Thornhill (Hemlock) (9 page)

S
IXTEEN OF US, INCLUDING EVE, FOLLOWED LANGLEY
down paths and across lawns. We left the buildings behind and passed a fenced-off area that was completely empty and almost the size of a football field. A sign posted near the path read Authorized Shifting Zone.

During orientation, we’d been given rules about shifting. It was only allowed in two areas: the shifting zone and the self-control class. Thornhill had a zero-tolerance policy for wolves who transformed anywhere else.

“Glorified dog park,” muttered Eve, earning her a small smile from Kyle.

I felt a tiny flash of jealousy. I hadn’t seen that smile very many times since he had become infected.

“Why let anyone shift at all?” I wondered softly, glancing over my shoulder for one last look at the field.

A few wolves shot curious glances my way, but Kyle quickly covered for me. “You haven’t been infected long. Even wolves with really strong control have to shift sometimes. Otherwise, they risk losing their temper and blowing up.”

“And taking a swipe at whoever happens to be in the way,” added Eve. Something dark passed over her face and I wondered, suddenly, how she had become infected.

We skirted the edge of a wooded area until we reached another field.

It should have been beautiful. The grass was a green so bright it was practically Technicolor and wildflowers dotted it like exclamation marks. It was the kind of spot you saw in perfume ads or Disney movies—except for the cage.

It sat in the middle of the field like a fly trapped in honey, and the sight of it sent goose bumps racing down my arms. It was almost the size of my apartment back home and fully enclosed. The only way in or out was through a small door made of thick wire.

Langley unlatched the door and turned to face us. “Part of self-control is learning to resist external stimuli and suppress your wolf. Those of you who can demonstrate restraint this morning may receive special privileges. Those of you who can’t . . .” She let the words trail off ominously as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small red object. A pocketknife.

She slid open the blade as her gaze swept the wolves. Her eyes lingered on me. “You were full of questions this morning. Roll up your sleeve.”

I felt, more than saw, Kyle go completely rigid. My gaze darted from Langley to the knife in her hand. She couldn’t be serious.

“Your sleeve. Unless you’d like to explain to the coordinators why you refused to participate in class.”

Heart thudding, I reached for my sleeve.

Kyle caught my hand.

Langley’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

“Of course there is. Everyone’s frightened and exhausted and you just pulled a knife.”

I turned.

Eve rocked back on her heels. Everyone else looked alert and on edge, but her face was a mask of boredom. Only her eyes—sharp and calculating—hinted that she was just as tense as the rest of us. She cracked each knuckle in her right hand and then yawned.

“Congratulations,” snapped Langley, “you just volunteered to take her place. Arm out.”

Eve stepped forward without hesitation.

I stared, stunned. She had provoked the counselor so I wouldn’t be hurt.

Why?
I thought, confused, as Eve rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. We weren’t friends. She didn’t owe me anything. I couldn’t understand her motivation, and that made the idea of her taking my place even more unsettling.

Langley singled out eight wolves, including Kyle, and ordered them into the cage. Once they were inside, she turned to me and held out the knife.

She had to be joking.

“Take it.”

I shook my head. No way.

Langley’s gaze shifted to the cage and hovered meaningfully over Kyle. Sweat beaded on my forehead. She could try to have him sent to another camp—or worse—just to punish me for defying her. And she would. The expression on her face didn’t leave room for doubt.

Kyle gave a small, barely perceptible shake of his head. He slipped his fingers through the links of the cage, gripping the wires so tightly that I worried he’d slice his skin.

“Do it,” said Eve.

I glanced at her and her eyes locked on mine, almost like a challenge.

I licked my lips nervously and reached out to take the knife. It was heavier than it should have been and the handle was oddly cold in my hand.

I wondered how Langley could be crazy enough to give a prisoner a weapon, then realized how stupid the thought was: wolves carried knives under their skin 24-7. Just because they weren’t supposed to shift outside of this class and the zone didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

“Make an incision and then follow her into the cage.”

