"Great news," he said. Mr. Worthington was always eager to have an audience, and talking about the Legend's Run werewolf was one of his favorite subjects.
"Come, sit down." Mr. Worthington waited while I sat on the sofa. Then Brandon sat next to me while Nash and Mr. Worthington took their places in paisley-patterned chairs.
"What would you like to know?" Mr. Worthington asked.
"We've heard about the Legend's Run werewolf," I began. "But we only know about the one werewolf."
"Yes?" he asked eagerly.
"In the story you told us last time, a man was bitten by him," I continued. "We'd like to know if there is another werewolf. Another bloodline?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Mr. Worthington said. "Bloodline?"
"You told us that your great-grandfather Worthington was rumored to have bitten another man," I reminded him. "That means that maybe there was another werewolf bloodline that carried the curse."
"Oh, yes … " Mr. Worthington said. "That is, if you believe in such things. Do you?"
We all nodded in agreement.
Mr. Worthington perked up, pleased with his captive audience.
"My family was very close with another family. The Hamiltons."
Nash, Brandon, and I sat up as if a ghost had just stepped in the room.
"Did I say something wrong?" Mr. Worthington asked, concerned.
"No," I replied. "In fact, you said something right. Please, go on."
"My family-our family-" he said, referring to Brandon, "settled in Legend's Run at the same time as the Hamiltons did. Competition immediately came between the two families. Legend has it that it was over a girl." Then he paused. "Isn't it always? Great wars are started that way."
Mr. Worthington looked at us and gave us a laugh. Nash and Brandon chuckled back politely. I don't think either one of them cared for the joke.
"The Hamiltons were the ones who tried the most to banish my great-grandfather from town," he continued. "It was said that Joseph Hamilton was hoping he could gain control of my grandfather's wealth and the love of his wife."
"Ooh," I said. "It sounds scandalous."
"You might say that," he went on. "But the story goes that it was the night of a full moon when Joseph Hamilton was on his way to confront my great-grandfather in the forest and met a half man, half wolf. It was said townsfolk heard his cries for miles. He didn't return that night. The next day a group of hunters discovered him lying in the woods, violently attacked and left for dead. They returned him to his family, who nursed his wounds. But during the following nights he began behaving strangely. Fierce howling came from his house at moonlight. The daylight showed his home had been ransacked, as if by a wild animal. His wife and children, fearing for their lives, fled. Townsfolk believed he'd come down with a fever, and this was what caused his strange behavior. Those few who believed in the lore of the werewolf swore otherwise. The two men were forced to live out their lives as lonely and haunted creatures of the night."
"Wow … " I said.
Brandon shook his head in awe.
"That's it?" Nash asked.
"What did you want to hear?" Mr. Worthington wondered.
"That they all live happily ever after," Nash said, sitting up.
"Isn't it more exciting and mysterious this way?" Mr. Worthington asked.
"No," Nash said. "It's depressing and tragic."
"That's how most werewolf stories are. That's what makes them exciting."
"I don't like that kind of excitement," Nash said.
"It's just legend," Mr. Worthington said. "Folklore that's repeated through time. Just like ghost stories told around a campfire."
"But you believe it, don't you?" I asked Mr. Worthington.
"It doesn't make sense-my great-grandfather was a werewolf?" he asked. "As a boy it always frightened me, and I surely believed it. However, as I grew older I dismissed it, like you grow out of believing in the tooth fairy. But I've always liked to tell the story."
"But what if it isn't just a story?" Nash asked. "What if it really happened and it keeps repeating itself through future generations?"
"You believe it then?" Mr. Worthington asked eagerly. "Then you believe in werewolves … . Have you ever met one?"
"Yes," Nash said. "And so have you. In fact, you are talking to one."
Brandon and I were shocked by Nash's declaration. Mr. Worthington stared at my former boyfriend skeptically and then changed his expression. He grinned and began to chuckle.
