FEVERCHAIN 12

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

Voiceover by the brilliant and possibly magical Emily S Hurricane ✨

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“How do seven nights in the Bahamas sound?” Had to dip into my savings a bit. The total was $1353. Interior cabins, but whatever. It’s nice!

“What, what, what?” Mom jumps beside the kitchen sink with a soaked sponge, flicking suds onto the fridge. She’s never been on a cruise before, or left the country. Me neither.

I muster more excitement. “The tickets are paid for and everything. All we have to do is drive to the Cape Liberty cruise port.”

“I can’t believe you won these!”

“Yup, just got lucky.” I said it was from some advertising survey I barely remember doing. Now my mom is determined to scour the internet for more surveys in hopes of winning prizes.

“You’ve always been a good luck charm, my lucky girl!” She beams, puts her hands over her heart. Then she sobers. “Oh, Bun. Are you sure you wanna go with me? What about Gwen?”

Rosacea outbreak. I adjust my glasses. “No, I wanna go with you. We haven’t hung out in a while.” I’ve avoided her. She knows I’ve been stressed, but not how stressed, and she could never guess why.

Her dark eyes sparkle with tears. “I couldn’t ask for a better daughter, you know that?”

We embrace. Emotion rises to my eyes, nose, and mouth, threatening to spill all over the place. I have to act normal. Hug her tight, savor her warmth and familiar, herby smell.

“I think this is just what we need, Bun,” her voice vibrates in my ear. I sigh, wondering if I’ll ever be able to go on a vacation. We finish up the dishes. She washes, I dry, talking about what we need to pack. I almost believe I’m going.

I’m brushing breadcrumbs from the table when I hear the floor creak. I glance up and notice Clyde, his broad frame filling the hallway, bald head glinting. He frowns at my bedroom door before he saunters to the kitchen, arms swinging. “Why’s your shower running?”

Gwen must’ve come in without telling me. Weird. And she’s later than usual. That can’t be good.

“Earth to Bianca.” Clyde waves a hand. “The shower. Why running?”

The floor stops tilting. “Gwen’s in there.”

He crosses his arms. “She gonna contribute to the water bill?”

“Babe!” Mom chides from afar.

The pet name freaks me out. “I’ll pay double my share, alright? Goodnight.” I slink past him to my room. They keep whispering, about me, about Gwen, about the cruise or god knows what. Smokey rises from his spot on the couch and follows me.

I shut my door—too hard. Hear the squeak as the faucet’s turned off. Smokey crawls under my bed, the perv. He sleeps with both of us now.

My bathroom door opens with a burst of steam and wild cherry blossom bodywash. Gwen appears, raking and shaking out her hair, towel tied low around her waist, pelvis poking out. But she looks healthier.

“If you double your share, I’m paying for it.”

What? Oh.

“God. You heard that. Clyde’s such a bitch, please ignore him.” I follow the perimeter of my bed, kick the opened package on my floor. Pick through the cardboard carnage, then show her the bolt cutters with a big grin. “Surprise! Look what came in the mail.”

Gwen tries to smile, one hand behind her back. “What are those for?”

“To cut your chains. Here’s my plan: first, I’ll shut off the electricity. Does your house have an exterior main breaker?”

“Huh?”

“I have to turn the power off so they can’t see me with their cameras.”

She grips the doorframe, sockets shadowed as she stares. “Are you serious?”

I purse my lips. “Just spitballing.”

She closes the space between us with her steaming body, wet locks dripping on me. “You’re not going anywhere near that house.”

I frown and offer the bolt cutters. “How do you plan on getting out?”

She sighs and sinks into my bed. I notice her right hand, the one she’s been hiding, is wrapped in bandages. “My jaws have to be stronger than these.” Sets the bolt cutters on my nightstand, runs her tongue over her teeth. “If those chains could be broken, I would’ve gotten out a while ago.”

I chew on my cheek. Wasted thirty bucks on those damn things.

She stiffens. “Look, I have an idea, but you’re gonna hate it.”

“What is it.”

