A Girl Called Dust (23 page)

In the house, the Whitelocks were tuned in
to the news. The police had imposed an eight o’clock curfew and were blocking
the woods off. That was the reason we had called our plan off.

Fletcher’s father called him upstairs for
something, leaving me and Mrs. Whitelock alone on the couch. “It’s awful
whatever’s doing that,” she said.

I wondered how much she knew about me.
Probably everything. Everyone knew everything about me before I did. “You know,
Mrs. Whitelock, I had nothing to do with it.”

She patted my knee. “Oh, I know, honey. I
told you the other day that you were a late bloomer. You haven’t experienced
transformation yet, and being a hybrid, you could go either way. That’s the
main reason we’re not supposed to mix across the board.”

So that’s what she’d meant by late
bloomer. She hadn’t been talking about my boobs at all.

“What do you think is killing people?” I
asked.

“I honestly have no idea. The creatures
who kill people carelessly are all locked away where they belong. Clearly
whatever it is, it’s going against protocol.”

I sank farther into the couch, thinking
that it would just be easier for them to throw me into the sixth tunnel with
the others. If they honestly thought I was the one destroying the peace, why
wouldn’t they?

Fletcher and I decided to hold off on the
stakeout since the curfew had just been put into effect. We figured the police
would be the most diligent the first few nights, then they would let their
guard down. There was always a huge panic after an attack, and then everything
would die down and get back to normal.

Wednesday afternoon I found myself back at
the lair. I had questions about the recent murder, and I wanted to talk to
Hollis about what that could possibly mean for me.

I found Cadence in the control room
minding the monitors. “Hey. You know where Hollis is?”

She turned, scowled at me, and then set
her focus back to the monitor. “What do you need Hollis for?”

“I wanted to ask him something.” Not that
it was any of her business.

“What do you need to ask Hollis that you
can’t ask me?” she asked. Bitterness dripped from her voice. What was her
problem?

“Never mind,” I muttered.

Since Cadence was obviously going to be of
no help, I sat beside her and watched the monitor, hoping Hollis would show up.
I noticed one of the screens showed the sixth tunnel. “What if one of them
managed to get out?”

Cadence sucked her teeth. “Nothing can get
out of there. It’s impossible. The tunnel’s sealed like a tomb, and it is always
guarded by the giants.”

“There was another murder.”

“I know.”

“The Givers, some of them think I’m doing
this. Obviously I’m not.”

Cadence sighed. “We know that, so why are
you worried about it?”

“In order to keep the truce, they may
demand that you guys put me in the tunnel or just kill me. Would you do it?”

She groaned and leaned back in her seat.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Arden. I know you don’t think much of
us, but we would never even think of doing that to one of our own. Frankly, I’m
insulted that you’re even saying this.”

I got the feeling that anything I said to
her would be insulting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining
about. You have it pretty good. Better than anyone else here.”

I swallowed the swell of anger that rose
in me. No, their lives weren’t perfect, but neither was mine. “I have a
dangerous creature inside of me that could come out any day, and the Givers
might decide to kill me. I think those were pretty big problems, so what are
you talking about? Lately every moment of my life has been filled with
confusion and terrifying thoughts. I wouldn’t call that ‘having it good.’”

Cadence rolled her large bird eyes at me,
unmoved. “I’ve been hidden away my entire life. I was born with this stupid
bird head. Some kids like Hollis were lucky enough to look Human, so they could
go outside sometimes—at least until he got his wings. Creatures like Wes and I,
the Uglies, we could never live on the outside. Go to school. Take a quick trip
to the store. Hang out wherever kids hang out. Go on a date. I’m confined to
this compound, and I’ll never leave.”

I had never thought about that—what life
was like for the creatures who didn’t look Human. I wanted to tell Cadence that
she wasn’t ugly, because to me, she wasn’t. She just looked . . . different. I
didn’t bother though. She would probably take anything I said the wrong way.

She wasn’t done trying to make me feel
guilty. “You get to come and go as you please. You get to look normal, same thing
with Givers. They all look Human, so they have all the privileges Humans have.
They don’t have to be hidden away. You can do whatever you want. We only get to
watch it on these monitors.”

