The Black Wolves of Boston, page 20
But he couldn’t let Joshua realize that.
“There. See. You’re fine.” He couldn’t think of any other words of comfort. He was a little too freaked out to think of anything. “Hush. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Whimpering, the puppy burrowed into the space between Decker’s arm and chest until his entire head was tucked into Decker’s armpit.
“It’s okay.” Decker petted the puppy, trying to think of something sane and reasonable to say. After several minutes of silence, he took up his story. He might as well distract Joshua with his own tale of woe.
The Wolf King sent alphas to the Colonies. The prince that he sent to New York had been killed and his heir wasn’t strong enough to take the alpha. Decker probably shouldn’t mention that wolf or the following massacre.
“But—for some reason—the Wolf King decided that he would come to New York City himself. It was like rats fleeing a sinking ship; every monster abandoned its lair and fled before the Wolf King. I was on the road between New York and Philadelphia, running once again from people who thought I was the devil in flesh, when a wave of real monsters washed over the land. I’d stopped at an inn for the night. A vampire attacked in a feeding frenzy. Each person it fed on became a monster like it. It was a madness that grew like a fire, consuming everything until I was the last one alive in a small attic room. Only I wasn’t like everyone else in the inn; I had my rare and magical gift. I could channel power. So when the monster tore open a hole into that monstrous realm, I could choose to shape the power that flowed out into a weapon or I could, for a time, close it off. I killed the vampires in the inn. God protected me—in that the last monster had fled into a coal cellar just like this one. When the sun rose and I fell senseless, I was hidden away until night—”
Decker paused as he realized a flaw in his plan that could be catastrophic. He’d assumed that Joshua was needlessly afraid and they’d leave the coal cellar shortly. He hadn’t counted on Joshua changing and not being able to revert to human.
This could be a problem.
Joshua had never seen Decker senseless. Saul had described it as very unsettling. Joshua wasn’t going to be able to cope with seemingly dead Decker on top of being stuck a puppy. Nor did Decker want to leave the coal cellar before Joshua had figured out how to change back. Despite his cavalier speech, he knew things went wrong with newborn werewolves. If Joshua lost control, the Grigori would come hunting his puppy, treaty or no treaty.
“Enough about me,” Decker said. “We’ve determined that yes, you can become a wolf. Let’s work on getting back to being a human.”
For several minutes all he got out of Joshua were muffled whimpers. Decker couldn’t tell if he was trying to change back, trying to talk, or just committed to freaking out in a very typically Joshua way (which thankfully was a very Zen peaceful but noisy way). Decker found himself thinking of funny things that the boy might be saying.
“Why am I so tiny? This is so unfair! Not only am I a stuck being a werewolf, I’m a puppy.”
It did not help that as Decker thought “puppy” Joshua wailed something that sounded remarkably close to the word.
“You’re a very cute puppy,” Decker said.
Joshua went absolutely still and silent.
Decker’s sense of humor was going to get him killed one of these days. Teasing a werewolf while locked in a small dusty room was probably not a wise thing to do. He scrambled to think of a way to salvage that comment. “To me, you have always been a cute little puppy.” No, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say either.
Joshua sneezed again.
Decker found himself three feet off the ground with the head of a wolf the size of a draft horse wedged under his arm. He dangled there, too surprised to move. Not good.
With horses, you always wanted to control their head. He tightened his hold on Joshua’s head.
The wolf shook him loose. Joshua sat back onto his haunches and banged his head on the coal cellar’s roof. In the drift of loosened dust, Joshua lifted a paw the size of a dinner platter up to stare at it intently.
“This—this is actually a step forward.” Decker lay on the floor, carefully not moving. “You’ve managed to transform again. So let’s try for a human or at least human-sized.”
Joshua sneezed. He became a human-sized wolf.
“Good! That’s progress—”
Joshua sneezed again and became the draft horse wolf.
This was going to be a long night.