Eve’s eyes widened, and something that looked like worry crossed her face. She hadn’t counted on this, I realized. She hadn’t expected me to follow her in.

She shook her head. “This isn’t a fair test. Everyone is running on empty. You put a bleeding wolf in there and most of us will shift just because our minds and bodies are overloaded.”

Langley’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line as she regarded Eve. “If you’d rather not participate, I’m sure a spot can be found for you at Van Horne.”

Still, Eve hesitated. She lowered her arm.

I couldn’t let her get herself into that much trouble. Not to protect me. Stomach plummeting and heart rate skyrocketing, I slashed out with the blade.

It slid through Eve’s pale skin as though she were made of paper.

But paper didn’t bleed.

Blood welled to the surface of her arm and an answering wave of acid rushed up my throat. The pocketknife slipped from my hand and fell to the ground. It made a muffled thump as it hit the grass.

Eve walked quickly to the cage, swearing under her breath and holding her arm away from herself. Kyle tried to block the entrance, but she shoved him. I had just enough time to slip inside while she hissed at Kyle that it was my choice.

Langley slammed and locked the door.

Eyes a firestorm, Kyle stepped around Eve and reached for me. He tried to keep his body between me and the other wolves as we backed toward the far end of the cage.

Langley addressed the other half of the class, the wolves outside the cage. “People don’t like to admit it, but many werewolves—not just those with bloodlust—find it difficult not to shift in the presence of blood. And, of course, the temptation to shift when wounded or when another wolf loses control is incredibly strong.”

Blood ran down Eve’s skin and dripped onto the grass. I watched, horrified and fascinated, as she sucked in deep, ragged breaths and folded to her knees. Her spine bowed with a sound like river ice snapping during a thaw and then her body tore itself to pieces. When it was over, a silver wolf climbed to its feet.

Three, then five, then six of the wolves lost control and shifted. One had white fur, and the reminder of Ben sent my heart hammering against my breast bone and stole the air from my lungs.

My shoulder blades hit the wall of the cage and I flinched.

One wolf took a swipe at another and the result was like a match thrown onto a pile of gas-soaked rags.

Teeth gnashed and blood flowed as other wolves got pulled into the fray. It was hard to believe the creatures in front of me had been human just moments before. They were like true animals—animals who had more in common with Ben than with Kyle or Serena.

No. No. No. No.
The single word echoed in my head and only when it drew the attention of the white wolf did I realize I was mumbling it aloud.

Kyle stayed in front of me. His presence should have been reassuring, but his sleeves were rolled up and I could see the muscles twitch and writhe under his skin. The white wolf padded toward us and Kyle let out a low, dangerous growl—the kind of growl a human throat shouldn’t be capable of.

The wolf continued its advance, and Kyle kicked out so hard that I heard a sickening crack as his foot connected with the wolf’s skull.

Only one other person in the cage, a boy who looked younger than everyone else, hadn’t shifted. “I’m. Not. Going. To. Change . . . ,” he panted, curling his hands into fists as the bones tried to snap.

Suddenly, he clamped his hands to his head and fell to the ground. In front of me, Kyle did the same. All of the wolves—inside the cage and out—collapsed. The ones who had retained human shape covered their ears and the ones who had lost control shifted back.

It was just like what had happened when they took Serena.

I covered my own ears and crouched next to Kyle. I tried to look helpless and in pain—not much of a stretch given how scared I was—as I watched Langley from beneath my lashes. She held a small black device in her hand that was about the size and shape of a remote car starter. After a minute, she slipped it into her pocket and the wolves began to come to.

Langley’s voice swelled over the class. “Guards have Tasers and guns. Counselors have HFDs: high-frequency devices. Fall out of line and a counselor will use an HFD. Get too close to the fence or a restricted zone and an HFD will automatically be triggered.”

There was a hint of excitement in her voice, and I had the sickening suspicion that she had enjoyed hurting us, that we were little more than animals to her.

