"Mr. Hunter, I would like to express my greatest sympathies that you had to go through such a tragic event. If you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open."
Shawn and his mother had stayed at the police station overnight, but today she had decided that it was best he went to school as normal. The cops had agreed to let him go, but Shawn noted the presence of a cop car on the street outside. Whether he had been instructed by the cops or just acting on his own morals, Feeny had taken it upon himself to escort him to class; he had never seen the old principal's face look so sad.
"Thanks, Mr. Feeny," he acknowledged. Feeling the urge to say something, anything, to make Feeny's sadness go away, he mustered a smile and said, "Don't worry, I'm sure the cops 'll catch whoever did it."
"I'm sure they will, Mr. Hunter," Feeny nodded, his face halfway between a smile and a grimace. "But, you know, they cannot truly repair the damage done last night."
"Yeah," he agreed. Topanga will always be dead. "I understand, Mr. Feeny."
Feeny took in a breath, sighed, nodded, and repeated, "Any time you want to talk, Mr. Hunter…" He opened the door to his classroom, and let Shawn inside.
Feeling very surreal, he quickly got to his desk and sat down. Both Cory and Topanga's empty desks stood out prominently, and he got the chills just looking at them. Feeny's lecture went by in a blur, and he paid even less attention than he normally did.
It wasn't even boredom that stopped him from listening – he was actually halfway interested in it. Anything to get his mind off that would have been appreciated. But every time he tried to listen to Feeny go on about the Queen of something or other, he felt as though his entire body was under a spotlight, a blinding white that pierced his bones and flooded throughout him. Then Feeny left, and Turner came in to teach his class.
Eventually the bell rang, and Shawn hurried as usual to get out of class. This time, however, he had nothing to look forward to. Usually he would hang out with Cory or grab a girl for a quick make-out session, but now Cory was… missing, and he just wasn't in the kissing mood for once.
"Hey, Shawn," Rosie Beaumont said as he trudged his way through the halls.
"Hey, Rosie," he greeted. "Listen, now's not the best time…" he began, assuming she wanted them to fall in love for a few minutes.
However, she interrupted him, "I just want to know if it's true. Did you really see that girl Topanga get murdered and your friend kidnapped?"
Stunned, he found himself unable to speak.
"Oh my God," she gasped, reading the look on his face. "Oh, Shawn, I'm so sorry…"
"Thanks," he muttered as she went on.
"…I mean, she was always a bit of a weirdo (what kind of name is Topanga, anyway?), but she didn't deserve that."
"Yeah…" Shawn mumbled. "Listen, Rosie, Cory and Topanga are…" Were? "…my friends. I just don't feel comfortable taking about this right now."
"Oh right," she said, comprehension dawning on her face. "I'll see you later, then?"
"Yeah, later," he agreed, watching her head for the girl's bathroom. Eager to tell all she got from me, he supposed. Not that he had told anyone anywhere near the truth.
Damn it, I can't just sit here and lie. He had to do something constructive while it was still not a full moon and Cory could still be found. He fished through his pockets for change and approached the payphones. It was time he explained to his family exactly what was going on.
----
Chet sighed as he opened another beer. He knew he needed to be careful how much he drank these days, but these were extraordinary circumstances. After all, it wasn't every day that your boy witnessed a murder and then told an incredibly shaky story. Damn it! That kid spends so much time procrastinating in school, I thought he'd at least become efficient at evading the law.
Not that he wanted his boy to take up the family business. But would it kill him to get some street smarts? Jesus! Shawn couldn't expect to just ride through life on his family's goodwill; he could barely sneak by the Pink Flamingo bear!
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp tap at the door. That'll be Mike, he recognized the knock. He walked over and opened the door to see his brother holding out a copy of the local newspaper.
"You see the Times?" Mike asked.
Chet grabbed the paper and read the headline: Hunter Boy Murders? Beneath the title was a photo of Shawn and Cory making goofy poses in front of some kind of tree-house, and was at least a year old. "Where did this picture come from?" he asked distractedly.
"I'm not sure," Mike answered. "I could find out, if you like."
