Wicked Hungry (12 page)

He shrugs. “A little pain, but feels good, too. Makes me hungry.”

“Is it the pills?”

He shrugs. “Maybe
las vitaminas
, they help. But you know what? Jaguar has always been in my family. It is in my blood. Like the wolf in you. The hunger. Remember when you started eating meat? How you got so hungry?”

“Yeah,” I say. “And now that I think about it, I used to always get hungrier, like once a month.”

“Not ‘like once a month,’” Enrique says. “
Exactly
once on month...on the nights of the full moon.”

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re right.”

“There is no greater hunger than the hunger of the wolf.”

“What did you want to show me?” I ask.

“Something my great grandmother gave me, when I was very little,” he says, pointing to his closet. I follow him there. The smell is really strong in the room and I want to pump up my chest and tighten my fists and howl.

“You don’t like the cat smell. Wolf not like jaguar, maybe.”

“You’re my friend, Enrique.” But yeah, I don’t like the smell. “What’s in the closet?” I ask.

He pulls out a black ebony statue of a panther. No, it’s a jaguar. I think.

“My
abuelita
gave this to me. She says the jaguar will protect me. She says if my family is in danger the jaguar will glow at night. Now, at night, the jaguar glows. It even glows during the day.”

“I don’t see it glowing,” I say.

Enrique pulls the curtains and turns off the light. A faint glow fills the room. Who would have thought something so black could glow so brightly? And its eyes aren’t black, but golden; they twinkle in the dim light.

“What does all this mean?”

Enrique shrugs. “Something is happening. This is just a warning. I need to ask my great grandmother, like I said.”

“Is it a weapon?” I ask. “The jaguar?”

“I’m not sure. I think it helps keep me safe, keep the house safe.”

“Safe from what?” I ask.

He shrugs. “From wolves like you? I don’t know, but I think there’s more out there.”

“Like Karen?”

“I don’t know about Karen. You know her better than me.”

That’s certainly true. But that doesn’t mean I
understand
her, does it?

“Now,” Enrique says, “we go to this Natural Magic. I have directions from the computer.”

“From the computer? I thought we were walking.”

“Yes, but it’s like a mile away. We can run, or walk, does not matter to me.”

Outside the air is cold. We walk together, side by side. Enrique has taken the figurine along. The wind blows around us; it’s getting colder, and, if possible, even cloudier. I pull my windbreaker tighter around my shoulders. Something about this wind doesn’t seem right. To be honest, nothing feels right. Maybe Enrique feels the same, because his fingers touch my shoulder, warning me just as someone walks around the corner.

It’s a big guy with his hair spiked up and dyed black, a spiky dog collar around his neck, and a bunch of piercings—his nose, his lip, his ear. In one hand he holds a paper bag. In the other is a leash, a big metal chain that ends at one full-sized pit bull held by a choke chain. He jerks the chain and stops.

“Stanley,” he says. “Enrique.”

I just stare at him. Enrique nudges me. But I don’t get it. Who is this person?

“Frumberg,” says Enrique.

“I figured I’d find you two together. Safety in numbers, right?”

We just stand there. I can’t believe
this
is
Gary Frumberg
. He looks so different. It’s not just the spiked hair and the black eye shadow and the piercings. It’s not just that he seems to have gained another thirty pounds. He seems less
innocent
, somehow. Did I do this to him? Enrique is tensing up next to me, and the smell of cat fills my nostrils.

“Long time no see, Gary,” I say, trying to act tough. “Watch out or I might growl at you.”

Gary shakes his head. “You still think it’s funny. It’s not funny. I know what you are, Stanley. Probably better than you do. And I’m not afraid of you anymore. There are plenty of other things to be afraid of.”

He looks back behind him.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him.

“
Vampires
.
Werewolves
. And worse. A lot worse. Maybe it’s the pills. But who’s behind the pills? We’re all in danger until it’s sorted out. Until then, I’ve got friends. And Bane here. And I’ve got a plan. You and your kind aren’t going to mess with me anymore.”

Then he does something peculiar. He pulls something out of his pocket. It’s a knife. But there’s something about it that makes my skin crawl.

