Red Rider's Hood

  And what I saw then I will never forget for as long as I live.

  The skull began to change.

  4

  The Skull of Xavier Soames

  I’d seen strange things in my life, and heard of things stranger still, but nothing could prepare me for what happened to that skull once the moonlight touched it.

  The dome began to elongate, the jaw pulled back, the nose stretched forward, and those grinning teeth changed, too. The canines lengthened and sharpened, and the eye sockets shrank until I was no longer looking at a human skull. I was looking at the skull of some hideous beast.

  I stared at the skull, astonished, and when I looked up Marissa was staring at me, just as shocked—but her expression wasn’t about the skull. She was shocked by me.

  “Oh my gosh, Red, I’m so sorry!” She put down the rifle and came over to untie me.

  “Do you mind telling me what this is all about? Am I having a hallucination? Is this a concussion from getting knocked in the head?”

  “No,” Marissa said as she finished untying me. “It’s real. You saw what you saw.”

  “And what exactly did I see?”

  She sighed. “It’s best if you don’t know. Just go home, and forget what happened here.”

  Sure—like I could possibly forget any of it. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

  She looked at me long and hard. “Once you know, it will haunt you forever. You’ll go to bed thinking about it. You’ll wake up thinking about it. It will fill your dreams. Are you sure you want to know?”

  I nodded.

  She reached down and picked up the terrible animal skull from the table. “This is the skull of Xavier Soames. Cedric Soames’s grandfather.”

  I was never one to believe in werewolves. That was just silly stuff they showed on TV late at night to keep you awake so you’d watch the commercials. Sure, some people seemed to have more animal in them than human at times, but changing from man into beast—it just didn’t happen in the world I was raised in. At least that’s what I had always thought. Now I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  “Xavier Soames was the first,” Marissa told me. “The first one in our neighborhood anyway. He started a gang.”

  “The Wolves!”

  “That was thirty years ago. But a couple of werewolf hunters came along to end the curse, and sent them all to their graves. The Wolves were gone, and for the longest time the only gang in town that people took seriously was that all-girl gang—the Crypts, I think they’re called. They’re not werewolves, and as far as I know, they haven’t bothered anyone. The neighborhood recovered from the dark years…. Then, just a couple of years ago, Cedric started it up again and gathered a bunch of new members every bit as bad as the first.”

  “But…but he’s not a werewolf, right? He’s just pretending, right? Right?”

  “Haven’t you heard the stories,” Marissa said, “about coyotes getting neighborhood cats and dogs? Since when have there ever been coyotes in the middle of the city?”

  It was true that there had been more warnings about coyotes over the past year. And now that I thought about it, I remembered my mom always saying that when she was a kid, there were a few years when she couldn’t go out at night because of them, especially when the moon was bright, and…I gasped as I realized what I was thinking. Not when the moon was bright, but when the moon was full.

  “And,” said Marissa, “what about all those reports about teenagers in our neighborhood running away from home?”

  “So, what about it?”

  “Think, Red! Those kids didn’t run anywhere. Oh, maybe they tried to run, but they didn’t get too far. No farther than a wolf’s belly.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! And they don’t leave any evidence. Werewolves—they eat their prey, bones and all.” Then she picked up the hideous wolf skull from the table. “Of course, you don’t have to be afraid of old Xavier Soames here—he can’t hurt you anymore. Now I just use him as a test. You see, the moment this skull changes from human to wolf, that’s the moment they all transform. That’s how I know you’re not one of them.”

  I rubbed the back of my head. A knot the size of a walnut had risen there.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out their identities for months now, but the Wolves are very secretive. They don’t make their identities known often, and when they do, it’s usually the last thing that person sees. Cedric’s the only one we know for sure.”

  “But I saw some of them!” I said. “I can identify—” Then something suddenly dawned on me.

  She must have seen the way my jaw dropped halfway to the ground. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your brother…” I almost didn’t tell her, but I knew I had to. It was too serious not to tell.

  “My brother what?”

  “Your brother’s one of them.”

  She stepped back from me and looked at me in anger, as if I had slapped her right across the face. “Don’t you say that! Don’t even think it! He’d never be one of them! Never!”

  “But I saw him!”

  “You take it back! You’re lying just to get back at me for hitting you! You take it back!”