“My bones would break more easily than the chains. If I crack ‘em while turning to get out of the shackles, then they should heal…”

“Should?” I feel my face turn gray. “You’re going to break your wrists and your ankles? Hands and feet?”

She shrugs.

“No offense but fuck no. I’m not letting you get shackled in the first place. You hide in the woods, then I’ll hide. Somewhere public.”

“Where?”

“I’ll figure it out.” My face pinches. “It’ll be night when you first turn, right?”

“Then there’s two more nights of it. Where would you go? My parents will come after you. You can’t hide forever, and your mom will be coming back—”

“Let me think!”

Gwen leans back on pillows, fist and jaw clenched.

I focus on the first night—what’s available then? I don’t want to go to anyone’s house and get them involved. It has to be somewhere crowded… staffed. “An emergency room—I’ll call an ambulance!” Gwen’s eyes widen. “I’ll say my stomach hurts, whatever.”

“They come for that?”

“I’ll say my chest hurts, too. I smell burnt toast. I can’t breathe, I’m numb all over! They’ll come. They just won’t keep me for long.” I pat the phone in my butt pocket. “We can even lure your parents with my location—I’ll give my phone to you, and you can chuck it somewhere. Somewhere strategic, obviously.”

Gwen props herself up with one arm and ogles me. “Damn. I like this plan.”

I can’t help but smirk. “I’d do anything for you, baby.”

“I’d do anything for you.” She closes her eyes. “It just—it has to work.”

I give a curt nod and step towards her. “I’ll be in the emergency room for a few hours, hopefully the entire night. I’ll try to stall as much as I can to stay there, rack up that medical bill.” Or just camp in the lobby. What are they gonna do, kick me out? I stick my thumbnail between my teeth. “Will that be enough time to… get rid of the problem?”

“Feel like I’m in The Godfather,” Gwen chuckles. Clears her throat. “Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

I sit on the bed’s lip. “What about Wade?”

“Least of my worries.”

“No, I mean…” Bite my nail, stop before I split it. “What if we let him be?”

Her eyes narrow. She waits for an explanation, but I can’t find the words. Wade’s complicit, but he’s passive. When he threatened me, it sounded strained, like he didn’t want to. Like Gwen was forced to play soccer, maybe Wade was forced to play his parents’ games. Then again, the whole “jizz-tits” thing really pissed me off.

“He’s gotta go,” Gwen says.

“After your parents are gone… he might just… leave. Leave all this behind—”

“No. No. Not after what he’s done. He doesn’t get to drive off into the sunset. He knows too much. He knows the truth and will use it to fuck with us.” Her voice is soft, but barbed with rage. “I know my brother better than you do.”

I stare at my bunny slippers. At Smokey’s snout sticking out from under the bed.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” I take a cleansing breath, and Wade vanishes. Easy. So easy my insides liquify, along with the rest of the room. “Okay.”

“It’s not like I’d be able to stop myself,” she blurts out. A tremor passes over her face. “Sorry.”

“No—I mean, it’s your...” family. I don’t want her to regret anything. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s right, but I’m afraid she won’t regret it at all. That she’ll enjoy it.

“It’s your call,” I say.

Gwen grunts, eyes distant.

For a long while, silence. Wind rattles my window. Criminal Minds plays from the living room. Gwen’s bandages scratch my comforter.

I focus on her wrapped wound, damp and pink. Stained with a dirt smudge. She looks at me. Then away.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The bandages are concentrated on her palm instead of her fingers. Still, I assume she gave it to herself. “Did something happen?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Ugh. Won’t be able to sleep until then. I rub my brow, keep my lips tight. She extends her arms for me, hangs her head. “Please?”

↟↟↟

My first and favorite customers this morning: Gwen and Emilio.

E comes in a rush, tugging at his beltloop. “I’m about to shit myself, but can you make me a soda?”

I give him a two-fingered salute as he sprints to the bathroom, not even stopping to take his backpack off.

Gwen grimaces.

“Lost your appetite?”

“Impossible,” she sighs.

“Okay, I’ll make you eggs. But only if you promise you’ll tell me that thing you didn’t tell me about last night. Or when we woke up.”

