As they entered the house, a cruel silence between them, Maeve's hand shot to her neck and rubbed it for what might have been the fiftieth time. She flinched. The roughness of her skin, as well as the mean scars she had felt on it before, were gone. She had healed.
Maeve couldn't tell if the healing had been gradual or not because past the first couple of times she had fondled her neck, she had barely been feeling for the texture. She managed what might have been a scoff.
At least she wouldn't have to explain what had happened to her neck now. Roddy and Billy had likely gone to bed already, a fact that Maeve was truly grateful for. The latter would have probably spotted the anomalous condition of her skin the second he laid eyes on her. Besides, Maeve didn't feel like being probed by kids, not right now.
As for being poked by Mr and Mrs. Page, however, there was no chance of escape. As soon as the pair spotted Maeve, the wolven girl was reminded of where Bridget's fussy nature came from. The sweet, plump Mrs. Page rushed up to her, a look somewhere between deep concern and frustration on her face.
"Oh, dear! Have you any idea how worried we were?" she said with a face softer than her tone. Her eyes ran over Maeve's figure. "Where were you? We thought the worst when you didn't answer your calls."
Mr Page was next.
His face was even softer than his spouse's.
"We're glad you're home," he said. "And by the looks of it, I don't buy that you were out on a reckless adventure." This inference was somehow drawn from the look on Bridget's face, Maeve thought. She herself had wiped out any evidence that she had been crying a minute ago.
"She wasn't. I was wrong," Bridget reassured and admitted to her father before turning to Maeve and forcing her to sit in the lounge. Only when everyone had settled down did Bridget say to Maeve, "Mind telling us what happened?"
Maeve had dreaded this.
She couldn't tell the truth, but she couldn't flat-out lie either. She didn't think she could stomach the guilt. She was already having a hard time weathering the boiling shots of fright in her throat.
She glanced at Bridget.
Under no circumstances could she ever reveal what she was to her. The last thing she needed was for her friend to think she was mad, or worse, a freak.
"I…I got kidnapped," the words were out of her mouth before Maeve could stop them.
Mrs. Page clapped her hands to her mouth while Mr. Page wore a scowl. Bridget turned white as a sheet.
Maeve was equally horrified by their reactions. They were warranted, moreso than even they knew, but the last thing she wanted was for them to get involved – reporting to the police and getting an investigation going.
"I-It's okay. I was… ah fu-, damn, it was just some stupid joke. I was detained by these stupid teenagers. I fell for their stupid trick. They wanted me to play some game. They said it was for their blog or something. They were very persistent. They stalked me through the whole supermarket until I agreed and then they wouldn't let me leave until I did as they asked. It was pretty harmless for the most part," she said as convincingly as she could.
No one believed her – she could tell.
Mrs. Page held her hand, her eyes glistening.
"Dear…" she said.
Maeve whipped her hand out of her grasp, knowing full well that didn't help her case.
"I'm sorry. I'm…I'm really tired." She was looking down, then she was standing, then she walking away, trying her damndest to fight off the demon by her ear, telling her she was being quite rude for a freeloader.
"Goodnight, Maeve." Mr. Page's words empowered the demon.
Maeve didn't bother changing into her 'pyjamas'. She covered herself in the sheets and grew still. She heard mumblings downstairs. A moment later, the muffled voices were clear to her ear when she exercised the slightest effort to listen.
"…said, I know. Maeve isn't that type of girl. But I don't think she will tell us what really happened. Did she say anything to you?" Mr. Page was saying.
"No. She just… started crying. Maeve never cries," Bridget said.
"So, what do we do? I'm scared to think something really traumatizing happened to her and she's not accustomed to sharing, not with the kind she's had to live with before. We should call the police. She'll thank us later."
Maeve shuddered at Mrs. Page's words.
"No. The police could make it worse. They'll want to talk to her, and if she's uncomfortable sharing with us what happened, she'll most likely not want to sit down with them either. I have a friend, a private investigator. I'll have him look into it. In the meantime, we'll wait and see if Maeve feels like opening up. Give her some space. Especially you, Brie."
Maeve pressed against herself. She felt a little relieved. Only a little. But that much didn't allow to her to find the nerve to sleep. When Bridget entered the bedroom and prepped for bed, she pretended to already be asleep.
A "Goodnight" from Bridget as she turned off the light and climbed into her bed gave Maeve a quiver though.
She didn't answer it.
She spent hours awake.
All the sounds in and outside the house seemed to press on her ears just as her thoughts drowned her brain. Neither bothered her or rather, one counteracted the other. For every bit of chatter Maeve heard from three houses away, thoughts about what Aaron and Ryan were doing with Jake were swept away like mist. For every vision of cloaked old hags with yellowing teeth, pasty skin, and long, crooked wands, the vicious bark of a dog from a block away was shut out.
But then a howl broke through all sound and thought. The howl was so loud, so near. It was both terrifying and reassuring. Maeve felt it ring outside and also inside – within her very bones.
She scrambled to the window before she knew what she was doing. Everything was dark inside the house, but also on the street. The lights from every house had gone out and even the moon brokered no light.
A lone, soft, mobile glow broke through the darkness, however. Its teal hue had a shape, a shape that was calling upward in a howl while sitting on its haunches. The howl of the wolf ended almost as soon as Maeve looked down at it from the window.
The creature looked at her, its yellow eyes gleaming. The intensity of the stare stole away Maeve's strength. She collapsed, feeling feeble and frail, but the ground didn't receive her. Instead, she fell almost endlessly into darkness until she was reunited with horrors.