  But I shook my head. It hurt my brain to shake it. “He came to my grandma’s house with the rest of them this morning. They stole the money I brought for her. And then they stole my car.”

  She sat down in the leather chair, trying to sort it out, trying to deny what I was telling her. “Maybe Cedric’s just making him pay back a favor. He does that, you know. Just because Cedric’s got my brother jumping through hoops doesn’t mean he’s one of them. I bet he’ll get away, and tell me all about it the second he does.”

  I thought about that nasty look on Marvin’s face. He sure looked like one of them to me.

  “Maybe you’re right, and maybe you’re wrong,” I told her. “Either way, it’s not safe to be out there now.” I looked at the skull she held. I did not want to see the face of any creature that owned a skull like that.

  “I don’t get to be safe,” she said. “Wolf hunters never do. And now that you know, you don’t get to be safe, either. We can’t do this alone—we’re gonna need some help.”

  “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.

  5

  Making Mischief

  They lived just around the corner,” Grandma told Marissa a
nd 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.

  “So, we’ve got a little trust and a little suspicion,” I said, trying to referee before they got too angry at each other. “Maybe having both is a good thing.” I turned to Marissa. “Marvin doesn’t have to know everything you do, does he?”

  Marissa sighed and shook her head. That seemed to settle Grandma a bit. “The only ones I’ll trust are those hunters,” Grandma said.

  “Will you trust me, Grandma?” I asked.

  I couldn’t see her eyes behind her glasses, which had fogged up from the steam rising from her mug. “Of course, Red. Of course.”

  We stayed over at Grandma’s that night, since the moon was still full. Marissa told her parents she was staying with a friend, and mine were thrilled when I called to tell them I was spending some quality time with Grandma. When the sun rose, Marissa and I took the Avenue C bus, sitting silently together in the back. Only after she rang the bell for her stop did she turn to me. “Last night was the third night of the full moon, so we won’t have to face any wolves until next month.”

  But I shook my head. “We’ll still have to face wolves,” I told her. “They’ll just be human ones.”

  “True enough.”

  I pounded my fist into my hand with such force my palm stung. A sudden fury raged in me that I couldn’t put down. “I could take on Cedric right now.”

  “You gotta be patient,” Marissa said. “Being reckless right now will get you killed.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, she closed her hand gently over my fist. Then she thought for a moment. “Live by your impulses, and you’ll be just like them. You’re better than that, aren’t you, Red?”

  I couldn’t answer her. Partly because I couldn’t stop staring at her hand on mine, but also because I didn’
t know.

  When I got home, Dad was gone—he was on one of his twelve-hour shifts—but Mom was still getting ready to leave for the day.

  “It was nice of you to stay over with Grandma last night,” she said. “She gets lonely in that house all by herself. You’re a good grandson, Red.”

  The biggest problem with my mom is she can read me like a TV Guide. All she’s gotta do is look at me to know whether it’s drama or comedy. Today, I guess the Guide told her I was tuned into a horror marathon. She pursed her lips, read me a bit further, and said, “All right, what’s wrong?”

  I sighed, and tried to figure out what I could get away with telling her. For a second split finer than a neck hair, I thought of telling her everything. That the gang that called themselves the Wolves really were, and they were feeding on innocent townsfolk every full moon. But my parents weren’t exactly the type of people I could talk to about this. My dad was a paramedic; he saw life and death every day, and nothing in between. To him there were neither curses nor miracles, only timing and triage. As for Mom, she was getting a degree in architecture. Her world was all lines and angles on a blueprint. Even in her religious beliefs she went straight by the book. For her there was no thinking outside of the lines. No, I couldn’t let them know, but I couldn’t lie either. I couldn’t tell her Saturday-morning cartoons, when the TV Guide on my face said Creature Feature.

  “My Mustang got stolen,” I said. It was true, and it was horrific, at least to me.

  “Oh, Red,” she said. “And you just finished working on it!”

  “I never should have left it parked on the street,” I said, my anger real. “I should have put it in Grandma’s garage.”

  “We’ll go to the police,” she told me. “We’ll make a report.”

  “I already did,” I told her. “With Grandma.”

  I knew she’d call Grandma to talk about it, but I also knew that Grandma was quick enough to play along and not give away the truth.