Chương 9: Final Chance to Play

Crimson zooms down the road on his bike, furiously pumping the pedals with every ounce of strength he possesses. At last, he veers onto a driveway leading to the old, crumbling Tale house.

"Autzee!" He shouts at the top of his lungs as he lets his bike clatter to the ground with a loud bang, along with his school bag. Within moments, he reaches the porch and starts peering through each window, one after another.

"Autzee!" Again, there's no reply. He then circles around to the side of the house, continuing toward the back. Suddenly, something at the forest's edge catches his eye: the ground is blanketed with fresh soil, as if something had been dug up or buried there. But as he moves closer, a sound halts him in his tracks... the sound of a heartbeat. Initially, it's a soft, distant thump that can be heard from far away. But quickly, it intensifies, growing louder and more forceful.

Crimson starts backing away, heading toward the front of the house and his bike, as Autzee emerges from behind the trees. There's no flashy entrance, no dramatic gestures. He steps out of the shadows in a calm, serene manner. Crimson tries to appear tough.

"Stay away from her. She doesn't know anything."

"But what if she does? Do you honestly believe that your little buddy Churro can just search werewolves on Google and suddenly all the answers will appear for you?" He crouches down, grabs Crimson's school bag, pulls out the lacrosse stick, and spins it playfully in his hands. Autzee keeps advancing, forcing him to retreat from the house. You haven't noticed it yet, but I'm watching you. Think about what could happen. You're on the field. The aggression takes over. And you shift in front of everyone.

Willow, your mom, your friends..." Autzee raises his hand, revealing his claws. Crimson steps back, both shocked and frightened, because he didn't anticipate how skilled Autzee is at controlling his powers.

"And when they see you..." He drags his claws along the net."Everything falls apart." The loose threads slip off the top of the lacrosse stick, causing the net to rip apart. He tosses the broken stick, and Crimson catches it. When he looks up, he finds himself alone; Autzee has disappeared once more.

A bit later, in Crimson's room, Churro bursts through the door and dashes inside.

"So, what did you find out? How on earth did you manage to track it down? And precisely where did you stumble upon it? And yeah, I've popped a fair amount of Adderall." Crimson sits at his desk, deeply engrossed in some task, scrutinizing every little detail with laser focus before he speaks: "I discovered something at Autzee Tale's."

"No way, really? What is it?"

"There's something hidden over there. I caught the scent of blood, Churro." He saw that his friend's face had gone white, yet there was a spark of thrill in his eyes.

"Awesome. Well, I suppose that's terrible. Whose blood is it?"

"That's precisely what I need your help to figure out. And once we do, we'll aid your dad in proving Derek is the one who committed the murder. Then, you'll assist me in finding a way to play lacrosse without having to shift." Crimson rises, revealing what he'd been so focused on: his lacrosse stick. It's now flawlessly restrung, and he spins it in his hands with a smug grin.

"Because there's no chance I'm sitting out that game."

As they wander past the hospital's main entrance at Lantern City Hospital, the automatic doors glide open, and they try to stay unnoticed among the patients, nurses, and orderlies waiting around. Churro points toward a pair of double doors marked with a sign that says morgue. Crimson quickly shoves through the doors while his buddy heads over to the waiting area. He steps into the freezer room, which is nearly pitch black. He activates his phone's screen and uses its glow to check the labels on the drawers.

He spots one labeled: jane doe, partial. Police Evidence Do Not Tamper. Crimson takes a deep breath and slides the drawer open. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. In the meantime, out in the corridor, Churro checks the waiting area and is shocked to see Scara Hall sitting in one of the chairs. This is a chance he just can't pass up. Leaving his post, he carefully approaches her.

"Hey, Scara. You probably don't recall me, but I'm the one who sits behind you in Biology class. I know you're with Larch and all, but I've always sensed some kind of bond between us. It was never said out loud, obviously. But I think it'd be nice to get to know you a bit more. Sort of."

"Wait a second. Give me a second." Churro looks at her, confused, but then she pulls out a Bluetooth earpiece hidden under her hair.

"I didn't hear any of that. Is it worth repeating?"

"Uh... No. Sorry." She lets out an irritated sigh, and he sits down far away from her, propping his head on his hand.

In the Morgue, Crimson muffles his mouth with his hand as he stares down at the body's lower half. He eases the drawer open until the sheet finally lies flat just above the severed hip. Crimson lifts his hand from his mouth, then pulls the sheet back to expose the feet, now decayed and rotted. Then, unable to endure the sight or the stench any longer, Crimson drapes the sheet over the body and slides the drawer closed.

