Shifted Rose [The Cursed Wolves Series, Book 1] Read online

  Marion stands in the emptying parking lot, waiting for us and frowning at me. Clearly she doesn't find the antlers to be in good taste, either, but I sense she won't dare say that out loud. "What took so long?" she asks.

  "We had an obstacle," I say, just wanting to get out of there. But I look back at the building, wondering if Tyler is okay. Thanking him is in order.

  "What was up with those guys?" Gavin asks, stepping closer to me. "Why were they bothering you?"

  "It was just Alan doing it, actually," I say. "He was being a creep. Tyler stepped in and told him off."

  "Are you surprised about the creep factor?" Gavin asked, using the opportunity to inch closer. "We warned you."

  Yeah. I'm the magnet, all right. I swallow, overwhelmed by it all. "Is Alan always like that? I didn't get that vibe from the others."

  Gavin eyes the parking lot, spots a couple of teachers getting into their own pickups, and puts one hand on his truck. The wheel wells are caked with dried mud. He thinks he's showing off. Maybe in Tower he doesn't have a lot of options.

  "Alan was bothering you?" Marion asks, walking up behind me.

  I motion to the now-closed side door of the school. "He was trying to get me to go out with him. I was going to get out of there and dodge, but then Tyler showed up and they had a sort of pissing match. That's all." I want to go back in and see how it turns out, but I sense Gavin won't like that, so I stay put.

  "Weird," Marion says. "Those two never fight. Alan looks like the stupid town bully, and he's creepy like the rest of them, but he never really does that kind of thing. Heck, he never even talks to his fellow townspeople."

  "Who said bullies had to be stupid?" I blurt. My thoughts turn to Dad but I shake my head, casting them away. Of course he was right to be angry about a lot of things. Grades are important. I've got to stay on that.

  "I can take you home," Gavin offers. "Marion, I don't think we can fit you, but after what Alan pulled, I think Beckah should ride shotgun."

  Marion will have to ride in the back? Her face falls. I'm tall enough to look into the bed of the truck and it's clearly not the desirable spot. I can only imagine how many recently shot deer have ridden back there. I just hope it's rained since the last one. "It's not a big deal. I can hop in the back and sit on that blanket. I'm sure I'm going to be pulling a few more weeds after school today for my cousin Gia, anyway. She's the one I'm staying with."

  Marion's relieved eyes tell me thank you but I'm a bit angry. Gavin just sent her a clear message. I want to walk because of it but Alan is still somewhere and I have the feeling he'll take the same road out of here that I need to.

  "No. Really. You can have the front seat," Gavin says after eyeing the two teachers, now deep in conversation, again. "I'll drive you for a tour around Tower. Show you the sights."

  "What about Marion?"

  Gavin looks at her as if she's an afterthought. "You're good with the back, right?"

  Gavin's making me irrationally angry. I ball my fists, hating that I'm reacting this way. "I'm good with walking home. I kind of want to walk off the adrenaline I'm building up. Marion, want to come?"

  She works her jaw and I know she wants to, that she's grateful for the solidarity I'm showing her. "I can't. I have to get home by three to help my parents put on a barn door."

  "Then you'd better take the front seat," I tell her. "I have time to walk so that's fine with me. It's just a few miles."

  Gavin's jaw drops and a tingle of victory races up my spine. I'm being a jerk and I know I'll feel bad about turning down Gavin's offer later, but I can't shove Marion aside when these two have been friends for a while. "Come on," he says, resigned, turning to Marion. "I'll get you home."

  She waves to me as she gets in the truck. I can only imagine what's going to take place once they take off. But that leaves me standing in the dirt parking lot when Gavin squeals off, suspension creaking.

  And I'm alone except for the shouts of a sports team heading to practice somewhere behind the buildings. I walked to school alone and I can walk home all by myself, too.

  If Tyler and Alan are still inside the school, the best time to leave is now. I hike up my backpack and tap the compartment where I've got my can of bear spray. Amazingly, Gia was right that the school would let me get away with it or wouldn't bother to check my backpack. This wouldn't fly back in Averly, which has security guards stationed at all main entrances and metal detectors.

