Chapter 7
Jake’s mother noticed the dead bird before Jake could invent a lie.
She stood on the porch roof outside his bedroom window in gardening gloves, staring at it through the open sash.
“Jake.”
That tone had gotten him through eighteen years of bad decisions.
“Yeah?”
“Why is there a bird tied to my house?”
Noah, sitting on the floor out of sight, mouthed, Great question.
Jake glared at him.
“I don’t know.”
His mother looked through the window.
Then she saw Noah.
There was a long silence.
“Who is that?”
Jake closed his eyes.
Noah whispered, “I can leave.”
“Absolutely not.”
His mother folded her arms.
“Interesting answer.”
“Mom, this is Noah.”
“The boy wearing your clothes?”
Jake looked at Noah.
Noah looked down at Jake’s shirt.
“Technically,” Jake said, “yes.”
“And why is Noah in your bedroom at seven in the morning?”
Jake considered several possible answers.
Every one was worse than the truth.
“Complicated.”
His mother pointed at the bird.
“More or less complicated than that?”
“Related.”
Her expression changed.
“Kitchen. Both of you. Now.”
Lisa Miller did not panic.
That was almost worse.
She made coffee.
She put bread in the toaster.
She listened while Jake gave her the least impossible version of events: he had found Noah injured in the woods; someone dangerous was looking for him; the dead bird appeared overnight.
He left out wolves.
For approximately forty seconds.
Then Noah said, “Mrs. Miller, there’s something else.”
Jake kicked his ankle beneath the table.
Noah ignored him.
“My family is being hunted.”
Lisa set down her mug.
“By whom?”
“I don’t know all their names.”
“Why?”
Noah looked at Jake.
Jake sighed.
“Mom, before he answers, I need you to keep an open mind.”
“I raised you. My mind has survived plenty.”
“He turns into a wolf.”
Silence.
The toaster popped.
All three jumped.
Lisa looked at Noah.
Then Jake.
Then Noah again.
“Like metaphorically?”
“No,” Noah said.
Lisa slowly sat down.
“Of course not.”
Noah showed her.
Not a full transformation.
His eyes changed first.
Then the teeth.
Lisa watched without moving.
When Noah’s fingers lengthened and his nails darkened into claws, she whispered one word Jake had heard her reserve for plumbing disasters and election nights.
Noah immediately looked guilty.
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“For frightening you.”
Lisa stared at him.
“Honey, I’m frightened because somebody tied a dead animal to my house. You having unusual dental problems is farther down the list.”
Jake laughed.
Noah did too.
Lisa pointed at Jake.
“And you.”
“What?”
“You found a naked stranger in the woods and brought him home?”
“He needed help.”
“You could have been murdered.”
“He didn’t have pants.”
Lisa blinked.
Jake realized that had not been a defense.
Noah covered his face.
“Please stop helping me.”
“I’m trying.”
By eight thirty, Lisa had made two decisions.
Noah was staying.
And they were calling the police about the bird without mentioning werewolves.
Noah hated both ideas.
Lisa did not care.
“You’re eighteen,” she told him, “which means legally you can walk out that door. But until you do, you eat at my table and nobody leaves threatening garbage on my roof without me making noise about it.”
Noah looked stunned.
Jake knew that expression.
It was what happened when somebody treated Noah like a kid who deserved protecting instead of a supernatural problem.
“Thank you,” Noah said.
Lisa nodded once.
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Noah went rigid.
Jake smelled it before the second knock.
Smoke.
Metal.
Bitter herbs.
Hunter.
Lisa started toward the door.
Jake caught her arm.
“Don’t.”
She looked at his hand.
“Jake?”
Noah stood.
“Back door.”
Jake shook his head.
“If you run, he knows.”
“He already knows.”
The knock came again.
Polite.
Three taps.
Lisa looked between them.
“You know who that is?”
Jake nodded.
Her face hardened.
She went to the door anyway.
“Mom.”
“My house.”
She opened it with the chain still latched.
The man from the school smiled through the gap.
“Good morning. Mrs. Miller?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Thomas Voss.”
