Chapter Three

I am not an expert hair cutter.

In fact, I was a first-time hair cutter. But I had Tad's permission and a strong desire to free his forehead from its emo hair prison, so I figured hey, how hard could it be?

We set up a chair in one of the upstairs bathrooms. I decided it would be easier to clean up in here than in my room, and also that it would be convenient to be near a sink. You were supposed to wet hair before you cut it, right?

My dad kept a collection of combs, toothbrushes, and other toiletries in the hall closet for whenever we had impromptu guests. Which was often. I grabbed a comb and ran it under the tap before working through Tad's hair, which was a ridiculous mess. In fact, in the time it took me to grab the comb and come back, I swear it had gotten messier.

But oh well. All the more reason to set to work.

I kept wetting the comb and running it through Tad's dark hair until the strands were damp, straight-ish, and as tangle-free as I could manage. As I set the comb down and picked up the scissors, I caught sight of Tad in the mirror and realized that his eyes were closed. Some of the weariness in his expression had fallen away. There were still dark circles under his eyes, but he no longer looked about a thousand years old. Good.

I felt a little nervous as I turned back and assessed the layers of his hair. Someone had done a good job on it at some point. I was totally about to ruin that.

"Just don't cut my ear off," Tad said. He'd opened his eyes and caught sight of my expression in the mirror.

"As if I could miss them," I said, giving one of his ears a tug.

Tad smiled - a real smile.

Here's the thing about Tad: he's not conventionally attractive. His ears stick out too far, and his nose is all flat and smushed like he's been in one too many boxing matches. But there's still something about him that I, personally, would call attractive. Something that makes you want to pay attention to him.

He has charisma.

He wasn't putting out the charisma right now, but maybe because I knew it was there, I felt like it was something I could still sense in him. It made him easy to be around. It also helped that right now he looked at ease. In fact, he looked more relaxed than I'd seen him in...well, maybe ever. Tad and I didn't exactly get a lot of quality chill-time together. I liked seeing him like this, though. Almost more than when he was putting on the charm.

"Well?" Tad said.

"Right," I said. I'd better dive in before I lost my nerve.

I picked up what looked like an unimportant lock of hair in the back and went snip. Then I went in for a couple more. Snip, snip. I figured if I started from the bottom and worked my way up, I'd figure out some sort of technique before I got to the bits people actually paid attention to. You know...hopefully.

I'd always imagined that cutting girls' hair would be harder, because there's usually so much more of it - and also girls have a tendency to freak out if you cut it too short. But I decided as I went along that cutting guys' hair was actually way trickier. There was only so much room for error before you got all the way to the scalp. And I wasn't exactly using fine-snip barber's scissors or whatever.

I did my best, though, working my way methodically around Tad's head. It was actually kind of relaxing once I got into the groove. There was something soothing about running my fingers through the soft, thick hair and snipping off the unruly bits before moving on to the next section.

Midway through, I realized Tad had closed his eyes again. He wasn't smiling, exactly, but he looked restful. A little thrill of triumph went through me. I started humming as I worked my way toward the front, finally ready to face off against the bits that had been driving me bonkers. As I positioned myself in front of Tad to attack his emo bangs, I realized he was tapping his fingers against his leg in time with the song I was humming. I couldn't keep a stupid grin off my face as I went in for the locks that were currently holding his eyebrows hostage.

I emerged victorious.

I walked back around, taking a final evaluation of my handiwork. The haircut didn't look totally professional, but it didn't look like somebody had just randomly hacked at it with a pair of scissors, either. It looked basically the same as it had before, only shorter and more intentional. I couldn't resist running my hand through it one more time. At this, Tad let out a sigh. It wasn't heavy or dark, like the sighs he'd been letting out during the Tale of Kid Groper. It sounded...content.

Tingles shot through my fingers and ran all the way up my arm, then all the way over the rest of me. I stepped away, confused. I had to clear my throat before I could get out, "All done."

Tad opened his eyes. He seemed reluctant for it to be over. I guessed I was, too. Although that was kind of weird, wasn't it? It was just a haircut.

