Thought of this small acceptance pushed back the gloom, and she bounded up to fetch her backpack and have another look. She should leave the magazine open on the kitchen table for Mom to see tomorrow before she went to work. Would she recognize her daughter's art? Would she be proud?

The magazine smelled glossy and was cool in her hands. She found her print and devoured the sheen of it, crisp and stark. And will those girls at school notice me now? she thought.

She hadn't even bothered to see who she shared space with. Is my work better than the others'? she wondered now. A poem was on the page opposite hers. She looked at it suspiciously. A crappy poem would lessen what she'd done, make it cheap.

The title startled her - "Wolf Change." She read on.

Corsair of the wood

discard your skin

your pallid, wormlike

vulnerability.

Corsair of the wood

exchange your skin

for pelt of dun

and brindle luxury.

A pentagram is burning

in your eyes

and soft, pale twists

of wolfbane

squeeze your heart.

A grinding pain

is writhing in your thighs

the crunch of bones

proclaims the change's start.

Pirate of the flesh

throw back your head

and part your jowls

to sing a lunar song.

The forest paths are dark

the night is long.

She shivered in delicious shock.

He knows, she thought. He knows what's in the picture. Anger edged out the excitement and her eyes narrowed. Who was this Aiden Teague? Why should he know forest paths?

But she was intrigued. Maybe she should seek him out and have a look at this person who wrote of the crunch of bones, see if she approved of him.

And what if she didn't? Set the Five on him? She laughed softly, baring sharp white teeth.

Chapter 2

2

The morning was tentatively warm, and the smell of early roses drifted over from a neighbor's yard. The day would be hot later; she was glad she'd decided to wear shorts. Not much school left now, Vivian thought as she walked down the tree-lined street. What will I do in the summer? Move, she hoped. Get out of this place.

"Hey, Viv."

A lean, muscular figure peeled out from behind a stone gatepost, and her eyes widened briefly. "Rafe," she said in casual greeting, and kept on walking. If she hadn't been daydreaming she would have sniffed him out.

Rafe fell in beside her. She noticed that he was now cultivating a goatee and mustache. He ran a hand through his thick, long brown hair and shifted his grip on a package wrapped in newspaper he carried under one arm. "Going to school?"

"Some of us do."

The Five were more likely to be found hanging out by the diner around the corner from school, or down by the river.

"Yaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Whoooooooooooooooo!"

Two boys dropped from a roadside tree in a jingling of chains, hair flying. This time she did start slightly, and cursed herself. She should have known the others were near. The twins, Willem and Finn, looked pleased with themselves. Round-faced Willem slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a friendly squeeze. "Didn't scare you, did we?" he asked, obviously hoping he had.

"You are such a puppy," Vivian said, removing his arm. He'd been her favorite of the twins as they were growing up. He was sweeter and more predictable than his brother, but his affectionate gestures had lost a great deal of their innocence in the last year or so.

Finn, the gaunter twin, smiled sardonically.

She was expecting the others now, so it came as no surprise when Gregory, the twins' lanky, fair-haired cousin, stepped silently out from behind another tree and folded in with them, and Ulf hopped over a white picket fence to dance his jittery way backward up the side-walk, laughing wildly, until Rafe cuffed him to the rear.

They wore their usual uniform of boots, black jeans, T-shirts, and assorted tattoos. Rafe had his sleeves rolled up to show off his biceps. My bodyguards, Vivian thought.

"Saw your mother go into Tooley's bar with Gabriel last night," Finn said. "She was all over him." His lips sketched a spiteful thin leer, and his eyes narrowed expectantly.

Vivian bristled, but she wasn't going to say anything.

"Yeah, Astrid wasn't far behind," said Rafe. "And she looked pissed." He laughed.

"Hey, leave my mom out of it," Ulf piped up.

So that's who they were fighting over, Vivian thought. Gabriel. That was disgusting. He was only twenty-four. And full of himself, from what she could tell.

