The gleam of the knives as I pass them to Parker and Sarah, my other best friend, reflects into my eyes and I flinch. Sarah squints at it through her glasses as if it’s a foreign object, holding it delicately in her hands. Parker seems to be taking in a more detailed observation of it, staring at it with an intense look in his eyes.
“And why do you just happen to have these knives?” Sarah asks. After doing a bit of research over werewolves last night, I found that the most likely things to hurt them is going to be either silver or Aconitum, also known as wolfsbane. I could only get my hands on the silver, so before we leave in next weekend I want to make sure everyone who will take one, has one. Logan refuses to take one, though I wish she would. At least Sarah and Parker believe me, or at least value me enough to go along with it like they do.
“My dad had a collection of silver knives and some other things when he was alive and we just kept them. I found them in a box in his office.”
The one I gave to Parker is a long, silver dagger, with a small symbol at the bottom near the handle. I gave Sarah the same, except it’s a bit smaller. I question giving her one at all considering her expression, but I want her to have something to protect herself with. I’m not sure what the one I have is called, but it folds shut and has a sharp, curved blade that looks like it could be quite deadly if used correctly. I hand them both cases for their daggers so they have a place to put them.
“And your dad had a collection of silver knives because….?” Sarah asks.
“I don’t know. He just liked knives, I guess,” I shrug. “Why does your dad have a picture of himself posing with a goat in your living room?”
“Touche,” she relents, giving a small nod.
“What’s with the symbols on them?” Parker speaks up, before we can say anything else. “I don’t think I’ve seen any like them before.” He points at the symbol I noticed earlier: a circle with several marks surrounding the outer edges and a small line inside of it as well. Even though it’s most likely not Chinese, all I can think of is those tattoos of random Chinese symbols I’ve seen people get on their bodies.
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “It’s on all of them back at my house. A brand symbol or something, I guess.”
“Huh,” Parker says. He slides the dagger into its brown leather case. “They’re strange.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “And please don’t just be waving these around like idiots; only pull them out if you have to. Like if something attacks you.”
"Yeah, yeah," Sarah says, waving me away. "We got this. Right, Parker?" She nudges him with her elbow a bit too hard, causing the hand that's holding his knife to shift. The blade slices the skin between his thumb and forefinger, leaving a tiny slit with blood oozing out. I close my eyes, sighing and wondering I chose to put weapons into these two's hands.
"Seriously, guys? Already? Hold on, Parker," I say, stretching across the floor for my backpack. "I got a band-aid in my bag." I dig around in my backpack, searching for my miniature first-aid kit that I carry with me, which I find at the very bottom after a moment.
"Okay, that was a one-time thing," Sarah says, pointing a finger at me. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and hand Parker the bandage--a small butterfly one to keep the cut from gaping open.
"Thanks, Jules," Parker says as he takes the bandage from me. He gets to his feet, holding onto the cut with his other hand to keep blood from dripping onto the white carpet, and glares at Sarah. "I'm gonna go wash my hands," he tells her, his voice laced with poison.
"Sorry, hun," she calls to him as he heads towards her door. He stops, peering at her out of the corner of his eyes.
"I'm not your hun," he growls, though I see the faint smile on his lips before he walks out. I smile at their conversation, cleaning off Parker's dagger with a tissue before sheathing it for him, as Sarah does with hers. Thank God.
"Okay, so....is what you said earlier true?" Sarah asks, getting serious for a second. "That that man who attacked you was...was a werewolf?" She pushes the frame of her glasses up on her nose as it droops down a bit.
"Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm really not messing with you guys. Do you believe me? Logan didn't, but then again I don't really blame her. I'm not sure I would believe it either."
Sarah lets out a breath, blowing her long black hair out of her face. "I mean, I feel kind of idiotic saying that I believe in werewolves, but...I believe you. And if you say you saw one, then you probably saw one. Although, I'm not gonna admit that to anyone else until I see one with my own eyes."
"Thanks," I say, a warm feeling flooding my chest at the sound of those words coming from Sarah. She can never be serious for very long, but I know that she'll always back me up if anything ever happens. "Can you help me back into my wheelchair?"
"Sure thing." Sarah rolls my wheelchair over from her bed, leaving a short trail on her carpet. It takes work, but she manages to lift my upper body enough to get me in the chair, dragging my limp legs across the floor like a doll. Then, she helps get my legs adjusted so they're resting on the pedals and I thank her when she's done.
Parker comes waltzing back in, his right hand now freshly bandaged and a smile on his face. "I just thought of something funny. What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?
I doubt this is actually going to be funny, I think, but roll along with it anyway.
"A vampire with pneumonia," Sarah says, so fast to answer that Parker barely gets the question out.
"An inbred," I guess immediately after. Parker shakes his head at both our answers.
"Ugh," Sarah groans, while I grab a pillow from the end of her bed and throw it at him.
"Get that out of here," I say. He deflects the pillow with his arm while laughing.
"Do--" Sarah starts, but the sound of a duck call interrupts her. We make eye contact, squinting at each other in confusion before looking to Parker. He seems to realize that the sound is coming from him and pulls his phone out of his jean's pocket.
"Hello?" he answers.
Of course his ringtone is a duck call.
Parker continues his conversation on the phone while Sarah lays face-down on her bed beside me, her body splayed out like a starfish.
"Uh-huh," Parker says, pausing between words while he listens to the other speaker. "Okay.....alright. I'll be there in a second....Yeah....Bye." He taps the screen, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "I gotta go. My mom needs me to watch Lizzy."
Lizzy, Parker's younger sister, is around nine years old. I'm guessing that his mom must've been called in for work or something similar, and now he has to go and watch her. Though young, that girl has more sarcasm than all the angsty teenagers at my school. And I find her hilarious.
"Alright," I say. I almost wish I could go just to hear some of the comments his sister is likely going to make. "And hey, are you guys sure you want to go to the cabin next weekend? I don't know what's gonna happen and I might be putting you in danger by asking. So, if you don't want to go, that's fine." I glance back and forth between the two of them, waiting to see their reaction.
"Oh, we're going," Parker says, looking at Sarah. She nods in agreement. "There's no way we're just gonna stay at home while all this stuff is happening. If anything happens anyway. We got yo back."
I smile, relief and worry both flooding over me. I can't decide whether I'm happy they're coming, or whether I've made a mistake and shouldn't be dragging them into this. "Thanks, I guess."
Parker picks up his large gym bag from the floor and pulls the strap over his shoulder, getting ready to leave. "You bet. See you guys later," he waves.
"Au revoir," Sarah says, at the same time as I tell him goodbye. I watch his broad figure as he exits the room, shutting Sarah's white door behind him. Although I don't really think about it, as I've always seen him as a brotherly figure, he's gotten pretty muscular since joining the football team. Attractive, too, with the honey-colored hair and hazel eyes. It's almost surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend, but I guess that's more than likely because he doesn't want one.
"You still staying at my house tonight?" Sarah asks me. She rolls off of her bed and walks over to her tv, getting the remote to turn it on.
"Yeah," I nod, though my mind has now drifted to the fact that I just invited my closest friends to what could possibly turn into a complete massacre. Seriously, is a knife enough to protect them from a werewolf? We know practically nothing about these creatures; we don't even know if the one from the alley was the only one. There could be tens, hundreds for all I know. And I just dragged my friends into something that should've only been about Logan and me. Who knows what's going to happen next weekend, but I'm clearly an idiot for thinking that bringing my friends along is a good idea. All I have is blind hope that everyone's going to make it out of this alive.
Why the fuck did I do that?