  So I take off.

  And I regret that I didn't insist on jumping into the back of the truck, because the October wind is chilly and the road leading back to downtown is very long. In fact, it seems to have lengthened in response to the books still in my backpack. The land to my left is open, with the Rose Ranch spreading out with its horses and lavish grounds. That's Tyler's home. It has to be.

  Does that mean Alan will be walking in this direction?

  A prickle runs up my spine and I squint, trying to see downtown through the trees ahead. I can't rely on Tyler to step in every time Alan's around and this isn't exactly a big city where I can switch subway cars or call a taxi. Why did I offer to walk home? Ugh. Now I have to walk along the woods where Alan can find me right on the road, and then wolves will be the least of my problems.

  Maybe, if I cut through the woods, I can get home a lot faster. I won't have to walk through downtown and if Alan goes anywhere after school, it will be to hang out at Rose Ranch with Tyler and the others. Hiking trails exist out here. But my memory of the wolf rises and I hesitate. Well, at least I have the can of bear spray, and if it's just one aggressive wolf that was having a bad day before, I can handle it. Besides, the other wolves have probably driven it out of the area by now and won't bother me.

  So I veer off the road as soon as I see a well-worn trail heading off into the trees. I leave the sounds of cracking baseball bats and shouts far behind as I enter the canopy of pines and get out of the wind. Birds chirp and let me know that no predators lurk in the area. These woods are peaceful and not at all like the dreadful areas Marion and Gavin described to me.

  The easy-to-follow trail winds around boulders and hills. I'm sure the trail is headed in the direction of Gia's cabin or at least headed towards downtown. It's well worn so it's not as if I'm wandering into real wilderness or going to get lost. But to my shock, I don't see any trash thrown down by kids hanging out and having parties. And I don't find any other hikers.

  After ten or fifteen minutes of hiking in peace, the trail splits in three, with each trail forking off in a different direction. I hadn't been expecting this, and when I peer through the trees, I spot no sign of civilization. Great. I've walked long enough and around enough curves to have lost some sense of direction, so it's a guessing game. I take the trail on the left, the one that seems to curve towards downtown, and continue my journey.

  "What's that?" I mutter to myself after another five minute trek.

  There's some kind of structure up ahead in a small clearing. It doesn't seem like a cabin—it's too tall and narrow—and there seems to be no road leading to it other than a severely overgrown one that cuts into the trees like a snaking green river. I step closer, listening, but no one seems to be home. As I breach the clearing, I find myself staring at what looks like a small castle.

  "Whoa," I say.

  Moss grows in the cobblestone cracks of the structure, which has a worn front door made of pine wood, and I can see hanging light fixtures, made to look like antiques, through the windows. Brass knockers hang from the front door, worn from the weather. Nothing's on inside the house, but neat curtains and blinds hang over some of the windows. A cobblestone path, one that appears weeded despite this place's bizarre location, leads around the house.

  Holding my breath and unable to stop staring, I circle the quiet little castle, letting my feet tap on the stones. There's no sign of life inside. I'm not trespassing, am I? A hiking trail led right here and there are no warning signs anywhere.

  "Mom. Dad. Did you find this pla
ce?" I ask. Neither of them told me about it and Mom would have taken a photo for sure. This little castle looks like a retreat for a rich author or artist. Maybe it's even some kind of vacation home that's now sitting on public land.

  Clearly this place was built with superior craftsmanship and then just left to rot, judging from the overgrown road. It's a cool place complete with a small tower that overlooks the surrounding woods, and I'm tempted to walk up to the window and take a peek inside. Then I circle back around to the front. A very faded wooden sign hangs above the door, but its letters are long gone, lost to the elements.

  Then I spot a flash of bright red.

  Growing right in front of the small castle, in a patch of weedy dirt that looks as if it was once a big garden, is a billowing rose bush with very red, very vibrant blooms. I've never seen such bright petals on any flower before.