“I’m sorry, Cadence. I didn’t realize how
much you guys were missing out on.” It had never occurred to me that this
underground home wasn’t enough for her and that she wanted a piece of life on
the outside. No wonder she hated me.

Cadence’s eyes narrowed. “You won’t be
sorry for long. Just wait until you change. Banshees are typically beautiful,
but Wendigos are hideous. You’ll grow fur. Animal ears. Sharp, crooked teeth.
It’ll be gruesome.”

I figured that part of Cadence’s disdain
for me had something to do with Hollis. “Listen, I’m going to go.” I almost
told her to tell Hollis I came by but decided that wouldn’t have been a good
idea.

“See ya, Dust.”

I froze and turned back to her.

“What?” she asked innocently. “That’s what
they call you, right? Dust?”

“I prefer Arden.”

She turned back to the monitor. “I prefer
Dust.”

I tried to think of a comeback, but I had
nothing. Cadence was pissed at me for various reasons and desperately trying to
get under my skin. She kept her back to me. “It really doesn’t matter what we
call you, but Dust is most appropriate—as in ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
Whichever way this turns out, I’m one hundred percent sure it’s not going to
end well for you.”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Friday night, Fletcher and I decided to
set the trap in the woods. At a quarter till midnight, I climbed over my
bedroom balcony and met Fletcher at the end of the block. The curfew was still
in effect, so I moved as quickly as possible, dodging the streetlights and
staying in the shadows.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I said as I
approached him. He stood underneath a tree wearing a thick coat.

“Go home if you’re afraid. I told you, I
don’t need you for this anyway. I can protect myself against whatever’s doing
this, but you can’t.”

“You’re not going alone.” If something
happened to Fletcher, I would never forgive myself. He was partly on this
suicidal mission for me. So I wouldn’t get blamed for the attacks and also so
the truce between the Givers and Takers would stay in place. There was no way I
could go home without seeing with my own eyes what had killed those innocent
people and hurt my friend.

“I’m not going to be alone anyway. I’ve
asked someone to help me.”

“Who?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” He headed toward the woods,
and I followed.

“Ms. Melcher could still be alive,” I told
Fletcher as we hurried along. She’d been on my mind, and I didn’t think people
were looking hard enough for her.

“She’s not alive. If she were, she would have
contacted someone. At least her parents. Ms. Melcher wasn’t crazy. She was a
responsible adult. I’m sorry. I know you liked her, but she’s dead.”

I wouldn’t believe that. Mostly because if
it were me, I wouldn’t want anyone to give up hope. I thought the fact that all
the other bodies had been found with the exception of hers meant something.
Still, I didn’t say anything else to Fletcher. My mind had become focused on
the craziness we were about to partake in. What were we thinking?

The November night was painfully cold. The
chill pricked me through the tights I wore underneath my dress. Even through
the gloves, my fingers were frozen. I prayed for my newfound body warmth to
kick in.

“How long are we going to stay out there?”
I asked as we neared the woods.

We paused and leaned against the wall of
the dollar store as a patrol car cruised by. The curfew was still in effect,
but no one was dumb enough to be out at night, especially around the wooded
areas, so the police had little to worry about.

“As long as we need to. We may stay out
there all night. At least I will. When I transform, I’ll be all right with the
cold. You can go home anytime you want.”

“Are you going to let me see you change?”

“No,” he said promptly.

“Why not? I want to see.”

We stopped at the intersection of Mason
and 54
^th
Avenue. I grabbed Fletcher’s arm before he stepped off the
curb. He still had a bad habit of walking into streets without looking first.
No cars were coming in either direction.

Fletcher walked ahead of me, picking up the
pace. “Well, you can’t. It’ll scare you, and I don’t want you looking at me
funny.”

“Come on, Fletch. I’ve seen some pretty
strange things in the lair, so I’m sure you turning into a wolf or whatever
won’t scare me. And I won’t look at you funny. I promise.”

“Arden, you’ll understand once you start
to change. It’s something a creature needs to do in private. Like going to the
bathroom.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . when my body’s changing
from Human to animal, you’ll see, you know . . . my nakedness.”

“Oh.” If that were the case, transforming
was definitely something that needed to be done in private.

