And the wolves appeared.
Their eyes came first, many of them, shining in the darkness. My body thrummed with anticipation as a black wolf strode straight out of the night and came toward me. Its sable coat glimmered, warmed by the moonlight, but as the creature neared, I shrank back, seized abruptly by a choking terror. My heart pounded. This wasn’t what I expected. This wasn’t the type of creature I remembered from the animal preserve back in West Virginia. This was not an exotic dog or a ratty thing to be pitied.
This was a beast.
The black wolf kept coming. The oxlike power of its muscles was evident, a fine show of strength that rippled with each step. I struggled to get back onto my feet, to run, but my limbs refused to work. I knelt before it on the ground. I was naked. Exposed.
“Help me,” I whispered. “Please. Oh, God!”
It reached me with its frayed, batlike ears blown back tight against its head. The animal placed one giant forepaw on either side of my body and stood above me. Its draping tail whipped back and forth. I gagged at the ripe, rotting odor coming off its fur. I bit back the scream I knew would be torn from my throat as the beast reached down with its dripping snout. But the animal merely pressed its cold nose against my cheek, an almost gentle touch, like a sickening caress. I shuddered.
More wolves came forward. They streamed from every direction. All colors. All sizes. All somehow familiar. Brown, gray, tan, white. Even a reddish beast sprang from the shadows with a snap and a snarl to strut before me, its body lithe, its movements light with grace and swagger.
I reached out with both hands and the beasts crowded in, licking-nuzzling-keening, long ears cocked low, tails held down in deference. I touched and scratched them all, not caring about the smell or the threat.
The wolves closed even tighter, tight, so tight, until I could no longer see the sky.
chapter
twenty-five
matter
I unzip the opening to the tent and stick my head out. The party looks the same, but the atmosphere in Eden is calmer. Drunker. Sleepier. But something is wrong. Upon further assessment, I realize what it is.
Jordan is missing.
My gaze darts around the campfire, always returning to the rock where we sat. She’s not there. She just isn’t. I pull my phone out. It’s two thirty in the morning. I squint and try to make out the crowd that’s playing cards near the back of the hollow, up against the cliff wall. I told her to ask Teddy to walk her back if she wanted to leave. I definitely told her that. I know I did. But Teddy’s still there, slumped in his camping chair, staring at his cards with a deadly serious expression. He’s not drinking. He’s not high. He’s no longer playing poker. He’s playing Shanghai rummy. I know this because Teddy always wants to play Shanghai. It’s his thing. He calls it “the mother of all card games,” which I guess is pretty accurate since the game takes like five hours to finish. It’s kind of fun due to all the strategy required, and I enjoy most anything where I have a fair shot at winning, but at the end of the day, it’s still a card game. Nothing to lose money over. Nothing to get worked up about.
I am, however, worked up over the fact that Jordan either (a) did not listen to me and is walking through the woods alone; or (b) is in the woods, not walking and not alone. I cannot reconcile my distress with the fact that if she is alone, then she can’t be in danger from me because, well, I’m here, and if she’s with someone else, then that should be a good thing. Right? That’s what I wanted, for her to be safe. It’s what I thought I wanted.
Then why am I distressed?
It’s confusing.
I am confused.
Lex comes up from behind. He does it slowly. He knows better than to startle me.
I’m still struggling to breathe. To speak.
“It must fucking suck,” he says.
I have no clue what he’s talking about. I know he’s continuing our conversation, but I’ve lost his line of thinking. I peer around some more. The roaring in my ears is back. Jordan would remember the way down the mountain, wouldn’t she? The cross-country team runs through these woods almost every day, or at least we did until this past week when the headmaster said we couldn’t. No, Jordan doesn’t have a flashlight, but it’s not like the trails are all that complicated.
“What changed your mind?” Lex asks.
I shrink away. I still don’t understand what he wants to know, but I don’t think I want to tell him, either. I can’t. My voice won’t come to me, and that can mean only one thing: I’m scared.
“You saw them, didn’t you? The bodies? I don’t understand. Why didn’t your parents get—”