Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sam stepped in front of me and pulled me into his arms.
“Don’t look.” He picked me up and walked away, his hands rubbing my back, soothing me before what I’d seen fully registered.
Human skin.
My pulse spiked, and my breathing wheezed in and out. Sam’s hold tightened, pressing my ear to his chest.
“You’re safe, Clarity. Listen to the sound of my heartbeat, take a big breath, and hold it.”
I could taste the rot when I did what he said, but the calming waves that washed over me with each beat of his heart kept me from losing it. Slowly, I let out my breath and took another one.
After a few times, I felt calm enough to stop.
“I’m okay now,” I said.
“We need to call the police. Can you stay here?”
I saw he’d moved us closer to the exit, and I nodded. He kissed my forehead, hugged me, and stepped back, watching me closely.
Did he think I was going to fall apart or run? Honestly, I wanted to do both.
“The phone’s on the desk,” I said instead.
With one last worried look, he went to make the call, turning to watch me as it rang through.
His attention made me feel safer.
“My name is Sam Lawe,” he said. “I’m at the public library and found the skin.” He paused, listening, and turned away. “Just me and my…friend.”
The word twisted my middle like a knife.
“The doors were locked from the inside when we got here. I smelled someone else outside, but they didn’t enter.” He looked up at the security camera behind the desk. “You should be able to verify that when you get here.”
I smelled someone else…
More proof. But any desire to celebrate what Sam was had vanished.
“I haven’t gone near it yet,” he continued, “but can confirm it’s what you’re looking for.” Another pause. “Mr. Clint. The librarian.”
Was he saying that pile of skin was Mr. Clint?
My stomach twisted, and my breathing spiked.
Sam glanced back at me, his gaze filled with apology.
“My friend said Mr. Clint loaned her a book on the 18th. I saw Mr. Clint on the 11th and didn’t notice anything off.”
Off?
I thought back to the last few times I’d seen Mr. Clint. Off definitely described his behavior then.
“Right. It fits. It had already been a week before we found him in the field. I’m guessing something happened after I saw him. Maybe we’ll find answers in the surveillance footage here.”
What was Sam saying? They thought the body they found in the field a week ago was Mr. Clint? How? I’d seen Mr. Clint with my own eyes days ago.
The distant wail of a siren reached my ears. With a shaking hand, I took my reader out of my jacket.
I’m at the library. We found the missing skin. Police are on their way.
“I’ve already let my dad know,” Sam said.
He hadn’t called anyone before the police. But werewolves would communicate telepathically with their mates, pack leaders, and Elders.
More proof.
And Sam wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.
Why not?
My brain felt like mush, the way it did after staying up all night reading. My thoughts felt slow and fuzzy.
I stared down at my reader, waiting for Mom’s reply to appear.
Stay there. I’m on my way.
The police barely looked at me when they arrived. They followed Sam to the desk and the “skin.” I listened to him explain how he’d smelled death on my book.
A loud ringing filled my ears, drowning out the rest of Sam’s words.
Mr. Clint was dead. Someone had killed him.
I turned to leave. An officer was starting to put up scene tape outside. He glanced at me.
“My mom’s coming,” I said.
His expression softened, and he nodded toward the bench.
“You can wait for her there.”
My legs didn’t feel like my own as I sat. The ringing in my ears came and went in waves.
Mom pulled up a few minutes later. I was on my feet the second her door opened. A second later, she was hugging me.
Part of me knew I should have been a crying mess, but the numbness wouldn’t let go.
“Tell me you’re okay,” she said.
“I’m okay,” I said, my voice rough.
She studied my face for a second, rubbing my cheek, then guided me to the car.
I didn’t look back as she drove away.
“Sam’s not gay,” I said. “Or human. And Mr. Clint’s dead.”
She didn't say anything for several seconds.
“What gave Sam away?”
“Well, he kissed me and told me he wasn’t gay.”
“The not-human stuff.”
I looked down at my hands. “He smelled death on my library book, ripped the library door open, and I think he was talking to his dad in his head.”
She reached over and held my hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“That you’ve been pulled into danger. That you saw things that scared you.”
She’d been saying Sam was dangerous from the beginning, but I knew Sam didn’t kill Mr. Clint. If not him, who? Goth girl? Even if she was an Urbat, why kill Mr. Clint? Didn’t her kind hate Sam’s kind?
I let out a shaky breath, struggling to make sense of everything.
“Why aren’t werewolves common knowledge?” I asked.
