Werewolf Wedding(34)

“No, zombies aren’t. That’s dumb. They’re just shambling corpses. Who the hell wants one of those up in their business?”

“I... have no idea how to respond to that.”

My head was swimming. Maybe it was all the Malbec I’d had over the past couple of weeks, but on the other hand, maybe it was the fact that my best friend was completely unexcited about werewolves and was vastly more interested in me getting married.

“Jeannie?” I asked. “I have to... why are you more surprised by me getting married to a guy I barely know than you are about the werewolf business? Because I’m gonna be real honest with you, it’s kind of disconcerting.”

She shrugged. “I just never figured you’d be the type to get all worked up over someone and fall on them, that’s all. The werewolf thing seems more likely to be real.”

“I’m... not sure whether or not that’s a burn. Is that a burn?”

Jeannie shook out her shaggy mane and brushed it back out of her face before snatching a ponytail holder off my desk and helping herself. “Look, I’m not trying to insult you or anything. I don’t mean you’re a whackjob or you’re stupid or anything like that. It just doesn’t seem like you. You’re the careful one, you know? Anyway, he seems like a nice guy. Who cares if he turns into a dog?”

Before I could respond, she was weaving her way back to the front of the studio, humming what I think might have been a Billy Idol tune. I heard her say ‘white wedding’ in a sort of snarling, growly voice and I could have hit her in the back of the head with a spit wad, assuming I was in middle school and had ever managed to master shooting spit wads. And assuming she wasn’t at the other end of the studio.

I shook my head, wandered back over to my bench to start in on at least trying to get the damn statue back together.

Stay safe.

Jake’s words echoed in my mind. I still had no idea what he’d meant by them, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some kind of weird prescience in what he said. I had no reason to believe he was anything other than what he’d said – your average, everyday werewolf. But psychic? Come on. That’s about as stupid as zombies.

I snuffed a laugh and opened my epoxy. The pungent, acrid aroma hit my nose with a force I hadn’t expected. “Pff! A nose full of that will clear just about anything out of your head. Except I guess huffing epoxy.” My head was already getting a little floaty from the glue. It had been so long since I screwed anything up in such a royal fashion that I’d completely forgotten the whole ‘don’t use this indoors without ventilation’ thing, and went over to pop the windows all around my studio open.

One by one I walked from window to window, turning the cranks that eventually filled the room with fresh air, the happy chirps of morning birds, and also some angry squawking from jays that I think had a brawl with some of the robins. A pair of squirrels was going back and forth on the power line that stretched between the back of my studio, and the rest of the warehouse buildings in the district, and then all the way across the bottom end of the Lesser James River. Joke was it was so small that it was “less” a river and more a stream.

I said it was a joke – I didn’t say it was any good.

The squirrels were going back and forth. One of them, cheeks puffed out with stored acorns, seemed to be the pursuer, and the other, who was very lady-like and demure, continually turned away from him, denying the poor guy the only thing in the world he seemed to want.

I found myself drifting a little, perhaps because of my situation, or perhaps because of the epoxy fumes. Either way, the result was the same – I was watching the squirrels with a dreamlike haze in front of my eyes. The whole world had a kind of Vaseline glow, like the cameras from soap operas. Everything was warm, and none of the lines were crisp.

As I gazed dreamily at the ill-fated lovers, the back of my head started to hurt a little. Nothing major, at least not as far as I thought. Something tickled my spider-sense though. “Jeannie?” I called out, hoping she hadn’t strapped on some headphones and started dancing around in her underwear.

We have a close office relationship, what can I say?

“Hey! Jeannie!”

My voice sounded like the world looked. Fuzzy, indistinct and a little less clear than it should have been, especially as it was coming out of my mouth. That feeling of floaty distance came back, this time stronger than it had been previously. I’ve had some times with epoxy, but this... this wasn’t epoxy.

“Jeannie!” I called again, getting more frightened with each passing second. “Can you hear me? Jean!”

I only called her that when I was serious. Still, there was no answer.

And my head was getting really uncomfortable. I went to college for three semesters to get an art degree, so I’ve had my experiences with feeling floaty. But this was— A crash in the front of my studio made my stomach lurch. I knew I was hearing glass break, but the feeling in the back of my skull had gone from floating to throbbing, and I didn’t even feel like I was in my own body anymore. It was like I was watching as Dane kicked the door to my studio in, and had Jeannie slumped over one of his massive shoulders like a sack of scrub-wearing potatoes.

I screamed, but my voice didn’t seem to work.

I tried to run, but there was nowhere to go, even if my feet had responded to the messages coming from my brain. And then he had me, too, and all that floating, fuzzy warmth went cold. My skin prickled and my heart seemed to stop all at once. Punching at his chest as he grabbed me, all it made him do was laugh.