allora
As I dug through my bags for a change of clothes, Josh's words buzzed through my mind. The phrases spinning over and over like a scratched record.
I'm just teaching Miss SanDiir jungle survival… jungle survival…
Ruth knew. She knew what had happened to Ben. Everyone at the university knew. Ben was a popular guy, president of the Student Society and the Ecology Club. His death was all over the newspapers. Reporters interviewed me. I've even been on the Daily Post. STUDENT DEVASTATED AFTER BOYFRIEND FALLS TO DEATH. People asked me so many questions, as if I could read Ben's thoughts in his last moments. Why did Ben decide to go through the rift without equipment? Why did the rangers take so long to find him? Did I have some kind of bad feeling when he left for the weekend, some kind of premonition of his death?
The idea was ridiculous, but I often found myself replaying our last conversation in my head, wondering if I should have felt the reaper over his shoulder, if I should have inspected his equipment, or specifically warned him not to act recklessly on the climb. But Ben was an experienced climber and he was going with a partner. I stopped thinking about it.
And now I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Josh didn't know about Ben or how he had died. I wasn't ready to tell him. But that didn't stop the guilt from plaguing me when I woke up and felt that warm body next to me. The familiarity of waking up next to someone… I thought it was Ben, before my mind registered what had happened the night before and where I was.
Guilt gnawed at my stomach. I felt like I had betrayed Ben, which was ridiculous. He was dead and I had to move on. But knowing that didn't change how I felt. And Josh's comments to Ruth just rubbed salt into the wound. I knew I had reacted viscerally, but it was the way he said it, so mockingly, as if survival in the wild was a basic skill everyone should have, as if people didn't make mistakes… mistakes that cost their lives.
I changed into thermals and a work shirt and pulled a hooded sweatshirt over the top. I knew I was being stupid and unfair, but I was still reeling from everything that had happened. Losing my bracelet, finding the paintings, finding out Josh was a werewolf, and then last night… last night…
You're mad at Josh because you feel guilty, the voice in my head scolded me. You haven't even thought about Ben, your poor boyfriend who died a horrible and torturous death just a few months ago. He barely fell and you're already jumping into bed with a werewolf. And that's why you're angry.
Damn it. I couldn't think about all that right now. I wiped away the tears that were forming in the corners of my eyes, grabbed my trowel and hurried over to the site, making sure all my buttons were in place and smoothing down as much hair as possible.
I could see from the way Frances looked at me when I ran to the caves that Ruth had told her what she'd seen. My whole face burned with fierce heat as I stopped in front of my teacher, who stared at me with an odd look on her face.
“Hello, Allora,” she said, a wry edge to her voice. “I'm glad you were able to join us. Ruth was saying Josh was giving her additional health and safety training.
- Yes. Jungle survival. It wasn't meant to interfere with our work, but I…um, overslept,” I said, a lame excuse we both knew was a lie. Frances pressed a memory card on a chain into my hand.
- That is good. I need you to go into DownMoor village and email these photos to Barry. He waits for them to send the press release. They're high resolution, so you'll probably need to upload them to the file database and send them the link.
“I thought you wanted to do this,” I said. “You said yesterday that you wanted to go into town to do some e-mail and take a proper shower.
'The BBC will show up this morning.' Frances smiled. I noticed that she was wearing a wobbly line of eyeliner around her eyes, and her lips were a deep red. She was ready for the close-up.
"But I was the one who discovered the paintings!" I complained. 'Shouldn't I talk to the BBC?'
“Frances is the dig director,” Ruth said, moving to stand beside the professor. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “It doesn't matter who discovered the site. What is important here is research. These paintings are an incredible discovery, it will be an honor to write my thesis on them.
- What?
“Ruth will be working alongside me during the preliminary research period,” Frances explained, her words cutting into my skin like a dagger. — It is important that she is present at all media sessions so that her name is also associated with the site.