Jake memorized it.
“I’m looking for my nephew.”
Noah’s breathing stopped.
Thomas held up a photograph.
Noah at maybe sixteen.
Shorter hair. Bigger smile.
“This is Noah,” Thomas said. “He’s been having some mental-health difficulties and ran away from family. We’re extremely worried.”
Lisa did not look back.
“That’s terrible.”
“We have reason to believe a student here may have seen him.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
Thomas smiled.
Jake could smell the lie on him.
Not metaphorically.
His senses picked up the tiny change in sweat, pulse, breath.
Thomas knew Lisa was lying too.
“I appreciate that.”
His gaze lifted.
Directly toward the stairs.
Toward Jake.
Even though Jake had made no sound.
Thomas smiled wider.
“Your son home?”
Lisa closed the door.
Locked it.
Then turned.
“Okay,” she said. “I officially hate that man.”
Noah was shaking.
Jake had never seen him do that.
“That photograph,” Noah said.
“What?”
“It was taken at my grandmother’s house.”
Lisa frowned.
“So?”
“Nobody outside the family had it.”
Jake understood.
The hunters had not simply followed Noah.
They had gotten inside his family somehow.
Lisa pulled out her phone.
“We’re calling someone.”
Noah shook his head.
“No police.”
“Then who?”
Noah hesitated.
“My aunt.”
“You have an aunt?”
“I have several.”
Jake threw his hands up.
“You could have led with adults!”
Noah almost smiled.
“One might still be nearby.”
“Call her.”
Noah took the phone.
Before dialing, he looked at Jake.
“If she answers, everything changes.”
Jake sat beside him.
“Everything changed when I found your bare ass under a tree.”
Lisa pointed toward him.
“Language.”
Jake stared.
“Mom, werewolves.”
“Still my kitchen.”
***
Marcus decided Jake needed a normal Friday night.
This was how Jake ended up standing in somebody’s basement holding a red plastic cup full of soda while thirty West Ridge seniors shouted over music loud enough to qualify as structural damage.
“Normal?” Jake asked.
Marcus nodded. “Extremely.”
A guy from the offensive line ran past wearing a lampshade.
Jake watched him go.
“Compelling argument.”
The party belonged to Hannah Price’s older brother, who was home from college and had apparently interpreted parental absence as a municipal event permit.
Jake had almost skipped it.
Then Noah said he had never been to a high-school party.
That changed everything.
Noah stood near the stairs in jeans and Jake’s gray WEST RIDGE hoodie, looking like he expected the punch bowl to attack.
Jake handed him a soda.
“Relax.”
Noah sniffed it.
“You realize telling me to relax while handing me an unidentified liquid is suspicious.”
“It’s cola.”
“You sure?”
Jake took a drink from Noah’s cup.
“Now I am.”
Noah stared at him.
“You could have smelled it.”
“I wanted to be dramatic.”
“Successful.”
Marcus appeared between them.
“Truth or dare.”
Noah immediately said, “No.”
Marcus pointed toward the living room.
“Everybody’s playing.”
“Then everybody is making a mistake.”
Jake grinned.
“Scared?”
Noah looked at him.
Jake knew instantly he had won.
“I hate you,” Noah said.
“Still coming?”
“Unfortunately.”
They joined a circle on the living-room floor.
Hannah sat cross-legged beside Marcus. Claire was not part of their lives yet. Half the football team was there, two girls from marching band, three people Jake recognized but could not name, and Tyler Morgan from chemistry, who had already been dared to text his ex.
“This game destroys lives,” Noah whispered.
“Tradition,” Jake whispered back.
Marcus spun an empty soda bottle.
It pointed at Jake.
Marcus smiled too widely.
“Truth or dare?”
Jake considered.
Truth seemed dangerous.
Dare seemed worse.
“Truth.”
The room booed.
Marcus ignored them.
“Who in this room would you kiss?”
Jake’s stomach dropped.
Noah went very still beside him.
Jake could hear his heartbeat.
That was unfair.
Jake looked around the circle.
