I fold the paper back up and place it next to my fork. Then I think better of it and tuck it into my sweatshirt. "My father wrote that."
Nick nods. "They can come in the day."
"If the need is great."
"I'm not taking chances about that," he says. "I'm calling Betty."
I grab his arm, stop him. "Nick?"
He brings his face down to my level. His eyes are all concerned and sweet. "What?"
"I feel funny."
"It's okay to be scared, Zara. But I'll call Betty and we'll keep you safe. It's okay."
"No. It feels like spiders." I try to explain. Heat rushes to my face. "It's stupid. It's just this feeling I keep getting, like spiders are running over my skin. I don't know how to explain it."
His broad hands wrap around my arms and stroke them lightly. "When does this happen?"
"I don't know. Ever since I left Charleston. Every time I see that man that I saw at the airport or when I hear that voice."
'"The voice in the woods?"
I nod.
Nick lets go of my arms and rushes over to the fireplace. He grabs the poker that Betty uses to turn over the logs. He wraps my hands around it. "Take this."
"What? Why?"
He half growls. "It means he's coming. He will try to trick you into opening the door. Don't let him."
I start to argue but Nick holds up his finger. His eyes are so focused, so intent, so like a wolfs. How had I not noticed that before?
"I mean it, Zara. You cannot let anyone in. Promise me."
"Can't they just break in?" I demand. I stomp down on the floor like I'm two, but I don't care, I am so ridiculously frustrated. I want him to stop scaring me.
He doesn't answer, just starts rushing around, pulling drapes closed.
"You should grab that knife you left in the kitchen," he says, glancing up the stairs. "All the windows are locked up there, right?"
"I don't know!" I yell, waving the poker around. Fear tingles on my skin. Or is it that spider feeling? I have no idea. Mick is already racing up the stairs, taking them three at a time.
"What if they break down the door?"
"They can't!"
"How do you know they can't? That guy looked pretty strong."
He shouts down to me, "Pixies have to be invited in, like vampires, l read it on the Internet."
"Well, there you go," I mutter. "Then it must be true."
Pixiophobia a fear of pixies I made this up, but believe me it should be a word because it sure is a legitimate fear I thunder up the stairs after him.
He ignores me, rushing from one room to the oilier, checking on the windows, pulling the shades down in each one before whisking off to the next. He moves so fast he is almost a blur. No wonder he's such a good runner. He isn't human.
I shudder, but I mean, he's still Nick.
My room is the last one he goes to. I block the door so he can't race off again, but he looks a little calmer now. His hair isn't standing on end or anything.
"The windows are all locked," he says, sitting down on my bed.
I dial Betty's cell.
Her voice snaps to attention. "Zara?"
"I think the pixie guy is coming."
"What? It's daylight."
"I know! But I found a note dad left for you. He says if the need gets too great then they can come in the daytime."
"Jesus." She waits, pausing, like she's struggling with big stuff. "He left a note?"
"Uh-huh." I let her have a second because I just know she must be trying to process that. Then I go on.
"And I feel squigg-ley, like I do whenever he shows up-" "Okay. Nick's there, right?"
"Uh-huh."
"You put him on. I will be there as soon as I can, okay? I'm coming now."
"Okay."
I give the phone to Nick. He says, "Yep. I know. I know."
Then he holds it out from his body. "It know what kind.
"Nick? Can they all come in if one has been in before?"
"No. They're waiting outside."
"Can he come in the room if he's been in the house?" Terror hobbles me.
"I don't know."
He snarls and I don't know what to do, what to say, so I just say his name. "Nick?"
His voice is warm and aching all at the same time. "I'm trying hard not to change, Zara. But when people are in danger, I change."
"And I'm in danger?"
He nods.
I touch his back. I'm such a mess I don't even remember walking toward him. The muscles ripple and move beneath my fingers, like the fibers are struggling to stay themselves.
"Then change!" I order him.
"I don't want to scare you."
"I'm already scared!" I shriek. "I just don't want you to get hurt!"
"Me? It's not me I'm worried about. It's you."
A hand pounds on my bedroom door. The entire thing shakes in the door frame. Oh God. Oh God.
Nick swings around. His eyes fill with pain and grief. He rips off the sweatshirt and rushes to the other side of the bed where I can't see him.
"Whatever you do, Zara,do not let him in. Whatever he says. You can't." He snarls and there is a knock at the door, a gentle, lovely sounding knock. I step farther away from it.
The pants Nick has been wearing fly across the room. I catch them in my arms.
He keeps trying to talk. "I might be able to take him one on one in here, but I'd rather not chance it. He's stronger than the rest of them, and this isn't my habitat, you know…"
"Nick?" I whisper.
A pillow flies over the bed.
"We just have to make it till Betty gets here. Just hold out till then, Zara." His words rush out and the knocking on the door muffles them. But they can't muffle the fierce growl that escapes his throat, half warning, half battle cry, all wolf.
"Oh God," I whisper.
Someone knocks lightly against the door.
"Zara, let me in."
The wolf growls and stands between me and the door. His fur, thick and full, seems to bristle against the threat.
He said there were at least five. One is here in the house with us, but as long as I don't open the door we'll be safe.
Why would Nick think I'd open the door? He must think I am the most naive human ever. There is no way I'm opening that door to let the pixie thing in.
But what about the other ones?
I peek out the window, moving the shade just an inch and spot two dark figures in the snow. The snow shovels down from a grayish white sky, billowing toward them, and everything seems almost peaceful.
The knock comes at the door again, a sweet knock, like when my mom would knock when she needed to wake me and my friends at a slumber party. I stare at Nick. He crouches down, ready to spring.
They are trying to trick me. I won't let them. I'll ignore the door and I'll watch the ones outside.
Turning back to the window, I shriek. A face hovers, pale and wild eyed, attached to a body. I leap back and shriek even more. The shade flops down to obscure my view.
I sit in the middle of my bed and pull my knees to my chest, but I hold on to the poker. I will use it.
Pacifism is overrated sometimes.
"This is not happening," I chant. "This is not happening."
Something scrapes against the window and I am so sure it's not a tree branch. It is something scary that wants in.
Nick circles the room, patrolling, back and forth, back and forth from window to door, window to door.
His lips pull back, revealing his teeth. Another light knuckle knock sounds against the door. Nick bares his teeth even more, all the way back to the gums.
"Zara?" The voice comes, deep, a little hoarse. It's familiar and it's not the voice from the woods.
My heart leaps up, and not because of fear.
"Zara, sweetie?"
It can't be. It can't.
I sit up straighter and swing my legs off the couch.
The candle flame on the bureau flickers, then catches a draft and leaps to twice its size.
I answer with a whisper and a prayer, a hope.