Rafe took the parcel he carried out from beneath his arm, and Vivian heard Ulf giggle. Rafe pulled at the knotted string to loosen it. His eyes were more red than brown when he glanced up at her, a wicked grin playing about his lips, and Vivian knew he was up to mischief.

"Vivian, I'd like to give you my heart," Rafe said, suddenly serious, then immediately grinning again. "But since that might be inconvenient, I've brought you someone else's."

The newspaper unrolled, and he slapped a brown slimy gob down on the sidewalk.

"Rafe!" She looked around wildly, hoping no neighbors were in sight. "What the hell are you up to?"

The Five were helpless with laughter.

Vivian grabbed the newspaper from Rafe's hand and scooped up the mess.

"Give you my heart ..." he gasped, and bent over laughing again.

Where could she put this? Where was the body?

She started to rewrap the disgusting trophy. Then, "Rafe, you jerk," she cried. "This is a sheep's heart."

More howls of laughter exploded from the Five.

She didn't know whether to be angry or relieved. "You were over at Uncle Rudy's store, weren't you?" Rudy was a meat cutter at Safeway. When no one answered her, she growled and flung the whole package in Rafe's face. That set the others off even worse. Ulf had tears in his eyes.

She turned and left them, but they followed at a distance anyway, and she heard their bursts of laughter all the way to school.

Mom thinks the Five have learned their lesson, Vivian thought. "Hah!" she said out loud.

When Axel had come home from jail, her father had passed judgment swiftly. The punishment for endangering the pack was death.

Vivian couldn't save Axel, but she pleaded with her father for the Five. They were just kids like her. They had only killed to prove the witness wrong and protect the secret of the pack. They wouldn't do it again. So Ivan Gandillon made them beg forgiveness of the Moon and run the Trial of the Fang down a narrow path lined with the pack in their fur, and all could take their bites. Some said that he let the Five off too lightly, although they licked their wounds for weeks. Maybe those people were right. Vivian hadn't quite trusted the Five ever since.

It wasn't until almost lunchtime that Vivian remembered that she wanted to track down Aiden Teague.

Yeah, why don't I have a look at this poet, she told herself. See if I like him writing about things he shouldn't know about. That was better than sitting around being miserable. Where should she look? She decided to ask her art teacher. He was one of the advisers to The Trumpet.

"Oh, yeah. He's a junior," Mr. Antony said, shaking some brushes out over the art-room sink.

"How would I find him?" Vivian asked.

"Well, if you hang around for another half an hour until second lunch, all you'll have to do is look out that window. He hangs out with his friends in the quadrangle, under those arches over there." He pointed with the brushes to a section of the covered walkway that ran around the perimeter of the square courtyard.

"What does he look like?"

"Oh, I dunno. He's tall, bohemian."

Whatever that means, she thought.

Mr. Antony must have noticed her blank look. "You know, a throwback to the sixties, jeans and beads, an MTV hippie."

The way he said that made her suspect that he thought he'd been the real thing at one time.

"Oh, I know," the teacher added. "He was wearing this flowery shirt this morning - lots of yellow and blue. It made me smile. Listen, I've got to grab a sandwich. Close the door when you leave."

"Sure."

Luckily she'd brought her lunch with her. She relaxed on the warm windowsill and chewed on a piece of steak while she waited. Groups of kids were scattered across the quad, eating, talking, and sunbathing. Some of the boys had their shirts off, their flesh golden and slick as if they'd swallowed the sun. They were sweet to look upon. Her eyes lingered on them tenderly as she bit into her meat.

At the next bell, the shift changed. Kids reluctantly scooped up T-shirts, soda cans, and books, and hurried to class, while others hardly distinguishable from them took their places.

I'll be late to French, Vivian thought. It didn't matter, the teacher loved her. She had a perfect accent. Vivian sat upright, and her hands kneaded her empty lunch bag. She kept her eye on the arches.

Two young men walked into view. One had dark, shoulder-length hair and wore a flowered shirt. That must be him. Another boy joined them, then a girl. They stood laughing under the canopy, the shadows hiding their faces.

