Red Rider's Hood (8 page)

“Answer the question,” said Cedric. “Are you…asking…to be…a Wolf?”

I took a deep breath. “I'm asking to live forever. I'm asking to feel what it's like to be two things at once—man, and animal. I'm asking to be a part of the pack.”

“What about your grandma?”

I shrugged. “Her issues aren't mine.”

Cedric thought about it and nodded. “Keep it up, Red—you might just get your car back.”

I smiled. “I was hoping you might say that.” Then I pulled up my sleeve, like I was at the doctor's office getting a shot. “Do it!” I said. “Give me the bite right here, in front of everyone, so they all know I'm one of you.”

Cedric put down his cue. “Won't work now,” he said. “Only works on the full moon.”

I pulled down my sleeve. “Guess I'll just have to wait.”

“Fine,” Cedric said. “Until then, you'll be a pledge—and if you prove yourself worthy, when the time comes, we'll offer you full membership.”

“Fair enough.”

“And if I ever think you're not playing straight with me, you're wolfchow.”

I nodded. “That's fair, too.”

Y
ou did
WHAT?”

If Grandma's hair wasn't already gray, it would have gone that way when I told her that I had confronted Cedric.

“You always said ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,'” I reminded her. “Now I'm on the inside.”

“I don't know who's more stupid: you, for going to Cedric Soames, or me, for telling you the truth.” She wagged a finger at me. “You gotta leave werewolf hunting to the professionals.”

“You weren't a professional at first,” I reminded her.

Grandma shook her head so hard, I was afraid her teeth might fly out. “I don't want my only grandson to risk getting the bite. No. I forbid it.”

“Don't worry, Grandma,” I told her. “I know what I'm doing.”

She wasn't convinced, and although I wasn't about to admit it, neither was I. See, my performance in the Cave had been the performance of my life, but even then I knew it was only a half
lie. As much as I hated the Wolves, there was that restless, impulsive part of me that wanted to know what it was like to change into something fierce: something out of control. Maybe that's what made me so convincing.

“It's brilliant,” Marissa said as we sat alone, munching on chips in the antique shop one rainy afternoon. “Scary, but brilliant. Do you think Cedric believes you really want to be a Wolf?”

“I think so.”

“Thinking isn't good enough. You have to be sure.”

But I knew nothing could be sure. Cedric had no real reason to trust me. Then I thought of something.

“The skull!”

“What about it?”

“Give it to me!”

She looked at me like I was already one of the Wolves. “No.”

“Trust me,” I said.

She looked at me, not trusting me in the least, then reluctantly she opened a cabinet under the counter. After she looked to make sure no customers were coming in, she pulled out the skull of Xavier Soames and gently set in on the counter. It was a human skull again, but somehow the eye sockets seemed to be watching me. It was smooth and cold to the touch.

I reached for the skull, and Marissa gasped, startling me.

“Marvin's here.”

I turned to see him through the shop's glass door, crossing the street toward us, too cool to cover his head from the rain. “Does he know about the skull?”

Marissa shook her head. “If Marvin knew about it, he'd try to show it off—or worse, he'd try to sell it.”

I wanted to bring up my concern about Marvin—that he really might be one of the Wolves after all—but I knew mentioning my suspicions would just upset Marissa. She had a blind spot when it came to him.

Marissa hid the skull back beneath the counter as the door opened, setting off the jingle bells above the entrance. Marvin's confident stride broke when he saw me. He picked it up again pretty quickly, though.

“Hi, Marissa,” he said, and gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Red,” he said, with a coolness in his voice he hadn't used when he spoke to her. He looked at me for a moment, then put out his hand like he wanted to shake. I lifted my hand, and he shook it in some strange way that must have been the Wolves' secret handshake.

“Taking an interest in antiques, Red?”

“No, just in your sister,” I told him, and winked at her. She threw me back an “oh, please” kind of gaze.

“A lot of guys take an interest,” Marvin said. “Few live to tell about it.”

Marissa threw him an “oh, please” gaze, too, and Marvin laughed, showing off his gold canine. “Just kidding, Red. Just kidding.”

“Ignore him,” Marissa said. “He likes to play head games with any boy that comes within five feet of me.”

“Hey, that's a big brother's job,” I said. “But if he wants to test me, I'll pass any test he wants.”

“We'll see,” said Marvin.

As it turns out, I wasn't the one to get tested that day.

“Oh,” Marissa said, “I just got something in today I want to show you, Red. Something your grandma might like.”

Marvin squirmed at the mention of my grandma and turned his attention to the bag of chips we had left on the counter. I didn't quite know what Marissa was up to, only that she was up to something.

She went to a crowded shelf and pulled off a heavy candelabra, reaching for something behind it. Then she held the candelabra out to her brother. “Marvin, could you hold this for a sec?”

Marvin hesitated. At first I didn't realize why he might hesitate. Then it dawned on me. The candelabra was silver.

“Ask Red,” Marvin said, leaning casually against the counter, eating chips. “He's closer.”

“Hey, man, she asked you,” I said.

