Demon and the Fox - 30. Collection of Moments

“Dear Nicholas,

If you are reading this, it means you have found your way back into your body. Allow me to assume I’m the one who brought you back, because things usually work out the way I want them to. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have good karma, when you think about it.

The first thing I should tell you is that you are a werewolf now. Exciting, yeah? You can thank me later. I do hope I got to experience that at least once.

In all seriousness though, I may be crazy, but I am not an idiot. I know you’re probably well pissed off right now. But just think about it, Nick. If you ever get hurt, all you have to do is transform and you’ll heal. Werewolves have amazing healing abilities. They’re tough bastards. And it’s not that complicated to lead a normal life. Just learn to control it. Ask Kyle, he’ll teach you. He’s Hazel and Jack’s friend; I brought Kyle back from the dead while controlling your body, so he should do whatever you want. About Hazel, just give her the note, man. I’d really appreciate it.

All right, one more thing. I’m sorry about Sasha’s memories. I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid. I panicked. I wanted to have some more fun, and he was going to tell everyone the truth far too soon. It seemed completely unfair to me. Still, I do apologize. No need to be excessively mad at me, or anything. Sasha will remember. It might take some time. But just be there for him, help him through it, and he’ll love you even more for it. Should be really bonding and all—worked for me and Shay, at the time.

Speaking of which, this is the one thing I ask of you. To bring us back. I know it’s a lot. But I’ve already done a big part of the job. You’ll find the urns in your closet; I carved an M on mine and an S on Shay’s. Brilliant system, I know. Came up with it myself.

If you do this, I swear to you I will never bother you again.

Malachy”

The note slid from Nick’s fingers and fell onto the pale gray comforter. Nick’s gaze darted across his bedroom. Everything was clean; as wrecked as the living room had been, Nick’s room was all neat and tidy. Nothing spilled from the drawers, nothing touched the floor. The laptop and notebooks rested atop the computer desk, even the plants on the windowsill and furniture looked healthy, like they’d been watered.

Malachy had taken the time to water his plants. Nick gave a short, startled laughter at the thought.

A werewolf?

He couldn’t even begin to think about it. Nick’s brain felt numb if he tried, like it just wouldn’t register the information.

His bedroom was all clean, except for one conspicuous detail. Nick used to have a bunch of his favorite quotes written on pieces of paper and plastered to the walls for some kind of distraction from the boring whitish-gray paint—which the landlord didn’t want them to touch. Now, Malachy had taken down all the pieces of paper. And instead, with what looked like very permanent marker, Malachy had scribbled something directly on the wall, in big letters, just over Nick’s computer desk: MAKE YOUR OWN QUOTES.

Great. Just great.

Nick dropped his head in his hands.

A werewolf. Nick cursed. Out loud. Even though he was alone. Then he cursed again. Then he just talked to himself, basically.

“I’m gonna kill him. That bastard. Thinks he can get away with everything, with anything…”

And Sasha’s memories. What was up with that? What did that even mean? Nick wanted to call Sasha and Gabriel and ask them if they were okay, but he was afraid. Sasha had looked so weak and ill earlier, when Gabriel had pulled him up from the floor and walked him out of the apartment. Maybe they needed some time to themselves, to rest, to recover…

Still, Nick’s fingers itched to grab his phone. Not knowing was eating him up inside.

What if Sasha doesn’t remember me? He didn’t even want to ask himself the question, it was too painful, but his mind conjured it up anyway.

On a whim, Nick bolted from the bed, snatched the other note from the desk, and sat back down. He didn’t care if this one was addressed to Hazel. Not right now. He just read it anyway.

“Hazel,

I’m sorry for lying to you. I really am. But I won’t apologize for spending time with you, for falling for you. You’re brilliant, you’re kind, and you have the most beautiful values. You’ve got great ideals. Don’t ever let anyone distract you from your goals. They are worthwhile. I’ll always remember what you and I had. Life—even a long one like mine—is naught but a collection of moments. And just like in any collection, you’ve got to have your favorites. The moments we shared together will always be up there in my favorites.