“You can feel it, can’t you? I took this from my mother’s flatware set. It’s sterling—you understand?”

I shake my head.

“Silver, you idiot. That’s what you feel now, and what you’ll feel, if you try to hurt me. If Bane doesn’t get you first.”

“Are you threatening my friend?” Enrique asks, one hand in his pocket. He must have his hand on the figurine.

“I’m just warning him. If I were him, I would feel threatened—you’d be crazy not to, with what’s going on. And soon it will be so much worse.”

It’s not what he’s saying but the silver that makes me shiver, the silver knife still in his hand. The hair on my neck stands up and my fingers clench. There’s this pain in my mouth, and a little growl comes out.

Suddenly the pit bull is barking, in a frenzy, pulling against Gary’s chain, and Gary pulls back, but the dog keeps growling and snapping at my face. I growl and nip at its neck, but pull back at the last moment. There’s something wrong.

Gary regains control, and I fight to control myself. Why didn’t I bite? What’s different about this dog, how is this animal from other pit pulls? No, I realize, it’s not the dog. It’s not Bane.

“His collar,” I say. “There’s something about it.”

“Silver spikes,” Gary says, nodding. “Keeps him safe from the lot of
you
.”

“Not from me, though,” says Enrique.

But now it’s my turn to reach out and grab Enrique, holding him back.

“Hold on,” I say. “What’s this about things getting worse? Who’s been telling you stuff?”

But Gary Frumberg just crosses the street with a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says. Then he lumbers off. I realize I’m still holding Enrique, and when I turn to look at him, his eyes are different, again. Cat-like.

“You okay?” I ask.

He nods. “But we need to find out what’s going on. I need that board. Let’s go find that shop.”

I
s it my imagination, or is it even colder? It’s certainly darker. It’s too early for sunset, even in New England, but the clouds have rolled in and there’s that smell of wet earth all around us, over the muskiness from Enrique and me.

“I love that smell,” Enrique says. “It makes me want to go run in the forest.”

“It smells better than cats.”

Enrique grins. “Much better than
wolves
.”

“Are we almost there?” I ask him.

“According to the map, it should be a few more blocks north.”

Something about Gary Frumberg still haunts me. Not his bigger size, not his regained confidence, not his dark spiked hair and piercings. Not even his pit bull. What was he carrying? In one hand was the dog leash. Iron links. Or steel. I’m beginning to get a feel for different metals. I finger my brass belt buckle and it feels safe, safer than the iron fence that we’re walking past. I don’t want to touch that fence, although nothing feels like that silver on the dog’s neck, the silver in Gary’s outstretched hand. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

But there was something else, something else in his
other
hand. A bag. But what about the bag? Something special inside of it. And what was written on it?

A logo of some kind. It hits me just as we arrive in front of the store.

Because there, on the dark glass pane, is the same logo, white paint on a black background. A weird fairy with pointed ears and an evil smile.

“Does that look familiar to you?” I ask Enrique.

Enrique shrugs.

“It was on the bag, Enrique.”

“The bag?” he asks, dubiously.

“Frumberg’s bag,” I say quietly, because someone is opening the door.

Jonathan has a shopping bag in hand, just like Frumberg. He lets the door close behind him. “Dude, am I glad to see you two,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Ever since I talked to Carolina, I’ve wanted to come check it out. I bought some Japanese herbal tea,” he says, then lowers his voice. “You know, they have weirder stuff than tea here.”

“What do you mean?” asks Enrique, but I’m getting a funny feeling already, just looking at the store.

“Just look at the door, at the windows,” Jonathan says. “Squint a little. The door handle has silver sigils all over it, and the glass, too. The whole glass display case is like one big sigil made up of other sigils.”

“What’s a sigil?” I ask.

“It’s a magical mark. For protection, like warding, or to warn you if someone’s coming.”

“What does a health food store need to protect itself from?” I ask.

“Well, these sigils keep out zombies, ghouls, minor demons, you name it. Even vampires or werecreatures intent on harming anyone inside.”

“You believe this stuff?” I ask him. “And what are werecreatures?”

“You know—werecats, werewolves, werefoxes, werewhatever...”

My eyes are drawn to the door handle. “I don’t like silver. And these sigils make my hair stand up, too.”