"But…" I stammered, angry tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "Why is Ruth going to work with you and not me?" I thought about getting to…
“Don't be ridiculous. You didn't honestly think that just because you stumbled upon these paintings first, you would put yourself above a PhD student,” Ruth scoffed. — I already completed my master's degree. I am in the best position to complete the work and have a proper paper published about the discovery. This is not a freshman writing assignment, Allora. It is a serious archaeological discovery. We cannot leave it in the hands of a simple student.
“Ruth,” Frances scolded. - That is not…
"Maybe if you didn't spend so much time hanging around with that ranger, learning all about survival in the wild, you'd figure out how things work around here," Ruth added in a vile tone.
My blood boiled. I wanted to rip Ruth's throat out. But what could I do? Ruth was right. She was a PhD student and I just handed her the perfect PhD thesis topic as a gift. Her running over me on the way was just an amusing side effect.
I turned and walked back to the camp, my fingers crushing the flash drive in my palm.
“Alora, wait. “It was Frances. I took a deep breath, trying in vain to compose my face. I turned.
Frances tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, accidentally smudging the corner of her eyeliner.
"I understand that you're upset. Ruth was very rude. I'm sorry she gave you the impression that...
"So it's not true?" - I said. "Didn't you make plans with her?"
“She spoke to me as soon as we confirmed the discovery. So yes, she will help me with the initial publication of the paintings. Now, don't worry. There's a lot of work to be done, enough work for several graduates,” Frances said, trying to calm me down. “I imagine we'll be studying the caves for at least three more seasons. I'm sure by the time you're ready for your doctoral thesis, Allora, there will be a project here too. But for now, I really need these pictures.
- All good. — I put the flash drive in my pocket. “I'll take care of it. I'll be back at lunchtime. I can even bring you some Cornish pasties for everyone if you like.
“Don't worry, I plan on cooking fennel and chorizo soup for the entire crew and film crew. Frances smiled. “It's my mother's special recipe.
I resisted the urge to vomit.
“In that case, don't worry about me. I'm going to see my mother, if that's all right, and have lunch with her.
- That is good. Thank you, Allora. You really are a tremendous help.
Frances smacked me on the head like I was a puppy and then ran back to the caves.
I raced back to camp, seeing Josh as he got into his truck. I ran towards him. I needed to apologize. It wasn't his fault that I felt guilty… and I was desperate to feel the heavy heat of his arms around me, to hear him say something completely cruel that would erase the bad feeling from this morning. But his face became panicked, and he held up his hand, indicating that I shouldn't go any further. His other hand was tucked deep into his jacket.
— Where are you going? I asked him.
"Sai," he replied, his voice straining. He looked up and I gasped in shock. His cheeks were covered with thick gray fur, his nose already starting to turn into a snout.
Clear. The full moon must have been just around the corner. This meant that Josh could no longer control his transformation. It felt like he was just seconds away from becoming a wolf. He must have been leaving to go deeper into the forest, until his wolf form no longer controlled itself.
Which meant I had two days at the site without him. Two long days with Ruth tormenting me. It would be hell, but maybe it would help me understand my feelings.
Josh slammed the door behind him. I ran along the road and his truck passed me.
— Allora! Josh rolled down the window, his face now completely covered in fur, his nose wrinkling before my eyes. “Are you still mad at me for what I said to Ruth at camp? I swear, I wasn't serious. I didn't know it would hurt you. I just wanted to save you the embarrassment.
“I'm not mad about it. My fingers brushed the flash drive in my pocket. A new wave of anger coursed through my veins. “It was nice, actually. I'm sorry for the way I acted. My reaction had nothing to do with you. I'll explain later, I promise.
"You don't owe me an explanation." I didn't mean to upset her.
“I'm sorry I told Frances about the paintings,” I said. - I should not have done it. It comes with film crews and pre-filled funding requests. People will be swarming all over the area.
“It's done now. Josh looked hurt. His hand tightened on the steering wheel. - I can not wait anymore. The transformation…
“Ruth will take all the credit for finding the paintings,” I said, my voice shaking as a lump formed in my throat. "And Professor Doyle will allow it."