Tad looked in the mirror, swiveling his head from side to side to see the result. He said something in German I didn't understand, but I assumed it was complimentary because it didn't sound like any of the curse words I'd heard him use from time to time. "Nice job, Jesse."

"Thanks. Feel free to call anytime you have an emo hair emergency."

Tad met my gaze through the mirror. "Or the next time I need to dye my hair for Gryffindor spirit week."

I rolled my eyes. My current red-and-gold hair combo hadn't been inspired by Harry Potter. But I didn't mind the association.

"I'll clean this up," Tad said, standing and gesturing at all the hair clippings on the floor.

"You don't have to."

"You didn't have to cut my hair, either."

"It was more like a public service."

Now Tad rolled his eyes. "Really. I don't mind."

"All right," I said. "Well...thanks."

Then, because it seemed weird to linger while he cleaned up his own hair, I retreated to my room.

I flopped on my bed, but I didn't reach for my list. I didn't try to make any clever deductions, either. I just stared at the ceiling and played everything over in my head again.

"What. Was. That?" I demanded.

The ceiling had no opinions.

Izzy would have had lots of opinions. But I decided I didn't want her input on this yet. Or possibly ever. After all, it was probably nothing. I mean...it was Tad. And he was older. And I didn't know very much about his life since he'd gone off to college. And...

I shut my eyes and thought of that last moment before it ended. Right before I'd stepped away in confusion.

The tingles started in my fingertips and ran all the way over me again.

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a shrill alarm and the smell of something burning. I barely had time to turn on my bedside lamp before Warren burst into my room and threw the window wide open.

"Sorry, Jesse. Minor fire incident."

"Wha?" I said blearily. "What d'you mean, fire incident?"

"I mean Aiden set his mattress on fire accidentally."

That got my attention. "How'd he set it on fire accidentally?"

"Well, he was sleeping when he did it."

I blinked, staring at Warren. "He sets things on fire in his sleep?"

"It's all right. Mary Jo took care of it."

I wanted to make a sarcastic comment, but I was not entirely awake yet, so the clever words wouldn't come.

Warren turned his head toward the door, suddenly on alert. "Boss is back," he said. "Don't worry. We've got it under control." He left, closing the door gently behind him.

I flopped back against my pillows. "Got what under control, the mattress fire or nocturnal pyromania?" I said grumpily.

Oh, sure. Now the clever words came.

The shrill beeping suddenly stopped. I heard a car pull into the driveway - the one Warren had heard a minute earlier. My dad and Mercy were back.

I laid in bed for a few minutes, debating the relative merits of getting out of bed and pumping Mercy for information. There was a lot going on that I didn't know about, and sometimes late-night chats were more fruitful than trying to squeeze details from people in the midst of a busy day.

But then again, today had been a really weird day. I might not have gone off to face a bunch of creepy and mysterious fae tonight, but between my mom, Aiden, school, and an unnecessarily disconcerting haircut experience, I'd had about as much as I could stand. Maybe it would be best to sleep on all this until tomorrow.

I was just about to turn off my bedside lamp when there came a soft knock on my door. "Yeah?" I said, and the door eased open. It was my dad. I didn't realize until I saw him that I'd been half-hoping for someone else.

"I thought you'd be asleep," he said.

"Well, I was. But, you know - minor fire incident."

Dad nodded. He looked a little grimmer than usual. He was probably feeling stressed out, the way he does when he can't be around to protect all the people he's pledged to protect at the same time. "I'm sorry about all this, Jesse. I know it takes a toll on you."

I shrugged. "I knew what I was signing up for when I said I wanted to live here. Not that I could have predicted Kid Groper's nocturnal pyromania specifically..."

Dad slipped into one of his scary-werewolf expressions, and I realized referring to Aiden as Kid Groper around my dad probably wasn't the best idea.

"But never mind," I said quickly. "Nothing burned down. And I know Aiden won't mess with me again. So. How did tonight go?"

Dad adopted a neutral expression. "It was fine. You should get some sleep. I just wanted to check up on you."

