I spend the rest of the week off school. Strangely enough, I'd rather go in. It's dull as hell hanging out at the house all the time, brooding, only Dervish for company. I want something to take my mind off Loch's death and all the other stuff. I want to be with my friends, talk about the tragedy, put it behind me, get on with life. But it's expected that I take the week off to recover, so I do.
I try hard not to think about the folder or the Lambs. Like Dervish said, the curse has been in our family a long time. Some parents kill their own children if they turn, but many can't bring themselves to be executioners. Generations ago, the Lambs were formed to deal with that problem. The wealthier members of our clan founded and continue to fund them. It's their job to kill teenagers who've turned into werewolves. They also experiment on some of the beasts, in the hope of unlocking the genetic secrets of the family curse and curing it.
Dervish doesn't have much to do with the Lambs. He mistrusts them. He always planned to kill Bill-E or me himself if the worst came to pass-there's nothing like the personal touch. But my uncle's been through a lot these last few years. He looks as strong as ever, but looks can be deceiving. Maybe he doesn't feel he has the strength to deal with me if I turn.
I don't like the Lambs either. I've only met one of them, but she was a cold, creepy woman, and the whole idea of letting strangers put me down like a wild dog fills me with distaste. Dervish has made it clear in the past that he would put me out of my misery if such a drastic step was ever called for. I can understand why he might want to retract that promise now, but understanding doesn't make it any easier to accept. As childish as it might seem, I feel like he's betrayed me.
Bill-E manages to come over on Thursday, after Dervish argued hard on the phone for a couple of days to persuade Ma and Pa Spleen to let him out of the house. He looks shell-shocked. Pale and sickly. His lazy left eyelid flutters so much it looks like worms are wriggling beneath the flesh. He doesn't say much, which is unusual for Bill-E. Listens numbly while Dervish explains about the cave and why we had to move the body. Doesn't seem too bothered by the threat of a demon invasion.
"I rang Loch's house," Bill-E says when we're alone in the TV room. I stare at him, not sure how to respond. I wanted to ring Reni all week but didn't dare. "His father answered," Bill-E continues. "I could tell he'd been crying. I wanted to say sorry, ask how they were, if there was anything I could do. But I couldn't speak. My mouth dried up. In the end he put the phone down. He didn't get angry. He just sounded sad."
Bill-E's staring off into space. The way this has hit him, you'd think it was his best friend who'd died, not a bully he didn't like. But maybe that's why it's harder for him than me. Guilt's mixed up with grief. I think he's sorry for all the bad thoughts he had about Loch, the foul names he no doubt called him behind his back, the times he probably wished his tormentor was dead.
"I'm going back to school on Monday," I tell Bill-E. "What about you?"
He shakes his head. "I don't know."
"You should. It might help."
"Gran and Grandad don't want me to. They said I could stay at home as long as I want. Said they'd hire a private tutor."
The meddlesome, selfish old buzzards! I probably shouldn't be too hard on them. They're old and lonely. Bill-E's all they have. I can understand why they want him to themselves, locked up safe where they can fuss over him twenty-four seven. But they should know better. He needs to be out in the real world, getting back to normal as soon as possible.
"I remember you telling me about when your mum died," I say softly. Bill-E looks at me, eyes coming into focus. "Your gran and grandad kept you indoors for a year. You didn't speak to anybody else. You fought with other kids who tried to talk to you."
"Then I got whacked in the jaw by a boy in a shop," Bill-E laughs jerkily.
"And that put you straight." I sit beside him. I think for a moment of putting an arm around him but decide against it-no need to go overboard. "Don't cut yourself off from your friends, Bill-E."
"Do I have any?" he asks sadly.
"You know you do," I snap. "Maybe not as many as you wish, but there are plenty of people who like you and feel sorry for you, who'll help you through this. But they can't if you shut yourself off, if you let your gran and grandad smother you. Come back to school. Move on. You know it makes sense."
"Loch can't move on," Bill-E sighs.
"No," I agree stiffly. "He can't. But we didn't die in that cave. We're alive. Loch isn't and that's a wretched shame. But life goes on. Loch goes to a grave, we go back to school. That's how it has to be."
Bill-E nods slowly. "Are you going to the funeral?"
"I don't want to but I think I need to."
"I can't," Bill-E whispers. "I can go back to school but not...
"That's OK," I smile. "School will be torture enough."
Bill-E returns the smile briefly, then stares off into space. "I can still hear his scream," he mutters. "And I can see his face. His eyes... He didn't know he was going to die. There wasn't terror in his expression, just worry. And a bit of anger. He should have looked more terrified. If he'd known..."
We sit there for hours after that, TV off, sniffling occasionally, but otherwise as silent as Loch must be.
Friday. The funeral. It's horrible. And that's all I'm saying about it.
Monday. School. Everyone staring and whispering. Kids scurry out of my way. It's like the Grim Reaper's walking alongside me.
