Hunting Human - Amanda E. Alvarez [61]
“You believed them?”
Braden’s soft question plowed into her. “Of course I did!”
He jerked back as if the force of her anger had been a physical blow. “They were perfectly logical. Werewolves don’t exist. They’re figments of our imagination. Caricatures of fear. When that didn’t convince me, they pointed out that I’d been bitten. I had two dozen stitches and a round of rabies vaccines to prove it.” Her anger abandoned her in a whoosh, leaving her hollow and exhausted. “A month passed. A full moon come and gone. I never changed. So logically…”
“It’s one of many misconceptions. It often takes months for the symptoms to manifest.” Mr. Edwards leaned back into his chair, as if allowing her a little space to deal with the revelation. “Lycanthropy is like a disease in many regards, and like a disease, it takes time to incubate, to fully affect the body.”
Beth glanced up. The question on the tip of her tongue must have been written on her face because she didn’t have to voice it.
“There’s no stopping it from taking hold. No cure once bitten.”
Beth nodded and looked away, staring vacantly at the far wall. She hadn’t thought there would be.
“How did you end up in Portland?” He left the and in my son’s bed unvoiced.
Beth lifted her gaze and tilted her head.
I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.
“I’d been attending outpatient therapy for months. I started trying to put my life back together. I went to the gym. Ate regular meals. Slept four or five hours at a stretch. I started considering getting a job or going back to school.” Beth remembered those months, walking through the days like a wraith, barely existing.
“Then the full moon came again and I changed.” Ghostly sensations of the terror that had ripped through her when the first fierce spasms of the shift wrenched her to the ground slid through her again. “I couldn’t hide from it any longer. And I couldn’t stay in Boston. It wasn’t fair to Rachel’s family. Less than a week later, I packed up my car and started across the country. I started going by Beth. I took seasonal jobs. Moved around a lot. Every time I’d get settled in a new city, start to know my way around, I’d get restless and leave again. I don’t know why.”
“You stuck to the big cities on the West Coast, right?” Braden interjected.
“I went to Denver first. Spent about a month looking for Allison. I’d hoped…” she shrugged.
“That you weren’t alone,” Mr. Edwards supplied. “You never found her?”
“No. So I moved to L.A., then San Francisco. Thought about trying San Diego, but came here instead.” Beth caught Braden’s gaze and let all of her hurt and anger swim across her face. “Portland was the first place I actually thought about staying. I liked working at Angie’s, liked Angie and Marianne. And then I switched to the morning shift and you walked in, and I liked you, too.” She felt heat infusing her cheeks and angry, betrayed tears burn at the corners of her eyes. She jerked her face away from him. “I had no idea.”
Mr. Edwards nodded his assent, seeming to accept her words as truth. “I can at least shed a little light onto why you felt as restless as you did. It’s fairly uncommon to find our kind in large cities. In fact, most of the North American Werewolf population resides in places like Alaska, Canada and the northwest portion of the U.S. There are also some small pockets and groups tucked in around the Rockies. Most of us aren’t cut out for city life. It’s too hectic. Too loud. Too closed in and polluted. It often results in that itchy, restless feeling you described. You probably mistook it for fear.”
“Yeah.