Oh, right. Like I was going to accept that answer. "You know, Dad, if you don't tell me what the meeting was about, I'll just ask Mercy. And if she's not forthcoming, I'll be forced to ask Warren. Or Ben."

Dad gave me a wry look and shut the door behind him. "You know I don't want you involved in pack business."

"I'm already involved," I argued. "I just got woken up in the middle of the night by pack business. I know you had some secret meeting with the fae today. I also know Aiden has powers but isn't fae. And that he and Tad and Zee are on the run from the fae, and we're protecting them-"

"The pack is protecting them."

"-and I know you're trying to figure out who sent the troll and why. Any leads on that?"

Dad sat down at the end of my bed, surrendering to the inevitable. "The fae want Aiden, but they aren't all cooperating with each other. Tonight, we met one of the groups that is cooperating."

"The Gray Lords?"

"Some of them."

"Which ones?"

Dad raised an eyebrow at me. "I wasn't aware you were familiar with the identities of the Gray Lords."

"I'm not," I admitted. "But if you describe them, I'll know who we're up against."

"The pack is up against some pretty powerful fae, but it's nothing we can't handle."

Yeah, right. All of this was extremely dangerous, and we both knew it. But there was no point challenging an Alpha when he said something like that, so I just said, "Was Uncle Mike there?"

Dad frowned at me.

"He was at the house this morning," I explained.

"I know," Dad said. He seemed on the verge of saying something else - probably a warning for me not to trust any fae besides Zee, or something - but in the end he just said, "Yes, Uncle Mike was there. But there was no one else you would recognize. At least, I sincerely hope not. All you need to know about the meeting is that we're safe for now. From the Gray Lords, at least."

Humph, I thought. "What about Underhill?"

Dad raised his eyebrows at me. "What about it?" he said evenly.

"Tad told me about Aiden. That he'd been trapped in Underhill for thousands of years, and Underhill gave him and some other kids powers, and now everyone's dead except Aiden, and he's on the run and all messed up from his experiences. He didn't tell me anything else. But I know there's more."

Dad nodded, with an expression that suggested he might have words with Tad later about the information he'd divulged. Unlike most other people on the planet, I was pretty sure Tad wouldn't be too intimidated by this. "Underhill wants Aiden back," Dad said. "That's why the Gray Lords are after him."

"Because they want to get back on Underhill's good side?" I guessed.

"More or less. But I'm not going to deliver Aiden back into the hands of his torturers. Either of them." Dad's jaw clenched, and I sensed the information-divulging was over.

I nodded. "Thanks for telling me."

I mean, he really hadn't told me very much, but compared to most of our previous conversations about pack business, he'd opened up a lot.

Dad didn't let it show, but I got the sense he was relieved I'd given up questioning him. He leaned over and kissed me on the head. "We'll get through this, Jesse."

"I know you will, Daddy," I said.

He smiled and we said good night. He walked away with both of us knowing that maybe it wasn't true. If Underhill and the Gray Lords were both after Aiden, there was a very real chance none of us would make it through this at all.

School was weird again the next day. The werewolf fan club seemed to be growing, and since I was the only person in school who lived with a werewolf - or even knew who most of the wolves were - I got all the attention.

Lucky me.

Our lunch table was flooded with even more visitors than the day before. Apparently that freshman girl and her friends had been telling everybody that I would personally give messages to the wolves if they asked, which I guess was my fault. So we had a lot of stupid requests for me to do things like tell Darryl he was "such a BAMF" for getting thrown off a bridge and then coming back to spear the troll. Or ask if the "fire-wolf could be, like, our new school mascot."

"Omigod," Izzy said, as she shooed the fifth or sixth interloper away. "Are all the people who go to our school idiots, or just the ones who come talk to us?"

"They're acting like it's not real," I said, stabbing my fork into my salad. "It's like they think Darryl was part of an elaborate Hollywood stunt and he meant to get thrown off a bridge and into a river or something. Like that wouldn't totally kill a normal person. I mean - even as a werewolf, it might've killed him. Because you know what werewolves aren't very good at? Swimming. If all those boats hadn't been there under the bridge... Or imagine if he'd landed on one of the boats instead of the water. He could've broken, like, all of his bones. I am not going to tell him he is a BAMF for practically dying." I glared down at my salad and gave it another angry stab.

