FEVERCHAIN 11

Lesbian werewolves, et cetera. FEVERCHAIN is a contemporary horror-romance serial set in the fictional Pinetown, New Jersey.

Emily S Hurricane IS BAAAAaaaaaaAACKKKK with another masterful voiceover. Her performance made me cry. I don’t do that often. Don’t look at me.

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The diner is empty except for Thornton in his spot, masticating on Mom’s “To Die For!!!” blueberry pie. He probably will die from it because he eats it every day.

I wrench my laptop from my bag. Lug the bulky, dust-crusted thing with me now because I’m scared the Dyers have bugged my phone to track my internet history and who knows what else. I deposited the Dyer hush money in my bank account this afternoon, after Erica left. With it, I book a weeklong Caribbean cruise for two during the next full moon.

I’ll tell my mom I won it from an online contest or something. I’ll pretend it’s for her and me, but a few days before the ship leaves I’ll feign sickness and say, you know, Clyde should just take my spot. He probably won’t be busy (and if he is, he’ll probably cancel his plans) and they’ll go. If he can’t go, well, I can’t save everyone.

That’s the extent of my scheme—I’m hoping Gwen can fill in the blanks once she’s caught up. She knows what her family is capable of. I don’t.

And I can’t afford to wait and figure that out on my own. I don’t know these fucking people. Last week, I never would’ve guessed they would Mafia-style threaten me and my mom’s lives.

Come to think of it, I don’t really know Gwen. I understand her generally, but the details? Murky.

Lives are on the line and the mystery isn’t fucking cute anymore. I can’t keep food down, I can’t sleep.

I’m tired.

Gwen returns to the diner before closing time. My mom is here, so hopefully nothing crazy happens. I notice she has a split lip. I point at it.

“I tripped.” Dismissive. A lie. How much does she really know? Because she doesn’t act clueless—not all the time.

“You fell on your lip?”

She tries to kiss me, but I stop her with my hand. “What do you do all day?”

Gwen looks down at my hand still pressed against her chest. Looks at me. “Walk around.”

“You walk around all day?”

“Sometimes I sleep. Read.”

“Okay… What book?”

“Am I in trouble?” She brings my fingers to her mouth and kisses them.

“I’m curious about you.” I rub my thumb over her split, moist mouth. “I don’t like seeing you injured.”

On the drive home she shows me the book. I laugh when she pulls it out because it’s massive—not in length. It’s a coffee table book.

“100 Hikes of a Lifetime.” I suppress a laugh. “Cool.”

“Are you a hiker, Gwen?” Mom interjects from the driver’s seat. Same tone she employs when she’s afraid I’m about to say something rude to Clyde.

“Sort of.” Gwen runs her fingers around an edge of the leatherbound cover. “When I was in Oregon, that was how I spent my weekends.”

Mom says something like that sounds nice, and I hear an opportunity: “Who did you hike with?”

“My friend and her friend.” Gwen doesn’t miss a beat, but that wording was weird. “They were backpackers and had all the stuff, let me borrow some of it.”

So her ex and her ex’s friend were backpacker-bikers and maybe the ex’s friend was more than a friend because the corner of Gwen’s mouth twinged and I can tell she’s bothered—not quite bristling at my interrogation until that last question. “Cool,” I say. Knowingly.

Gwen glances at me. Her expression reflects that whatever happened Northwest was very not cool and maybe we’ll talk later about it if I insist.

I do insist.

After a lasagna dinner that Gwen tried and failed to refuse, she’s on my bed topless in boxers. Can’t get too excited because she’s lying on her stomach with her chin and arms resting on a pillow… Beautiful broad shoulders but I avoid eye contact with her spine and ribs.

I lie beside her on my back, sweats and t-shirt on because we’re talking business. “I feel like I don’t know a lot about you.”

Gwen chuckles into the pillow.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just saw this coming. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I was born on July 3rd, 1997 at 11:47 p.m. Fireworks were going off, but I don’t remember that.”

“Come on. I mean, what are you into? Soccer and hiking—that’s all I know.” I consider mentioning the vegan thing, but it feels touchy.

“I’m not into soccer.”

“What?”

“I hate soccer.”

