End of Days (25 page)

“I don't really know much,” I said.

“Maybe you're a natural.”

“Maybe.”

She cleared a lock of hair away from her eyes and squeezed my hand. “It's wonderful to see you, too.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt her lean into me. Her head fell onto my shoulder. We sat for a time saying nothing. I just enjoyed the feel of her beside me. Her hand in my hand. The pleasant smell of her. I could happily have frozen my life right there. Just stopped the clock and been in heaven forever.

“Are we going to be all right?” she asked.

I didn't want to spoil the moment by being honest. I tipped my head to the side so that it was resting gently against hers. She turned just enough so that our noses were almost touching. Then they were. I thought she might move away, but she did the exact opposite. Her breath was suddenly on my lips. Her hand came up and cupped the side of my face. In that instant, I promised myself two things. The first was that I wasn't going to let anything happen to her. That I
would die first. The second was that I was going to find out how to properly kiss someone, because I never had.

My teeth started to slide down. I couldn't stop them. I glanced at her mouth. Her teeth were down, too. It pushed up her lips, made them look fuller. Her eyes were closed. Her chin rose a little, bringing her mouth closer. I understood in that moment why people said things like “these two have electricity.” We weren't touching, but I could feel her getting closer. Even before her lips parted, I could sense them moving. Making my skin tingle.

“Hey! Get away from my daughter!” shouted a voice.

Luna shrieked. I jumped. Then I heard laughter.

Luna picked up a rock and tossed it hard at the fire escape. Charlie was standing on top. He barely ducked in time. When the rock flew past him, he put a hand on his stomach and started laughing even harder.

“You should have seen your faces!” He could barely get the words out as he wiped at his eyes. They actually had tears in them.

Luna reached for another rock. “You jerk!”

I was so relieved that it was Charlie and not Dr. Abbott that I didn't think to complain. Instead, I helped Luna to her feet. She pulled me close. Her lips brushed gently against my cheek.

“You make sure you pay him back,” she whispered.

I wasn't going to suggest otherwise, but a part of me was grateful. In a way Charlie had just got me off the hook. If Luna knew I was a lousy kisser . . .

Charlie slapped my shoulder. He was breathing as if he'd just done a six-mile dash. “I hate to break it to you, Edward, but you aren't in Forks anymore. The love-in is over. We're going after Mr. Hyde.”

Charlie disappeared down the fire escape. It was a prudent move. Luna looked angry enough to stone him to death. Since nothing but pea-size gravel was on the roof, it would have taken her a while.

“I'd better see what this is about,” I said.

We both started down the stairs. Luna stopped outside her window.

“Is it a good idea to have this here?” She shook the railing of the fire escape. “Couldn't that thing climb up?”

“It wouldn't make a difference. If he wants to get inside, he'll just plow through the wall.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“From time to time.”

We stood there for a few moments just looking at one another. Then Charlie called. I really didn't want to go.

“I should come with you.”

I shook my head. “I don't like the idea of leaving Ophelia and your sister here by themselves. Will you be awake later?”

She nodded.

I turned and started down. I didn't get far. She took hold of my shirt and spun me around.

“Don't be too long,” she whispered. “You still owe me a kiss.”

When I heard that word,
kiss,
my brain stopped working properly. Instead of formulating a witty response, all it could do was
change my face from pale to crimson. It might have been a survival thing. If I was blushing enough to produce my own light, I'd be less likely to trip on the stairs and fall to my death.

“Be careful,” she added.

I nodded, then got myself turned around and slipped down to the driveway. Charlie had circled around the corner of the building. When I caught up, he was waiting with Mr. Entwistle, who was talking on his cell.

“How did things go at the house on Gilmour?” I asked. “You weren't gone very long. Did you find a trail?”

Charlie shook his head. “The owner cut the grass today. The tracks were gone and all we could smell was chlorophyll.”

“Where does that leave us?”