  Except for one.

  And it's back in my Memory Book, pressed into eternity.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "What kind of place is this?"

  A strange energy, almost like a tingle in the air, seems to come from the rose bush even though that's probably my imagination. I can't stop staring at it.

  The weird vacation house has its own charm that I can't resist. I circle it.

  Your mother picked this rose. Dad holds up the Memory Book for me when I blink even though he's not smiling. He never smiles.

  Thanks? I face Mom, but she's not smiling either.

  I tear myself from the rose bush. My chest feels tight. Why can't I breathe well in its presence?

  Small windows look out on the forest but the place is still dark inside. Is this area inhabited? But if this place really is abandoned, why are there no pop cans and cigarette butts lying around? I might be from the city, but I know that in places like this, kids need a spot where they hang out and waste time.

  "Maybe I shouldn't be here," I mutter.

  No, you shouldn't, Dad says in my head. Use your head for once, Beckah.

  I want to tell him to shut up, but he's right. I back off from the bright, impossibly alive rose bush. My backpack's heavy with study materials and I still need to help Gia cook dinner tonight. But now I'm facing that vibrant rose bush again.

  Mom found this place.

  She brought a piece of it home with her, and now I have it.

  I shake my head, feeling as if the world has drawn me here. No, that's impossible. Crock, as Dad would say. But the air crackles every time I step closer to the thorny shrub, and the sensation wanes each time I step back.

  "Must be an electrical box somewhere." Once again I step close to the shrub, bathing in the prickling sensation, and I reach out to touch it, slowly, my hand lingering in the air.

  And then, as if I'm in a movie, voices reach me.

  "Shit." I eye the trail I came from a few minutes ago, unable to see anyone through the thick tree trunks, but the boulders and the tall pines seem to echo every sound. Someone else is using this trail, and though I'm probably safe, Alan's still out there, and there's always the chance I could get busted for trespassing. Yeah, that will convince Mom and Dad to let me go back home soon and help them overcome their marriage problems.

  Looking at the overgrown dirt road that might lead back to town, I realize I've got no chance to remain unseen if I head that way. It's too flat. Open. So I eye the woods to my left instead and dart in, being careful not to go in too far. The grass here is tall and the shrubs are thick.

  "...get this done. I'm hungry," Alan says.

  I grasp the boulder in front of me as the wind blows back the hair on the top of my head.

  Seriously? Alan is here? I take off my backpack and lower myself to my stomach. The breeze continues from the direction of the manor house, carrying a faint rose smell. The bizarre prickling sensation follows.

  That is not an electrical field, then. They don't travel on the wind.

  "Don't worry," Tyler says. "We've got all the time in the world. It's not as if I'm expected anywhere."

  "Are they traveling again?" one of the Rose Gang girls asks.

  The whole troop is here. Great. This house way back in the woods must be their hangout. Maybe they come back here to do drugs because there aren't any signs that they smoke, unless the Rose Gang is environmentally conscious and really clean up after themselves.

  "No," Tyler says, his voice dropping. Judging from his volume, he's almost in the clearing now, but I can't see him through the tall grass. I'm not going to make an idiot out of myself by standing up and waving, especially with Alan there.

  I listen as they enter the clearing. Someone kicks at something.

  "I'm picking up a scent," Alan says.

  I tense, though I shouldn't. Of course Alan wouldn't be able to smell me.

  "Nope. Who comes back here?" Tyler asks. "We've been the only people to venture back here for years. Everyone else stays away."

  "Almost everyone else," Alan says.

  "To be fair, outsiders don't know about this being off-limits," Tyler says, all cool and confident. So he's not a grease spot and I'm glad. But my mind spins. Is this one of the places in the woods where Gavin says people just don't go?

  "Maybe your dad came out and checked on the old house," a girl says.

  "Cammie, there's no way he'd show his face here. Well, not anymore. If my dad's anywhere, he's in his office," Tyler says with disgust. "And trust me, he doesn't want to track the dirt from this place in. He's just as affected as everyone else."

