Legend of Witchtrot Road - By E.J. Stevens Page 0,6

my hands to sweat.

The salty sweat made the half-moon circles, where I had dug my fingernails into my palms, sting like crazy.

Fortunately, Emma was waiting for me when the last bel rang. The relief must have been apparent on my face, because she pushed herself away from the doorframe, where she had been leaning, and did a little satisfied twirl.

“Hey, girl,” Emma said. “I thought you could use some company.”

“You’re the best,” I said, smiling.

“I heard you had a run in with the J-team today,” Emma said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I also heard you won this round,” she said, raising her hand to bump knuckles. “You rock.”

“Wel , it wasn’t al me,” I said, walking to my locker.

“Cal was there. Which is something that has been bugging me. Did Cal mention how he knew I was in trouble?”

“I think it was his wolf hearing,” Emma said, shrugging.

“We were leaving the cafeteria and his eyes just glazed over. He had his head tilted to the side, like he was listening to something, and then he went running off down the hal . He must have heard Jay saying something threatening to you and gone to check it out.”

“That’s one mystery solved at least,” I said. “Now only a gazil ion more to go.”

We had final y reached my locker and there were no jock thugs, paid assassins, or flying kil er monkeys waiting for me. Just tons of homework. I spun the lock with shaking fingers, trying to grip the dial with my fingertips, but even the very tips of my fingers were sweaty. I looked at the chipped, black polished fingers angrily as I rubbed them down the front of my shirt. Traitors.

Emma reached over and opened my locker before I could say BFF, or have a break down.

“Thanks,” I said, pul ing my homework out and shoving it into my backpack.

“No problem,” Emma said.

I watched Emma’s posture stiffen, and her eyes narrow, as two jocks in athletic jackets walked toward us.

One of the guys was belching the alphabet while his friend cheered him on. The two jocks didn’t even look our way, but I could see Emma prepare herself for battle. It was nice to know that my friend had my back.

“They’re gone,” Emma said.

“Why are jocks such pigs?” I asked, pushing the last book into my bag and slamming my locker shut.

“I blame their diet,” Emma said. “Most male athletes eat large quantities of meat. Some even start the day drinking raw eggs.”

“Gag me,” I said, shuddering.

We were final y leaving school and heading to Emma’s car. The prospect of grabbing a meal at Mr. Green Genes, and the familiar anti-meat banter from Emma, helped me to relax. I was stil coping with a spirit-induced migraine, but the knot of tension between my shoulder blades had started to unwind.

My stomach growled out loud, interrupting Emma’s rant. She looked at me with eyebrow raised and we both burst into peals of laughter.

For the first time today, I was feeling hopeful. With the help of my friends, I would help Dylan’s ghost find peace by figuring out the mystery of his death. That would mean no more stinky smel impression, painful headache, and hopeful y—fingers crossed—no more threatening run-ins with the J-team.

*****

When Emma pul ed her car up in front of Mr. Green Genes, I found out just what kind of drama had kept Cal from meeting me at my locker—the Simon kind. Simon was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, angrily waving his hands in the air. Even angry, he managed to swagger in his tight, faded, blue jeans and was attracting a lot of attention—a lot of female attention. Of course.

Simon was a gorgeous werewolf somewhere in his thirties…you know, older than God. Unfortunately for females everywhere, Simon also thought he was a God, or at least God’s gift to women. The fact that he had a jagged scar, that bisected his ear and extended down his cheek to meet the corner of his lips, didn’t seem to detract from his male beauty. If anything it only added to his bad boy persona. Not that he needed any help.

Simon was the ultimate bad boy. He was a werewolf with a wild streak and a death wish. His wild nature was due to being born ful y aware of his wolf spirit. Members of the Old Blood didn’t usual y become aware of their wolf spirit until they reached maturity, with most pack members beginning to shift into wolf form