Chapter Seven: Puppy Love (Jasper Cunningham)

It's springtime at the farmhouse, and love is in the air, but things take a dark turn.

March to June, 2013

            Over the course of the next two and a half months, Molly and I grow closer.

            One of her chores on the farm is feeding, brushing out, and cleaning up after the horses. The first time she walked into the stables, the large animals intimidated her. I gave her a handful of carrots; one of their favorite treats; promising it would earn her their trust and respect.

            She holds her hand up to one of the horses and it gobbles up the carrots and then licks her palm. She giggles at that, and I smile. I love the sound of her laughter.

            She bonds with our white mare, Winter, who loves to have her coat brushed out. When I mention riding her to Molly, however, it doesn't go over very well.

            "We'll take it nice and easy, won't we, Winter?" I coax, patting the mare's rump. "Just a slow trot along the fence line." I tempt her. "I won't let go of the reigns even once, I promise."

            She sighs. "Aright." She agrees.

            I saddle Winter, and Molly sticks her foot into the stirrup. It takes her a few tries to swing her leg up over, and she clutches so tightly at the horn that her knuckles turn white as I lead them out into the pasture. She sways awkwardly in the saddle.

            After a time, she asks me to let go. I teach her how to tug on the reigns to steer, and with some trial and error, she masters it. Winter never goes any faster than a steady trot.

            When she's dismounting, Molly's foot becomes wedged in the stirrup. She lets out a gasp. I surge forward and catch her before she can face plant. I wrap her in my arms, and kiss her.

            "That wasn't so bad, was it?" I ask her. She shakes her head.

            "I actually kind of enjoyed it." She admits.

            I smile radiantly at her in response, and kiss her again.

...

            Molly liked riding Winter so much that she requests I continue to give her lessons. By mid-April, she's brave enough to ride out into the woods behind the farmhouse. I ride our black gelding, Sterling, alongside her.

            At one point, Winter gets excited, and starts charging. She leaps over a fallen, moss covered log, and for the few seconds she's airborne and I'm watching, I swear my heart stops beating.

            As soon as Winter's hooves reconnect with the ground, Molly emits a whoop of exhilaration, and my heart soars at the sight of how thrilled she looks. She glances back at me and grins, but the wind whips her dark curls and obscures her face.

            I come trotting up to her and brush back her hair. I lean across the gap between us to plant a kiss upon her lips.

...

            A couple of evenings after our escapade into the woods, I take her out for the first time in the canoe. We end up tipping over and being plunged into the lake.

            She can't swim, but the lake is shallow enough for her to stand up in. It was dug up by my father a few years back. I jokingly tell her he placed a snapping turtle in it, and she shrieks and dashes out of the water. Christian and Jaden come running at the sound of her screams. She flies into Christian's arms and clings to him, dripping wet.

            I climb out of the water and shake off like a dog; which I suppose I am; laughing so hard I can't catch my breath.

            "I was kidding about the snapping turtle." I tell her.

            She glares at me, and Christian looks as though he wants to throttle me.

            "Molly, I'm sorry." I apologize in earnest when I see how upset I've made her. That wasn't my intention; it was just a stupid prank. I thought it was funny...

            She stalks off towards the house, and I frown. Her brothers glare frostily at me as I pass, and Christian grabs me by the collar of my shirt.

            "Watch yourself, Cunningham." He growls at me.

            "I'm not afraid of you!" I snap, tugging free from his hold.

            "If you upset my sister again, then you will be." He vows.

            I roll back my shoulders and puff up my chest.
            As I'm walking away, I hear Christian mutter; "I might chop off the kid's ponytail while he sleeps."

            But I pretend that I don't. The last thing I need is trouble with the Cassidy brothers. It won't help my chances with Molly any.

            By the next afternoon, she's forgiven me, for which I'm much relieved. I drive into town, to the local floral shop, and buy her a dozen white roses. I bought the white ones because the female florist working there told me the white color represent purity and innocence, and that describes Molly perfectly.

            "Your girlfriend sure is a lucky one." She adds with a wink as I'm leaving the store.

            The whole drive home, with the roses in the passenger seat, I contemplate the woman's words and their meaning. Is Molly my girlfriend? She's different from any other girl I've dated; or known, for that matter. Everything is so novel to her. But my feelings for her grow in intensity with each passing day. I know that I want her, and I think I might love her, too.