  This place also belongs to the Rose family? Why abandon such a cool little home? Why not hire someone to keep the grounds looking good and the road functional? If anything, it looks like a vacation home. Why not at least rent it out?

  I stay down, listening, heart racing. I doubt Tyler will be mad about the new girl ending up here, So this place does belong to the Rose family and I am trespassing. I press down against the ground harder, digging into the dead pine needles with my fingers. The wind snaps the grass over me.

  "That figures," Cammie says. "I'm itching. Come on."

  I breathe a sigh of relief that they're about to leave, but shuffling noises follow, and these sounds are nothing like that of a group of kids walking away for entering the house.

  Instead, fabric rustles and zippers work. Things fall to the ground with gentle thumps.

  I lie there—are they all taking their clothes off in the open?—and bite my lower lip. Horror and an urge to leave sweeps over me as I think about what I'm about to hear, but instead of the expected noises of making out and more, horrific cracking sounds follow.

  Someone groans in pain.

  And the horrible noises, like bones breaking over and over, cut over another noise that is anything but soothing. My stomach turns. A pulling, almost ripping sound, like something is stretching to the point of agony, joins in with the cracking and groaning. The sonic pressure builds past an impossible level until the sounds finally stop.

  A low growl sounds. Feet plod against the worn ground. Something sniffs.

  Terror floods my chest and my heart races, trying to stay above water. I clamp my teeth down on my lower lip, reaching for the pocket in my backpack that contains my bear spray. A scream rises in my throat. Don't do it. Don't make a sound.

  Another growl follows the first, and an image of that angry, vicious tan wolf fills my head. No. What did I just walk into? I should have taken that ride Gavin offered. Now those creatures are going to find me. The wind just has to turn and carry my scent to them, and I'm a goner.

  But the grass stills.

  Everything has gone silent again.

  Stay here. Don't dare breathe. Don't move.

  A large animal sniffs the ground, but another growl follows and that noise stops. And all at once, the creatures bolt away from me, crashing underbrush and seemingly fading from existence.

  Yes. They're going away.

  And slowly, birds begin to chirp again. A lone chipmunk scurries up a tree, darting its gaze side to side.

  I
lie there, unable to move for a bit, not wanting to get up and process what I've heard. But slowly, after what seems like an hour, I push myself from the grass, hoping I haven't left an indent. The grass springs back up, and I rub my bare skin where I might end up with a rash later.

  "Easy, Beckah," I whisper, searching the surrounding trees. I've removed my backpack at some point, and I pick it up and throw it back over my shoulders. The weight of my homework is somehow reassuring. Normal.

  Because nothing else is.

  The Rose Gang has vanished, but their clothes and backpacks remain on the ground near the front door of the old house. Yes. Their clothes are lying in neat piles, and my gaze lands on Alan's black leather jacket along with Tyler's dark T-shirt and baggy jeans. Even the girls have abandoned their T-shirts and jeans.

  My rational mind jumps to them having retreated inside the old house, but no sounds come out, and that doesn't provide an reason for the popping and near-ripping sounds. I shake my head. Come on, Beckah. There is of course an explanation. Use your brain for once. But that sounds so much like Dad speaking that I ball my fists and dig my fingernails into my palms.

  Logic doesn't work here. There is no way the Rose Gang undressed and walked into the house, only to be replaced with growling animals a few seconds later.

  I turn my gaze from the five piles of clothes and the woods, in the direction I heard the creatures—no, wolves—run.

  And I turn around and bolt back up the trail I came from.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Something is weird. Something is weird. Something is just plain weird." I sing the phrase to myself all the way up Gia's driveway. "Time to accept the ride in Gavin's chariot tomorrow. Ugh. Why am I being like this?" I shake my head and up my pace along the gravel driveway, and not just because this is the spot where that tan wolf jumped out at me and tried to tear my face off.

  I'm losing it and that scares me even more than the wildlife. Dad would roll his eyes at me and probably sigh in disgust at how I'm acting, and I'm tempted to do the same to myself.