheel was naked, and he was all covered in blood too. There was blood on his face, staining his faint shadow of facial hair. Blood on the muscles in his chest. Blood on his stomach. Oh, his stomach was glorious. She’d never seen anything quite so rippled and perfect.

How could she be thinking that? Her parents were dead, and she’d done it, and, from the looks of it, this guy had helped, and this was not the time to find anyone sexy—not even Ferris Wheel guy, who was probably one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. Even covered in blood.

She cringed.

He bent down and picked up the phone off the floor. “Were you going to call someone, little fael?”

“The SF,” she said. “I’m obviously a werewolf, so—”

“No,” he said.

“No?” She took a step back. “No, I’m not a werewolf?”

“Of course you’re a werewolf.” He looked annoyed. “But do not call the SF.”

“But I have to,” she said. “If I don’t call them, then I’ll shift again, and I’ll kill more people, just like I did to my… to my…” She crumpled into tears again.

Ferris Wheel guy’s arms were around her all of the sudden. “Oh, come on, now. Shh, it’s all right. You wanted to be free of them, did you not?”

He was holding onto her, and they were both naked. Naked and bloody and gross, true, but still naked. She’d never been naked in front of a guy. Never been naked in the arms of a naked man. She wasn’t sure whether she should pull away or—

But that was ridiculous. Of course, she should pull away. That was the right thing to do when a naked stranger embraced you, as near as she understood the common rules of etiquette. But part of her didn’t want to. Part of her liked being close to the naked Ferris Wheel guy, who was oh-so-gorgeous and calm and in control.

So she found herself crying into his chest, feeling his strong arms tighten around her, holding her body close against his.

He murmured into her hair. “You are confused, little fael. You are tired and frightened. Let’s clean you up.”

His arms came down under her knees, and he hoisted her into the air.

She couldn’t help but cling to his neck as he carried her up the stairs.

He took her into the bathroom at the top of the steps. He set her down, and he pulled aside the shower curtain.

Carrie felt numb. Every two seconds, she kept remembering her parents’ bodies and then remembering that she’d done it to them. But she couldn’t remember it. And she hadn’t meant to.

Who was this Ferris Wheel guy? Why did she feel like she could trust him? Why didn’t he want her to call the SF? Why had he come to her house last night? Why was he covered in blood too? Why had he said the thing about her wanting to be free of her parents? How had he known that?

Besides, it wasn’t true.

She might have wanted more freedom, but that didn’t mean she wanted her parents to be dead.

She loved her parents.

They were all she had in this world.

She looked at the Ferris Wheel guy, who was adjusting the temperature in the shower. She tried to gather all her questions and give them voice. She wanted to ask him to make all of this clear for her.

But nothing came out.

He turned to her. “I think the water is a good temperature now. Come.”

She couldn’t move.

He took her hands and pulled her forward.

“Who?” she blurted. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mick,” he said. “I’m here to take care of you.”

Mick. The name wasn’t familiar to her, but he was. Somehow. She felt… connected to him. Close to him. In a way she couldn’t explain.

He helped her into the shower.

The hot water hit her, and it felt amazingly good.

She shut her eyes, enjoying it.

And then opened her eyes right away. She shouldn’t be enjoying things. She’d just killed her parents, and she didn’t deserve happiness. Her parents would never have happiness again. She shouldn’t either.

She thought again of their bodies, bloody and broken, and fresh tears began to stream down her face.

She clutched at the sleek walls of the shower, but she couldn’t keep herself upright.

She slid down to the floor and sobbed. The shower head pumped water over her.

He pulled aside the shower curtain, sighing. “Little fael, you must not take on so.” He climbed into the shower behind her and pulled her to her feet.

She didn’t try to resist him. Everything was so confusing and so awful. She didn’t know where to go or what to do, and it was easy to surrender to him.

He picked up the soap and began to lather her all over. The bubbles turned pink as they swept the blood away from her skin. His hands explored her body, over all of her naked skin, even her most secret places.

She stopped sobbing. She gasped.

The water ran over her, washing away the soap suds, washing away the blood.

Mick was wet too, sopping long hair in his face.

Their bodies collided, and she felt him hard against her body. She looked down to see the thick length of him. She sucked in breath, something inside her tensing in the most pleasant of ways. Just at the sight of him there. He was such a beautiful man, and his arousal did something to her. She’d never experienced anything quite so intense.

But he pushed her away, shaking his head. “That’s not for you, little fael. Never for you. That is not the way of things between us.”

She furrowed her brow. What was he saying?