"It's not important," he said. He briefly scanned the article. Girl dead, Cory missing, Shawn only witness… Seeing that it contained nothing he didn't already know, he looked back up at Mike and said, "Stop the Times from talking about it. Hunter family orders. Destroy all the copies you can find."
Mike nodded. "If you're done with the article, could we destroy it now? I skipped breakfast."
"Oh, sure," he agreed, ripping the funnies out for himself and handing the rest over.
"Thanks, Chet," Mike accepted the paper. "I'll get started on that right away," he said and then left, nibbling on a corner.
Chet shut the door and glanced at the comics: bad rip-offs of Peanuts. This time, Snuppi was an astronaut in space. He left the comics on the counter and took another swig from his bottle. This was getting out of hand.
He could only hope Mike could control the flow of information before it attracted federal attention. All members of the Pink Flamingo community knew about the darkened van in the parking lot. It sat there day in and day out, feds entering and exiting it in civilian gear. Despite its presence, the feds had not yet bothered anyone, and no one wanted that to change.
The phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He rushed over and grabbed it before Cory heard and got any ideas. "Hello?" he asked gruffly.
"Dad?" Shawn's voice came through the receiver.
He almost dropped it in surprise. "Shawn?" He squinted at his watch, which he hadn't set in years, and hastily translated from Pacific time. "You should be in school!" This was bad. Shawn shouldn't be doing anything delinquent now of all times!
"It's just after second period, dad," Shawn said, sounding annoyed. "Listen, I have to tell you something important. It's about Cory…"
God damn it, he should know the phones aren't secure! "Not now, Shawn," he snapped. "You can tell me your story after school."
Dad, you've got to listen to me," Shawn insisted. "Look, two days ago, Cory was bitten by a wolf and now every full moon he transforms into a blood-sucking demon of the night!"
He paused to let that sink in before answering. Blood-sucking? Isn't that a vampire, not a werewolf? Inconsistencies aside, this was possibly Shawn's attempt to sneak information through. Was this Shawn's way of saying that Cory was the murderer, as he had hoped? If that was the case, he couldn't let the feds realize what was going on. "Son, that is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard," he snapped. "Now put the phone down and get to class."
"I'm telling you," Shawn's voice came out panicked, "It's what's really happening!"
"Son, you just do your schoolwork," he growled. "That's an order!" He hung up before Shawn could get another word in, and sighed. Once again, Shawn had disappointed him today. If you're going to tell a tall tale, you have to keep an element of realism. God damn it, haven't I taught that boy anything?
He looked up as Cory exited the bedroom and headed for the bathroom, raising a hand to wave when he saw Chet was watching.
----
Cory shut the bathroom door and slid the bolt shut. This small, cramped, smelly room was the one part of the trailer to which he could escape. Chet's crazy stories had considerably lost their charm after he was effectively kidnapped by the Hunter clan. Even when he went to Shawn's room he could hear Chet just outside the door, and he could swear he saw glimpses of Shawn's shifty Uncle Mike in the window.
No, the bathroom was the only place he could have any privacy and he needed some time to think. Shutting the toilet lid, he sat down and rubbed his eyes. Okay, Cory, he addressed himself, All you need to do is remember what the killer looks like. Then you can tell Chet, and neither of us will be locked up.
"Okay," he whispered, trying to focus on last night. Remembering how the song had triggered his crazed killer vision, he began to quietly sing what lyrics he remembered to himself. He remembered the horrible sight of Topanga, and an even more horrible hunger within him.
He shook his head. You are not the killer! He tried to figure out who was, tried to look at himself in his mind. Abruptly, his gaze became third-person and he saw Topanga as she was being mauled by… the wolf.
"No," he sighed. My imagination's screwing it up! He was not the killer, only projecting himself in the killer's place for some reason. And the killer was certainly not the wolf either. Clearly he was substituting the wolf in the killer's place because he was afraid of them both. And maybe because you're singing about a wolf wanting to eat a girl?