"This has been so much fun, talking with you," he said. "Celeste has such comical friends. It gives a little liveliness to this place."
"But there has to be more to the story," Nash urged. "Did they find a cure?"
Mr. Worthington thought for a moment. "Not according to legend."
"Perhaps they did and you just don't remember."
"A cure was never part of the story I heard growing up."
"Then the story is tragic," Nash said.
"Yes, it is. But only if you believe it."
"I believe it. And I don't want my story to be tragic, too. My name is Nash Hamilton. And the dude that your great-grandfather bit was one of my ancestors."
Mr. Worthington was quite shocked and didn't seem to know what to make of Nash's second declaration.
"Calm down, Nash," I said.
"Yes, let's keep this between us." Brandon spoke in a low but forceful voice.
"I can't hide this anymore," Nash continued. "This is what's going to happen to me? Banishment to the woods? Are you kidding?"
"What is he talking about, Celeste?" Mr. Worthington asked. "I thought your friend was joking. Why is he so upset?"
Nash rose. "This isn't what we came here for. We came here for answers."
A few passing residents gawked at us, wondering what all the commotion was about.
"Answers to what?" Mr. Worthington asked.
"Chill out," Brandon scolded Nash. "I think it's time we leave."
"Yes, Nash," I quietly chided. "You are upsetting Mr. Worthington. And the rest of the residents."
Mr. Worthington rose. "I'm fine," he said. He looked at Nash. "What answers were you looking for?" he asked.
Nash's anger and disappointment turned to sorrow. He placed his hand on Mr. Worthington's shoulder. "A cure for the common werewolf," he said, half laughing.
"There is always a cure for whatever ails you-" Mr. Worthington said. "You just have to look inside yourself for the answer. It is closer than you think."
Nash seemed soothed by Mr. Worthington's comforting words. He shook the elderly man's hand and said good-bye to Brandon and me.
I apologized to Mr. Worthington as Nash left the building.
"Why would he be upset?" he asked, worried. "It's only a story. Nothing more."
"He takes things very personally," I said.
"And what about you, Brandon?" Mr. Worthington asked. "Do you believe that your friend is a werewolf because he is a Hamilton descendant? Is that why you all came here?"
We were taken aback by his questions, and Brandon stumbled for an answer.
"Uh … well-"
"I was just joking with you," he said. "You kids take everything so seriously." He patted Brandon on his shoulder. "It's spring. Go out there. Have some fun. And don't let her get too close to that other fellow," he said. "I can tell he's a real wolf."
And with that, a nurse came over to Mr. Worthington and told us it was time for his music activity.
Brandon and I left, distracted by Mr. Worthington's tragic story and his message about Nash. Maybe we'd have to figure out what to make of it and hope that this new generation of werewolves wouldn't have to live out their lives deep in the woods in isolation.
"This makes me feel even stronger that I should take the serum as soon as I can," Brandon said as Nash drove off.
"Really?" I asked.
"The Legend's Run werewolf didn't have a cure. I might have one. It would be wrong not to try it-and since my father won't let me use it for Nash, I'll have to be the one to try it. We can't spend our lives banished to the woods-with no life and no family."
I squeezed his hand reassuringly as we got into his Jeep. I stared out the window as we left the retirement home behind us and thought about the words of wisdom from a man who was helping us far more than he would ever know.
SIX
doctor's visit
The next day, Nash seemed distracted in class, and at lunch he didn't make much eye contact. He was a bit moody and perhaps even depressed. As his friend, I didn't like to see him this way. His classwork and attention seemed to suffer. And I knew why-he was consumed by the impending full moon and its upcoming effects on him.
I couldn't blame him. I felt awful for Brandon and for him. If he couldn't talk to anyone about it but me, I knew it was eating away at him. His animal instinct must have been getting stronger since the full moon was a little less than two weeks away.
"Nash has got to be on 'roids." I overheard Dylan telling Jake outside the gymnasium. "Did you see him hit? Every time it's a home run. He's good, but not that good."