“They are. But it’s the kind of common knowledge no one wants to talk about. It was chaos when they exposed themselves. People were dying everywhere. Sam’s kind were fighting for the right to survive. They still are.”
“Urbat?” I asked.
“Yeah. Dogs of death. And death follows Sam’s kind wherever they go. Humans are the casualties.”
“That’s why you said he was dangerous,” I said. “He won’t hurt me, but the ones hunting him will?”
“Exactly.” She squeezed my hand and let go.
It still didn’t make sense, though. Why kill random people instead of the person they hated? Not that I wanted anything to happen to Sam.
But Mr. Clint had barely spoken to him. Why did he matter?
If someone wanted to hurt Sam, wouldn’t I be the best target?
I thought of the picture I’d taken of goth girl, and my stomach churned.
“What happens now that I know what he is?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The bite means he wants to claim you as his mate. Most girls disappear after they’re bitten. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“Disappear like Mr. Clint?”
“No, sweetie, I don’t think they’re killing their mates,” Mom said. “They’re protective of them. I remember hearing back then that Urbat were killing female werewolves to reduce their numbers. My guess is that the werewolves learned from that and are hiding their mates to keep them safe.”
Was that my fate? Locked away somewhere? Hunted if I leave? Never able to see my mom again?
Neither of us said anything else until we got home. Mom seemed to know I was still moving on autopilot and steered me toward the bathroom.
“Take a shower. Listen to some music. I’ll order us a pizza with the works, okay?”
The door shut behind me, and I faced the mirror. The unnaturally pale girl who stared back didn’t look like me.
It wasn’t until the hot water started to run out that a measure of sanity returned. I looked down at my pruned hands and turned off the shower.
Finding the skin at the library had scared me badly, but confirming what Sam was hadn’t. But as much as I loved the loyalty that came with him being a werewolf, understanding that being with him would mean a lifetime of danger devastated me.
He made my life feel alive. Whole.
I didn’t want to walk away from that. But I didn’t want to die horrifically either. Not that anyone ever did want that.
Wiping a hand over the steamy mirror, I looked at my rosy face.
What did I want to do?
Stay with Sam.
What was I willing to risk to be with him?
Myself? Mom?
I sighed, not ready to make that decision yet, and dried off.
When I opened the door, I could smell the pizza and hurried to my room to put on my pajamas.
Mom and I spent the evening watching old comedies that were dumb in the best way. Laughing felt good. So did forgetting.
Slowly, my worries and fears melted away. They weren’t completely gone, though.
For the second time in a month, I slept in Mom’s bed.
Our community mourns.
I read the article's headline about Mr. Clint’s unexpected death with a clearer mind the following morning, looking for anything that would help me make sense of what I saw and heard. It didn’t clarify anything, though.
It said two local teens had found him at the library the evening before, but didn’t give any other details. Only that he was a cornerstone of the community—quietly kind, dependable, and welcoming. Someone whose absence would be deeply felt.
It didn’t say that we’d only found his skin, or that he might’ve been dead for a week. No one would have believed it if it had. After all, I probably wasn’t the only person who’d talked to him after his supposed death.
What Sam had said to the police over the phone replayed in my head as I tried to make sense of it all. If he was right…If that had been Mr. Clint’s body in the field…
My thoughts tried to run from the only conclusion I had.
Someone had been wearing Mr. Clint, pretending to be him.
I thought of the way he’d watched me the last time I’d seen him, and a shudder ran through me.
“You can stay home,” Mom said, noticing.
“I’m tempted. But if I do, people will guess I was one of the teens who found him.”
“You were.”
“Yeah, but if everyone knows, they’ll ask questions about stuff I don’t want to remember.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Have the office call me if you change your mind, okay?”
I agreed and finished getting ready.
My stomach churned as we left the house. I didn’t check whether Sam’s truck was out. I couldn’t think about him yet, not when I still didn’t know what to do. If I stayed for Sam, Mom and I would be in danger. If I left with Mom… My heart hurt at the thought of never seeing Sam again.
“I promise to be here on time tonight, no matter what,” Mom said as she got in line to drop me off.
“We both know we can’t afford for you to lose your job.”
“What I can’t afford to lose is you, Clarity. Be safe and call if you need anything.”
I nodded and got out, grateful to have her as my mom.
Fewer students were outside the school. Most had moved inside, huddled in halls, whispering about Mr. Clint.
I kept my head down and opened my reader, pretending none of it had anything to do with me.