"Shut up, me," he muttered, examining the area where he was sure the wolf had bitten him. Not even a scratch… He dropped his arm and got back to business. Okay, we've got the killer and Topanga, I assume I'm somewhere in there, too… Where's Shawn?
Thinking about Shawn made him tingle with the ghost of extreme rage. Alright, what happened with Shawn? he demandedhimself. What the hell could Shawn have done that was so bad for me to get so angry with him? He flashed back to Topanga's mutilated corpse.
No, he told himself sternly even as he wondered if Shawn may have been involved with the murder. Shawn couldn't! We're best friends, I'd know if he were a murderer! Even as he internally defended his friend, he couldn't help but think of all the members of the Hunter family who were criminals.
"Get me Frankie Two Toes," Shawn had said on the phone last year as he was trying to get into contact with his Uncle Frank.
"Frankie… Why do you call him that?" he had asked, utterly bemused.
"Well, I could tell you… but then I'd have to kill you," Shawn had answered.
Cory hadn't been sure if he was joking back then, and still wasn't sure of it now. Was he serious? Could he have threatened to kill me? "Not Shawn," he told himself, even as doubt trickled through his mind.
We're best friends! Even if Shawn was some kind of brutal killer, he would never ever want to jeopardize their friendship. What, so you now think he could be a killer, but that he wouldn't kill your girlfriend? Not that Topanga was his girlfriend.
He shook his head again. He would get nowhere by speculating; he needed to remember. That didn't work right, he reminded himself. The song… "I don't need the song," he muttered. "I just need to relax."
But before he could even think about relaxing, he needed to clean off all the blood. He stripped off his clothes and entered the small shower unit. Unfortunately, it seemed the hot water wasn't working, and he had to endure the biting cold once more.
He hurriedly rubbed at the blood, trying to get it off as soon as possible. Yet, somehow, the magnified tension caused him to remember something more: Shawn giving a mocking howl, like a wolf; and the sense of utter betrayal. Shawn did betray me… Still, that didn't mean he killed anyone.
Let's look at the facts, his inner voice taunted him. Chet locked you in his trailer to stop Shawn from going to jail. What sense does that make unless either you or Shawn were guilty? Well, weird hallucinations aside, Cory was (pretty) certain he hadn't transformed into a killer overnight, so…
"Shawn killed Topanga," he gasped, his warm tears mixing with the cold water.
----
Shawn practically screamed with frustration as he slammed the receiver down, causing the students in the hallway to look at him and whisper to each other. He ignored them and silently ranted, He dares to call MY story crap? He mixes lies into everything he says, and he thinks I'M lying?! He ignored how strange the story was for the moment.
"I believe I detect a slight hint of animosity."
Oh God, not now. "Harley," he acknowledged. He turned to face the bully and saw he had brought his posse with him, "Frankie, Joey."
"I have heard about your recent confrontation with a nefarious person of a dissolute nature and would like to extend my utmost sympathies," Harley stated.
"Thanks, Harley," he said cautiously. "That's… nice of you to say." And?
"However," Harley went on, "I find myself somewhat confused as to why you would attempt to pass the blame onto your friend when I have previously observed you two engaging in what I believed was a true friendship. Ain't that right, Joey?"
"Oh, yeah," Joey agreed, hyper as usual. "Shawn and Cory, best of friends. Everyone says. Who are the most loyal friends? Cory and Shawn, that's what they say!"
"And yet," Harley broke in before Joey went on all day, "Here you are, accusing your very best friend of killing his date. Now, Frankie, does that sound like a true friendship to you?"
"To the ninth circle of Hell, the traitors are sent," Frankie replied coldly.
"I am not a traitor!" he cried, angry at their games. "Cory did…" he realized what he was saying and quickly lowered his voice. "That is…"
"Nah, Cory?" Harley shook his head. "A little squirrelly seventh grader? Not possible."
"He transformed…" Shawn trailed off, realizing how stupid he sounded.
"Into a werewolf?" Harley laughed, an eyebrow raised.
"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright," Frankie said with a nod.
"What?" Harley turned to look at his lackey. "Don't tell me you believe in this stuff?"