* * *

Later, Carrie sat in a chair in the den, wrapped in a warm robe. Her hair was wet. She tucked her ankles under her knees, huddled into her robe.

Mick paced in front of her, only wearing a pair of jeans. His feet were bare. His chest was bare. His skin was the color of toffee, and there were pale blue strands of fabric dangling from the back of his jeans. He stepped on them with his heels, and he never seemed to notice.

“You must promise never to call the SF,” he said.

“But why?” she said.

He turned his sharp green eyes on her. “You don’t know? But your parents were not supposed to raise you to think of the SF as anything other than what it is.”

“And what is it?” she said.

“It’s a prison,” said Mick. “It takes wolves and twists them against their nature. You must never surrender yourself to people like that. Promise me.”

“I… I can’t promise you anything. I don’t even know who you are.” She was a mess of warring emotions. Grief. Guilt. Attraction. Fear. “You need to answer some questions first.”

He continued to pace. “No, there is no need for your questions. I will tell you everything that you need to know. But first you must promise me.”

She shook her head. “Have you always worked at that carnival? Is that really where I met you before?”

He chuckled softly. “You don’t remember meeting me?”

“So I did meet you. When I was a little girl, right?”

He didn’t answer. He looked up at the ceiling and continued walking back and forth over the hard wood floor.

“Did you bite me or something?”

“When you were a little girl?”

“Well, no, because then I would have been a werewolf back then, and it obviously just happened right now.”

“Did it?” He caught her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

She was so confused.

“You must make the promise, little fael.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“It is an Irish word for wolf,” he said, smiling. “I think it suits you.”

“Did you make me into a werewolf?”

“Promise that you will never subject yourself to the Sullivan Foundation,” he insisted. “Swear it to me.”

She sighed. He wasn’t going to let that go, was he? Well, how binding could a promise like that really be? If she changed her mind later, then she’d simply have to break it. “Fine. I promise.”

He stopped pacing. He faced her. “Good.” He wandered over to the edge of the room. A bookshelf lined the wall. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books. “You do not know about yourself, Carrie.”

What was that supposed to mean? “I know about myself.”

“You didn’t know you were a wolf.”

“I wasn’t before,” she said. “I swear to God, I’ve never changed before. I would remember if the full moon had ever done that to me.”

“The shift is not the only thing that makes one a wolf.”

“But… I was never bitten by a werewolf. I don’t remember it. And I’m a virgin, so it’s not like I got it from sex or anything. I don’t understand how this happened to me.”

He turned back from the bookshelf. “You were born a wolf, little fael.”

No. That couldn’t be true. “I never shifted before.”

He narrowed his green, green eyes. “And so you never knew. No one ever told you. You were kept ignorant of your heritage and your true self. Those self-righteous jailers you called parents did it to you. You are lucky now that they are gone.”

She grimaced. “You can’t say things like that.” Her voice was tight in pain and shock.

He stalked across the room and put both of his hands on either armrest on her chair, trapping her there. “They lied to you. They were selected to give you sanctuary and to help you grow up safe and strong. But they were never meant to deny you what you were. And you are a werewolf, Carrie. Both of your parents were werewolves, and you have been one since the moment you were conceived.”

A lump was growing in her throat. She shut her eyes and shuddered, wanted to shut out his face and his voice. He was so close, leaning over her, his nose inches from her nose. She didn’t want what he was saying to be true. She didn’t want to have been born a werewolf. It was bad enough to think that she’d caught it somehow. But it was worse to think that it had been part of her all along. If she’d been bitten and given the lupine virus, she was a victim. But if she’d been born to it, then she was… alien.

She knew that werewolves were monsters. Everyone was afraid of them. No one associated with werewolves knowingly. Supposedly, they were safe enough after they went through training at the SF, but no one ever wanted to take a chance. There were groups of people lobbying the government to allow the names of all werewolves to be publicly published, so that everyone would know if their neighbors were furries.

She was a furry.

And if what Mick was saying was true, then she’d been born that way. She shook her head. “No.”

“No?” He released the arm rests, straightening up.

She looked up at him. “I would have known that I was a wolf, but I didn’t know. I can’t have been born that way.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I think you did know. I think deep down you always knew. I think something inside you knows it now.”

She thought of the full, fat moon and the way it seemed to tug on her last night. The way she always found the moon so beautiful and bright. Was it true? Had she always been a wolf? She rubbed her forehead. “Why didn’t I ever shift?”