            When I present Molly with the roses, she blushes. She fumbles adorably over her words as she thanks me. I love that blush almost as much as her smile and her laughter. In that moment I know that I am in love with her.

...

            In mid-May, I teach her to fish. We dig up worms together to use as bait, and she hooks one of the catfish from the lake. I tell her she has to throw it back, but first she has me take a photograph to show to her brothers. Afterward, I explain to her how my camera works, and let her take a few practice snaps. She's fascinated by it.

            Soon, we're going on hikes in the woods, and I'm surprised by her stamina. She always insists I bring my camera along so that she can take pictures of everything, from butterflies to flowers to squirrels and birds.

            One afternoon, I teach her how to skip rocks. It turns out she's a natural. She has the perfect wrist flick. Her rocks skip farther than mine before sinking. Her eyes widen at the ripples the rocks make on the water, and how they spread to the pond's edges. She's still too afraid to actually touch the water, even though I keep reassuring her that there's not really a snapping turtle lurking below the surface.

            Eventually she becomes brave enough to crouch down at the water's edge and stare down at her reflection. She cautiously dips her index finger into the water. Then a frog leaps from the cattails, and startles her. She squeals, and this time it's my arms she runs into.

...

            In early June, I take her out to catch fireflies. She manages to catch almost a dozen, though she trips a lot in the dark. She's giddy as she brings the jar of insects into her and her brother's shared bedroom. I know because I've set up surveillance in that bedroom. I can see and hear everything that goes on. I observe from the computer on my bedroom desk. My mother requested I do this. She was actually quite insistent. Why, I'm not sure, but I report back to her anything of interest that I witness.

            My mother has encouraged our relationship. She seems almost as invested in it as I am. I think it's because she likes Molly; views her as the daughter she never had; or because my mother and Sarah were such good friends. I know Sarah's disappearance still bothers my mother, and Molly looks so much like her.

            I watch as Molly sets the jar down on the low dresser as her brothers are preparing for sleep. They both stare at the jar, Jaden with obvious distain

            "Do we have to keep them in the room?" He whines. "I can't sleep with the light." 

            I roll my eyes. Molly is frowning in disappointment.

            "Let her keep them for a night, Jaden." Christian mumbles. I can barely understand him. He's stretched out on his bed, his face pressed into his pillow. "Don't you remember when we caught fireflies as kids? You loved it..." He trails off and begins to snore. I think I like him better when he's unconscious.

            Jaden snorts. He looks at the jar again, and then at Molly. "I suppose one night couldn't hurt." He concedes. He smiles at her, and she smiles back. I wish she was smiling at me, and not him. Her smile is even more captivating than her laughter.

            "I'm glad you have Jasper, baby girl." He says quietly.

            He was already my favorite of Molly's two brothers; not that the competition was particularly fierce; and his statement only solidifies that feeling.

            He reaches over and turns off the lamp, plunging their bedroom into darkness. I groan in frustration. I can't see anything now other than the blinking lights of the fireflies. I am about to turn off my computer, but then I hear Molly's voice whisper; "I am, too."

            A thrill runs through me. She has no idea how grateful I am to have her. When I'm with her, for the first time since I was turned, I feel almost normal.

...

            I'm surprised by the amount of privacy Molly's brothers allow us. Of course, they don't know that she sneaks out of their bedroom every night while they sleep to meet me up in the loft of the barn. If they did, Christian might rip me apart. Or try to. I think I could take him on. He underestimates me, and that will be a fatal flaw if we ever fight. I hope for Molly's sake that it never comes to that. 

            One night, as we lay up in the loft with our hands clasped, staring up at the stars through a hole in the barn's roof, I whisper the words "I love you" to her for the first time.

            Every second that ticks by without her responding increases my anxiety. What if she doesn't feel the same? This is the most vulnerable I've ever been with anyone.

            "I love you, too." She replies at last.

            Smiling, I roll over so that I'm on top of her. I hold myself carefully so that I'm not crushing her. I lean down and press my lips against hers. She kisses me back. My hands snake their way under her shirt and unclasp her bra. She stiffens.

            "What are you doing?" She mumbles against my mouth.