"I believe there are greater things on this earth than most dare contemplate," Frankie answered. "I have never seen a werewolf, but then I have also never seen a polar bear."
The bell rang, and most of the students left for class. Shawn tried to follow, but found his path blocked by Joey. "So, can I go?" he asked.
"You really think he's telling the truth?" Harley asked Frankie, ignoring his question.
"The truth is always relative," Frankie said. "Now, when I was in Japan," he began, causing the other two bullies to look exasperated.
"H-hey, Frankie," Joey cut in, wearing a look on his face that said Please, not another story about Japan. "Why don't you tell us more about the Japanese boy you snuggled up with?"
Frankie froze. "I… need some time alone," he mumbled, walking quickly over to the boy's bathroom.
"Hey, don't worry, Frankie," called a much more relaxed Joey as he ran after him. "I'm totally okay with it if you're… You know, if that's your thing." He followed Frankie inside the restroom.
Harley just stood there, gazing in the direction they left in. "And now I am alone…" He turned as if suddenly noticing Shawn. "I could kill you… but Frankie? He got me all confused." He studied him a moment. "No, I'll wait until he's on my side again. Wouldn't be near as fun. Congratulations, this is your lucky day."
Shawn hurried off down the hall, trying to remember which class was next. Doesn't matter, does it? He would not get anything done today. Not at school, anyway. He went back to his locker and retrieved Cory's journal.
----
Shawn looked up from the journal to examine his surroundings. "Frank's House of Yogurt, and Some Occult," he read the sign. Just as Cory wrote. He stepped inside to see what appeared to be a typical yogurt store still partially decorated for Halloween. He walked over to the counter and greeted the clerk, "Hi, are you Frank?"
"Yes. Hello," the man said in a Russian accent. "Welcome to my House of Yogurt."
"Thanks," he said. "You got any Bucket of Blood?"
"Ah, strawberry. Yes," Frank said, soon handing him a bowl of yogurt.
He took a bite. Mmm, not bad. "Actually, I'm here to see a Madame Ouspenskaya…"
"The Madame is seeing a client," Frank cut him off. "You must wait until she is through."
"Look, this is urgent," he insisted, putting down the yogurt bowl. "It's about Cory. You saw him yesterday about changing into a wolf?"
"The young werewolf?" Frank demanded, his face becoming cold. "What has happened?"
"What's happened is…" Shawn lowered his voice, "He killed a girl we knew! Mauled her in his own room!"
"I see," Frank said after a pause. "Wait here. I will ask the Madame if you may see her."
"Thanks," Shawn sighed as the man walked into the back room. He took another bite of yogurt and carefully crept behind the counter to follow. Sliding under some tasselly things hanging from the doorway, he stopped in surprise.
There in the room were Jedidiah, Chloe and Nebula Lawrence, Topanga's family. Tears began to form in Shawn's eyes as he thought about finding Topanga's corpse. He hadn't even thought about what it must be like for them. This can't continue, he thought with determination. Cory must be stopped.
Looking away from her family, he saw a woman who he knew at once was Madame Ouspenskaya. There really was no one else who matched Cory's description of insane red hair flying all over the place. They were all gathered around a small table with a crystal ball and other objects on its face. Shawn tried to sneak closer.
"Shawn?" Jedidiah asked, noticing him approach.
"Boy," Frank said sharply, moving to kick him out, "You are to wait until you are summoned."
"It's alright, Mr. Farkas," Chloe broke in, her face streaked with tears. She smiled weakly at Shawn and said, "This day has been very hard on all of us. I expect you're here for the same reason we are."
"Uh," he paused, confused. Do they know about Cory? "That depends… Why are you here?"
"Madame Ouspenskaya is the most capable medium in Philadelphia," Jedidiah explained. "If anyone here can channel my baby girl, it would be her."
"Channel?" he asked. "You mean you're gonna call Topanga's ghost?"
"Not so much call as establish a connection," Jedidiah explained, gesturing for him to join the group. "Topanga was murdered," he said with obvious pain. "And the killer's identity is still unknown. No, Topanga's still here, wanting to tell us who it is. She only needs us to bridge the gap between this world and the next."