You have to understand that this is in no way Nicholas’s fault. He won’t know you the way I know you, and you won’t know him, but you’ll still need each other. At the very least as members of the same wolf pack. He might not live in New York, but he’ll need a place to come back to if he’s ever in trouble or in need of advice. I know you can provide such a place. Take care of yourself, Hazel. Take care of your brother and Kyle. And Charles and Amanda. They have their parents but you’re the one they look up to the most. I’m so proud of you, love. I will miss the comfort of your arms, the sincerity of your smile, the elegance of you. And the way those gray eyes looked at me. I wish you could’ve known me. The real me. And who knows? It might happen. We might meet each other one day. And you won’t recognize me at first. But then you will, won’t you? You’re very perceptive. Yes, I know you’ll recognize me; I just don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me.

That will be your choice to make.

Malachy”

Nick tossed the note aside. There wasn’t much new information there. One thing bothered him, though. He might not live in New York. What did Malachy mean by that?

He didn’t have time to ponder it much. Someone walked in the apartment. Nick’s ears pricked. He was hoping it was his roommate Shane.

But it was Hazel, actually. He recognized her voice as she called, “Nick? The door was open. More like busted in…”

Nick didn’t move from the bed, but he said, “It’s okay, you can come in.”

She trotted past the living room and kitchen and peered in his bedroom’s doorway. She wore those gladiator sandals that had about a hundred straps, and she had on short white shorts and a navy tank top. Was it that hot outside already? Nick had really missed a big chunk of spring. Hazel’s platinum locks were a bit longer than he remembered, too.

In her hand was an expensive-looking black chrome guitar case with the words Gibson Gear etched in white. She set it down inside the room.

“What are you doing in the dark?”

Nick hadn’t noticed. The daylight spilling in from the window was more than bright enough for him. Hazel found the switch on the wall and tried to flick on the shaded ceiling lamp. But it didn’t work.

“Weird,” Hazel said, and she gave up with a shrug. “Anyway. I brought your guitar, thought you might miss it.”

My guitar?

Oh God, what money had Malachy bought that thing with? Nick supposed he could worry about that later; he would simply add it to his growing list of things to freak out about.

There was such familiarity in the way Hazel spoke to him, such assertiveness in the way she said his name. She stepped in the room.

“Nick,” she said, “what happened to your apartment? The door, and the living room—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said tiredly.

She froze and stared at him, like she immediately knew something was off. Nick thought with a sharp pang that he wished his friends had been as perceptive when Malachy had started pretending to be him.

“Just read this.” Nick held out the note to her.

Hazel took it without a word and sat on the bed next to him; they sat close, but without touching. He watched her as she read the note, holding it with both hands. She was very tense, her face inexpressive. Nick didn’t want to break the silence, so he just waited until she was finished.

Nick realized this was selfish of him, but it felt comforting to have Hazel here with him. He wasn’t the only one who had been tricked by Malachy. He wasn’t completely alone.

When she finished reading, Hazel’s fingers crumpled the piece of paper. The noise snapped Nick out of his thoughts.

“Did you read this?” She tossed the crumpled note aside carelessly; it looked like she didn’t want to keep it as a souvenir.

Nick didn’t see the point in lying. “Yeah.”

Hazel looked away, shaking her head. “I knew.”

“What? That I read it?”

“No,” she snapped. “That you,” she darted her gray eyes back toward him, “were not you. I knew”

“How?”

She gave a helpless shrug. She looked like she was fighting off tears.

“You were like a completely different person. I mean, not that I knew you that well before. But last month, when we agreed to help you out in your fight, I noticed things. Like how nervous you were, and how you cared for your friends—for Sasha, and your roommates, and even that demon…”

Nick said, “You mean Cyan?”

She waved it off. “You were different when I saw you again after that fight. You seemed so… free.” Something lit up in her eyes as she looked around Nick’s bedroom, with its pale wood furniture and green house plants; her gaze lingered on the Japanese peace lily in the corner. Hazel went on, “Your focus had changed. It seemed like you really wanted to get to know me. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“I know that,” she retorted. She wiped the corner of her eye, even though there was no tear. She sighed, “Besides, Rebecca warned me.”

“Rebecca?”

“She was my spirit guide.”

