Wolf Whistle

Devyn woke with a jolt, the nightmare clinging like static to her skin and squeezing her chest tight. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking her eyes wide in the grey light of dawn as it filtered through the curtains. She sorted through her thoughts, picking out the imaginary and replacing it with reality. She was in bed, not in her mother's dead garden. Her mother was dead, six years now, and not tending to the wilting roses. The sheets tangled around her legs were soft and warm, not filled with the thorns that pricked her skin raw.

Groaning, she dug the palms of her hands into her eyes. Reality, while infinitely better than being trapped in a fugue state for an undetermined amount of time, was equally depressing. And it was only Wednesday.

Rolling her head to the side, Devyn peered through her fingers at the clock, sighing when she realized she’d woken far before her alarm. Adrenaline still flashed hot through her system, dashing away the last vestiges of sleep and any hope of prolonging the morning. She sat up, running her hands through her hair until the tangles no longer caught on her fingers. Her computer light blinked at her from across the room, a slow, meticulous flash, and she mused over the idea of research before school, as sleep was definitely something she’d no longer be able to attain.

Smacking her lips, Devyn yanked the blankets off and crawled out of bed, stumbling over a pair of jeans she’d thrown on the floor last night. She yawned again, wide enough that her teeth bumped against her knuckles. God, the nightmares were slowly killing her. She squinted blearily into one of the mugs on her desk, making a face at the dried tea leaves at the bottom. The other mugs didn’t fare much better.

Spinning her chair around, she collapsed into it. Shoving her baseball trophy out of the way, she unearthed her mouse from beneath a stack of math homework and jiggled it until her screen lit up. Various tabs sat open in her browser, and the loading screen of League after she’d timed out flashed into place. She took the time to exit out of her game and reorganized her tabs before opening her documents. While helping her best friend out with research was never something unusual, her current project brought the term ‘creature of the night’ into full context, especially with David’s direct involvement.

Werewolves were surprisingly difficult to research, considering most of the world viewed them as fabricated nightmares designed to frighten small children. Different lore depended on where one looked, and that in turn depended on whether or not it had been grossly distorted by television and sparkly movies. Devyn scrubbed a hand over her mouth, gaze shifting over the text that, after two o’clock last night, had turned into a blurred mess of nonsense.

Exiting out of multiple pages that depicted how wolfsbane could be just as deadly to humans as much as werewolves, Devyn startled at the gruesome photo of a werewolf being impaled with a silver stake. Shuddering, she clicked out of the page and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

For all intents and purposes, David didn’t act like any of the research Devyn had managed to dig up. Many of the sites talked about an uncontrollable blood lust, a desire to kill and maim and change. The only time David had even gotten remotely violent was when his girlfriend had been hurt during gym class, and that had been to yell at the guy that had slammed into her. But with the full moon so close, David had become increasingly agitated and worried that he would hurt someone unwittingly.

Thus the three a.m. bedtime.

Standing, Devyn stretched tall until her back popped. Breathing out a little sigh of a relief, she gathered together all her mugs and slipped out her door, keeping her steps light so as not to wake the house. Her father’s door, surprisingly, was closed and she could hear the soft rattle of his snoring coming through the wood. He’d been increasingly busy at the hospital, trying to maintain some order in the ER after the department head had passed away unexpectedly.

Devyn stopped and gazed at the door, biting her lip. It’d been weeks since they’d sat down and had a proper meal, or even talked to each other about what was happening in their respective lives. Devyn hadn’t seen her father like this since before her mother died. She hoped it wasn’t another spiral; it had taken months to get him back on track after that. He had a tendency to work in lieu of an emotional upheaval. She knocked her knuckles against the frame and decided breakfast would be a happy medium.

Carefully, she tiptoed down the stairs and into the pre-dawn stillness of the kitchen. She was loathe to turn on the lights, but the fuzzy darkness coming through the backdoor afforded her little light. Using her elbow, she flicked on the switch and flinched at the splash of off white light that flooded the kitchen. She deposited her mugs on the counter beside the sink and turned to start hunting for coffee supplies.