Charlie was about to answer, but he was cut off by Mr. Entwistle, who snapped his phone closed and announced we were leaving. “Ophelia just got off the phone with Baddon. Hyde was at his house.” Mr. Entwistle pulled off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, then turned and started moving down the street.

“What about the others?” I didn't want to leave them by themselves.

“Ophelia isn't worried. It was her suggestion we go. I think she wants some time alone with the girls.” He put his top hat back on and nodded to Charlie, who smiled and fell in step.

I shuffled after slowly. I wasn't sure I should be going. “I still feel awful. I think I'll only slow you down.”

Mr. Entwistle laughed. “That's why I wanted you to join us. You might still have some traces of poison left in your system. This will flush it out. The best thing for you. A good run.”

He sped up more. We turned a corner and started east on Sherbrooke. We were heading downtown.

“Here. Off the streets.” He led us over a fence and into a backyard. He moved like a character from
The Matrix.
I kept looking above him to see where the strings were attached.

“What do we do if we find him?” I whispered.

Mr. Entwistle jumped off a tree and landed in the next yard.
“Hyde? We don't really want to find him. We want to follow him. And hope he really is a werewolf.”

His words dislodged something from my tired brain. Baoh had said something similar. It didn't make sense to me at the time, and it still didn't.

“What do you mean
hope he's a werewolf
?” I asked.

Mr. Entwistle hopped another fence and stopped. He was in a crouch. I was reminded again of how wolflike his movements were. Steady, smooth, dangerous.

“Well, we don't have a lot of choices. He's one of us, or he's a lycanthrope.”

“What difference does it make?” Charlie asked.

“All the difference in the world. You've seen the movies, read the stories. Every kid has.” Mr. Entwistle pointed down the block. “That way's a shortcut.” We took off again and he continued, “Vampires of ancient lore are creatures of pure evil. Very human, but stronger. Implacable. Almost indestructible. And in my case, uncommonly handsome.”

“We're not evil,” said Charlie.

“You aren't a vampire. Not in the traditional sense.” Mr. Entwistle slipped through a cedar hedge. We followed, the smell of the evergreen thick in our noses. “No, boy, a vampire is an archetype for a villain. In real life, they don't exist.”

“What do you mean in real life we don't exist? This is real life.” Charlie gave a me look.
This guy's a nut,
he seemed to be saying.

“No, Charlie. I mean villains don't exist. In real life, everyone is both good and bad. Everyone. Whether someone is a villain or not just depends on whether they're for you or against you.”

“Are you saying Hyde's not a villain?”

Mr. Entwistle didn't answer. He stepped off a lawn chair, shot up onto the roof of a shed, ran silently across the top, then launched himself into the next yard.

“Wow, he's smooth,” Charlie whispered. Mr. Entwistle was already over the next fence. We hurried to catch up.

“Hyde is a villain, Charlie, but only to us,” Mr. Entwistle said. “From his point of view, we're probably the bad guys. That's what I mean. Villainy is about perspective. Always has been.”

We ran past a pool, crossed Momaghan Road, turned north, and started along another row of backyards.

“You still haven't explained what you meant,” I said. “About wanting him to be a werewolf.”

He hurdled a hedge, then stopped. Charlie and I pulled up beside him. All three of us were breathing heavily.

“Right . . . a werewolf. Well, lycanthropes are like vampires, Zack. They're blood drinkers. But they have two personae. Two aspects. One good. One bad. Like the movies. There's a guy with a normal life, then a full moon comes around, and presto! We've got a hairy-faced monster with an appetite for destruction. We want Hyde to be a werewolf, a creature that changes. That way, we don't have to deal with the Beast. He'll rip us into atoms.”

I understood. If Hyde was like a vampire, if he never changed, then he was never vulnerable.

“So we're really looking for a man?”

“Not necessarily. We can't assume Hyde is a lycanthrope just because he looks different than we do. But to deal with a man would be much easier, assuming there's anyone around who fits.”

“What does that mean—
fit
?” Charlie asked.