I roll on my side to squint at her better. “Didn’t you play all throughout—”

“From when I could walk until two years ago? Yeah.” She sighs. “I was good at it. Not good enough to go pro. There was always someone better, at a better school.”

“You went to a great school.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t learn anything. Just got a couple concussions and tore my ACL.”

“Ouch.” I rub her shoulder. The split lip gives her a pout. “Did you have fun? I mean, at parties and stuff?”

Gwen exhales a laugh at me.

“I don’t know, I never went to college! What did you major in?”

“Business administration.”

“Did you like it?”

“I cheated the whole time and graduated.”

“Okay, well, what do you like?”

She clutches my breast.

“Gwen, be serious.”

“I am.”

“What else?”

She gives me one last squash. “Mm. I dunno. That’s the problem with being forced to play a sport all your life and then one day it’s over.”

“Forced?”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “When I was little, if we lost a soccer game, my parents would punish me. Even if it wasn’t my fault. Most of the time, it wasn’t.”

I sit up. “Punish?”

“Make me train and do nothing else.” Her gaze drifts. “I think it messed me up.”

I place my hand on her thigh, tilt my head.

“I’d lash out at my teammates, take everything so seriously. Their mistakes were my mistakes. So I would scream at them, throw their shit around in the locker room… It was like this the whole time, even after my parents couldn’t force me anymore. I just kept doing it ‘cause it was all I’ve ever done. All my eggs in one basket, whatever.”

“Oh my god, Gwen.”

“It’s stupid. I could’ve gone to therapy or something but I didn’t feel like I had time and… the coaches liked my energy.”

“I wish I knew you better then.”

She smiles. “You wouldn’t have liked me. Besides, you always had boyfriends.”

I scoff.

“I always thought the boy-crazy girls were mental.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Yeah, fuck me.” Gwen rolls on top of me and kisses my neck, lips slick and soft.

Her hips press into mine; the pressure is delicious. Resist! “Wait, I still wanna talk…”

“About what?” she grumbles.

“Wade.”

Gwen cringes from me.

“Were your parents harsh on him, too?”

“Ha! No.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t good at anything. Claimed he was gonna be an entrepreneur with some dumb private campground idea, like Pineworld Adventures for adults. Yeah, right. Even with Dad’s connections, he couldn’t get the investors or the land. He’s completely dependent on my parents. He always will be, and he’ll get that inheritance to live off of—” She shuts her trap.

“Oh. All of it?”

Her face reddens. I immediately regret asking. “There’ll be enough for me, too,” she says. “Guess I’m not that different from him now.”

“But… you’re sick. You need someone to care for you.”

“Do I? Because I always feel way fucking worse when they care for me and feel a lot better when I care for myself.”

“What do you mean?”

She gets off me to sit on the edge of the bed. Heat follows her. “Maybe I should run away. I should run away somewhere and you meet me there and we keep running.”

My heart hurls itself to my throat. “We can’t!”

“Why?” she snarls. “Aren’t you bored here? Don’t you want to do something with your life?”

“Sh!” Mom and Clyde are watching TV in the living room, but the walls aren’t thick.

“You’re the only reason I’m here.” Tears streak her face. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be gone.”

I’m crying too, and hate myself. “I’m sorry. You really can’t go.”

“I can’t leave you.” Gwen grabs me. “I know it isn’t normal, but I’m in love with you.”

I kiss her. The truth is on my tongue; though I’m held like a doll I’m the one who has her now, and I know she will do terrible things for me.

Droplets meet on our cheeks. I strangle out the words: “I love you too.”

“Let’s leave,” she pants. “We can hitchhike. Take a train.”

“We can’t. We can’t. My mom…” My lip trembles.

“She’ll be fine! It’s not like you’ll never see her again.” She glances at the dog toy on my bed. “Smokey can come with us.”

“No.” I push my forehead into her shoulder. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what?” Her grip hardens around my arms. “What is it?”

“Your parents said—”

Gwen bares her teeth and I feel her nails sink into my flesh. Before I can speak, she throws her hands up; I fall back on the bed with a bounce.

Tssk, tssk. Smokey scratches at my door and whines.

Gwen’s pulling at her scalp, squeezing her eyes shut tight, standing over me. “What did they say?”

“I can’t tell you.”

She glowers at me. “Biancaaa.”

“I can’t tell you when you’re upset.”