As she worked, the house around her groaned and resettled, birds calling out and shattering the stillness of morning. She rubbed at her eye again, frowning when a wave of dizziness overcame her. She braced a hand on the counter, fingers curling against the marble, and waited for it to pass. The frequency had increased exponentially in the last week and she couldn’t find cause for it. Within a few seconds, it passed, but her skin prickled with goose bumps and she stayed braced, breathing in and out.

With her eyes squeezed shut, she focused on the thrum of her pulse and the rapid staccato of her heart. She tried not to think of how her dizzy spells had begun around the same time David was turned. That way lay madness. But there had been no wolfy increase to her senses, nor did she remember ever getting bitten. It was just dizzy spells. Nothing she couldn’t sort out on her own.

Sucking in a breath, she finished making the coffee and turned the pot on. Heading back upstairs, she detoured to her room and grabbed up a towel, rubbing at her temples where a headache lurked. Her father would kill her for not telling him about the spells, but with the increase in his position at the hospital, he didn’t need the unnecessary worry. Maybe she was close to her period...and had been for the last three weeks.

“Dammit,” Devyn said, shaking off the thoughts. She marched her way to the bathroom, gently closing the door and peering at herself in the mirror. Sleep bruises made her eyes pop, and she bared her teeth in an unflattering smile. She looked overworked and overtired, all natural signs of someone in their senior year of high school. Sighing, she slapped her cheeks twice to wake herself up and scrubbed her hand through her short hair until it stood up on end. She needed a haircut again.

She squished her cheeks together, making another face, before stepping back and tripping her way into the shower. The warm water relaxed the last of the adrenaline from her system and she hummed softly under her breath while she gathered lather in her hair. One month since David’s hunting accident gone werewolf. One month since being introduced to everything supernatural by David’s girlfriend. One month since everything in her life that she’d meticulously plotted out had become unravelled.

Thinking, she pushed the soaped up strands of her hair into different shapes before the water had a chance to flatten it. All her research had been able to tell her was that David, for all intents and purposes, should be going full on crazy right about now, biting people left, right, and center, and trying to find a pack to merge with. Instead, he was cuddling with a huntress and shirking out of doing any actual school work.

Shutting off the shower, water dripping into her eyes, Devyn leaned a shoulder against the tile. The full moon wasn’t for another few days. If David did decide to turn into a terrifying Werewolf with a capital W, they would need to be prepared. Which meant concocting plans with Amelia while keeping David relatively calm. Great.

Devyn quietly made her way back to her room, towelling off her hair and tucking the lip of the other towel under her armpit. Stopping in the middle of her room, she blew out an annoyed breath. Her bed tempted her, a mussed fortress of blankets and pillow, and she nearly fell for its spell, wet hair and all. Instead, she turned toward her dresser and yanked out the clothes she needed, wrapping her hair up in her towel as she tugged on a pair of jeans and a loose shirt.

The scent of coffee slowly snuck under her door and Devyn followed the smell back downstairs, rubbing moisturizer into her skin as her feet squeaked over the hardwood. The fuzzy darkness had lightened to a muted grey, the first dapples of sunlight breaking over the trees. She dug for a clean mug, frowning at the vast army she’d brought down before. It was still too early to make washing noises, and she was certain her dad didn’t get back till late last night.

Pouring herself a mug, she rummaged through the fridge looking for something that would keep. She found the thawed turkey bacon, smiling at the remembered outraged face her father had given her when she’d presented it to him. Health was important, after all, and the looks she managed to get always made her day.

Gathering some eggs, she closed the fridge and began working on breakfast. Humming low under her breath, she lost herself in the ease of cooking, the sizzle of the pan, and the slow wakening of the world around her. By the time she finished preparing two rather spectacular looking omelettes, the sun had created patchwork images on the tile in the kitchen.

“Sweetie?” a voice said, and Devyn turned to catch her father blinking blearily at her from the entrance to the kitchen. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Leftovers. Oh, and school,” Devyn answered, waving her spatula. Her father shuffled his way over to the coffee machine, fingers groping sleepily at the cupboards until he found a clean mug. Devyn slid the omelettes onto separate plates, bumping her shoulder into her father’s side when she moved past him. He followed her out into the dining room, sipping at his coffee.

