The Blood Coven - Girls That Growl Part 4

The crowd goes wild. The cheerleaders bounce. I bounce, too, an electric excitement sparking through my body. I can't believe I'm this revved up over the outcome of a football game. After all, I'm not exactly the high school football type. Maybe this skirt/sweater/pom-pom combo is slowly sucking brain cells from my head.

But whatever. We won. That's all that matters at the moment.

+++ After the game we head to the locker room to change out of our uniforms. I've never been one to change in front of others, but the cheerleaders all whip off clothing like it's prom night. Soon, the room is filled with bra and lacy thong-clad girls, talking animatedly to one another. I guess if you have perfect bodies you don't need the modesty gene.

I notice across the room that Cait is the sole exception to the exhibitionism displayed in the locker room. She ducks into one of the bathroom stalls to change out of her uniform. And she emerges wearing a long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt and jeans. Which is somewhat weird, considering it's probably seventy degrees out.

I overhear whispers about an after party at Mandy's house to celebrate their victory, but no one invites me along. Not that I care. The last thing I want to do is go to some cheerleader party. Still, I can't help but feel a slight sting from being so obviously excluded. Stupid popular crowd.

I slip out of the locker room, ready to go home and back to my real life. Maybe I'll go see if Jareth's about. He's been acting kind of distant lately, and I'm hoping nothing is wrong. Maybe we'll go to Club Fang for a little dancing. Whatever. As long as I don't have to go home and face David, the now live-in boyfriend, and the toilet seat he forgot to put down. Being a Slayer Inc. operative, he'll want to know all about the cheerleaders and I really don't have any info on them except that they didn't want to talk about the missing Mike Stevens mid-game. Who knows, maybe they just didn't want to jinx the guy with the ball.

I've reached the gym exit. One push on the door and it's back to real life. But guilt gnaws at my insides and forces me to pause. A party is a perfect opportunity to learn more about the missing football player. To do recon for my Slayer mission. How can I just go home now? I've worked so hard to become one of them. To gain their trust. Now I've got to use it to my advantage.

After all, up until this point I haven't learned anything. We've been practicing so hard there's been little time to socialize and find out the 411.

Tonight's the perfect night to do some recon. Even if it does mean attending a cheerleader party at my archenemy's house.

I reluctantly head back to the locker room entrance, wrap my hand around the door handle, and give it a pull. It doesn't budge. That's weird. Why would they lock the door? Are they happy to be rid of me and want to make sure I don't come back?

Nah, that's stupid, right?

I rap on the door. "Hey! Let me in!" I cry. There's no answer. I put my ear to the door, trying to figure out what's going on.

It's then that I hear a strange noise.

Almost like . . . growling.

I leap back from the door. Isn't that what Teifert had said to look out for? Girls that growl? But why would the Oakridge High squad be growling? It doesn't make any sense. I put my ear back to the door to get a better listen.

Growling, snapping, howling. Almost like there's a pack of rabid dogs behind the door. What the . . . ?

I yank on the door handle again, but it's stuck fast. What if they're in trouble? Cait's in there, after all! And Shantel! I bang on the door with both fists. "Let me in!" I cry. But there's no response. What if they're all being eaten by a pack of werewolves or something? Do werewolves even exist? I guess if vampires do, it's certainly possible . . .

Why, oh, why do I have to be a powerless vampire? My undead brothers and sisters would have no problem at all breaking down the door and rescuing those trapped inside. Me, I'd have to wait for a locksmith to show up before I could save the day. By then, everyone's likely to have been beaten to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp.

Desperate, I send out a mental alert to any vamps in the vicinity. That's another one of the few powers I did inherit, go figure. Yup. I'm a supernatural creature of the night, whose superpower consists of . . . well, calling for help. And unfortunately I can only send, not receive answers. So I have no idea whether anyone's even paying attention.

A smas.h.i.+ng of gla.s.s from behind the locked door brings me back from mental telepathy land. I hear a shuffling of feet and the growling fades into the distance. Whoever-whatever-it was making all that noise has evidently left the building. I've missed everything. I suck. Slayer Inc. is going to be so sorry they didn't get my replacement up to speed before doling out this latest gig.

"Rayne!" I whirl around and catch sight of Jareth striding across the gymnasium floor, an anxious look on his tanned face.

"Are you all right?" he asks, approaching me and giving me a once-over with concerned eyes. "I heard your call for help and came as quickly as possible."

I sigh. "Great. Just what I need. Another powerless vamp," I mutter. I'd so been hoping Magnus or one of the other uninfected vamps heard my call for help. "Now we can both stand here looking stupid 'cause we can't break down a simple locked door."