Josh closed his eyes.
— Allora. I promise I'll help you, but I have to go now. - All good. Josh—” “Yes?”
“Don't kill anything small and fluffy.
He smiled.
- I do not promise anything.
I watched him go, my stomach doing somersaults. When his truck turned the corner, I looked away, tears in the corners of my eyes. Josh made my body sing and my heart flutter. But feeling that way was a betrayal of Ben. I could still see his face when I closed my eyes, his friendly smile, his kind brown eyes, his dirty, bruised skin when I went to identify him in the morgue.
The pain was still so fresh, still shrouding my mind in this fog of impossible sadness. Here, in the woods, where Ben loved to spend his time, I felt him in everything. He was the rustle of leaves on the trees. He was the rustle of branches under my boots. He was the fresh smell of rain running through the foliage and the chirping of birds as we worked.
And in the middle of it all, there was Josh. He smelled of savagery personified, like adrenaline pulsing through her veins, like the wind in her hair during a run. He wasn't the forest, he was the king of the forest. It was sexy as hell, but was it what I really wanted? Did I like Josh because he was so different from Ben, because he exuded this raw masculine authority, because he was exactly what I needed, or because he was the last thing I needed?
I blinked away my tears. I was a wreck. I needed to sort myself out, figure out what I wanted. And I needed to do this away from the trees and the birds and anything that screamed Ben's name.
At least I had that trip to the city ahead of me. I told myself I didn't want to take the stupid news anyway, seeing Ruth smiling and looking for the camera. Instead, I took my time leisurely, had a long bath, a real coffee and a little Cornish pie out of the mud and cold. I ducked into my Mini and turned the ignition. The tiny car jumped and I turned it onto the dirt track that met the main road.
After three miles of bouncing like a milkshake down the trail, I found the road. There was a couple on a motorbike in front of me, but they stopped so I could pass by. I waved at them in thanks. The driver—a handsome man with long black hair flowing behind him—didn't meet my eyes, but the Asian girl sitting behind him gave me a friendly wave and a smile through the visor.
The drive back to DownMoor took almost an hour. I was completely tired of being in the car, and it was still another twenty minutes to Crooks Crossing, where my mother's flat was. I had an idea. My closest friend from university, Derek, lived in an apartment on DownMoor. He studied English mythology as part of his English and History course. He had a computer I could use, and if anyone knew anything about werewolves, it would be him.
DownMoor had this reputation of being the most hidden village in England. Apparently more witches were hanged there during the 17th and 18th centuries than anywhere else in the country. I wasn't sure it was something to be proud of, but the city embraced its sordid history. On the way to Derek's house, I drove down Main Street, past crystal shops and tarot commercials. At the end of the street, the gleaming Halt Institute towered over the surrounding buildings—a modern architectural monstrosity that housed the witchcraft museum, an art gallery, and a few local fashion boutiques.
Derek's car wasn't parked on the street outside his apartment, but that wasn't unusual. Sometimes he had to park around the corner if all the spaces were taken. I knocked on the door. No one answered. Strange. He wasn't used to being at university this early. Derek wasn't a functioning human until at least 2pm, mainly because he stayed up so late playing games. I used to attract nerdy friends.
I knocked on the door, hoping to wake him. I should have called first. It never occurred to me. After two weeks in the woods with no reception, I was getting used to not being able to contact people on my cell phone. If it was good enough for Neolithic hunters, I might survive for a few weeks.
Finally the door opened. Rodney, Derek's roommate, scowled at me, his eyes heavy with sleep. A towel was wrapped around her hips, and her hair was messed up.
"Derek isn't here," he snapped. “He went to see his parents for a few days to work on his family history project.
- Oh sorry. “I took a step back. "Did he take his cell phone with him?"
- Probably! Rodney yelled back as he slammed the door in my face. "You really stink!"
- Thanks!