“That’s why I want you to wear my backpack
after I transform. I’m going to keep my clothes in it for when I change back.
If I transform while wearing clothes, they get ruined and my mom gets pissed.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that,” I said as we
paused at the edge of the forest. Fletcher swayed from side to side. Apparently
I wasn’t the only one who was afraid. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

He took a deep breath and squared his
shoulders. “Nothing. Just getting my thoughts together.” But I knew him. He was
scared. “This is a good idea, right? I mean, this thing has gone after Givers
in the woods. We’ll play the bait, the thing will show up, and I’ll kill it.
This makes sense.” He was having this whole conversation with himself as if I
weren’t there. He took another deep breath and exhaled, steam rising from his
lips. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I let him lead the way. My body shivered,
but not from the cold. The last and only time I had been in the woods at night
was at Trista’s Halloween party. We were only a few feet in when I grabbed
Fletcher’s hand. It was a wuss move, but I didn’t care. The woods were a lot
darker than I’d expected. I pulled out my phone for more light.

Fletcher put his hand over it. “No. The
light might keep it away.” He was right. Reluctantly, I slid the phone back
into my coat pocket, relying on Fletcher and the limited light the moon
supplied for guidance.

We moved deeper into the towering pines,
stopping at the markers where Mr. Thompson had been found. Sticks and cones
indicated where his various body parts had ended up, near the spot where we had
found Mrs. Chin. “The attacks seem to happen in this area,” Fletcher said.
“This is where we need to be.”

Dry leaves crunched with the sounds of
approaching footsteps. “Someone’s coming,” I whispered.

Fletcher peered through the trees. “It’s
Jackson Stuart. He’s a Shifter.”

I remembered reading about Shifters. They
could change form like Fletcher, but while Walkers were confined to certain
animal forms, Shifters could turn into anything they wanted.

Jackson appeared, bundled in a coat with
fur around the hood. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I replied, but I could barely make
him out in the darkness. I didn’t know much about Jackson. He was fairly new to
Everson Woods, but from what I could tell, he seemed all right. “So what now?”

Fletcher took off his coat and dropped it
at the base of a tree. “Make yourselves comfortable while I go change. Then we
wait.” He said it as if he was simply changing clothes rather than changing
from Human to animal form.

Jackson and I leaned against the tree as
Fletcher disappeared with his backpack. Neither of us spoke. I was too worried
and anxious to make small talk. After a few seconds, I picked up Fletcher’s
coat and wrapped it around myself. A brutal gust of wind rattled the leaves
above my head, and I wished Fletcher would hurry. I didn’t like him being where
I couldn’t see him.

I wouldn’t be able to talk to Fletcher in
his animal form. I didn’t even understand how transformation worked. Would he
still know me as Arden, or would he smell my Taker blood, see me as a piece of
meat to gobble down? I reminded myself that he was a Giver, and he wouldn’t
hurt me unless I was a danger to his life.

Grunting and moaning came from behind the
tree. Was he okay? Was this what I had to look forward to? Jackson stared
straight ahead as if nothing unusual was happening. Whatever was going on sounded
painful. After almost five more minutes, soft footfalls padded along the
ground.

My breath caught in my throat as a wolf
emerged from behind the tree, carrying the backpack with his snout. I could
barely make out the gray of its fur and the black stripes in the faint
moonlight seeping through the trees.

The wolf dropped the backpack in front of
me and sat. “Hey, Fletch.” If I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t
have believed it.

I slid Fletcher’s pack onto my shoulders
and rested against the tree, and Fletcher the Wolf sat beside me. I couldn’t
resist stroking his head. We sat for almost an hour, silent and waiting.
Jackson had even fallen asleep.

I turned to Fletcher. “I don’t think it’s
going to come tonight. Let’s go home.”

Fletcher stared at me and barked, but a
deep, angry growl stopped him. The growl was the warning of a predator that had
set its sights on something it wanted, and it wasn’t going to stop until it got
it.

The noise grew louder as the beast drew
closer. Although I couldn’t see the beast yet, its growl told me that it was
coming toward us. I nudged Jackson awake and rose to my feet to prepare myself.
Jackson stood beside me, breathing heavily, and immediately started to peel off
his clothes. I turned away from him. Fletcher’s body stiffened, and he looked
in the direction from which the noise was coming. Whatever it was sounded much
larger than Fletcher.