Marvin sighed and left the chips, stepping over to his sister. I watched to see what would happen. Grandma had said that just touching silver will set off an allergic reaction in a werewolf, whether they were in wolf form or not. It wouldn't be fatal, but it would be painful. If he was a wolf, his hand would turn red and swell up like a balloon in less than a minute. Marissa was putting Marvin to the test.

Marvin gingerly took the candelabra and held it out in front of him like it was a bomb that might detonate at any second.

“I hate holding antiques,” he said. “I'm always afraid I'll break them.”

Marissa fished around on the shelf a moment more, then came back empty-handed. “That's strange,” she said. “I could have sworn it was back here.”

Marvin put the candelabra back on the shelf. “Got any dip for those chips?” he said.

Marissa went into the back room, rummaged around a little refrigerator, and came out with a salsa jar that had only dregs left in it. Still, the salsa dregs kept Marvin busy for more than a minute. Long enough for us to see that his hand showed absolutely no reaction from the silver candelabra.

“Listen,” he finally said to Marissa. “I came here to drive you home, but if you want to walk in the rain, I got no problem with that.”

“Go wait in the car, Marvin,” she said. “I've got to close out the register and lock up.”

Marvin threw me a suspicious look, then left, letting in the loud patter of rain before the door closed behind him.

Marissa crossed her arms triumphantly. “There. Happy now? That proves he's not a werewolf.”

“How come you didn't test
me
like that?” I asked. “Me, you had to hit over the head and tie up.”

“Don't be such a baby,” she said.

“And anyway, just because he passed the silver test, it still doesn't explain what he's doing hanging around with Cedric.”

“Maybe he's just a pledge, like you. Maybe he's pretending, all the while hoping to bring the Wolves down, just like you.”

“Or maybe he's pledging for real.”

Marissa shook her head. “My brother does
not
want to be a werewolf. He's got something else up his sleeve. I'm sure of it.”

I threw up my hands. “Fine, whatever you say. But until we know what
he's
up to, let's not tell him what
we're
up to.”

I thought she'd put up an argument, but instead she agreed. Across the street, Marvin honked the horn impatiently.

“You'd better go so I can lock up,” Marissa said.

“I still need the skull.”

She pulled it out again and handed it to me. I put it in the empty chip bag, which I tucked under my arm.

“When will I get it back?” she asked.

“I don't know. But if you're lucky, you'll end up with a few more for your collection.”

It turns out that the Wolves had more than one hangout. They kept themselves mobile so no one would know exactly where they were at any given time. The manager of the Cave was of no help. He didn't know a thing, but I knew someone who would.

As I had predicted, Cedric's sister, Tina, was playing yet another game on the sidewalk of their apartment building. The rain had let up by dusk, and she was out there with a big red ball, bouncing it in puddles, getting her white socks spotted with mud.

“Where's your brother?” I asked her.

“Ain't gonna tell.”

“But I'm a friend now.”

“You might be a friend, or you might be a fool. So which is it?”

“A little bit of both,” I told her.

She looked at the bag in my hands. “That looks too heavy to be a bag of chips,” she said. She was way too smart for a seven-year-old.
If she ever joined a gang, we were all in for trouble. When I didn't say anything, she bounced her ball up and down, splattering me with puddle water. She bounced it under her leg, then back again, and said in a singsong voice: “Little Red, Little Red, what's in the chip bag, Little Red?”

And in the same singsong voice I answered, “Nothing at all, nothing at all, nothing at all but your grandpa's head.”

That made her miss the ball, and it went bouncing across the street, almost getting nailed by a passing car.

“You're not funny,” she said. “Now go get my ball.”

“Tell me where Cedric is, and I'll get your ball,” I told her. “Unless, of course, you want me to tell Cedric you showed disrespect to a Wolf.”

She looked at me, a little afraid to tell me, and a little bit afraid not to. “He's in the Troll Bridge Hollow,” she said. “Now go get my ball before I tell my mama you been teasing me.”

N
ightshade Boulevard ran into Bleakwood, and Bleakwood ran into Troll. Troll Street went over the river. The Troll Street Bridge was an old gray monster: an iron suspension bridge, with two towers rising like twin tombstones, cables spun like spiderwebs between them. It stretched across the mile-wide river, making you think there was a way out of the city. Like maybe if you crossed it you might find life a little bit easier. But, as everyone knew, when you got to the other side off the Troll Street Bridge, all you found was more of the same.

The bridge itself was the sort of crumbling mess that always seemed minutes away from plunging into the river. Whole chunks of the roadway had fallen away, and you could actually see the river through the potholes. Beneath the roadway, where the bridge touched shore, was a walled-in space at least fifty feet high. In that stone wall beneath the bridge was a single steel door. For as long as I can remember, and before that I'm sure, there were stories about what was behind that door. Some
people said there were bodies hidden there, back from the gangster days before even Grandma was born. Others said it was full of gold stolen from Fort Knox. Still others whispered that it held secret stockpiles of nuclear weapons the government had forgotten about.

But the truth was worse than any of that. Troll Bridge Hollow was a werewolf lair.