“You were born a werewolf, little fael, but you lost your true parents when you were very young. You were given to these adoptive parents who promised to raise you close to your own heritage, so that you would be proud of your wolf. The SF treats werewolves as if they are diseased. But being a wolf is not a sickness.”

It sure seemed like one. It seemed as if she’d gone crazy and hurt her own parents. Sure, she’d always known that she was adopted, but that had never bothered her. She’d never been one of those children who feels the need to seek out her birth parents. Possibly that was because she’d been told her birth parents were dead. She chewed on her lip. “When you say I lost my true parents…?”

“They are gone,” said Mick. “Dead, I’m afraid.”

Well, that was what she’d always thought. But now she was doubly an orphan. She thought of her dead parents downstairs, their bodies bleeding and destroyed. Her lower lip started to tremble.

“You see,” said Mick, “all wolves that are born are born into a pack. Every pack has an alpha. Your parents were killed, and they were your alphas, because that is the natural order of things. When they died, you lost your alpha. So I was sent to fill that position.”

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Yes,” said Mick. “I am your alpha. I came to you when you were ten years old, and I made you part of my pack.”

She sat up straighter. “You have a pack? Do they work at the carnival too?”

He shook his head. “No, no. You and I, we are the pack. I am the alpha. You are the beta. That is all.”

That confused her even more. “I didn’t think two people made a pack.”

“We do not have the most natural of packs, it’s true.” He resumed his pacing. “You see, most packs are formed when two wolves mate and become bonded to each other. They become the male and female alphas of their own pack. Their offspring will be their beta wolves. But in your case, the bond we have was something you accepted from me, not something natural. Still, it is a strong bond. I have sensed you all these years, little fael. I have felt you across the distances. And when I can, I have come back over the years to look in on you. This time, I didn’t find you happy.” He stopped pacing and surveyed her. “I want you to be happy, Carrie.”

“How can I be happy?” she said. “My parents are dead.”

“You wanted them out of your life. I heard you tell your friend so.”

“Heard me? When?”

“On the Ferris Wheel.”

“But you were too far away.”

He tapped his ear. “I’ll teach you to hone your wolf senses as well.”

Carrie swallowed. If he’d heard that, then… “Did I kill my parents or did you do it?”

“We did it together. It was what you wanted deep down.”

“It was not.” She was horrified.

“This is better,” he said. “You were being repressed. They wouldn’t let you be your wolf.”

Carrie stood up. “I don’t want to be my wolf.”

“That’s not true. Your wolf is your deepest, truest self.”

She hugged herself. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything, little fael. You have done this yourself.”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t want this. You forced me to do this. I didn’t want it.” And then she hurried out of the room. She ran up the steps and into her bedroom.

Mick was behind her. “Wait, Carrie.”

She slammed the door to her bedroom in his face. She leaned against it. For the umpteenth time that morning, she started to cry.

* * *

She wasn’t sure how long she cried for, only that it didn’t seem nearly long enough this time either. At first, Mick was pounding on the door, begging to be let in, but after a while, he seemed to give up and leave her alone.

She lay down on her bed, curled into a ball.

And then she fell asleep.

She hadn’t expected to sleep. She didn’t even think that she could. She’d only been awake for a few hours, and it didn’t seem time for a nap. But apparently, all the crying she’d been doing was tiring. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but when she woke up, it seemed to be late morning.

Upon waking, she tried to convince herself that everything else had simply been a terrible dream. She’d mixed up the man from the carnival with the moon and her anger at her parents’ overprotectiveness. But she couldn’t have really shifted into a werewolf and killed them. That was crazy.

She went into their bedroom to look for them, but they weren’t there, and the bed wasn’t made. Which was odd. Her mother always made the bed.

It really happened, she murmured to herself.

“No,” she said aloud.

She scrambled down the steps and went into the living room, where she’d found their bodies.

The bodies weren’t there.

She let out a slow breath.

Had it really been a dream?

She walked further into the living room. As she got closer to the fireplace, she realized that the usual rug was gone, and that there was a wide, red-brown stain over the whole floor.

Blood.

She could smell it. Something inside her stirred and panted. It liked the smell.

She shuddered and tore out of the room, only to collide with Mick’s hard chest.

She backed away from him. “Where… where are the bodies?”

He was dirty. She could see that now. His face was smeared with dirt, and there was a fine dust of earth clinging to the skin of his bare chest. “I buried them in the woods.”

“But…” She sank her hands into her hair. “What about calling the police?”

“The police would recognize it as a wolf attack and notify the SF. We can’t have that.”