* * *
For the next two hours, Joshua was every imaginable size of wolf. Only his coloring stayed constant. Decker was starting to despair that Joshua would ever get back to normal. They were lucky that it was November and the nights were long. They still had hours before dawn, but time was running out.
Plan B. Set up the house so his puppy could survive the day without supervision.
“Enough of this! Let’s go upstairs and clear the kitchen and unpack the new refrigerator and microwave.”
Joshua was currently a draft-horse-sized wolf. He’d bumped his head on the ceiling again and was rubbing the spot between his ears with his giant paw. He paused to stare at Decker. “Hrm?”
Decker unbolted the door. “Since your bedroom is cleared, the next logical room to work on is the kitchen. I’m fairly sure there’s nothing in the kitchen that I want. I should make sure before you pitch everything out. We have a few hours yet. We can clear it in no time.”
It seemed like a brilliant plan until he reached the kitchen and picked up the first armful of clutter. There was no good place to put it down. He picked his way through the downstairs carrying the armful. Should he take it upstairs?
Giant wolf Joshua appeared with something in his teeth. He dropped it on the floor in front of Decker. It was an orange box that read: HEFTY EXTRA STRONG LARGE TRASH DRAWSTRING BAG.
“Ah, I see. Put it in a bag and then—then—put it outside until the dumpster comes. Yes. Very good.” Decker puzzled his way through opening the box. When did boxes get this complicated? Inside was a thick roll of plastic. Individual bags peeled off the roll like layers of an onion. “How ingenious.”
He fought the large slick piece of plastic looking for the opening. “I know there has to be an opening! The picture shows a drawstring bag! One of these sides must be it! No. No. No. No. No. Oh come on, one of them has to be the right one. There! Finally!”
Wolf puppy Joshua darted in and out between his legs, shoving stray items into the bag as Decker filled the first one. After they’d filled a bag, giant-size Joshua would carry it outside. (Decker didn’t think it was wise for Joshua to leave the house but he had no way to stop that big a wolf. Luckily the driveway was shielded from view in the back.) They cleared the floor first and then worked on the counter.
What did living creatures need? Decker was no longer sure. Food. That was the easy one. Unearthing the kitchen sink reminded him that water was another must.
The faucets were smooth round knobs that the wolf wouldn’t be able to turn without breaking. They’d gotten drinking glasses. Decker could fill them and set them on the floor. The puppy could lap water from the glasses but not the draft-horse-sized wolf.
Decker eyed the toilet bowl in the downstairs bathroom. Most likely Joshua wouldn’t want to drink from that. The toilet also brought to question how the wolf was going to relieve itself. Water in meant urine out.
They could lay down papers. They had rooms full of newspaper.
The puppy wrestled with the six-pack of paper towels.
“Here. I’ll do that.” Decker ripped open the plastic.
The puppy jumped up onto the counter beside the sink. It looked at him and then the faucet.
Decker put the paper towels on the cleared island. He went to the sink and gave the faucet an experimental twist. The pipes groaned. After a minute of coughing and rattling, rusty brown water poured out into the sink. “Oh. Dear. Maybe it will get better if we let it run. If you want some water, I can get a glass from the bathroom.”
The puppy covered its eyes with its paws.
“What?” Decker cried.
The puppy sighed and looked pointedly at the paper towels abandoned on the island.
“I-I-I don’t understand.” Decker picked up the paper towels. “Do you want the paper towels or water?”
Joshua jumped off the counter and turned into a human. “You truly have no clue on how to clean, do you?”
Decker froze. Should he point out that Joshua was finally a boy? No. “People cleaned for me.”
“How did you live alone for fifty-seven years without cleaning?” Joshua took the paper towels from him. “I’m seventeen and I know how! I started washing pots and pans when I was in first grade.”
“When you take eating out of the equation, there is little need to clean.”
“What about your clothes?”
“I do laundry. I wash my bed linens. I have a shower for when I get ichor or dirt on my body. Otherwise—I’m not a human, Joshua. I’m a magical being.”