She rubs her face. “Fine. But we can’t talk here.”

“We can go on a walk after Thornton and Sheriff come in.” I fill a glass with ice and Fanta, set it on the counter.

“You always have the answers, don’t you?” Gwen smiles. “I’ll do whatever you say, whatever it takes for you to keep me around.”

My eyes roll. I ruffle her hair, feathery soft. She brushed it today. “I need you to tell me what’s going on with you. Don’t hide from me. It isn’t safe.”

“You make me so happy,” she whispers, pushing her forehead into my palm. “I don’t wanna mess it up, but I think I already have.” Emotion is building in her voice, warbling it.

“Gwen…”

“I think—I think I ruined your life.”

“That’s not true. We know who ruined my life.”

“If I never talked to you—”

“Stop. Please, Gwen.” I squeeze her good hand. “Save it for the walk.”

She wipes her face on her flannel sleeve. I can feel her skin burning from behind the counter. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

I go to the kitchen to give her space and whip up some eggs. We can’t both look miserable all the time. People will start to suspect something.

While I grab a carton from the fridge, I note the book Mom is perusing over the empty coffee mug in her lap. It’s titled: Why Men Date Bitches, with “Bitches” written in lipstick. “A Woman’s Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship,” the subtitle reads. We make eye contact.

“I thought it looked interesting.” She taps the cover with a chipped, pink nail. We’re painting each other’s toes tonight for the cruise. “Psychology.”

“Uh huh.” Maybe by the time she finishes it, she’ll be convinced to leave Clyde. With a spatula, I fold the scrambleds. Get two plates, set aside a little for myself. Squirt mine with ketchup.

Gwen’s eagerly awaiting, money on the counter.

“You don’t have to pay me, you know.” She acts like I’m broke. I am, but I don’t need the reminder.

“This is nothing.” She leans over the counter to whisper in my ear. “Wait ‘til I get my parents’ life insurance and inheritance.”

I gasp. That additional motive hadn’t crossed my mind. Or maybe it had, unacknowledged. I set down her plate, shell shocked. She starts eating, almost smug as she watches me.

I’m not hungry anymore because for the first time, I feel like a murderer.

In a show of great restraint, Gwen pauses between bites. “Was that too much? I’m trying to stay positive.”

“It’s—you’re fine.”

“That’s convincing.”

I wave a dismissive hand. “I’m just stressed.” I eat a tentative forkful of eggs, praying I can keep it down. I’ve been struggling with that again. And the ketchup makes the eggs look bloody. I know actual blood is darker, but whatever. “Is Emilio still in the bathroom?”

Gwen’s fork clatters on the plate. She swallows hard. Her eyes, huge.

I’m too afraid to ask.

“Erica’s coming.”

Not what I expected. “What? Why?”

“Uh…”

“Oh, god. Is this about that thing you didn’t tell me about?!”

The door chimes. It’s Erica. Her hair is loose and disheveled, clothes crumpled—she looks exhausted. She has a bandage on her right hand, just like Gwen’s.

“Good morning, Gwen.”

Gwen goes pale. Her hair seems to rise and I can tell her teeth are clenched.

“Can we chat outside?” Erica’s tone is ice. All bubbliness popped flat.

“Hold on,” I say, brushing greasy fingers on my apron. I look between them, land on Gwen. “What’s this about?”

She lowers her head, makes a wordless noise.

“It’s about my freaking DNA decaying before it can be visualized—wait.” Erica refocuses on the ever-shrinking Gwen. “You haven’t told her?! Does she even know what you are?”

My body goes cold.

“Her mom is in the kitchen,” Gwen growls quietly.

And Emilio is in the bathroom.

“Then get off your ass!” Erica barks. “I have questions. And I’m getting a swab from you, it’s the least you can do for me.” Erica flashes the canines under her lips before storming outside.

Gwen and I stare at each other, my mouth open, hers clamped.

Before I can speak, the door chimes again. Erica pokes her head inside, neck swerving: “By the way, Bianca—your lover’s condition is contagious.”