Jareth's face falls and I instantly feel bad for opening my big mouth. After all, the guy used to be all-powerful. The im- penetrable General of the Blood Coven Army. Until, of course, he willingly sacrificed all of his powers for the rest of eternity just to save my miserable little life.

How about a little grat.i.tude, Rayne? "Sorry," I mutter. "It's been a long night."

"Right," he answers stiffly. But he doesn't look completely appeased. Not that I blame him.

But now is not the time for apologies. "I need to get back into the locker room," I explain, gesturing to the door. "The cheerleaders are inside and there's been all this crazy growling and gla.s.s breaking going on. I think they might be in danger!"

Jareth grabs the handle and pulls. To my shock, the door swings open with ease.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I cry, staring at the door, amazed. "How did you do that? Did you get your powers back or something?"

Wow, wow, wow. If he got his powers back maybe I could, too. I'd become an all-powerful vamp just like everyone else.

Jareth shrugs. "It's just a door, Rayne. Even mere mortals can usually manage to pull them open once in a while."

I scrunch my face in confusion as I walk inside. "But just a moment ago it was-"

The words die in my throat as I get a good glimpse of the locker room. Or should I say what's left of it.

The place is trashed. The bathroom stall doors have been ripped from their hinges. Garbage cans have been turned on their sides, regurgitating used feminine hygiene products and other disgusting trash. Claw marks mar the shower stalls and the smoked gla.s.s windows at the far end of the room are smashed out.

But the cheerleaders are nowhere to be seen.

"And I thought guys' locker rooms were messy," Jareth remarks drily.

I approach the windows, trying to peer out into the night. Whoever caused this mess must have escaped through there. I notice something caught on one of the jagged gla.s.s shards and pull it free.

A tuft of hair. Like . . . dog hair.

I turn to Jareth, questioningly. "Jareth," I say softly, "are there such things as-?"

But Jareth, suddenly very alert, puts a finger to his mouth. I c.o.c.k my head in question. What does he hear? He tiptoes over to the last bathroom stall, the only one left with a door on its hinges, and yanks it open.

"Don't hurt me!" cries a female voice inside.

I rush over. It's Cait. Curled up on the toilet seat so her feet don't show under the stall. Like she's hiding from someone ...

or something. She's quivering, trembling.

And bleeding.

8

The smell of the blood dripping from a long cut on her left arm is nearly overwhelming. I imagine it sliding down my throat.

Spicy, warm, and thick. So delicious. So satisfying. I take a step back. The girl's obviously been through something horrifying- the last thing she needs is some newbie vamp who's been denying herself proper food for the last few months to finally give in, grab her arm, and start sucking away.

I shake my head. I'll get a hamburger on the way home. Extra rare. No big deal. Really.

"Don't come any closer!" Cait cries, her hands in front of her face as if to ward off an impending blow.

"Cait! It's me. It's Rayne. Are you okay? You're obviously not okay."

I notice Jareth has taken a large step back as well. Probably fighting the same urge I am to suck. We vampires really turn into monsters when it comes to fresh blood. And resistance often is futile.

"Rayne?" Cait whimpers, lowering her hands and looking up at me. "Is that really you?"

"Hang on. I'm going to call 911, all right?" I rummage through my messenger bag for my cell phone, flip it open, and start to dial.

"No!" Cait protests, yanking her sweater down over her arm and jumping off the toilet seat. She grabs the phone out of my hand and volleys it across the room. It skitters over the tiled floor, battery popping off the back.

"Uh, was that really necessary?" I demand, now angry on top of bloodthirsty and concerned. That's the third phone I've gone through this year. And Mom's never going to buy that it wasn't me who broke it this time.

"You don't need to call 911. I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"Just a tiny cut. Not a big deal."

I scan the locker room, taking in the carnage. "Not a big deal? Look around, Cait. You're going to tell me nothing happened here?"

Cait's face crumbles and she bursts into tears. "No." She sobs. "Something did happen. Something really . . . crazy. I can't explain it. It's too . . . too weird. You're going to think I'm insane."

"I promise you, Cait. Absolutely nothing you say will make me think you're insane." I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Seriously." If only she knew about me, she'd think I was the one who needed the men in white coats to take me away.

"I saw . . . with my own eyes . . ." She shakes her head and leans against the locker-room wall, staring up at the ceiling. I can't help but notice the blood from her cut is now soaking through her sleeve. I force my eyes away. "Oh G.o.d, you're going to think I'm nuts. But the cheerleaders. They . . . they ... all of a sudden they-"

"Morphed into werewolves, trashed the place, and ran howling away into the night?" Jareth asks in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

Cait's eyes grow wide as saucers as she stares at Jareth. "How did you know?" she demands, her voice trembling. "And who are you, anyway? And how did you get in the girls' locker room?"