So that'd you, Poet Boy, Vivian thought, but she couldn't see him clearly. She wanted a closer look.

Why am I bothering? she asked herself as she went through the side door. Because I'm a pirate of the night and I want to see who's trespassing in my territory, she answered. But maybe he was one of her kind from some other pack. Or maybe he just knows too much, she thought. She laughed aloud at her melodramatic thoughts as she crossed the grass, and a spotty tenth-grader eyed her curiously. The sun was hot, so she peeled off her shirt to reveal the tank top underneath.

Shall I only have a look, or will I say something? she wondered. "Ooooh I loved your poem." Instantly she felt like playing wicked games. She put a sway in her walk. Maybe I'll make him look.

The boy to Aiden's left noticed her first. He was a burly blond with a good-natured face and eyes that glazed over slightly at her approach. Vivian couldn't resist, she winked, and his cheeks turned pink. It was so easy. The other kid, wearing some kind of funny lopsided haircut, kept on yakking away, but the girl looked over and wrinkled her nose. She was small, with close-cropped dark hair - the sort of girl that wore black stockings even on days like these. I'll put a few more runs in those tights, honey, if you look at me like that again, Vivian promised silently.

Then Aiden Teague turned around to see what had captured his friends' attention. The crystal stud in his left ear reflected the sun in a burst of rainbow, and his slow easy smile sent a shock through her.

She was staring, she knew, but his face was delicious. His eyes were amused and dreamy, as if observing life from the outside and finding it vaguely funny. He seemed languid, not intense like the Five  -  those jangly, nervy, twitching, squirming, fighting, snapping, sharp-edged creatures who demanded so much from her. She noticed his tall dancer's frame and his long-fingered hands, and the thought crossed her mind that she would enjoy him touching her.

"Do I know you?" he asked. He waited expectantly, a bemused look on his face.

Chapter 3

3

Vivian said the first thing that came into her head. "Um. I liked your poem in The Trumpet." I don't believe that stupid sentence came out of my mouth, she thought.

"Hey, thanks," Aiden said. He still looked puzzled.

He'd not a werewolf, she thought in dismay. How can I react this way when he'd not one of us? His smell of sweet perspiration and soap was purely human. Get a grip, girl, Vivian told herself. She didn't like this off-balance feeling. She put a hand on her hip and dared his dark eyes to try and drown her now. "Your poem was facing a print of mine. I was glad I wasn't next to some trash."

The blond kid brayed with laughter.

"Shut up, Quince," Aiden said, but he grinned.

"That was like some forest scene, wasn't it?" the kid with the funny haircut said. "Spooky, man."

The dark-haired girl put a hand on Aiden's arm. "Bingo's waiting for us."

"Hold on, Kelly." Aiden gently disengaged his arm, and the girl frowned sulkily. "Cool picture," he said to Vivian. "It's like you read my mind."

"That's what I thought about your poem," Vivian answered. Her response to him was disturbing but she wanted to explore it. She took his hand and turned it up, then ran her nails down the length of his fingers. He didn't resist.

"What are you going to do, tell my fortune?" Aiden asked.

"Yes," she answered. She slid a felt pen from her purse. Then, while he watched mesmerized, she wrote her phone number in his palm. On a whim she outlined it with a five-pointed star.

"What's that?" Quince said. "You Jewish or something?"

"Nah," said Aiden softly. "That's a pentagram."

"So she's a witch," Kelly snapped.

No, my dear, Vivian thought. You don't watch enough Late-night movies. The person who sees a pentagram in his palm becomes a werewolf's victim.

"Are you a witch?" Aiden asked, his eyes twinkling.

Her voice was husky. "Why don't you find out?" She folded his hand around the sign that made him hers. Inside, her heart was thumping crazily in response to her charade, but she refused to lose her nerve.

As she walked away she heard Kelly raise her voice, but she didn't bother listening. Was that his girlfriend then? He could do better. Much better.

All afternoon her thoughts returned to him like a song she couldn't get out of her head. After a while it became annoying. What am I, a pervert? she asked herself. He was human, for Moon's sake - half a person.