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“Emma’s cousin was in this school when they arrived first,” Chloe said under her breath. “He said they were in a lot of trouble with the police. Dog attacks and kidnappings and all sorts of screwed up stuff. Dodgy as hell. So… fair warning.”
A note of something—not quite concern, but close enough—in her tone made me nod as though I were taking it all in. I found it all a bit ridiculous, really, but she clearly took it seriously. Although not so seriously that she wouldn’t go to Dorian’s party.
Emma fidgeted with a neon lighter, a dolphin embedded on the side. “I heard they’re into blood sacrifices.”
That was it. They had to be messing with me.
“You’re sostupidsometimes,” Chloe said in exasperation.
“I get it,” I said. “Scare the new girl off.”
“That’s not it!” Chloe reached across the table as though to touch my hand then thought better of it and retreated. “Whatever. Just be careful. People come and go all of the time over there, mostly Europeans, but from all over. My brother reckons it’s like a hideout for people on the run. They could be dangerous either way, so watch yourself.”
“Okaaay,” I said, widening my eyes. Dramatic much?
The girls shadowed me for the rest of the day. I had gotten them invites directly from Dorian which made me far more interesting than I had been that morning. News of the Halloween party filtered throughout the school by the end of the day. By the sounds of the excited whispers, it was a pretty big deal. I was starting to think the entire town was some kind of elaborate joke.
Now that I’d gotten a better look at him, I recognised Dorian throughout the day, with the group of boys I’d thought of as bullies, who were apparently also scary foreigners. People would do anything for a bit of gossip. We’d jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire when we moved.
I didn’t notice Dorian alone again until the final class. As I settled into an empty seat in the art room, a girl next to me—I couldn’t remember her name—told me we had a substitute teacher. I inwardly groaned, expecting a mess of a class.
Dorian sat across the room, nodded at me, and winked. I smiled back. He seemed nice enough, and I didn’t believe a word the girls had told me about his family or neighbours or whoever the hell they were. Besides, he’d been the only consistently friendly person so far, or at least the only one who didn’t lead conversations by badmouthing everyone else.
The teacher arrived. She was typically young, with chin-length auburn hair and kind blue eyes. But the class appeared to respect her, and the lesson started without preamble. When she noticed me, she approached and got me started on a simple project, but there was a wariness in her eyes that made me suspect she didn’t want me in the class. Maybe she was another townie, suspicious of anyone different.
She returned to her desk. “Dorian Evans,” she called out.
Dorian got up from his seat and went to her. They spoke quietly, but whenever I looked up, I got the feeling they were talking about me. Great, Chloe’s paranoia was contagious.
Dorian returned to his seat. The teacher’s eyes met mine, and she smiled warmly then beckoned me to her.
“Margo,” she said when I reached her desk. “I should properly introduce myself. I’m Ms. Rivers. I’ll be here for the rest of the year. If you need any help, feel free to come to me. I know you only have this class because there wasn’t room elsewhere, and I’m sorry for that, but while you’re here, we’ll try to find something you enjoy.”
“Thanks.”
“How are you finding the school so far?”
“Uh…” I glanced over my shoulder. Dorian was watching us closely. “It’s different than I’m used to.”
She kept talking, but an open sketchpad on her desk drew my attention. The pages were covered in realistic sketches of wolves. My new art teacher actually had talent.
Chapter 8
Dorian
On the walk home,the rest of the teen pack members busied themselves trying to come up with ways they could make the Halloween party a night the rest of town would never forget.
“I don’t understand why we’re even inviting those idiots,” Victor complained. “We’d have a better party ourselves. I’ll have to wear clothes and everything.”
Mara nudged me so hard it would leave a bruise.
“We’ll draw less attention to ourselves if we’re friendly.” I cleared my throat. “And fully-clothed.”
Mara sniggered. “If we’re good, the alpha will start organising playdates next.”
“Maybe we should forget about the pranks,” Alison said in a subdued voice. Tension, restlessness, and a hunger that only the wolf could satiate were all eased after a run. I never had a problem with any of that to begin with—which forced the others to assume I wasn’t as much of a wolf as them.
“They deserve a fright,” Mara said. “They’re constantly talking about us and blaming us for everything that goes wrong. I’m sick of it.”