A tall, dark form emerged from a cluster
of trees. A Wendigo, identical to the one I’d seen in the book. Everyone was
wrong. All the Wendigos weren’t locked away in the sixth tunnel.

The Wendigo set its yellow eyes on me,
then it stopped and sniffed the air. I hoped I smelled right. I hoped I smelled
like something it didn’t want to eat. This Wendigo was at least seven feet tall
and so thin it was almost skeletal. It smelled like dead things, rotten and
decayed—like Mrs. Chin smelled that day.

Fletcher growled at the monster. The
Wendigo snarled back, making Fletcher’s growl sound like a Chihuahua’s yapping.
Anyone could see that Fletcher versus the Wendigo wouldn’t be a fair fight.
This had been a mistake. A deadly mistake. This thing was going to kill all
three of us.

The Wendigo stood there with its shoulders
hunched, like it was waiting for us to make the first move. Against my better
judgment, I retrieved my phone from my coat pocket. I had to know exactly what
we were dealing with, what had been causing all this trouble. I shone my light
on the creature. It let out a low growl but didn’t move.

The Wendigo had gnarled antlers protruding
from its head. It had the face of an evil possessed deer, and brown,
blood-mangled fur covered its head and shoulders. The Wendigo’s ribcage was
completely exposed, revealing yellowed bones that looked centuries old. Its
skinny legs bent forward awkwardly, ending in hooves, and it had hands so large
they seemed to be the reason the Wendigo was hunched forward.  

The Wendigo let out a startling howl that
cut through the frigid air. I spun on my heels, almost slipping on the leaves
beneath my boots, and attempted to take off, but instead I bumped into
something—another Wendigo. I panicked until I realized the second Wendigo was
Jackson. He looked identical to the real Wendigo.

The real Wendigo lunged forward, grabbing
Fletcher by his hind legs and flinging him like a stuffed animal. Fletcher
slammed against a tree and hit the ground yelping.

“No!” Forgetting my own safety, I rushed
over to Fletcher, scooping the wolf up. I struggled to hold him as he wriggled
in my arms. Jackson pulled me up by the hood of my coat and shoved me away. The
real Wendigo circled him. Jackson was telling me to get out of there with
Fletcher, but it didn’t seem right to leave him.

I looked down at Fletcher, who was too
heavy for me. I was going to drop him at any second. He shivered, and I knew we
had to get going. Moving toward the edge of the forest, I glanced over my
shoulder. One Wendigo clawed at another. At that point I couldn’t tell which
was which.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the
edge of the trees. I couldn’t go running out into the open carrying a wolf. I
set Fletcher gently on the ground. Somewhere in the distance came the sounds of
snarls and bays, and I silently prayed for Jackson to come out alive.

Ripping Fletcher’s backpack from my
shoulders, I laid it on the ground and pulled out his clothes. I had dropped
his coat back where we were. I turned around to give Fletcher his privacy.

Groaning and grunting, he changed back
into Fletcher and put his clothes on. Blood seeped through his wool sweater. He
grimaced as I helped him stand. Fletcher doubled over, grabbing his side. “Oh,
God.”

I lifted his sweater. Deep cuts covered
his abdomen, and his right side had purpled with bruises. The sounds of
something running toward us threw me into a panic. I didn’t know if it was
Jackson or the Wendigo, but I couldn’t stand there and wait to find out.

Flinging one of Fletcher’s arms around my
neck, I helped him hobble away from the trees.

“Run!” Jackson shouted. I looked over my
shoulder to see a naked Jackson in Human form rushing toward us with the
Wendigo on his heels. I tried to move faster, but I couldn’t with Fletcher
using me as a crutch.

“Fletch, I know you’re hurt, but we really
need to move.”

He winced and tried to move a bit faster.
“Arden, run. I’ll catch up.” Even as he said the words, he should have known
that I would never leave him.

At the edge of the woods, Jackson threw
himself forward, rolling on the grass, showing us everything. The Wendigo stood
at the line of trees, heaving heavily, its yellow eyes glowing fiercely. It let
out one last howl before turning and trudging back into the trees.

“What happened?” I asked.

“It can’t come past there,” Jackson said.
“That thing should be mauling us right now, but for some reason, it can’t come
past that line of trees.” That would have made sense if all the killings had
taken place in the woods, but Ed Hurley’s death had broken that pattern.