"I think the lettuce is already dead," Izzy commented.

"I just don't understand how they suddenly think it's cool!" I burst out. "One day, they're all acting like I'm super sketchy because I live with violent, dangerous, freaky wolves, and the next day they see the wolves being all violent and freaky on TV and suddenly they think it's awesome? No. They all think it's a movie. Like the wolves are our Avengers, or whatever, and they have nothing better to do than lay down their lives for the citizens of the Tri-Cities. They are not mascots! They are people. They have lives, and - and jobs, and -"

"Oooookay," Izzy said, making the calm-down gesture with her hands.

I finally took a deep breath, and it all came out in one furious burst.

"Right," Izzy said, when she was sure I was done ranting. "Well, I don't disagree with you. But-"

"I knew there was going to be a but," I grumbled.

"-but I think you may be underestimating everyone."

"Didn't you just call them idiots?"

"Well, yes. Their requests are definitely idiotic," Izzy agreed. "But their enthusiasm isn't."

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"I just mean that I think they do get that it's real," Izzy went on. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. Like, anywhere."

"That we know about," I amended.

"Right. But that's the point. This is the first public instance of werewolves defending a city anywhere in the world. Mercy literally declared the pack was here to protect people. She held up her magic walking stick and everything. I don't think people would be so excited about it if they didn't get that it was real."

"I guess," I said. I scraped the lettuce off my fork and let it fall back into the plastic salad container. "It's just...weird."

"I know," Izzy said. "I think it's partly the whole herd-mentality thing. Everyone's coming around at once. It exaggerates the weirdness."

The bell rang. We'd spent pretty much our entire lunch hour taking weird messages from people, so we hadn't gotten around to discussing anything important yet. Which was just as well, really. I didn't know much more than I had yesterday. And the only new stuff I could have told Izzy wasn't related to the mystery at hand.

I still hadn't been able to wrap my head around the whole haircutting incident yesterday. It was probably nothing. Or, if it was anything, it was probably just some weird side effect of me not having been on a date in forever, and then suddenly finding myself alone with a guy, experiencing intimate contact with his...scalp.

Augh.

I decided there was no point making a big deal out of the whole hand-tingling thing. We still had the whole big mess with the fae to deal with. And when that was over, assuming we made it out of this alive, Tad would be off to college again. Or he'd be off to go into hiding with his dad. Either way, there was no room in the picture for me.

I'd already gotten my heart stomped on by one guy who ditched me for college. There was no point repeating the experience.

I arrived home to find the pack in the midst of battle.

Not the kind of battle that required me to run upstairs and find Mercy's shotgun. It was the kind that sent choruses of "YARRR!" "AVAST!" and "THE TREASURE BE MINE!" rising up from the rec room. I broke into a grin and ran upstairs to grab my laptop. Then I tiptoed back and positioned myself by the basement door as I logged on.

The pack was obsessed with the Dread Pirate's Booty series. Currently, they were on a roll with Instant Spoils: The Dread Pirate's Booty Four, which the pack fondly referred to as ISTDPBF. Izzy and I liked to refer to the Dread Pirate's Booty Three and Four as "Codpieces" and "Spoils," respectively. Nobody else in the pack has adopted our lingo. But then, the pack probably doesn't find the word "Codpieces" as amusing as Izzy and I do.

I opened my saved ISTDPBF game, and my avatar, the Dread Pirate Jezebel, appeared on screen in all her swashbuckling glory. In previous versions of TDPB, I'd spent a lot of time leveling up my characters' strength and fighting EXP so I could triumph in combat. Mostly because it was extremely satisfying beating people like Darryl and Warren in a contest of fisticuffs while using the guise of a lady pirate.

But I'd had enough fighting victories to satisfy me for a while, so I'd decided to take a different tack for Spoils. Dread Pirate Jezebel was all charisma. She could talk or bribe almost any character in the game into handing over moolah or valuable treasure. She was now extremely wealthy and had obtained most of the better spoils in the game. She wasn't very good at fighting, but she had a tricked-out ship, the savviest crew doubloons could buy, and The. Best. Cannons. Ever. They pretty much never missed.