So Derek wouldn't help me until he got back. All good. Derek had already been a big help to me. I leaned on him a lot after Ben died, mostly because I couldn't talk to Mom in her catatonic state. I spent so many nights in his apartment, sleeping in his arms, sobbing into his pillow. Derek has been nothing but kind to me, and I must have confused him by clinging to him the way I did.
He kissed me one night while holding me in bed. I reciprocated, even though I didn't feel anything for him romantically. It was comforting to be wanted again after losing someone who meant a lot to me. But it was wrong to deceive Derek, so I walked away. He confessed that he had feelings for me. I told him I only saw him as a friend. We hugged and I cried some more and things have been fine ever since. Sometimes I would catch him looking at me a certain way and I knew he still had some lingering feelings, but he was actively dating and I was hoping he would meet someone who would move him. He deserved it. Derek was a good guy.
But him not being home put me in the unfortunate position of having to get back in the car and drive to my mother's apartment if I wanted a shower.
I wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing my mother. I've lived with her since Dad died five years ago when I was at DownMoor High Prep. We got along well most of the time, but she trusted me a lot, always wanting me to cook and clean and spend my weekends with her. She was the reason I gave up my place at Cambridge to stay in Loamshire. On the rare occasions I left her alone for a few days, I came home to find her crying on the couch, Dad's photo album open in her lap. But those occasions started to get rarer.
Last year, she started taking art classes at the Halt Institute and drinking coffee with friends. I was starting to hope that I could leave her alone and do my postgraduate studies elsewhere. Ben even encouraged me to apply to Cambridge. But then he died, and she went back to her old ways.
In many ways, Mom took Ben's death harder than I did. She seemed to consider it a curse, a vicious circle that she caused just by existing. She dropped out of her art classes and the only person she spent any time with was Cynthia, her tarot-reading friend who left our apartment reeking of patchouli and cigarette smoke. It was hard convincing my mom that she would be okay if I left her alone while I was at the dig and I didn't want to think about the reaction I would get once I walked through the door. After everything that happened with Josh, I still wasn't ready to deal with her.
What I needed was a distraction. I had the whole morning in the city. Might as well use it.
I turned the Mini around and headed back down DownMoor Street. An idea occurred to me. A crazy idea, but everything has gone crazy since Josh showed up on the site. I pulled the Mini into a parking lot, locked it, and drove to the first occult shop I saw.
I read the gothic plaque above the door. Astarte. It looked like exactly the place I needed it to be. I looked down the street, but I didn't recognize anyone walking around. It wouldn't do for one of my university friends to see me walking into a new age store. It would destroy my credit in the world of archaeologists.
As soon as I opened the door, a wave of incense hit my nostrils. Gagging on the strong smell, I went inside. The store was dark, with glittering curtains covered in silver stars obscuring the front window. The place was lit with candles burning along the counter and on the various wobbly shelves stacked around the small room. Every surface was littered with books, candles, crystal, tarot decks, and statues of Egyptian gods.
The woman behind the counter—a lady with a stooped back and a braid of thick black hair over her shoulder—waved at me and went back to her work. There was only one other customer in the store—a handsome man my age with red hair and broad shoulders. He was urgently scratching his neck as he argued with the shopkeeper over a number of tiny white pills strewn across the counter. As I walked through the store, picking up the books and leafing through them, I overheard their conversation.
“… I need ten of these pills. Not tomorrow. Not next week.
Today.
"You are not the only person who came here to do this," the old woman replied, her voice grim. “I can give you those six, but it's the best I can do until next week.
- All good. The man gritted his teeth, took a handful of the pills, threw a wad of cash on the counter and stormed off.
- Customers. The old woman looked up and smiled at me, a gentle crooked-toothed smile. “They think you can work miracles and create things out of thin air, though I would expect that in a shop like this. What can I do for you, honey?
I really didn't know what to say.
"I was hoping you could work a miracle for me."
She smiled more.
“As long as you don't need Lycan pills, I'm all yours.
“Lycan pills?
The lady waved her hand dismissively.
“It's an herbal remedy. For hair growth. They are not bestsellers, but I have my regular customers who need them.