Part 4 (2/2)
”Cait! It's me. It's Rayne. Are you okay? You're obviously not okay.”
I notice Jareth has taken a large step back as well. Probably fighting the same urge I am to suck. We vampires really turn into monsters when it comes to fresh blood. And resistance often is futile.
”Rayne?” Cait whimpers, lowering her hands and looking up at me. ”Is that really you?”
”Hang on. I'm going to call 911, all right?” I rummage through my messenger bag for my cell phone, flip it open, and start to dial.
”No!” Cait protests, yanking her sweater down over her arm and jumping off the toilet seat. She grabs the phone out of my hand and volleys it across the room. It skitters over the tiled floor, battery popping off the back.
”Uh, was that really necessary?” I demand, now angry on top of bloodthirsty and concerned. That's the third phone I've gone through this year. And Mom's never going to buy that it wasn't me who broke it this time.
”You don't need to call 911. I'm fine.”
”You're bleeding.”
”Just a tiny cut. Not a big deal.”
I scan the locker room, taking in the carnage. ”Not a big deal? Look around, Cait. You're going to tell me nothing happened here?”
Cait's face crumbles and she bursts into tears. ”No.” She sobs. ”Something did happen. Something really . . . crazy. I can't explain it. It's too . . . too weird. You're going to think I'm insane.”
”I promise you, Cait. Absolutely nothing you say will make me think you're insane.” I put a hand on her shoulder.
”Seriously.” If only she knew about me, she'd think I was the one who needed the men in white coats to take me away.
”I saw . . . with my own eyes . . .” She shakes her head and leans against the locker-room wall, staring up at the ceiling. I can't help but notice the blood from her cut is now soaking through her sleeve. I force my eyes away. ”Oh G.o.d, you're going to think I'm nuts. But the cheerleaders. They . . . they ... all of a sudden they-”
”Morphed into werewolves, trashed the place, and ran howling away into the night?” Jareth asks in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
Cait's eyes grow wide as saucers as she stares at Jareth. ”How did you know?” she demands, her voice trembling. ”And who are you, anyway? And how did you get in the girls' locker room?”
”Don't worry, Cait. That's Jareth. My boyfriend. He's one of the good guys,” I a.s.sure her. Then the enormity of what Jareth said hits me. I turn to him, my own eyes probably as wide as Cait's. ”What did you just say?”
He shrugs, looking around the room. ”From the evidence we see here, it seems quite possible that the entire squad has somehow been infected by the lycanthropy virus.”
”Lycan-?”
”In layman's terms, they've been turned into werewolves.”
”Ha, ha, ha, ha!” I fake laugh as hard and loud as I can, trying to pretend his statement is ridiculous and nothing we should seriously consider a problem. After all, I don't want Cait to think we're a couple of freaks who believe in things like that. The girl's been through enough already tonight. Last thing she needs is to be told that creatures of the night aren't just made up monsters in horror movies, but live and walk among us. ”Jareth, darling, you're such a kidder! So silly. Werewolves. Ha, ha, ha!” My mind races for a more believable, less monster-driven theory as to why the cheerleaders trashed the gym and took off. Maybe it was their time of the month and they were really, really grumpy . . .
”Well, Rayne, actually it makes sense,” Cait says slowly. ”I mean, in an impossible way, but still. When I went into the bathroom to change, Mandy, Nancy, and the rest of the gang were their normal, beautiful selves. Blonde, blue-eyed, and certainly lacking any body hair whatsoever. Then when I came out, the locker room was filled with furry wolf women, running around like nutcases, howling up a storm, and destroying everything in their paths.”
”Um. Yeah, but maybe someone ...” I'm so reaching here. ”Er, let a pack of. . . wild dogs in the locker room by mistake.
You know, through a back door or something?”
Jareth shoots me a pointed look.
”What?” I ask. ”It could happen! In fact, that's probably exactly what did happen. Pack of wild dogs. Maybe even coyotes.
They left the door open and they just came in and-”
”The wolves were wearing bras and panties, Rayne.”
”Oh.”
Sigh. So much for convincing Cait the world is a normal, monster-free place. She's scarred for life. One of us now. I wonder if she'd like to apply to become a vampire. And if so, is there a signing bonus for bringing in new recruits?
Cait bursts into a fresh set of tears. ”You guys think I'm crazy, don't you? Like one of those people always getting abducted by aliens. No one believes them either.” She sniffles. ”I know what I saw. They were werewolves. They were really werewolves.”
”Rayne believes you,” Jareth comforts, putting an arm around her shoulders. ”She's just trying to protect you.”
Cait buries her head in Jareth's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He stiffens, probably at the proximity of the open wound beneath her sweater.
”What I want to know is how you got that cut on your arm. Did they . . . scratch you?” I ask cautiously. I don't want to freak the girl out even more than she is already, but we've got to be practical here. What if a simple scratch is all it takes to become infected by the werewolf bug? It's bad enough three quarters of the squad is currently out howling at the full moon and chomping on football players. I don't need Cait to start shapes.h.i.+fting, too.
But Cait shakes her head, her cheeks blus.h.i.+ng a tomato red. ”No,” she says. ”I . . . that was just an old scratch that broke open when I ran to hide in the bathroom. It has nothing to do with the werewolves.”
I narrow my eyes. She's lying. I know she is. But why? ”Let me see it,” I demand.
”No.” She shakes her head vehemently.
”Come on, Cait. This is important.” I try to grab her arm.
”I said, 'No!' ” she cries, wrenching her arm free of my grasp and running toward the locker-room door. ”I've got to go home! My mother's expecting me!”
”Wait-!”
The door slams behind her, echoing with a loud bang.
I start to run after her, but Jareth grabs my sweats.h.i.+rt hood and reins me in. ”Let her go,” he says.
”But she's cut. What if she turns into a werewolf, too?” I protest. ”And what if she goes around school telling everyone she's just witnessed Oakridge High's varsity cheerleaders morph into a pack of dogs? That would be really bad.”
”First off, no one would believe her if she did,” Jareth says calmly. ”And second, I doubt she'd risk being the laughingstock of school by spouting what they'd think of as nonsense. More likely she's just going home.”
”And the cut? Her mother will kill her if she turns into a werewolf next full moon.” ”I'm not an expert, but I believe the lycanthropy virus is transmitted through saliva,” Jareth explains. ”So unless she was bitten or kissed by one of them, she's likely safe.”
I think for a moment. ”It definitely looked like a scratch more than a bite,” I conclude. ”So do you think that means she's going to be okay?”
”I think you'd be better off concerning yourself with the other girls,” Jareth says, pacing the locker-room floor with long steps. ”How did they catch the virus to begin with? As far as I know, there are no Lycan packs in the New England area. Slayer Inc., to their credit, has done a good job keeping the dogs out.”
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