I spot the gang in one of our usual hangouts behind the cafeteria, sheltering from the rain. Talk dries up as I approach. When I stop, they stare at me, I stare at them, and for a few long seconds nothing is said. Then Charlie breaks the silence with, "Loch must have been mad as hell, looking down on his funeral-he hated flowers. And having to wear a suit as well!"
Everybody laughs.
"You're an ass, Charlie," Frank giggles.
"Don't say anything like that in front of Reni," Shannon warns him.
"Please," he huffs. "I'm not a total screwball."
The laughter fades. Frank clears his throat. "Was it really bad?"
"Crapville," I say tightly.
"Did he say anything before he... you know?" Mary asks.
I nod soberly. "His last words... I had to strain to hear them... he..." I cough and everyone leans in close to listen. "He said... his voice a painful croak... fighting for breath... eyes locked on mine... 'Mary Hayes has a face like a cow's dirty rear.' "
Mary roars with fury and clubs me with her bag. The others laugh. Then the bell goes and we march into class. Back to normal-or as much as it can be.
A rumour at lunchtime. Misery Mauch has gone on sick leave. A mental breakdown. Some say he was overcome with grief when he heard about Loch, but that's rubbish-Loch never went to see Misery. Apparently he's been replaced by a woman. They say she's quite young, though nobody's had a good look at her yet-she's been in Misery's office most of the day. I don't see Bill-E during lunch. He's with the new counsellor. I hope she's got more of a clue than old Misery. Bill-E needs professional help, not some over-eager do-gooder. I'll have to check her out, make sure she's not going to mess him up even further. Grubbs Grady-rooter-out of frauds!
Halfway through geography, a kid from a lower year delivers a note to my teacher. The new counsellor wants to see me. Guess I'll get to give her the once-over a bit sooner than I thought.
I'm kept waiting outside the office for a few minutes before I'm called in. The counsellor is standing by the side of Misery's desk when I enter, her back to me. When she turns round, I almost drop through the floor. A slender woman of medium height, in her late thirties or early forties. Smartly dressed, more like a businesswoman than a teacher. Pretty but not gorgeous. Very little make-up. Pure white hair tied back in a pony tail. Extremely pale skin. Pinkish eyes. She's an albino. But that's not what knocks the wind out of my sails. It's the fact that I know her and last saw her a year ago in Slawter, frying the brains of a demon collaborator called Chuda Sool.
"Juni Swan!" I cry.
"That's Miss Swan to you, young man," she says with a little smile. Then steps forward and wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight while I stand frozen, stunned, staring down at the top of her pale white orb of a head.
Juni was one of film producer Davida Haym's assistants. A psychologist, it was her job to make sure the children on set were being well treated. Dervish fell for her and I think she had a thing for him too. I doubt the pair got beyond fond looks and holding hands, but I bet they would have if life hadn't gone crazy on us all.
When hell hit the fan and the demons ran wild, Juni helped us break a hole through the barrier which Lord Loss had erected around the town. Without that gap, everyone would have perished. She was knocked out during the fighting and only recovered when the barrier had closed again, trapping hundreds of members of the cast and crew inside. Like the rest of us, she was helpless and had to stand by, watching and listening as the demons tortured and killed them.
She lost herself to fury and found that like me she could tap into the magical energy in the air. In a fit of rage she used this power to kill Chuda Sool, a demon collaborator who'd slipped through the gap. She regretted it afterwards. Snuck away in the night, leaving a note for Dervish saying she was confused and filled with sorrow. Said she might contact him one day if she sorted her head out, but not to expect to hear from her again.
Now here she is, filling in for Misery Mauch, looking a bit more strained than when I previously knew her, but otherwise no different.
"Why are you here?" I gasp once I've recovered from my initial shock. "How?"
"That's what Billy asked," she chuckles. We're sitting in front of the desk, chairs close together. Juni's holding my hands. "Aren't you pleased to see me?"
"Of course. But it's been so long. I never thought... And how did you wind up here, in our school? You're not a school counsellor. Are you?"
"Not precisely." She sighs and lets go of my hands. "It's not a long story or particularly complicated. My head was in a mess after our experiences on the film set." She pauses. Her eyes make flickering contact with mine and I get the message-don't mention the demons or the slaughter. Please. "It took me some months to recover," she continues, "but not as long as I feared. I realised early on that work would help, that I needed to be busy, that by helping others with their problems, I could help myself too.
"A friend offered me a job involving school work. I became an advisor to a network of counsellors. I supervised them, provided them with guidelines, helped out with their problems, organised meetings and conferences. The school network I initially covered was far from here. Then, a couple of months ago, I was given an opportunity to relocate. I knew your school would be part of my new network. To be honest, that's largely what drew me to it."