The name was familiar. Nick wondered if Hazel spoke of the same person Raven had desperately wanted to meet.

“I don’t think Rebecca liked Malachy much,” said Hazel. Then, in a lower voice, “God it’s so weird saying his real name.”

“This is going to sound blunt,” Nick said, “but I think you’re the only one who liked Malachy.”

Hazel looked up at him, and her eyes were cold. She tucked pale strands of hair behind her ear.

“Anyway. Rebecca told me to stay away from you. That was her advice to me.”

“But you didn’t.”

She shook her head. “I loved you—him—too much. Love is… like a drug. You get such a high. Such a rush. You don’t want it to stop. And you do stupid things when you’re high on it. You don’t worry about the things you would normally worry about. I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

“Yeah, you are,” Nick replied.

He thought again of how skinny and damaged Sasha had looked earlier today. And that bandage around his hand… His hair had been all tangled and messy; Nick couldn’t even see his face properly. He wanted to be with him and take care of him so badly that it was painful; the need to be close to Sasha was as intense as the need to drink water or to breathe.

So Nick held Hazel’s gaze firmly as he added, “I get it.”

Hazel’s shoulders seemed to slouch. “But there’s a comedown, right? There’s got to be. Highs like that don’t last.” A tear rolled down her face, but she didn’t look away.

Nick could start to understand what Malachy had meant in that note when he was talking about her gray eyes.

“This is really weird for me,” said Hazel, suddenly fidgety.

“I can imagine.”

She rose from the bed, so suddenly that it startled Nick.

“I should go,” she said. She went to lean a hand against the doorframe, and she looked over her shoulder. “Come see me on the full moon. You’ll need me.”

“How will I know where to find you?” Nick asked, trying to ignore the dreadful sensation that twanged his nerves as he was reminded of the fact that he was going to transform into a wolf in less than a few weeks.

“Call me.” The hint of a smile crossed her face. “I’m pretty sure you have my number in your phone.”

“Right.” He patted his jeans pocket reflexively, and felt his phone there. “That makes sense. Hey, Hazel?” He called before she could leave.

She turned around to face him, and crossed her arms. The navy fabric of her top clashed with the paleness of her skin and hair. Nick couldn’t be sure—her poker face was pretty good—but it seemed like it cost her to look at him.

“What if I have a tattoo? Does the transformation take that away?”

“No. You’ll still have your tattoo. Those are deep inside the skin. It’ll stretch and lose its shape under your wolf coat, but it’ll come back to normal after you turn back, just like the rest of your skin.” She smiled. “It’s funny, you—I mean,” Hazel glanced at the crumpled note on Nick’s bed, “Malachy—asked me the same question.”

“How did he even explain this tattoo to you?” Nick touched his chest.

“Said it was a wolf,” Hazel answered.

Nick stared. “What? No. It’s a fox.”

“Looks like a wolf to me,” Hazel snapped back.

She was turning away from him again.

“Wait. I’m sorry. There’s one last thing I want to ask you.”

She clearly wanted to leave, and Nick didn’t want to be a jerk, but this was important.

Nick looked up at her. “He wants me to bring him back, Hazel. He wants me to bring him back from the dead. Do you think I should do it?”

Hazel tucked her hair behind her ears, but her bangs fell in her eye again. She was frowning.

“You would do that for him? After what he did to you? What happened to you when he possessed your body, anyway?”

“That,” Nick looked downward, “is a long story. You don’t want to know.”

She smirked. “Save it for the full moon, then, when I tie you up and supervise you through your first transformation. We’ll have time; the first one takes forever.”

Her canines were just a little longer than normal as she flashed a grin. Nick swallowed.

“You’re avoiding my question,” he told her.

“What do you want me to say? That I want him back? Fine.” Her smile was gone. “I do. But only so that I can see his real face. And slap him, hard, for lying to me like that. For leaving a note like a coward instead of telling me the truth face to face. So yes,” she finished, her head held high, “do let me know if you ever bring him back.”

“I will.” Though he wasn’t sure her answer had offered any guidance after all.

“Goodbye, Nicholas. See you on the Full Moon.”

Hazel walked away, and this time, Nick let her go.