Kyle shakily lifted himself to a sitting position as around us, people grabbed the shredded remains of clothing, desperately trying to cover their nudity.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

“Yeah. I think so.” His voice was raw as he stood and reached down to help me up. “You?”

I hesitated, then nodded. I couldn’t tell him that seeing that many wolves shift had scared me almost as badly as the LSRB and the Trackers said I should be.

Trying not to think about the way Kyle’s muscles had moved under his skin, I reached up and took his hand.
Still Kyle
, I reminded myself,
he’ll always be Kyle
.

I glanced skyward as I gained my feet. As I did, I noticed something I had missed when entering the cage: High on each corner were four cameras, all pointing inward.

Langley’s voice pulled my gaze away. “First group out, second group in.”

The other group had their turn in the cage. Not one of them was able to hold back from shifting. Afterward, the wolves grabbed fresh uniforms from a row of plastic bins. Once everyone was decent, we sat on the grass and listened for two hours as Langley told disturbing—and graphic—tales of wolves who had lost control and killed.

By the time the buzzer signaled lunch, every person in the class was emotionally battered and physically drained.

Every person except Langley, of course. There seemed to be a spring in the counselor’s step as she led us back through the camp. I could just imagine the meetings she must have had with her high school guidance counselor as she explored career options that would let her both torture
and
humiliate.

I watched Kyle out of the corner of my eye as he walked beside me. He had barely said a word since stepping out of the cage, and his eyes, his expression, even his posture, were all hard and closed down.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, skimming his hand with my fingers as the side of the dining hall came into sight.

“I should be asking you that.” His brow furrowed as we passed a small stand of trees. “C’mon.” He shot Langley a quick glance before twining his fingers around mine and stepping out of line.

“You have forty minutes and then a fifteen-minute warning bell will . . .” Langley’s voice faded as I followed Kyle to the circle of trees. He dropped my hand as soon as we were under the branches.

The spot wasn’t completely private—someone walking past would be able to see us if they were close enough and paying attention—but from what I knew of the camp’s layout, most people would probably be approaching the dining hall from the other side of the building.

An ornately carved stone bench—a holdover from the days when this place had been a hospital—stood in the middle of the trees. I sat on the edge and traced an epitaph with my fingertip.
In Memory of Miriam
.

I expected Kyle to sit next to me, but he leaned against a tree and crossed his arms.

The six feet between us felt like six thousand.

“What’s wrong?” I realized the absurdity of the statement and shook my head. “I mean, other than the fact that we’re in a rehabilitation camp and Serena is missing and my hair looks like it was cut by a blind man using a rusty hacksaw blade.”

The scowl on Kyle’s face was so deep it was in danger of becoming permanent. “That last bit was a joke,” I said, somewhat unnecessarily.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. I had the distinct feeling he was holding himself back from saying a dozen things—none of which I would want to hear. Finally, voice tight, he said, “Do you have any idea what could have happened in that cage? Did you listen to the stories Langley told us? Forget getting scratched—one of them could have torn your throat out or crushed your skull. They don’t know you can’t heal.”

“I know.” I pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I’m okay. Nothing happened.”

“If Langley had waited any longer to set off that HFD, it would have.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, because I could neither deny nor admit how scared I had been. I didn’t want Kyle to know that a small part of me had been afraid of him, too, that it still frightened me when I saw muscles twist and tear beneath his skin.

I slipped a finger under my wrist cuff and touched the edge of Amy’s bracelet. “What happened?” I didn’t want to ask, but somehow, I couldn’t stop myself. “Why did they turn on each other?”

“Blood plus exhaustion plus a confined space? Even regs would have had a hard time not taking swipes at one another.” He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand over his jaw. His eyes darkened, and I knew he was thinking about how close he had come to losing control with the others.

“Why didn’t you shift?” I asked softly.

He swallowed and gazed out at the camp. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “You,” he admitted finally. “I was scared of what would happen if you were the only one who didn’t shift. And I didn’t want you to see me like that.”