Then at Noah.
“Pass.”
Marcus shouted, “THAT IS NOT HOW TRUTH WORKS.”
Jake threw a couch pillow at him.
Everybody laughed.
Noah did not.
But the corner of his mouth moved.
The bottle spun again.
Noah.
Hannah leaned forward.
“Truth or dare?”
Noah glanced at Jake.
“Truth.”
Jake whispered, “Coward.”
Noah kicked his shoe.
Hannah asked, “What’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you this year?”
Jake nearly choked.
Noah looked at him.
Jake looked back.
Marcus said, “Why are you two doing eye contact?”
Noah answered carefully.
“I woke up somewhere I did not expect.”
Hannah waited.
“Where?”
Noah said, “The woods.”
The room laughed because they assumed there was alcohol involved.
Jake covered his mouth.
Hannah said, “That is not enough information.”
Noah shrugged.
“It is all the information you’re getting.”
Twenty minutes later the game had deteriorated.
Someone had to sing the school fight song in a fake British accent.
Marcus had been dared to let Hannah draw a mustache on him with eyeliner.
Tyler had confessed he once cried during a dog-food commercial.
Then the bottle pointed at Noah again.
This time Marcus asked.
“Truth or dare?”
Noah looked directly at Jake.
“Dare.”
Jake’s pulse jumped.
Marcus saw it.
Of course he did.
His grin became evil.
“I dare you to sit in Jake’s lap until your next turn.”
The room erupted.
Jake said, “Marcus.”
“What? It’s wholesome.”
Noah’s ears went red.
Jake could smell his embarrassment.
And something warmer.
Noah looked at him.
Jake lifted both hands.
“You don’t have to.”
The noise around them faded for a second.
Noah’s expression softened.
“I know.”
Then he stood.
“Move.”
Jake shifted backward against the couch.
Noah sat carefully across his thighs.
Everybody cheered.
Jake wanted the floor to open.
Considering recent events, that was a dangerous wish.
Noah leaned close enough that only Jake could hear him.
“Still not flirting?”
Jake swallowed.
“This feels legally like flirting.”
Noah laughed.
The sound vibrated against Jake’s chest.
Then Noah growled.
Very quietly.
Jake’s eyes widened.
Noah whispered, “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Jake smiled.
“That is adorable.”
Noah elbowed him.
The bottle took forever to return to Noah.
Jake suspected Marcus was cheating physics.
By the time it did, Jake had become painfully aware of every place Noah touched him.
Noah stood immediately.
Jake missed the weight before he had any right to.
Hannah noticed.
She said nothing.
Jake liked her for that.
Later, Jake found Noah outside on the back porch.
Cold air had chased most people indoors.
Noah leaned against the railing.
“Too loud?” Jake asked.
“Everything is loud now.”
Jake stood beside him.
“Sorry I brought you.”
Noah shook his head.
“I liked it.”
Jake looked through the window at Marcus dancing badly with the eyeliner mustache still on his face.
“That concerns me.”
Noah smiled.
“I didn’t think I’d get to do things like this.”
Jake turned toward him.
“Things like what?”
“Stupid things.”
Noah looked down at the yard.
“Parties. Prom. Graduation. Sitting in somebody’s basement while a guy named Tyler admits he cries at dog commercials.”
Jake understood.
Noah had spent months measuring life in exits.
Tonight he had measured it in turns of a bottle.
Jake bumped his shoulder.
“We can do more stupid things.”
Noah looked at him.
“Is that a promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“Dangerous.”
“My specialty.”
For a moment neither moved.
Jake wanted to kiss him.
He was almost sure Noah wanted the same thing.
But almost sure was not sure.
So Jake stayed beside him.
Noah’s hand rested on the railing between them.
Jake put his hand beside it.
Their little fingers touched.
Noah did not move away.
Neither did Jake.
Inside, Marcus shouted, “WHO TOOK MY EYELINER?”
Hannah shouted back, “IT WAS MINE.”
Noah started laughing.
Jake did too.
For one whole Friday night, they got to be ordinary.