FEVERCHAIN 18
Lesbian werewolves, et cetera. FEVERCHAIN is a contemporary horror-romance serial set in the fictional Pinetown, New Jersey.
Emily S Hurricane has done it again with a thrilling voiceover! Enjoy đđđ
I return to my doorway in jeans with a pair of small scissors in the back pocket (for self-defense) and a hoodie Iâd stolen from Gwen two weeks ago.
âHurryyyyy,â Rainy Williams croons. She jitters like sheâs going through withdrawals. âHop on and hold on. Iâd like to keep you in one piece.â
I consider slamming the door and running, but Smokey is poking his snout between my legs, growling.
âWeird cat you got there.â
I shut the front door and lock it. âWhat do you want?â
âJust to chat. Keep cool and Iâll bring you back before you can say blueberry pie.â
She takes the helmet from under her arm and puts it over her head, rips another helmet strapped to her backpack and tosses it to me. When I put it on, it smells like smoke and candy.
âCome on, weâre wasting gas.â
In a series of jerks, I slide onto the vibrating motorcycle seat. Shaking like a dead branch, I donât know where to put my hands.
âUnder my pits, waist or hips.â She ties her hair up with a rubber band, and I watch her strands tear before she shoves her helmet on. Stiffly, my fingers crimp her leather jacket.
She rips out of the driveway and I squeal, feeling myself tip and nearly topple into the street. I donât hear her laugh, but her sides clench, clench, clench against my palms.
âWhere are we going?â I yell when we reach the highway, the wind pressure scathing my ears with a blaring hum.
âWally World!â
âWhat?â
We lurch as Rainy slows to a normal speed. A stream of cop cars pass us, lights off. One, two, three, four, five, six. I turn my helmeted head away. She waves and doesnât look back before accelerating far beyond the legal limit.
Blood froths in my skull as we weave nauseatingly into the Walmart parking lot. Iâm relieved. Rainy canât kill me here. Itâs morning time and the store is open, a couple people are milling about, pushing metal carts. An old man waddles, a toddler screeches and tugs at his momâs pant legâI stare achingly, but no one looks back, the veil of our helmets creating an impersonal distance.
We pull behind the gargantuan store where no one could intervene and park in the remotest corner where weeds split the cement curb and the woods encroach.
Rainy tosses her helmet and backpack onto the corporate-owned grassy knoll and lies on it. Pats the earth beside her. I sit, knees pulled tight into my tits.
âWant a gumball?â she smacks.
Shake my head, sick of the fake pleasantries from the criminal werewolf. âI know who you are.â
She pops a pink-gray bubble.
âYouâre Gwenâs ex. You bit her, didnât you?â
Rainy smiles. âNot me. Iâm not much of a dater, but Sienna and I are intimate, yes.â
âSienna?â I internally gasp and try to remember her police sketch. She was the one with a mean little face. Evil Tinker Bell. âWhat do you mean? Sienna is Gwenâs ex?â
Rainy nods. âShe runs with Anna more than me now, but itâs all loosey-goosey.â
Anna was the ginger with the underbite, I think. My gaze darts between Rainy, the motorcycle, the backside of Walmart. Then the motorcycle again, and the bones wired around her headlights.
âWhatcha staring at? Oh, those are Drewâs ribs.â
âWait likeâfrom his body?â
Rainy hoists herself on one elbow to look at me, jacket squeaking from the effort. âRelax. I just wanna level with you.â
Yeah, Iâve heard that before. Excuse me for not being trustful. I press my right asscheek into the crimped, yellow grass and feel the scissors.
âWeâre in neutral territory.â Rainy gestures to the parking lot. âDonâtcha feel safe here, in your habitat?â
âYouâre a werewolf,â I say.
âIâm not into labels, but sure.â
âYouâre wanted by the Oregon police⌠for drug dealing?â I donât really remember. Thatâs gotta just be the tip of the iceberg.
âYes,â Rainy sighs. âThe piglets know my face, which is why I need sugar, chickadee. Brute force can only getcha so far in the 21st century. I need to pay this guy, well itâs really a series of guys, a network of guys, to falsify some paperwork and get me Canadian citizenship and a new name and birthday.â Smack, smack. âDidya know I was born on Christmas? Maybe my new name should be Frosty.â
âSo you left me the serial killer note.â
âKiller? Killer? I havenât been the one killing, baby.â I watch her index finger loop around three rubber bands on her wrist, pull and release. The snap makes me flinch. âYou know that, you already know, donât you? How it must be?â
âHow what must be?â
âYou have to let Gwen go.â Her fire eyes widen. âGo with us.â
I dig my nails into my pants. âWhat? I donât evenâI donât evenâhow do you know who I am? How do you know about us?â
âYou both reek of it,â she says, lip curling slightly. âAnd we met your pal, Erica. Sheâs disturbed about Gwenâs parricide plus.â
Erica? Sheâs talking to these freaks?
âParricide plus. You know what that means? Thereâs all sorts of words for different types of âcidesâŚâ
âGwenâs family was abusive,â I blurt. âThey tried to kill me!â
âErica doesnât know that. Regardless, it remains aâŚâ smack, smack, âdisquieting fact.â
âIf you think itâs so messed up, why are you smiling about it?â
âI like to smile. Donât be upset. Ericaâs the reason we picked up that scrawny kid.â
âEmilio?â
âSure. Erica said he was important to you.â
I stand in a flurry. âWhere is Gwen?!â
Rainy cringes and makes a show of plugging one ear.