"That's right," the fortune teller added. "The spirit world's been a bit noisy lately, but I'll have her here in no time."
Chloe began a long rambling sentence thanking her for helping them, practically breaking into tears. While she spoke, Nebula looked at him and narrowed her eyes. "So what are you here for?" she asked.
"I, uh," Shawn stumbled. What do I say to them? "I know who the killer is," he said, causing Chloe to abruptly stop talking. "It's Cory," he admitted. "Cory killed her."
"I don't believe it," Jedidiah said, his voice cold. "I've seen Topanga's body. Whoever did that had to have been twice Cory's size. At least."
"He was," Shawn said, but then rethought it. "That is, he was taller, but not quite that high. He was a lot stronger…"
"The boy is a werewolf," the fortune teller interrupted, getting to the point. "A wolf spirit has infested his body via bite, and now he is cursed to take on its form…"
"Hold on," Nebula cut her off. "Doesn't this seem a little far fetched to anyone here? I mean, I've conjured the odd spirit, but werewolves? I'm beginning to think this is some kind of scam."
"A scam?" the fortune teller asked, sounding insulted. "If I was a scam, then I wouldn't know about you sneaking out last Friday to be with Nick Kirby, would I?"
"Nebula Stop-The-War Lawrence, is this true?" Jedidiah demanded.
"I, well," Nebula stammered. She quickly changed the subject, "Cory's a werewolf? How did that happen?"
"The wolf that escaped from the zoo," Shawn said. "It bit Cory two days ago. He's written all about it," he said holding up the journal.
"You mean there's another one of those things out there?" Jedidiah asked, his voice becoming nervous.
"Maybe that's who… killed her," Chloe suggested, sounding as hopeful as someone in that situation could.
"No," he shook his head. "I saw him. It was Cory."
"Could I see that?" Jedidiah asked, holding out his hand. Shawn passed him the journal, and he and Chloe huddled close to read it together.
"Why Cory?" Nebula wondered. "I mean, if I were a werewolf and I wanted to make another werewolf, I wouldn't choose a 12-year-old boy."
"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night," Frank spoke up, "May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright."
Shawn blinked. Was that the same thing Frankie said? Does everyone named Frank know that poem?
"Werewolves are creatures of passion," Madam Ouspenskaya said, giving her nephew an annoyed look; Frank went back into the yogurt shop. "They tend to act on impulse without careful regard to reason. Likely Cory just walked in his path and the werewolf decided to bite him. Now, if you're ready, I think I've located Topanga."
The Lawrences eagerly gathered around the table, Shawn joining them out of curiosity. Will we really be able to talk to her one last time? Shawn tried to figure out what he would say to her, while Madame Ouspenskaya laid her hands on the crystal ball and began to chant in an unknown language.
"Gekumtu ukkoul," she cried, flicking a switch on the side of the table. Smoke began to pour from the underside of the table, but she soon started coughing and turned it off after a minute. She fanned the smoke away and resumed chanting, "Gekumtu ukkoul!"
Shawn and Nebula shared a glance. He knew they were both thinking the same thing: Was this woman really legitimate? Sure, she could make some good predictions, but he couldn't remember her ever proving that she could conjure the dead or whatever. Frankly, he thought, this whole thing seems kind of kooky.
"Daddy," Madame O said suddenly, her voice different. It was much younger, and sounded a great deal like…
"Tippy!" Jedidiah cried, throwing himself as close as possible to Madame O's head. "Tippy, can you hear me, honey?"
"Yeah, I can hear you, Jedidiah," Topanga's voice said, her words tinged with sadness. "I can see you too."
"My baby…" Chloe whispered.
"Topanga?" Shawn asked softly, his voice barely higher than Chloe's.
"Hey, sis," Nebula said, her voice strained. "How's it going?"
"Not good, I'm afraid," Topanga said, getting down to business. "It seems my death is just the most recent of a chain of events that signify the renewed activity of earthly demons. That has made the people here very anxious, what with the North Star moving into alignment after all."
