Нил Шустерман: Red Rider's Hood

"So you're just gonna go to the police with werewolf stories?"

"Who said anything about the police? Thirty years ago, there were two werewolf hunters who rid the town of the curse the first time. I've been trying to track them down, but they disappeared. Some people say they died along with Xavier Soames, but others say they just went into hiding."

And then something clicked in my mind.

"My grandmother knew them! She said some old friends taught her to use wolfsbane!"

Marissa's eyes sparkled. "That's the best lead I've gotten yet! Let's find out what she knows!"

She went to the back door, pushed it open, then hesitated at the threshold. "The Wolves could be anywhere," she said. "Just around the corner, or clear across town. There's no way to know."

"Well," I said, "I guess going to the movies tonight is out, huh?"

She laughed at that. It was good that we could still laugh. Far off I heard something howl to the moon, and although it was a chilling, awful sound, I was relieved that it was so far away.

"Marissa," I asked, because I simply needed to know, "what made you think I was a werewolf?"

She looked at me a good long while before she answered. One side of her face was lit by the soft light of the room, and the other side of her face was lit by pale moonlight. My face must have looked the same to her. Half-warm, half-cold.

"You fit the profile, Red. You're restless―a little impulsive, maybe. It made me think there might be a little bit of animal in you."

I grinned. "Maybe there is," I said with a wink. I was just joking, but Marissa didn't laugh.

"They lived just around the corner," Grandma told Marissa and me as she poured us cups of scalding-hot wolfsbane tea. "When things got bad, they taught us how to brew wolfsbane―strong enough to keep the wolves away, but not strong enough to kill you when you drank it. She spooned a heavy dose of honey into each of our cups. "There. Try that."

I stirred and took a sip. It tasted a lot better than the wolfs­bane cigarette had smelled. It tasted like jasmine and mint.

Marissa tried her tea, grimaced, and added more honey. "What do you remember about them?"

Grandma shrugged. "They were just a friendly couple. Quiet. You'd never guess they were werewolf hunters. When they finally put Xavier's gang down, they just disappeared."

"Any pictures of them?" I asked. Photography was Grandma's hobby. No one ever escaped her lens.

She just shook her head sadly. "They were camera shy. If a camera came out, they made themselves scarce. I suppose I understand why. They were only safe as long as they were anonymous."

"Would you recognize them if you saw them again?" I asked.

Grandma sighed. "Thirty years changes people. I can't say I would."

Marissa stood and began to pace the room. "If we don't even know what they look like, how can we find them?"

"The medallion," said Grandma.

"Huh?"

"One of them wore a medallion―very scarred, very old. Bronze, I think it was. Find the medallion, and you'll find them."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," I said. "How are we going to track down a medallion?"

I reached to pour myself another cup of tea, but Grandma stopped me.

"Careful," she said. "One cup is plenty. As long as it stays in our blood, it should keep the werewolves away." Then she turned to Marissa. "Tell me, dear, how did you come by the skull of Xavier Soames?"

Marissa glanced around as if the walls might have ears, then spoke in a low whisper. "It was my uncle who got it," she said. "He's the one who told me about Xavier Soames, and how the Wolves had terrorized the neighborhood. It made him a little bit crazy, I think. For as long as I can remember, he's been very superstitious―carrying rabbit's feet, avoiding ladders, that sort of thing. He taught me all he knew about werewolves. He had read that the best way to keep evil spirits from coming back was to make mischief with their bones."

"What kind of mischief?" I asked.

"Moving the bones around in the grave, that sort of thing."

I swallowed hard. Digging up a grave, opening a coffin, and shifting bones was not the kind of mischief I'd ever want to get into.

"My uncle snuck into the graveyard late one night, just before the moon rose, and dug old Xavier up. It had been only a year, but there wasn't much left of him but crusty bones."

"Makes sense," Grandma said. "The earth is quick to con­sume the flesh of things that ain't natural."

"Anyway," continued Marissa, "he began to do what he came there to do, moving the bones and all, and then the moon rose. At that moment, right before his eyes, the bones began to change. Every single human bone transformed into the bone of a wolf. It scared him half out of his mind―he thought the bones themselves would reassemble and attack him. But they didn't."

"So not even the bones of a werewolf can resist the call of a full moon," Grandma said with a shiver. "That's more than I ever wanted to know."

"Before he closed the coffin and filled in the grave, he took the skull. He's kept it locked in a chest ever since, afraid to take it out, but afraid to get rid of it, too."

"Where's your uncle now?" I asked. "Maybe he can lead us to the hunters."

Marissa shook her head. "Once he realized that Xavier's grandson was also a werewolf and was gathering a new gang, he left town. He gave me the skull before he left to warn me. The first time I saw the change myself, it scared me half out of my mind, but pretty soon I realized I could use the skull kind of like a wolf clock. All I have to do is look at that skull to know when the werewolves are out. And of course, I can use it to put people like Red here to the test."

"Very clever," Grandma said, but before Marissa could feel too proud of herself, she added, "but you're a fool for carry­ing it around so people can see. All it takes is one member of the pack to report back to Cedric, and they won't even wait for the full moon to put you on the menu."

Marissa was a little hurt by the reprimand. "My brother looks out for me."

Grandma tossed a sour look toward her. "Marvin? He's one of them! He was right there next to Cedric when he threw me in the basement."

"And stole the money from me," I added.

"No. If he was one of them, I'm sure I'd know. He's gotten in over his head maybe, but I'm sure he hasn't been 'made' yet."

"'Made'?" I asked.

"When you join the Wolves, you don't become a werewolf right away," Marissa explained. "You've got to show your loy­alty, and when Cedric thinks you're ready, he bites you, and once he does, there's no turning back. You're a werewolf."

"Does Marvin know about the skull?" I asked.

"I never showed it to him." Marissa began to pace as she thought about her brother. "Marvin has never liked Cedric―it doesn't make sense that he'd want to join the Wolves. He's got to be working some angle―trying to trick them into telling him their secrets, or trying to expose them, or something. Whatever it is, he can't really be one of them." I could see that the more she talked, the more she convinced herself she was right. "I know he helped steal your money . . . but I also know in my heart that I can trust him."

Well, I wasn't about to tell her any different―after all, she loved her brother, whether he deserved that love or not.

Grandma, on the other hand, spoke her mind plain and clear. "I don't trust him as far as I could kick him, and neither should you. Trust doesn't help you survive at a time like this."

But Marissa shook her head. "Trust is the only thing that helps you survive," she said. The two of them stared each other down.

"You're a foolish girl."

"And you're a suspicious old woman!" Marissa said.