I opened up the world map to see where everybody was, and discovered that they were having a massive sea battle. I directed my ship to join the fight. I was pretty sure nobody had noticed me logging on yet. Mua ha ha, I thought, as I glided into battle. At least two of the pack's ships were soon in range. One of them was Paul's, and the other I think was Ben's. It was hard to keep track, since we sank each other's ships a lot and were constantly in the process of acquiring new ones.

I opened fire with a dozen cannons and- because no one saw me coming- got twelve direct hits. Booyah. A chorus of groans rose up from the basement.

"Mua ha ha!" I said aloud. "The Dread Pirate Jezebel takes no survivors!"

"YARRR!" was the general response of dissent from below.

"This fight'll be yer last, ye Jezebel!" Ben called.

"Argh, verily, argh!" Paul agreed.

I set off another round of cannon fire, and a shout from Warren rang up from the basement. The game played a slo-mo video of Warren's avatar, The Dread Pirate Bill, getting run through with a brightly colored cannonball (only the fanciest cannonballs are good enough for the Dread Pirate Jezebel). The cannonball made a perfect spherical hole right through the pirate's stomach. Dread Pirate Bill succumbed to his wounds by literally folding in half and collapsing.

"DANG NABBIT," said Warren. He forgets to use his pirate voice when he loses.

"YAR!" I proclaimed from the top of the stairs.

I could have gone into the basement and joined them in person. But I wasn't really interested in being in the same room as Aiden, and I knew he was sleeping downstairs. I was happy enough sitting by the basement door and listening to everyone's reactions.

Also, there was no time to move. I was sucked into the game now, and I had a battle to win.

The cannons were definitely my best weapon, so I tried to keep my distance from the other ships and wreak as much havoc as possible from the comfort of my own deck. But the other pirates didn't put up with that for long. Paul was the first opponent to sail over and board me. Tad wasn't far behind. My crew would keep firing cannons without my direction, since were in battle mode, but I personally needed to come up with a new tactic to stay alive.

Dread Pirate Jezebel was not nearly as skillful or nimble as my previous avatars, so I never had her leave the ship during sea battles; she always died. She used to die a lot on her own ship, too, but I've been playing long enough now that Jezebel's ship, The Angry Lobster, is filled from stem to stern with the best booby traps pirate money can buy.

Paul and Tad both set their pirate crews after me, and I ran around setting off all the booby traps I owned.

I managed to mangle both of the crews pretty good, and then I lured Paul into a fight with some reanimated pirate skeletons. Tad was smart enough to hang back and wait until I'd set off most of the traps. Then he came right for me and cornered me. It was time to break out the big guns; I whistled for Bessie.

Bessie is my gigantic mutant pet lobster. Dread Pirate Jezebel died during four out of the five attempts to retrieve Bessie from a secret underground cavern. Now, Bessie mostly swims alongside the Lobster (named in her honor, obviously), circling it in a protective fashion as we plunder the high seas. But when I whistle for her, she leaps out of the sea and lands on deck in all her mutant lobster glory.

Bessie is bright red, like she's been recently boiled, with razor-sharp teeth, extra-large claws, and an almost impenetrable exoskeleton. She's also got a purple bow on her head and a doubloon hanging on a gold chain around her neck. Because why not.

Tad's avatar, the Dread Pirate Blutig von Siegmeister (which roughly translates to "bloody master of victory"), had a peg leg and a hook and was somehow the best swordfighter in the game. I appreciated that Tad had deliberately chosen physical handicaps for his character, and then ignored all of the easy routes to turning his character into a successful pirate and made him skilled at the one thing he really shouldn't have been skilled at instead.

But Blutig von Siegmeister was no match for Bessie. He put up a very good fight, but inevitably succumbed to the crushing nature of her giant claws. Blutig's head popped off and sailed over the side of the boat. The game showed a theatrical close-up of Blutig's shocked face just before it plunged into the sea. Then it cut to Bessie doing her victory dance, which involved her waving two claws in the air like she just didn't care.