"The End Times?" Jedidiah gasped.
"There's a cult that claims it can bring it forth," Topanga said grimly. "Release Hell on Earth. The few demons that remain on Earth have woken up from their slumber, and it seems their numbers are increasing…"
"Topanga," Shawn cut in, feeling he had to say something while he had the chance, "Cory told me he was a werewolf. He asked me for help, to keep you safe… It's my fault you were killed."
"No, Shawn, it's not," Topanga assured him. "Cory would have transformed whether I was there or not. If I hadn't been there, he could have killed his family instead. Remember, only one who loves a werewolf has the power to end their life. Keep them safe at all cost until their mission is complete!"
"To kill Cory," Jedidiah finished. "You're telling me that we'll have to convince his parents to kill him?"
"You'll have to convince anyone that both loves him and has the strength to take him down," Topanga explained. "His parents make an obvious choice."
"Isn't there another way?" Chloe asked. "All this death and murder cannot be good for our karma."
Topanga shook her head, or rather that of her host. "If Cory remains alive while cursed, the violent deaths will only increase. Kill Cory while you still can."
"What about the other werewolf?" Nebula asked. "If we can't kill him, can we trap him somehow?"
"There are some powerful charms that can bind a werewolf to his human form," Topanga admitted. "But they're very hard to come by; you won't find them in our stock. Plus, they're hardly foolproof and tend to only work when the werewolf wants to stay human."
"Then Cory can still be saved," Shawn grasped onto the tiny thread of hope.
"If only that were possible," she sighed. "I'm sorry. There are… rules here. I can't give you all the answers, I can only point you in the right direction… Kill Cory. Stop the werewolf line before… before it's too late." Her, Madame O's eyes blinked rapidly.
"Tippy?" Jedidiah asked, but Topanga had vanished.
"Nope," Madame O responded. "I hope you got what you needed. Now, if you excuse me, I've got a client in an hour with a ghoul in her attic."
"Thank you so much," gushed Chloe, crying openly.
"I'm just glad I got to see my baby girl one last time," Jedidiah said, looking on the edge of tears himself.
"No problem. Glad to be of assistance. Mind if I quote you for an advertisement?" Madame O queried.
The Lawrences gave their consent, and Shawn followed them back into the restaurant. Jedidiah offered to buy Shawn some yogurt but he explained that he still had a cup of Blood left, causing them to give him a weird look. After they got some yogurt for themselves, they all sat down at a table and discussed the horrible news in hushed voices.
"Wait," Shawn said suddenly as something occurred to him about that weird poem.
"What is it?" Jedidiah asked, but he was already out of his seat and walking toward the counter.
"Hey, Frank," he asked the yogurt man as he heard Jedidiah came up behind him, "What was that thing you said in there about men becoming werewolves in autumn?"
"Ah, it is an old Welsh saying," Frank explained. "It became popular in the year 1941 after–"
"Yeah, but what is it?" he interrupted. "Could you say it again?"
"Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night," Frank recited, "May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright."
"So, does that mean that werewolves only change in fall?" he asked, hoping he was right.
"Yes," Frank answered to Shawn's delight. "Until the wolfbane dies at the end of the month."
"You hear that, Jedidiah?" Shawn said, turning around to smile at the ex-hippie. "There's only one full moon between now and winter. Once Cory's found, we can just make sure he's restrained and locked up on the night of the full moon, and after that we're home free!" We won't have to kill him.
"I am afraid you misunderstand, young Hunter," Frank said, shaking his head as Shawn tried to figure out if he had ever mentioned his name in front of him. "The full moon is only required to bring the wolf spirit forth. Once this event is complete, the spirit lays dormant beneath the skin and can be awakened by the mere presence of the moon, regardless of its phase."
"You're saying…" Jedidiah started, but then trailed off.
"Any night?" Shawn finished.
"Every one of autumn's nights," Frank nodded.
But… that means… He looked out the window to see the skies darkened. Hanging above the world, an autumn moon shone bright.