“Well, there's no getting around the laws of physics. Matter cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. Whoever Hyde turns into, he has to be huge. Someone who would tower over us. Three to four hundred pounds of human that becomes three to four hundred pounds of werewolf.”

Charlie shook his head. “Wait a minute. I knew something about this wasn't right. It wasn't a full moon the night we were at the zoo. Or when he went after Zack in the hospital.”

“True enough,” said Mr. Entwistle. “But there's more than one way to trigger a transformation. That full-moon stuff might be claptrap anyway. It dates back to the fertility cults of early history. They
usually performed their rites when the moon was full. The Christians demonized them. Made them out to be full-moon monsters. But many myths contain kernels of truth. A full moon might do the trick, but if memory serves, they are other things that turn a lycanthrope from human to beast.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Bright lights—like a meteor shower. Injury. I read about a werewolf who changed because he took a sip from a silver cup and the purity of the metal exposed him. Probably balderdash. Heard of a man who turned just before he was hanged at the gallows. The monster inside didn't want to die. Blood might do it, too. Bring out the inner beast. For all I know, it's different for each of them. But it doesn't have to be a full moon.”

Charlie looked up at the sky. A slender crescent hung overhead. “So what makes Hyde change?”

Mr. Entwistle put a hand on Charlie's back as he walked past. “No idea. Assuming he does change. It might just be wishful thinking. We want Hyde to have an alter ego. Someone we can deal with.” He took off his hat and rubbed his hands through his hair. “But it all hinges on the same questions. Is he a werewolf or not? Does he change? Is he like us and vulnerable to the sun? Or just an abomination of some kind—a Beast with his own set of rules?”

I remembered Ophelia's note from the first safe house I was taken to, where the police had arrested me.
Knowledge is your best defense,
she had written. We knew little about Hyde. Who he was. What he was. Why he wanted us dead. So our best defense had more than a few holes.

“Why have we stopped?” Charlie asked.

Mr. Entwistle slapped the hat back on his head. “That's the detective's street. His house is farther down.”

“Are we supposed to wait here?”

Mr. Entwistle didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his nose slightly. The wind picked up. I could smell the same canine odor I'd noticed at the zoo. Leather and wet dog. Just a trace.

“I'm just giving you a second to catch your breath,” he said. “That smell could mean trouble.”

I looked at Charlie. He looked at me. This was it. I let my teeth drop. He did the same.

“You two ready?”

We nodded, Charlie, then me.

Mr. Entwistle turned, then bounded through two yards, back-to-back, crossed the street, and stopped on the far sidewalk.

“It's quiet,” he whispered. He pulled out his cell, punched in a number, then waited. A second later someone picked up on the other end. “We're outside your front door,” Mr. Entwistle said. Then he turned down the nearest walk. “Get your game faces on, boys. This is it.”

Detective Baddon's house was a small, two-story dwelling. Set back under an arch was the front door. In the center near the top was a small, circular window. The detective's face appeared behind it. He pushed the door open and stood aside so we could enter.

“No need,” he said to me when I bent to remove my shoes. “We're going straight out the back.”

When I looked up, I could see the barrel of a pistol at his side. A large wheel gun. His hand wasn't steady. A sharp smell was in the air—one I'd noticed a lot at Charlie's when his mother had her drinking spells. When the detective led us through the living room, I saw why. A bottle of alcohol and a shot glass were on the coffee table. We passed through a kitchen to the back door. Before he opened it, he turned and looked at all of us. I thought he was going to say something, but he changed his mind and hit the latch. Mr. Entwistle stepped out and we followed.

After witnessing at the hospital and the zoo what Hyde could do, I was surprised when I saw the backyard. I'd anticipated much worse. Tracks dotted the ground. The doors on a small shed at the back were pulled open. That was it. No scorched earth or torn-up sod. No debris or nuclear fallout. The lawn furniture on the patio was still sitting right where it should have been, looking old and bored.