            I pull my hands back out and roll off of her. I want her so, so badly. I can feel myself growing hard and stiff with desire. But I don't think she's ready yet. Not for that.

            Maybe I'm not, either.

            "Nothing." I say.

            She sighs and moves her head so that it rests atop my chest.

            I sigh in contentment. This is enough for now, I tell myself. I will wait for her.

            After a time of lying in silence, her breathing slows and evens out. She's fallen asleep. I run a hand through her hair and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

            "Nothing at all." I murmur.

...

       The day after we proclaim our love for each other, I tell Molly I'm taking her on a trip into town to get some ice cream to celebrate. She says she has to ask her brothers for permission. I head to my bedroom and quickly turn on my computer to monitor their interactions in case I have to intervene again.

            "Please, Christian?" She's pleading when the camera blinks to life. Her hands are clasped, her eyes are wide, and her lower lip is quivering.

            Christian sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What if I went with you?" He says.

            She balks at that, and so do I. It isn't a romantic date if her eldest brother tags along.

            Seeing her reaction, Christian sighs again. "Fine, but I expect you home in three hours time, and if you haven't returned by then, I'm coming to retrieve you." He warns her.          

            I groan. I'm growing tired of dealing with her overbearing, overprotective older brothers. I have to keep reminding myself that she's worth it.

            "Thank you!" She cries enthusiastically. She hugs him briefly, and then leaves the bedroom. Knowing she's coming to meet me, I quickly turn off my computer and race to beat her to the truck.

...

            When we reach the store, choosing which flavor of ice cream she wants proves to be a daunting task for Molly.

            She stands staring at all of the options while the woman serving us taps her nails impatiently on the glass counter top as she waits for her to decide. Molly finally settles on peanut butter. I get mint chocolate chip.

            As the woman is scooping our ice creams, Molly gets this queasy look on her face. She's staring into the woman's eyes, but when I look I don't see anything strange or upsetting in them. They're plain blue eyes; not nearly as beautiful as Molly's, which are a light brown with golden flecks and a green ringing around the pupils.

            "Molly, are you alright?" I ask her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She tears her eyes away from the woman and looks at me. She gasps and nearly drops her ice cream cone.

            She swallows convulsively. "I'm fine." She lies unconvincingly.

            As soon as I have my ice cream, I take her hand and lead her to one of the picnic tables outside the store.

            "You looked a little freaked in there." I comment.

            "I keep thinking I'm seeing things." She murmurs.

            "What kind of things?"

            "People with fangs and claws, and...and yellow eyes." She confesses. A blush creeps up her cheeks, and for once it's not adorable.

            "Will you excuse me?" I ask her briskly. I rise from the table and toss my half eaten ice cream cone into the trash can. I push open the door to the ice cream shop and walk up to the counter. The woman turns to face me.

            "Can I help you?" She asks me pleasantly

            "Are you one of them?" I demand.

            "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." She replies innocently. "Am I one of what?"

            I bare my elongated canines at her. I don't have the time or patience for this.

            "Ooh, scary." She coos sarcastically. "You're just a puppy, aren't you? How cute!"

            I growl at the insult. "Who are you?" I ask her.

            "Marissa Poole, the twenty fifth." She introduces herself. "You do know who that girl you're with is, don't you?"

            "You mean Molly? What about her?"

            Marissa leans forward and whispers. "She's the thirty first."

            I narrow my eyes. No, it isn't possible. 

            "She can't be!" I exclaim. "Her birthday is-"

            "March sixteenth. She was born early."

            "Her brothers-"

            "Were turned by their mother." She finishes. "I'm surprised you figured that out on your own, since you didn't recognize me right away.

            "Don't go befouling your girlfriend, by the way. She has to be pure for the ritual to work."

            I stare at her. What is she talking about? I know that there is a special werewolf prophesized to be born on the thirty first of the month, but I don't know anything about a ritual. 

            "What ritual?" I ask.

            She laughs in my face. "Sorry, pup; you're not a part of the Pack."

            I extend my claws and clamp them down in the back of her hand. She gasps in pain.

            "What ritual?" I repeat, trying to sound and appear menacing.

            Marissa grits her teeth and glares at me. "The one to raise Ruem." She grunts.        