âWhere is she?â I yell louder.
âWeâll bring her back.â
âWhat! You canâtââ
âWeâll bring her back tomorrow morning. Then sheâll stay with you until she gets the familial wealth in her possession and so you can break up with her. Do what I say, end it when we visit you again, and Iâll make sure she doesnât come back to stalk you or tear you to shreds in a fit of grievous rage. Good deal?â
âShe wouldnât do that!â
âBet your life on it?â
I exhale sharp and close my stinging eyes. âYes.â
âYouâll have to keep bettingâthatâs bad odds, baby. Two nights in a row, one more to go. Then thereâs March, April, May, July, August, September, October, November, December and Happy New Year. All will be bloodyyyyy.â
I wipe away snot, try to think. If Gwen really killed Catherine von Bergen, itâs like when Erica was bitâa breach of trust. A breach from who I thought she was. How well did Gwen even know Ms. Bergen? Did she hold anything against her? Or was she just standing in the way of getting to some goats? I donât know if Gwenâs being impulsive, animal-stupid, or some kind of vindictiveâmaybe all of the above. Where does instinct end and decision start? I remember Gwenwolf navigating the bear traps and shudder.
âWeâll make sure tonightâs festivities are out of Jersey for a change,â Rainy continues as if Iâm not bawling my eyes out. âWeâve got to keep moving, keep moving, keep moving.â Her fingers snap to punctuate her words. âLast night was a close call.â
I sniffle, envisioning Gwenâs gunshot wound. âIs she okay?â
Rainy nods. âGot the bullets out. Sheâs mostly healedâsheâs in great shape, physically. Emotionally, not so much. But like Erica, I bet sheâs relieved to be around those whoâve been through it. You see, Iâm not your everyday stray, Iâve been playing this game since childhood.â
âI meanâŚâ Shove my hands in Gwenâs hoodie. Imagine her warmth, and imagine it leaving meâher flushed face never between my thighs, my fingers never stroking her feathery hair. Tears fall, leaving dark blots on the heather-gray fabric. âDoes she want to go with you guys?â
Rainyâs face hardens; she stops chewing. âShe will once you end it.â
âOh, god.â Turn away to ugly sob. I want to make it work. I want so badly to make it work.
âYouâre doing the right thing. Itâs not sustainable. A human and a werewolf?â Rainy whistles.
There is one way it could work. Maybe the only way. Then Iâd understand her. All this confusion could wash away, and we could love each other clearly. âWhat if I wasâŚâ
âOh no, you donât want that, do you? You canât get on a plane. You canât live in a city, canât really even visit one. You canât hold a jobâcanât focus. Canât handle crowds. You get all these new phobias. A personality crisis. Memory of a goldfish for a long while. You become more fearful, if you can believe it. No longer at home with humanity, but the animals donât want you either!â She thinks for a moment. âYou canât reproduce.â
âThatâs fine.â
âThe bite can kill you if the wolf doesnât feel safe to come out. Thatâs how most of us die, really. If the wolf doesnât feel safe, you boil up with a fever, and the hospitals canât help you. Thereâs no cure. Only death.â Her eyes scour me, bottom to top. âBesides, youâre not a predator. Why would you want to be? Itâs a miserable existenceâmuch easier to go to the grocery store. You think Gwen is happy?â
âI love her,â I choke out.
That doesnât seem to impress. âYouâll find another, better blondie in no time. There are more people than pigs on the planet, much more. And people can live anywhere, theyâre so adaptable. They make themselves available, anywhere, anytime⌠There are so many of them. So many people.â
Stab my stubby, chipped nails into my eyebrows. I donât want anyone else. I donât think I ever will, and Iâll be fucked up foreverâ
âThink of your mother.â
I whip around. âWhat about my mother?!â
Rainyâs dark brow lifts and blood drains from my face. She keeps smiling, eyes bright with satisfaction. Her eyesâthey move strangely, the left seems to chase after the right. Itâs subtle, but they do not move in unison. âRelax, baby. All I mean is, our lifestyle is very immoral. From a human perspective.â
I drag a clammy hand down my face. âI get it, okay? I get it. Iâllâend it.â
Rainy smacks happily, claps her hands together. âSweet! Wait until after she gets the sugar and we come into town. Weâll visit you first to check inâat your diner. Sorry about the window, by the way. Then âitâs not you, itâs me,â and your life will be fur-free.â
What other choice do I have? Gwen canât protect me from them. She canât even protect me from herself. Itâs almost a relief to not have a real choice, âcause I doubt Iâd make the right one. âCan I ask you something, before you bring me home?â
Rainyâs already standing, helmet on. âShoot.â
âAre vampires real?â
She cracks a laugh. âReal as Santa Claus. Oh baby, youâre funny!â
My ears ring with silver bells the whole ride home.


I don't like her. But she is making sense.
This is NOT where I thought we were going. Legit friendly advice from the most unlikely source? Well done.