“I’m sure you torturing me with that turkey bacon doesn’t warrant getting up two hours before school,” her father said, sitting down. She placed the plate in front of him and he looked blearily down at it. “Or were you feeling particularly ambitious this Wednesday morning?”

“Couldn’t stay asleep,” Devyn said, shrugging. She knew, still, that her father sometimes looked at her and saw her mother. And she knew that any mention of nightmares involving her mother would shatter the peace of the morning and dig up barely healed wounds.

“Well, at least you’re half way through the week,” her father said, cutting into the omelette. He hummed his appreciation, washing it down with a sip of coffee. “Anything interesting planned for the weekend?”

If you count tying up a werewolf as ‘interesting’, then yeah, sure. Devyn poked at her omelette, drawing out a piece of turkey bacon. “Just hanging out with Dave. We’re trying to figure out how to tackle the huge essay Ms. McLellan decided to gift us with.”

“Only three weeks in and already you’re swamped with homework,” her father teased. “Your life is so difficult.”

“It’s far too early for sarcasm, dad,” Devyn said. Her father chuckled, tucking into his meal, and they ate in silence. It was nice, something that hadn’t happened in far too long, and Devyn swallowed hard. She missed her father. She missed the ease of his smile and his jokes. “Do you have a late shift tonight?”

“Nope,” he said around a mouthful of egg. “Managed to switch it off with Joneson, so I’m free tonight. Was thinking we’d have a bit of father-daughter bonding time.” Devyn looked up and her father coughed, gaze flicking away from her. “Thought maybe we could cook together, something healthy just how you like, and see what’s playing at the theatre.”

His earnestness choked her, and her sudden grin did little to hide her excitement. “There’s a new flick about a haunted doll I’ve been meaning to see. You up for something scary?”

“It’s a date.” He pushed back from the table, gathering up their dishes as he moved back to the kitchen. Devyn followed him, cradling her coffee. “I’m going to be catching up on sleep for most of the day, but I can get the groceries for whatever you want to cook tonight.”

“I’ll meet you at the grocery store after school,” Devyn said. “I can’t trust you to shop unsupervised, especially when you came home with eight steaks.”

“I have the beginnings of high cholesterol, Devyn, not congestive heart failure.”

“It’s practically the same thing.”

“Except that it’s not.” Devyn hopped up on the counter, and her father made a shooing motion at her. “That’s where we eat, not where we sit. Get down.”

“I don’t eat on the counter,” Devyn said, grinning. Her father rolled his eyes. “How’re things at the hospital?”

Pausing in loading the dishwasher, his gaze went far away for a moment. “I think they’re planning on promoting someone soon to cover the department, but I can’t tell you who. There’s chatter that I might be in the running, but I haven’t heard anything from the supervisors on the floor. Granted, we’ve been kind of overwhelmed lately in the ER, so I might’ve missed some particularly good gossip.”

“Why are you guys swamped?” Devyn asked, her heel bouncing off the cupboard. “Usually it’s not that bad.”

“We’ve been having a lot of car accidents lately. Mostly younger kids; reckless driving, forgetting to watch the road, and then a deer steps out and they end up in the ER.” Her father straightened, fixing her with a steely look. “Which reminds me: I know you finally managed to get that jeep you’ve had your eye on, but I think we should go over some safety rules.”

“Dad, I’ve had my jeep for less than six months. We had that safety talk the second I was handed the keys.” Devyn leaned forward, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m careful. I never drive more than ten clicks over the speed limit. I keep an eye out for any kind of animal because I am paying for my jeep. Dave’s the only one who’s been in the car with me aside from you. I’m a teenager, not stupid.”

“I know, sweetie.” Her father sighed, crossing over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I just worry.”

“That makes two of us,” she muttered, and he frowned. “Never mind. I promise to keep a better eye on the road.”

“That’s all I can ask for then,” he said, before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Now, get off the counter and help me sort through the alarming amount of mugs you seem to have accumulated.”

After they finished cleaning up the kitchen, Devyn trekked back upstairs and bid her father goodnight before heading into her room. She collapsed into her computer chair, swivelling it around until she could jiggle the mouse. Her email remained the same. The last page she’d been looking at, the one with the wolfsbane necklace that should knock a werewolf out, blinked ominously at her. They only had three days left to figure out how to keep David safe.