She smiles weakly. "I've been wanting to get in touch with Dervish since the day I ran off. I haven't because of fear, guilt, shame. This was a way to take a step closer. I meant to ease myself into his life, observe from a distance for a while, work up the courage to face him again. Then William Mauch fell ill at the very time you and Billy most needed a compassionate and understanding ear. As his superior I was expected to step in for him. As your friend I felt compelled to. So..." She shrugs, embarrassed. "Tah-dah!"
"Dervish will be well pleased," I grin. "He's missed you.
Her face creases. "Please don't tell him. Not yet. Not until I'm ready."
"But-"
"Please," she stops me, sharp this time. "I'll see him soon, but not right now. Not until I've had time to settle, get my bearings and finish what I came here to do."
"What do you mean?"
She leans forward, eyes warm but serious, and says, "I want to talk about your friend, Loch Gossel." Puts a small, slim hand on one of my large, knobbly ones. "I want to discuss his death and how that hurt you."
We talk for almost an hour about my friendship with Loch, what he was like, how he died, what I felt, how I've coped since then. I feel awkward at first, but Juni listens patiently, asks all the right questions, never pushy, always sensitive. She doesn't pretend we're not old friends, but at the same time she treats me like a patient, the way a professional should. No falseness, no charade, no smarm. I find myself opening up to her, telling her things I haven't even told Dervish, about my pain, my nightmares, my loss.
We talk about Bill-E a lot. She spent most of the morning with him and she's worried. "I can't tell you all that we discussed," she says. "I have to respect his privacy. But I got the feeling there was animosity between him and Loch. Would you say that was an accurate assumption?"
"They didn't get on," I admit.
"Did they ever fight?"
I smile. "No."
"Why the smile?"
"Loch was almost as big as me. A wrestler. It wouldn't have been much of a fight."
"But they argued?" she presses.
"Loch..." I hesitate, not wanting to say anything bad about my dead friend.
"He teased?" Juni guesses.
"Yeah. He picked on Bill-E. Sometimes he was cruel. I didn't like that, but I couldn't do anything about it. It was Bill-E's problem, not mine."
"Was Loch teasing Billy on the day of his death?" Juni asks. She's not afraid to talk about death openly. Doesn't hide behind softer terms like 'incident' or 'mishap'. I like that.
I think back. "A little bit, yeah. But we were tired from di-I mean, from climbing in the quarry. We were all a bit snappish."
"They didn't fight?"
"No."
"You didn't argue with Loch or try to stop him from teasing Billy?"
"Not really."
"You're sure?"
I shrug. "I don't remember everything that was said. The hour or two before he fell is kind of blank. I'm not blocking it out. I just... it's like, when I look back, I'm looking through a mist. Do you know what I mean?"
Juni nods. "I know exactly what you mean. Part of my job will be to help you pierce that mist."
"Does it matter that much?" I frown.
"Absolutely. It could be a mist of guilt. If you said something ugly to Loch which you now regret, you might have buried it. If you don't deal with that, it could lie within you for years, then work its way back to the surface, hurting you, making you feel horrible about yourself."
"Is that what you're doing with Bill-E?" I ask. "Piercing the mist?"
"Yes. Although it will be harder with him than you. You're not the still-waters-run-deep type."
"Huh?"
"You're honest and straight. What one sees is what one gets. Loch's death hurt but I don't think it struck you to the core like Billy. You're made of tougher stuff, Grubbs Grady. Tougher than Billy and tougher than me. I doubt we'll have any serious problems. You're too plain to be complex."
"You might be wrong," I mutter, annoyed at being described that way. "Maybe I just do a good job of covering up my pain and confusion."
"Perhaps," Juni says. "But don't worry, I make no rash assumptions. If you are suffering deep inside, I'll find out and help. You have my word on that."
We talk a while longer about Loch's teasing and what I thought of it. Then a bit more about the day he died, how long I held him, my efforts to keep him alive, my feelings when I realised he was dead. I cry at that point. Juni makes no moves to comfort me, just sits, watching, waiting. When I recover, she hands me a tissue to wipe my cheeks dry, then moves on.
At the end of the session she stands and shakes my hand. When I try to pull away, she grips tight, pink eyes seeking mine and holding them. "Billy promised not to tell Dervish about me. If you can't make that promise or feel strange about it, please say so. I want to be the one to tell him I'm here. I'd rather do it later, when I'm ready, but if you feel like I'm putting you in an awkward situation, I'll do it now."
"No," I smile. "I'll keep it quiet. He doesn't take much of an interest in school life. If he asks, I'll tell him some nutty dame replaced Misery Mauch. I bet he won't even ask for your name."
"Thank you." She releases me. "We'll talk again tomorrow if you don't mind."
"I'd like that."
She smiles broadly, then ushers me out, leaving me to wander back to class, head buzzing, lips lifting at the edges, feeling for the first time since Loch's death that there might be a slight silver tinge to what previously seemed to be a bleak, black beast of a future.