Her crimson chest heaves, nipples hard and furious.

“Stop pulling your hair.”

She lowers her arms, slowly. Ejects a lungful of sweltering air. I glance at her hands, expecting claws. But they’re normal. She didn’t break my skin.

“I’m calm.” Her voice wavers.

I pull myself upright. “Ready? Because it’s insanely bad.”

Tssk. Smokey scratches again.

“Let him in!” Gwen runs a much-needed hand through her spiky hair. “We’re cool.”

I do. He licks my knuckles and regards both of us before crawling under the bed.

“Tell me, Bianca. I won’t react.”

I raise my brows.

“I’m serious.”

“Okay.” I crawl over my bed, sit on it and face her. Then I vomit it out: “Your parents said that if I leave or you leave, they’ll kill my mom.”

Gwen doesn’t breathe. By the look of her, doesn’t even think. My mouth dries up.

“They said if I tell you you’re a werewolf, they’ll kill me.”

She does react to that. I swear I’m hit with a pulse of heat, but she doesn’t yell. “A what?”

“Werewolf.”

“Pinch me.” She holds out her forearm. “Pinch me hard.” I pinch her medium. Her hair rises, her skin prickles. “This isn’t a joke?” Her tone darkens. “You and Wade didn’t… set this up?”

“No, no! Wade took me into the basement and I saw you—“

Gwen shudders so hard she stumbles, back hitting my closet. For the first time, she isn’t flushed. The blood drains from her face, flowing backwards from her skin towards somewhere deep within herself, maybe her heart. She tries to look at the bite on her collarbone. “I’m not crazy.” Her eyes blow wide and take me in. “That’s not good.”

I open my arms so I can catch her if she passes out. Gwen steadies herself instead. Then seems to marvel at me. I speak once her stare starts to freak me out:

“That bite from your ex—did you know what she was?”

“No. No.” She laughs in jitters. “How could I guess that? I thought she was acting different because she was cheating on me.”

“Oh.” I resist asking more questions, I have about a hundred. Most involving whether or not her ex was in or somehow connected to a biker gang. “I’m sorry.”

Gwen touches her lip. “How much—how long have you known?”

“Since Saturday. I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you. Your parents can’t know you know or—”

“No.” Her eyes flutter shut. She sinks to the floor. “They’re done.”

Motivated through my nausea, I tell her about the cruise tickets. The timing.

Gwen nods like she’s heard it before. “Alright. We’ll pretend until then. After that, it’s over. We run.”

Smokey appears from under the bed and curls up beside her. She scratches behind his ears. He winks at me. Wants to come with, I’m sure.

“Don’t worry about them.” Gwen has this strange serenity.

“How can you say that? They have guns!” I strain to lower my volume. “The basement. Have you seen it?”

“I’ve smelled it. Can’t help but smell it. It smells like my death.”

“They’re going to chain you. They might… shoot you.”

“I told you, don’t worry.” She crouches. “I wanna tell you something.”

“Please.”

“In a way, I already knew what I was. Especially after we started talking, my thoughts started coming together like shaking a bottle of oil and water. I think I would’ve figured it out without you telling me. But I was scared.” Emotion jams her throat. “I’m scared to make it real. Because you won’t want to be with me.”

“I do want to be with you.”

“How?”

“We can figure it out.”

Gwen smudges her tears with the heel of her hand. Eyes of polished wood. Looking doubtful.

“I like—I like it.” An inconvenient truth that is, currently, convenient.

The flush rushes back to her.

I separate my legs and suddenly, she knows all. That I can’t get enough of her, whoever and whatever she is.

“I can’t tell you how scared, how I’d hoped—how hopeful you make me.” Gwen seizes my hips, lowering the elastic band of my sweats. “I’ll be good for you. I’ll be gentle.”

Lust pools in me as fabric pools around my ankles. Her touch, warm and reverent. Her eyes, shimmering and happy, skim my bare legs.

“You’re unreal,” she whispers to my flesh, smelling and groaning into it until the words are incomprehensible, dragging her incisors along and inside my thighs, leaving trails of hot saliva while her hands grasp my sides, possessing me with savage anticipation. Just when I’m about to lose myself, it turns too toothy.

I flip to my stomach with muted terror, and to show off my ass. “Don’t bite.”