“What about a funeral? A proper burial with coffins and a cemetery and a preacher and black umbrellas and rain clouds and—”

“Have you ever been to a real funeral? Not just seen one on TV?”

She grabbed hunks of her own hair and pulled. “You can’t do this to me. I don’t care if you are my alpha. You can’t just take my parents away and expect me to go along with it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“Pretend?”

“You can be honest about the way you felt about your parents. You hated them, didn’t you? They were utterly strict. You had early curfews. You’ve never been allowed to learn to drive. You’ve never been allowed to explore the world for yourself. They stifled you. They lied to you about who you were, and they tried to control you.”

It was true. Everything he was saying was true. “But I didn’t mean it.” She dragged her hands over her face. “I didn’t mean for them to die.”

“Yes, you did,” said Mick. “Some part of you did.”

“No.” Her nostrils flared.

“Why can’t you accept it, little fael? Your parents were a problem that you needed to solve. Now you’ve solved it. You can be pleased.”

“Pleased that they’re dead?” Her voice cracked. “What’s wrong with you? How can you say something like that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. You feel guilty only because you think you should. But I’m telling you that you don’t have to. We are werewolves, Carrie. We don’t have to follow the same rules as everyone else.”

“What do you mean? Of course we do. Listen to me, I loved my parents.”

He only chuckled. “Sure you did.”

“I did.”

He shrugged. “I think I’m going to take another shower. Afterward, I can give you a driving lesson if you want.”

“Driving? Like a car?”

“As long as you know where the keys to the cars in the garage are.”

She felt excited. She’d always wanted to learn to drive. Then ashamed. How could she be thinking about something like this when her parents were dead? When she’d killed them?

She glared at him. “I don’t think so. I don’t need anything from you. And I want you out of my house.”

He stepped closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. His eyes bored into her own. “We are connected, Carrie. We have a bond. I don’t want to leave you, and I don’t think you want me to leave either.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” she said. “I don’t want anything to do with you.” She ran back to her room and slammed the door shut again.

* * *

Safe in her room, she threw herself on the bed and tried to summon more tears. But they were stubborn. They wouldn’t come. She rolled over onto her side and stared at the door to her room.

Her room still looked like a little girl’s room. Her parents had never wanted her to change the flowered curtains or the matching wallpaper. Everything was purple and delicate. Even the room seemed stifling.

To her horror, she found that she was starting to think good thoughts about the demise of her parents. Things might be easier now. There would be no one around telling her what to do or trying to keep her from having fun. She could stay out late. She could go to parties. She could learn to drive, and she could take herself wherever she wanted to go. She could be free.

She scolded herself. Of course she missed her parents. Of course she loved them. Of course she never wanted them dead.

But…

They were dead. And no feeling bad about it on her part was going to bring them back.

She pulled a pillow over her head, trying to force those terrible thoughts out of her mind. She couldn’t think that way. She was meant to be grieving.

Mick pounded on her door.

“Go away,” she said from beneath the pillow.

He tried the doorknob, and the door opened.

She’d forgotten to lock it, she realized, and she was angry at herself about that. She peered out from beneath the pillow.

Mick’s hair was wet, but he was completely dressed. He was even wearing a shirt. He’d been barechested all morning. He dangled a set of keys from his hand. “You sure you don’t want a driving lesson?”

“Not from you,” she said.

He came into the bedroom and sat down at the foot of her bed. He put his hand on her ankle and began to rub it. “I’m sorry, little fael. I realize this must be quite a shock for you.”

“Don’t touch me,” she choked. But she almost liked his hand there. It made her feel fluttery inside.

He continued to rub her ankle. “Everything is changing so fast for you. But you must trust me when I tell you that it’s much better for you to be with me and not the people who were raising you. They weren’t doing you any favors. Really, you’ve been rescued from their tyranny.”

“They weren’t that bad.” She sat up, flinging down the pillow. “They were all I ever had.”

“Because they wouldn’t let you have anyone else,” he said. “They didn’t even like me to visit after the first time. And I am closer to you than anyone on earth.” He reached out and gently caressed her face. “You must believe me, little fael. I would never hurt you.”

She wasn’t afraid of him. She was angry with him.

He jingled the keys again. “Come on. Just for a little bit. To take your mind off all this unpleasantness.”

She hesitated. Everything was so confusing. When she thought about her parents, it hurt, but when he talked about learning to drive, it made her feel excited. And though she knew that it wasn’t appropriate to feel excited right now, she reached out and grabbed the keys.