“If you say you’re sparkly clean, I’m going to smack you.”
“I do not sparkle.” Decker leaned against the island to watch Joshua dampen a towel and systematically wipe down the counters. He could not stop smiling. His boy was going to be fine.
15: JOSHUA
Another late, late, late night with Decker. Another nightmare. Another morning with memories returning from the night he was attacked. This time of how the wolf stood over him, biting down hard, teeth grinding against bone, and then the sense of being lost in a flood, dark, hot and wild.
Joshua woke up burning in the sun that poured in through his bay window. They’d forgotten to buy curtains for his bedroom. The sun-rotten old ones had fallen down while they set up his air mattress bed.
They’d forgotten to buy an alarm clock. He had no idea what time it was except “day.” It still felt like morning.
He wasn’t sure what day it was until he started to count out from when he was mauled. That had been Friday. Saturday he’d been discharged from the hospital, fled his parents’ house, and met Decker. Sunday he’d gone food shopping, won ten million dollars, talked to a dead woman, met the Wolf King, and spent three hours stuck as a wolf with a resizing problem.
It was Monday then. He was officially late for school.
He rolled onto his back, raised his hands toward the ceiling and stared at them.
Last night he had paws.
He was a werewolf.
A werewolf.
A werewolf.
A werewolf.
His arms started to get tired.
He’d probably been staring at his hands a lot longer than he thought. He was spectacularly not coping here. He didn’t seem to be able to tackle his change head on. It was like jumping into a tar pit. It was too deep. Too dark. Too thick. There was nothing to hang on to. He felt like he was going to go under and never come back up.
What was he supposed to do now? He was a werewolf, but he didn’t really know what that meant. What did werewolves do when they weren’t out being wolfy?
He had thought picking a major to study in college was hard. He hadn’t been able to answer that question either. What do you want to be the rest of your life? “Werewolf” was not one of his top ten picks.
He decided to focus on Hoarders: Hipster Vampire. It was something that he could wrap his brain around.
They hadn’t finished in the kitchen. They’d cleared the floor and the counters but hadn’t even opened the cabinet doors. He needed to clean all the cabinets and drawers so he could put away the dishes, glasses and silverware that they’d bought the night before.
Beyond that, everything became too much of a tar pit.
Right.
Get a dumpster. Deep clean. Paint some walls. Have a yard sale. Cry a little bit as someone (probably Decker) gently explained the facts of life. Done.
His stomach grumbled a bit. Oh yes, and go real food shopping. Decker had given him a fist full of fifties. With the microwave and mini fridge, Joshua could do more than just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Which made him wonder what Decker “ate.” And when. So far Decker had spent every waking moment with him, running around, buying things and then they would clean and plan until Joshua crashed out of sheer exhaustion. One minute they were putting the linens on his new air bed, talking about what they’d do the next evening, and the next he’d was waking up at seven-thirty (according to Decker’s phone).
He had one vague memory of Decker patting him on the head. Decker did that a lot. He had large hands, compared to Joshua, that were cool to the touch. Joshua didn’t want to think about how much he liked it when Decker patted him on the head.
Joshua tried to count sit-ups instead of thinking of Decker.
One sit-up. The man confused the hell out of him.
Two. On one hand, Decker was rock solid when Joshua really needed someone to steady him. He made Joshua feel safe.
Three. The problem was that when he thought Joshua had both feet firmly under him, the teasing started.
Four. At least Joshua thought it was teasing. He couldn’t be sure.
Five. It wasn’t like Decker was hinting that he wanted something from Joshua. Every time he teased, he just took something Joshua said or did, and twisted it. Like last night at Target, Joshua had taken Decker’s hand without thinking to pull him to the grocery aisles. Decker smirked at him and said, “Yes, I see the beef log. I’m sure it’s tasty.” Technically, Joshua started that…
Six. And when Elise told Joshua to keep his hands off Decker’s sword. Decker made that sound sexual even without saying a word. Which was impressive. Maybe it was Decker’s magical vampire talent…
Which would be a weird magical talent to have.
