puts it lightly, tries to make a joke of it, but I can see the suspicion and hurt in her eyes.
I lie. Say things are the same as always. Make excuses. Tell her there’s a lot of confusion in my life—Loch dying (not that I put it so bluntly), Juni moving in with Dervish. I even mention exams and the future, pretending I’m worried about the direction I’m taking.
She buys it. Thinks I’m going through a mid-teen crisis, that it’s nothing to do with her. Willing to wait for my mood to improve. Confident I’ll be back looking to put the moves on her once I sort through my problems. Never guessing that they might be the ripping-her-throat-open-with-my-teeth type of moves—if I turn into a werewolf next weekend.
Walking home slowly, watching for the tramp. I’ve caught glimpses of him since that night at the cave, hanging around school, on the streets of Carcery Vale, once in the trees across from my bedroom window. But he’s kept at a safe distance. No follow-up contact. Slips away if I try to approach.
I’m surprised he even spoke to me that once. Maybe it was an accident—late at night, standing guard in the forest, at the scene of a tragedy. Perhaps the mood affected him and he spoke without meaning to. I’m sure even the executioners of the Lambs are prone to human slip-ups every now and then.
Thinking about the tramp and the Lambs as I let myself in. Wondering how they kill the werewolves. I imagine it’s clinical and undramatic, probably a powerful poison, injected humanely. But I can’t help playing out shock-horror scenes—hordes of Lambs dressed as tramps surrounding me, attacking me with machetes and clubs, a slow, humiliating, painful death.
“Grubbs,” Dervish calls as I’m heading up the stairs, disrupting my train of morbid thoughts. “Could you come see me when you’re ready?”
“Sure.” Up to my room. Toss my bag into a corner. Out of my uniform swiftly, into jeans and a baggy sweater seconds later. Jog back down in my socks to find Dervish and Juni sitting on one of the couches in the TV room, looking edgy and stern.
I take a seat, wary. I look at them and they stare at me. A long, ragged silence. Then Dervish speaks quickly. “I’ve told Juni about you. About
I blink slowly and glance at Juni. Can’t tell what she’s thinking. Wearing her most enigmatic counsellor’s face.
“I thought long and hard about this,” Dervish says, leaning forward. “It would have been easy to ask Juni to go away next weekend and keep her out of the loop. Easy and safe.” He looks at her. She smiles briefly and lays a hand on his. “But we need her help. I don’t know why, but you’ve stopped talking to me. This last week or two, you’ve been withdrawn, moody, sullen. Maybe it’s just fear. But I think there’s more to it. You’ve cut me out as if you have issues with me and that’s not good. I need to know what you’re thinking and feeling. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on inside your head.”
“You think Juni can open me up,” I say stiffly. “Stick me on a couch, get into my brain, worm out the truth.”
“Maybe,” Dervish mutters.
“We only have your best interests at heart,” Juni says. “This is a troubled time for you. Dervish wants to help. I do too. If you have problems with your uncle—or with me—you should lay them out in the open. Or, if it’s something you don’t want to discuss with Dervish, perhaps you can tell me in private.”
“Patient to counsellor?” I sneer.
“If you like,” she says calmly. “I’d rather talk informally as a friend, but if you prefer we can do it professionally, with the guarantee of confidentiality.”
“I don’t mind,” Dervish says. “I just want to help you survive the next week. If I’ve upset you and you don’t want to tell me about it, fine. But you don’t have to cut Juni out. Surely you can talk with her if not with me.”
“What if there’s no problem?” I mumble. “What if I’m just scared to death that I’m going to turn into a werewolf and don’t feel like talking about it?”
“That would be entirely understandable,” Juni says. “But unless you’re sure that’s the case, you should discuss it with someone. Talking about your fears can be a highly positive experience. You know that, Grubbs. You’re not an innocent child. Going through this alone is a bad call.”
“Especially as you might not even be going through it,” Dervish says. I look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You mightn’t be turning. Juni thinks…” He stops and looks at her.
“Just because people in your family are victims of a disease which alters their bodies—I refuse to refer to them as werewolves, since that’s a hysterical term—it doesn’t mean
“You think I’m imagining things?” I growl.
“Perhaps,” Juni says. “The mind can play tricks on the most ordinary people—and you’re far from ordinary! To come through what you have… to see so much of the world—and other worlds—at such a young age… to lose your loved ones in a grisly fashion, then fight for your brother’s life… what happened to us in Slawter… Your resilience amazes me. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and I’m not saying that to stroke your ego. You’re incredible, Grubbs.”
I smile crookedly, blushing, tears coming to my eyes. Part of me wants to leap up and hug her. Another part wants me to wave her compliment away and act cool. In the end I just carry on smiling, blushing and crying lightly.
“But even the strongest of us has a breaking point,” Juni says. “Maybe Loch was yours. Or perhaps there’s something else, a small upset you’re not even aware of. It’s possible you’re turning—but it’s also possible you’re not. I want to try and find out. In a week we’ll know for definite. But we can cover a lot of ground in a week. It could make a real difference if you’re wrong about the change.”
“And if I’m right?” I ask tightly.
Juni beams. “We’ll just have to fire a silver bullet through the middle of your forehead.”
I laugh loudly. Dervish does too.
“My sense of humour’s rubbing off on her,” Dervish chuckles proudly.
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Boys, boys,” Juni tuts. “Let’s not get sidetracked. Grubbs, will you accept my offer of help? Talk with me privately if you have something you don’t want to say to both of us? Accept me as a counsellor if not a friend?”
I almost blurt it out and tell them I know about the Lambs, which is why I’ve been so surly. But that would mean a confrontation with Dervish, admitting to his face that I feel he betrayed me. I can’t do that, not after all the good things he’s done for me. If I’m wrong, it would hurt him to hear me speak that way.
So I take Juni up on her offer, lower my head to hide my thoughts, and mutter, “Yeah, talking with you sounds good.”
“Thank you,” Juni says.
“Nice one,” Dervish adds.
And we pretend for a while that everything’s fine and all our problems have been solved.
Long talks with Juni at school in the day and at home in the evenings. Not just about Loch. We cover all kinds of ground—my past, parents, Gret, Lord Loss, the institute, life with Dervish, Bill-E changing into a werewolf, Slawter. All the things we didn’t discuss before, when she was only interested in helping me deal with Loch’s death.
We spend a lot of time on magic, the buzz of energy I sometimes feel in my gut, what I’ve done with it, my mind-set when the magic was flowing through me. With Dervish’s permission, Juni runs some tests, trying to tap into my magical core, to find out what’s going on inside, what I might be capable of doing. But she comes up blank. If the magic’s still there, it’s buried too deep for her to find.
She also spends a lot of time researching the Demonata, pumping Dervish for information, finding out all she can about them. She’s especially hot on Lord Loss—if he’s able to cure our lycanthropic curse, she doesn’t see why we shouldn’t be able to do it too.
“We’re not powerful enough,” Dervish tells her.
“Maybe it’s just a matter of knowing the right spells,” Juni suggests.
“I don’t think so,” he says. “If that was the case, Bartholomew Garadex would have discovered them. He