Enrique shrugs. “Silver doesn’t bother me, but I don’t like these signs. When I look at them, I can’t see straight.”

“Cool,” says Jonathan. “That is so cool.”

Enrique shakes his head in exasperation. “Look, we need to get inside.”

“What’s the rush?” Jonathan asks.

“I need to buy something, and I don’t like standing out here.” Enrique looks up at the sky. “It looks like rain.”

“Smells like it too,” says Jonathan. “But it also smells musky. You people take a shower lately?”

I glance at Enrique. How much did Jonathan know?

“We had a little run in with a big goth freshman and his pit bull.”

“Frumberg?” Jonathan asks.

We nod.

“Looks a little different from the last time we saw him, huh?”

I nod. “Talk about a makeover.”

Jonathan laughs. “You shouldn’t joke, dude. That guy is into some seriously scary stuff.”

“Like what?” I ask, curious, looking around to see if anyone is listening. “Did you see something?”

Jonathan nods. “He was in here. And he wasn’t buying herbal tea up front. Or vitamins. He was in back buying up all these weird daggers, pentagrams, and old books.”

Enrique clears his throat. “Am I the only one who feels like we’re being watched? We need to get inside.”

I look at Jonathan, who shrugs. “You want me to tag along?” he asks.

I nod, but Enrique shakes his head. I pull Enrique aside. “Look at him, man, can’t you see it? Can’t you smell it? That he’s one of us?”

“One of what?” Enrique asks. “One of our friends?”

I want to just give him a warning bite on the ear. I catch myself growling, but I see that Enrique is kidding. “Okay, he’s one of us,” he says, as thunder sounds off in the distance. “He looks kind of like a...how do you say...a
zorro?”

“A fox,” I say. “Like in
Perfect World
.”

“Yes. A fox, like in the game. So let’s go in together.”

But the sigils are glowing now in the growing darkness.

“Sure,” I say. “Great. But I’m not touching that door.”

“I’ll do the honors,” says Jonathan, and he pulls the door open for us both.

Who knows what I expected, but it looks like a normal health food store, one where there aren’t too many customers so they mostly just have herbs and teas and vitamins. But here they don’t just have health stuff; there’s a magic side, too, to Natural Magic. They have books about Wicca, some decorative armor and weapons for sale. The blades are kind of cool looking, but you know they aren’t real; they aren’t balanced for fighting. They’d look cool on a wall, or for Halloween, maybe. There are sticks of incense and bottle after bottle full of herbs and powders and tinctures of all colors and descriptions. For all that, the store is smaller and cleaner than I expected, and there’s just this one guy at the register who looks like he just graduated from college. Blaine and Morgan are nowhere to be seen.

“Can I help you?” the guy asks.

But when he sees Jonathan, the smile freezes on his face. Then he sees Enrique and me.

“Oh,” he says, and goes back to reading a comic book. “You can show them the way.”

Jonathan leads us to a door in the back. There’s just a small sign on the door that says “
Supplies – Serious Enquiries Only.”
But the door—there is silver all over it, and sigils. Runes. As I walk closer, there’s a metallic taste on my teeth; the hair stands up on my arms, on the back of my neck. And the smell. A territorial smell that makes me want to change right now and start ripping things to pieces.

I’m not going in there, no way.

“Stanley?” Jonathan asks, one hand halfway to the door handle. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just fine
.”

Enrique and Jonathan exchange a look.

“Maybe you should wait out here for us,” Enrique says. “Me and Jonathan, we can handle it.”

“I said I’m
just fine
,” I growl, my whole body stiff.

“Dude,” Jonathan says. “It’s no big thing. Just relax.”

“And don’t touch the door,” Enrique says.

Jonathan opens the door, and Enrique walks in, me right behind him. There is a gut-wrenching feeling as we walk through, and then we’re in.

It’s dark and dank in here. Like we’ve entered another world, like the walls are made out of hard packed earth instead of drywall. There are herbs being burned too, and I catch a whiff of one that makes my throat burn. I cough.

“
Wolfsbane
,” says a woman walking up behind us. “It’s
supposed
to protect us from angry enemy werewolves. I find it kind of irritating, myself.”