In the hospital waiting room, Larch rounds the corner to find Scara, but he's also rubbing his shoulder.

"You fine?" She asked, noticing how his shoulder was broken.

"He said it's not a good habit to get into, but one cortisone shot won't kill me." Larch said, taking his hand off his shoulder.

"You should get one right before the game too..." She began, but stopped when she saw his expression, so she added, "What? The pros do it all the time. You want to be a little high school amateur? Or do you want to go pro?" She pulls him into a kiss that's all tongue. As they walk away, Churro watches with envy from behind the pages of a hospital pamphlet. It's titled: All About Your Menstrual Cycle. Crimson snatches it from his hands, catching him off guard.

"The scent was the same. Which means we have proof he killed the girl."

"You're sure?" he said, and seeing him nod, he followed him.

"So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property. Then I say we use it." Churro said, grinning at Crimson.

"Tell me something first Crimson. Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek? Or because you want to play the game Saturday and he said you couldn't?" he said but saw Crimson nod.

"There were bite marks on the legs. Bite marks. And if he knows about Willow now..."

"Okay. Then we're going to need a shovel." They burst through the exit door and into the night.

On the Tale property's driveway, Autzee's black Dodge Challenger thunders out from the long lane leading up to the rundown house. Right behind it, Churro's Jeep creeps forward. Now toting a shovel and pick, Crimson makes his way to the house with him. But He halts, scanning the area.

"Something feels off, Churro."

"Off in what way?" But Crimson just shakes his head. He glances back at the road, straining to hear anything.

"Let's wrap this up." Feeling uneasy too, Churro trails him around the house to the edge of the woods. He motions him over, then kicks at the dirt underfoot. It's soft, crumbly. They begin to dig. Mounds of soil pile up on the nearby grass. They move quickly, Crimson rolling up his sleeves as sweat beads on his forehead.

"This is dragging on too long."

"Just keep at it. it doesn't matter if we get dirty now." Churro said, spurring him on.

"What if he comes back? What if he catches us?"

"Then we bolt out of here. My plan is you run one way, I run the other. Whoever he grabs first? Tough luck."

"I hate that plan." Crimson let out a scoff. They dig faster, with more force. Muscles aching, He keeps stealing nervous looks toward the driveway.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Tossing the shovel aside, Churro scrambles down into the pit. He gropes around and touches a dark cloth buried in the soil. Now both are scooping with their bare hands, and they finally uncover... a black bag, its drawstring tied in tight knots. He picks at the knot with his fingers.

"Hurry."

"I'm working on it. Did he have to tie the thing in nine hundred knots?" Churro griped, then handed the bag to his friend and said, "You take a shot." They both claw at the drawstring, almost desperately trying to loosen the knot. And at last it gives. The black bag opens wide, revealing the body inside, except it's not a dead girl. It's a wolf's body. Churro and Crimson both yell, leaping back.

"What the heck is that?"

"It's a wolf."

"I can see that. You said you smelled blood, right? Like human blood?"

"I told you something felt different." Crimson admitted, relying on his new werewolf senses. He pulls back the bag's edge for a closer look. The wolf's remains peek through, a tangle of legs and blood-caked fur.

"This doesn't add up."

"We've got to get out of here."

"Help me cover it up." Churro said, nodding, reaching for the shovel when he spots a purple flower in the dirt. It pokes out of the soil as if it had just been planted.

"What's wrong?" Crimson asked, his gaze fixed on the flower.

"You see that flower? I think it's Wolfsbane." he told him, pointing now.

"How do you know that?"

"Haven't you ever watched The Wolf Man? Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains? The original classic werewolf flick?" Churro said as Crimson shakes his head, "You're totally unprepared for this." He kneels beside the flower, gently tracing the stem. He tugs it up, revealing that the flower sprouted from a very thin but sturdy twine woven through its stem and root.

"Don't. I've got a hunch this won't end well."

"Yeah. Me neither. So, we're leaving?" While Crimson backs off cautiously, Churro keeps unearthing the purple-flowered rope. Dirt spilling around his shoes, he circles the grave. As He continues, the Wolfsbane rope winds back to the grave in a near-perfect spiral. Finally, about ten yards out, Churro hits the rope's end. With a pile gathered in his arms, he turns to Crimson, who's staring at the grave.

"Churro..." He said, barely a whisper. The rope slips from Churro's hands, landing at his feet as his eyes go wide. The wolf is no longer a wolf. It's the upper half of the girl. It's the upper half of the girl.