            I remove my claws from her hand. She has five deep, bleeding cuts. She clutches her hand to her chest. The skin begins to mend itself, and then all that's left are five jagged scars and streaks of blood. She goes over to the sink and rinses off her hand.

            "If you want her so badly, then why don't you take her now?" I demand. Not that I'd let Marissa have her.

            She sneers at me. "The timing isn't right." She snarls. "But mark my words, Jasper Cunningham, when the time comes, not you nor those pesky brothers of hers will be able to protect her."

            I don't reply. I turn away from her so she won't see my reaction, and walk out the door.

            "She will be ours, and Ruem will rise!" She cries as I exit.

            Molly hops up from the picnic table at my reappearance.

            "Is everything alright? What happened?" She demands anxiously.

            I shake my head at her and say nothing. I offer her my hand, and she accepts it. We drive back to the farmhouse in silence. She keeps glancing over at me, waiting for me to say something, but I don't know what to say, and I'm lost in my own thoughts. When we arrive, I park, help her out of the truck, kiss her on her cheek, and then leave her.

            When I look back, she's standing there staring at me, her face full of confusion and longing. I force myself to look away. I can't even offer her a smile of reassurance.

...

            The farmhouse has a small library. It was built by my father for my mother for their tenth anniversary; an addition onto the farmhouse they bought as a newlywed couple. My mother's an avid reader. Molly loves to read, too. I discovered that during her first week here when I mentioned the library to her. I'd never seen anyone so eager to see a bunch of dusty old books.

            It isn't a room I very often visit, but this afternoon I have a reason to. My eyes scan every shelf until I find it; a book on werewolf lore.

            I plop down into one of the plush chairs in the library, the one closest to the fire, and leaf through the book until my gaze lands on the passage I am searching for:

 

            Ruem is a demon who is the progenitor of the werewolf species. In the 15th century he rose from hell and wandered the Earth in wolf form, infecting humans with lycanthropy, better known now as the Wolf's Curse. The Curse spreads through bites, but more specifically through the passage of saliva. Once infected, the human will, upon every full moon, transform into a wolf. With time and experience, the lycanthrope can learn to control their transformations so that they can change at will.

            God cast Ruem back to Hell in the 16th century, but his Curse continued to spread. Over time, however, the packs were systematically eliminated. The last Pack worships Ruem. They are slowly building their ranks so that they can complete the ritual which will lead to his second rising on All Hallow's Eve, the year of two thousand and thirteen.

            The years is symbolic because twenty is twice of ten, and considered to be the ideal time of waiting, and thirteen is the reverse of thirty one. The month and date are important because Ruem's followers believe that the night of All Hallow's Eve is when the veil between Heaven, Hell, and earth is at its thinnest.

            The ritual requires the sacrifice of the thirty first human of the last Pack to be turned. The thirty first must be born on the thirty first of the month, and they must be pure.

            When Ruem rises again, he will infect every human he deems worthy of his Curse. Those he does not, he will destroy. 

 

            I swallow hard and shut the book. I rise mechanically and place it back on the shelf where it belongs. The girl I've fallen in love with is destined to raise a demon from Hell that will destroy humanity...But it can't possibly be Molly. Then again, she once told me she was supposed to have been born on the thirty first of May. And surely her mother hadn't meant to turn her sons, just as my own never intended to turn me. Christian, Jaden, and I are all accidental werewolves. If none of us had been turned, there would be only thirty, which would leave one spot open for Molly. But that spot was filled by one of her brothers. I wonder which one.

            So what happens if the three of us are killed? I muse. Does that mean Molly can still be the thirty first? I've heard that name ever since I was turned the previous year, and even before that, when my parents whispered late at night when they thought I was asleep in my bed. I never understood what they meant. Now I do, and I wish more than anything that Molly and I had stayed at the farmhouse today. I wish we hadn't gone out for ice cream, that Molly hadn't confided in me about her strange visions, that I hadn't spoken to Marissa, and that I'd never opened that blasted book.

            I know what I have to do. The mere thought pains me, but I have to kill Molly. It's the only way to save the world. If Molly is dead, then she can't be used in the ritual, and the demon Ruem can't rise up and destroy humanity. I'll be broken hearted, but I'll be a hero.

            Why does it have to be Molly, though? Why not one of her brothers? I wouldn't mind sinking my canines into them.

            If only they knew what I'm about to do...