There was something wrong with the creators of this game, I decided. Decapitation really shouldn't be this amusing.

I had no time to celebrate the victory, however. Paul had defeated the pirate skeletons, and now he was coming for me.

I sent Bessie back to the water to recover from her injuries, as she was too valuable to lose completely, and Dread Pirate Blutig had managed to land some serious blows.

I was running out of booby-traps, so I put a mark on Paul and instructed my crew to go after him (the ones that were left, anyway), then retreated belowdecks to regroup. I ducked into my treasure room and hid inside a giant chest.

"Yar, there be no end to your bravery," Tad said, and I jumped a little in surprise. I hadn't heard him come up the stairs.

"It's a strategic retreat," I said.

"Mm-hmm."

"Seriously. Look at how strategic I am." Dread Pirate Jezebel peeked out through the treasure chest's keyhole. I couldn't see anything except piles of gold and other booty.

"I'll be patiently waiting fer yer demise," Tad said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

"You'll be waiting a long time, you lubber."

"Ha," Tad said.

Ha was probably right. I figured I had about a fifty-fifty chance of making it out of this alive. I had a plan, but it wasn't a very good one. I was turning myself into the last booby trap. When Paul's avatar, Dread Pirate McGee, came into the treasure room, I was going to pop out of the chest and shoot him.

The fifty-fifty part was whether my shot would get him before he got me. I had the element of surprise, but Jezebel wasn't known for her accuracy.

Too bad I couldn't sweet-talk him into sparing me. I was going to try it if I had the chance, but Jezebel's charisma became less effective on avatars she'd already killed. And I'd already brought about the demise of everyone in the pack at least once by now.

"Death by lobster," Tad muttered, as we waited. "What a way to go."

"Better than death by fish eggs," I commented.

"Is it, though?"

Paul's avatar finally made it to the treasure room. I popped out of the trunk and shot him. I think the bullet may have gotten close to his shoulder, but mostly it missed. In return, Paul volleyed a squid bomb at me. A volley of baby squids exploded out from the bomb, and Dread Pirate Jezebel was effectively removed from battle by the loving embrace of a thousand tiny tentacles, slowly squeezing her until her face turned blue.

"Yar! The Jezebel be no more!" cried Paul, and received a chorus of "YARGHH!"s in return.

"Ye be a pitiless scallawag," I muttered, and exited out of the game. I shut my laptop and stood, turning to look at Tad. In the amount of time it took to stand, my stomach managed to tie itself into a bazillion knots. I hugged my laptop to my chest, suddenly feeling the need to be protective. Not of the laptop, but...me. "How many of the pack are down there, anyway?"

"Not that many. I think maybe five," Tad said. Clearly he'd been so caught up in the game he hadn't been counting, either.

I tried to think of something to say that would make the stupid knots in my stomach go away. "It's nice to see your whole face at once."

Nope. Not helpful.

"You know, it's funny you mention that," Tad said. "I wasn't even thinking about getting a haircut, but then yesterday this crazy barber accosted me out of nowhere..."

I whacked him on the arm.

"...and did a fantastic job," he finished solemnly.

"You're welcome," I told him. "I'm sure your dad likes to see your whole face at the same time, too."

At this, some of the lightness left Tad's expression. He dropped his voice. "Speaking of Dad...did you hear what went on yesterday?"

"Bits and pieces," I said. "Why? Anything I should know?"

Tad glanced down at the basement. He was thinking about the wolves' supernatural hearing, I guess. I wondered what he had to tell me that the pack couldn't overhear.

"Do you want to go for a walk? It's nice out," I suggested in a normal voice. He hesitated, and this time I could tell he was thinking about leaving Aiden. I knew Tad felt protective of him, although I still was not convinced Aiden actually needed anyone to protect him.

But Zee was here - plus a bunch of pack members, right outside Aiden's door - so Tad nodded and said, "Sure."

I ran upstairs to put my laptop back on my desk, told Mercy what we were up to so nobody panicked, and then followed Tad out the back door. We walked side by side, heading for someplace we wouldn't be overheard.