"Don't worry, Cait. That's Jareth. My boyfriend. He's one of the good guys," I a.s.sure her. Then the enormity of what Jareth said hits me. I turn to him, my own eyes probably as wide as Cait's. "What did you just say?"

He shrugs, looking around the room. "From the evidence we see here, it seems quite possible that the entire squad has somehow been infected by the lycanthropy virus."

"Lycan-?"

"In layman's terms, they've been turned into werewolves."

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" I fake laugh as hard and loud as I can, trying to pretend his statement is ridiculous and nothing we should seriously consider a problem. After all, I don't want Cait to think we're a couple of freaks who believe in things like that. The girl's been through enough already tonight. Last thing she needs is to be told that creatures of the night aren't just made up monsters in horror movies, but live and walk among us. "Jareth, darling, you're such a kidder! So silly. Werewolves. Ha, ha, ha!" My mind races for a more believable, less monster-driven theory as to why the cheerleaders trashed the gym and took off. Maybe it was their time of the month and they were really, really grumpy . . .

"Well, Rayne, actually it makes sense," Cait says slowly. "I mean, in an impossible way, but still. When I went into the bathroom to change, Mandy, Nancy, and the rest of the gang were their normal, beautiful selves. Blonde, blue-eyed, and certainly lacking any body hair whatsoever. Then when I came out, the locker room was filled with furry wolf women, running around like nutcases, howling up a storm, and destroying everything in their paths."

"Um. Yeah, but maybe someone ..." I'm so reaching here. "Er, let a pack of. . . wild dogs in the locker room by mistake.

You know, through a back door or something?"

Jareth shoots me a pointed look.

"What?" I ask. "It could happen! In fact, that's probably exactly what did happen. Pack of wild dogs. Maybe even coyotes.

They left the door open and they just came in and-"

"The wolves were wearing bras and panties, Rayne."

"Oh."

Sigh. So much for convincing Cait the world is a normal, monster-free place. She's scarred for life. One of us now. I wonder if she'd like to apply to become a vampire. And if so, is there a signing bonus for bringing in new recruits?

Cait bursts into a fresh set of tears. "You guys think I'm crazy, don't you? Like one of those people always getting abducted by aliens. No one believes them either." She sniffles. "I know what I saw. They were werewolves. They were really werewolves."

"Rayne believes you," Jareth comforts, putting an arm around her shoulders. "She's just trying to protect you."

Cait buries her head in Jareth's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He stiffens, probably at the proximity of the open wound beneath her sweater.

"What I want to know is how you got that cut on your arm. Did they . . . scratch you?" I ask cautiously. I don't want to freak the girl out even more than she is already, but we've got to be practical here. What if a simple scratch is all it takes to become infected by the werewolf bug? It's bad enough three quarters of the squad is currently out howling at the full moon and chomping on football players. I don't need Cait to start shapes.h.i.+fting, too.

But Cait shakes her head, her cheeks blus.h.i.+ng a tomato red. "No," she says. "I . . . that was just an old scratch that broke open when I ran to hide in the bathroom. It has nothing to do with the werewolves."

I narrow my eyes. She's lying. I know she is. But why? "Let me see it," I demand.

"No." She shakes her head vehemently.

"Come on, Cait. This is important." I try to grab her arm.

"I said, 'No!' " she cries, wrenching her arm free of my grasp and running toward the locker-room door. "I've got to go home! My mother's expecting me!"

"Wait-!"

The door slams behind her, echoing with a loud bang.

I start to run after her, but Jareth grabs my sweats.h.i.+rt hood and reins me in. "Let her go," he says.

"But she's cut. What if she turns into a werewolf, too?" I protest. "And what if she goes around school telling everyone she's just witnessed Oakridge High's varsity cheerleaders morph into a pack of dogs? That would be really bad."

"First off, no one would believe her if she did," Jareth says calmly. "And second, I doubt she'd risk being the laughingstock of school by spouting what they'd think of as nonsense. More likely she's just going home."

"And the cut? Her mother will kill her if she turns into a werewolf next full moon." "I'm not an expert, but I believe the lycanthropy virus is transmitted through saliva," Jareth explains. "So unless she was bitten or kissed by one of them, she's likely safe."

I think for a moment. "It definitely looked like a scratch more than a bite," I conclude. "So do you think that means she's going to be okay?"

"I think you'd be better off concerning yourself with the other girls," Jareth says, pacing the locker-room floor with long steps. "How did they catch the virus to begin with? As far as I know, there are no Lycan packs in the New England area. Slayer Inc., to their credit, has done a good job keeping the dogs out."