Joshua had lost count of the sit-ups. Where was he? Five?
Six. Decker had said that Elise was dear to him. He also said that she’d shoot Decker because she knew it really wouldn’t kill him. She certainly acted like she’d cheerfully stab him many times.
Six. But then Elise warned Joshua not to hurt Decker. Which meant she thought he could. Hurt as in tear off Decker’s head? Or hurt as in break his heart?
Six. Would she hold it against him that he wasn’t gay and Decker was?
Six. Exactly how psycho was Elise? There was no question that she was dangerous. The question was how dangerous.
Six. Was Decker gay?
Joshua knew kids who thought it was hilarious when they grabbed their groin and said “suck me” when they weren’t gay. Decker at least made everything he said sound funny. What if he was just joking about the homosexual stuff?
It was hard for Joshua to figure out because no one ever acted that way around him. His friends were all male, dorky, unpopular, and straight. The one obviously gay guy in high school hung out with a pack of girls. None of the girls in his grade ever gave Joshua a second look because he was so short and apparently “weird.” He was never sure what he was doing that was so strange. Certainly, he’d tried hard to act like everyone else.
How many sit-ups had he done?
This was not working. Life had thrown him too many curve balls. He didn’t even know which ones he should be juggling. The least important one probably was Decker’s sexual orientation. The only thing Joshua knew for sure was that he couldn’t go home.
And he was hungry.
A hungry wolf was a dangerous wolf.
* * *
It was really hard to write and walk.
Joshua could read and walk easily. It was a mile between his house and his school bus stop, so he always read as he walked. Going to school he normally brushed up for tests or finished any reading homework. (Really, with all the wonderful novels in the world, why did they always pick Godawful ones for class? He hated Animal Farm before he had to live it, thank you very much.) Walking back home, he read for pleasure.
Writing was a whole different matter.
He had to stop moving or his handwriting got so wobbly that he couldn’t read what he wrote. While he’d gotten dressed he realized that the scary Wolf King manifestation had made him forget that Jack Cabot had gone to high school with Winnie. He felt like he’d wasted all that energy worrying when he knew that Winnie considered Jack “a knight in shining armor.” Also he’d spent the twelve-plus hours with Decker without telling him anything constructive about the séance. Sioux Zee made it sound like the ghost’s information was probably out of date, but Jazmin had thought his presence meant that it wasn’t. Certainly the Wickers seemed to figure hugely into Jazmin’s life. Were they the same Wickers chasing Joshua now? And where was the Prince of Boston? In New York with the Wolf King? If Winnie had told Joshua, he’d forgotten. All he could remember was that the prince peeked under her bed for monsters, or something like that. There were definitely monsters under the bed, but Joshua wasn’t too sure about a Peeping Tom werewolf prince.
He needed to write everything down to keep it straight. His life had become worse than being thrown into the middle of a video game like Call of Duty 4 without doing the tutorial.
He’d started with making a list on Decker.
Decker is a vampire. A freaky vampire. Other vampires were dangerous.
Decker had a scary giant sword. Someplace. It had disappeared after the fight with the huntsman. Decker had talked about channeling magic into a weapon. Maybe the sword only existed when Decker needed it—but then how did Joshua use it?
Decker had lived in Philadelphia before 1959. He came to Boston with Saul, and he was at least seventy years old despite looking twenty. What’s that in dog years? (Joshua wrote that down, not as a joke but a question of how long he would live as a werewolf. Decker implied that the Wolf King was older than him.)
Decker slept—or something—sunrise to sunset. Where, Joshua was still unsure because the vampire could move freaking quietly. He’d judo-thrown Decker twice last night when the vampire startled him. Logically Decker’s coffin was somewhere in the house and most likely the basement. When they went to the coal cellar, however, there was no sign of it.
