"Let's go inside before any more surprise visitors show up," Grandma said. "And I'll get that poor boy some of your father's clothes."
She left the garage as I pondered the fact that Mom still had some of Dad's stuff. We'd helped her bag up a bunch of it to donate it. I had thought that that meant she was resolved he wasn't coming back. But maybe she had just done it to appease us. I wondered where his clothes had ended up. A glimmer of a memory teased the edge of my mind, but I couldn't grasp it. I'd seen piles of clothing lately, and it wasn't just in Poppy's room. The memory eluded me.
Nicholas extended a hand and helped Sean to his feet, none too gently. He grabbed the blanket as it started to slip, then blushed profusely.
Poppy and I made a quick exit from the garage before we embarrassed the guy any further.
We congregated in the living room to wait for Grandma to come back with something for Sean to wear. He made sure he had a firm grip on the blanket when he joined us.
She returned just as the silence was moving from uncomfortable to completely awkward. Handing Sean a stack of men's clothing, she said, "Nicholas, please show our guest where he can change," which meant Nicholas should guard the bathroom door while Sean got dressed. Although Sean's story made a horrible kind of sense, it was not completely clear that the attack was unintentional.
Wolfgang Paxton was a bad combination of arrogance and inexperience. I could picture him creating new werewolves just for the malicious pleasure of it. But I couldn't figure out why a decent guy like Sean would go along with it.
Were they that desperate to win a championship?
I wanted privacy to give Ryan the heads-up on Sean's involvement.
When I called him and told him the story, as briefly as possible, Ryan sounded grim. "The football team? Are you sure?"
"Not certain about all, but at least some of them. Probably freshman string," I said, guessing that those boys would be the most easily influenced by Wolfgang.
"And..." I hesitated. It was going to be hard for Ryan to hear that Sean was involved, but Ryan knew he had been hanging around Wolfie a lot.
"And Sean," Ryan finished for me. "I'll be right over."
When I answered the door a little later, I was expecting only Ryan, but next to him stood a very irritated Samantha Devereaux. "Er, hi, everyone. Come on in."
I held the door open and they followed me to the living room.
Sean sat on the loveseat. There was room next to him, but Sam very pointedly chose a seat far away from her boyfriend.
Ryan sat next to me on the ottoman. "Did I miss anything?"
Sean sat in silence, but Samantha glared at him.
He was in for it now. Samantha was fuming, I could tell.
Sean cleared his throat. Sam gave him a look and he started talking. "I've been hanging around Wolfgang."
"Everyone knows that," Sam said impatiently. "Get to the point."
Pretty soon, the whole sorry story came out.
"He said the hairballs would improve my game," Sean said. "I told myself I would only try it once, but then I saw a difference—I got stronger and faster, quick. I knew it was wrong. Good thing I stopped. Some of the guys are having ... problems. Worse than me, if you can believe it."
"Sean!" Sam snapped. "I can't believe you were dumb enough to fall for that."
He hung his head in shame and mumbled some apologies.
"I'm going to kill him," Samantha said.
"Killing a werewolf isn't easy," I joked weakly. "You'd better stock up on silver bullets."
She flinched.
"I'm sorry," I said. "That was insensitive."
"Thanks, Daisy," Sam said. "But even if Sean only did it once, that's bad enough."
"I didn't let Wolfgang inject me anymore," Sean said, "at least not after I saw what it did to me."
"What did it do?" Poppy said.
"At first, it seemed like some kind of miracle," Sean admitted. "These skinny little freshmen bulked up almost overnight. Pretty soon they were lifting the same amount as me." He sounded aggrieved. "I was tempted to keep on using it, believe me. But then we started seeing the side effects."
"What side effects?" Poppy said.
"At first, it was just hair. Lots of hair," Sean said. "But then they started to change, and not just once in a while." He turned to Nicholas and asked with a pleading note in his voice, "Is it reversible?"
Nicholas said, "Possibly." He looked at Ryan. "There's a doctor in town who specializes in Were issues." He was talking about the doctor Rose had taken him to last spring when Ryan had abruptly changed and challenged Nicholas. In the heat of the moment, Nicholas had been injured.
Sean shuddered. "I hope they can reverse it. After we started changing, some of the guys wanted to stop. But Wolfgang convinced us that this was the only way we were going to take the championship." He looked at Ryan when he said it.
Ryan shuddered. "I don't want to win like this," he said. "But why did he pick you? Why didn't you tell me?"
Ryan took my hand as we all listened to the rest of Sean's story.
"I was ... upset that you hadn't told me you were a werewolf," Sean admitted to Ryan. "Wolfie told me what was going on with you. I thought I might learn something about werewolves by hanging around with him and his crew. I thought it might help me understand what you were going through. But I got in way over my head."
"I'm sorry, Sean," Ryan said. "I meant to tell you, but—"
"It's all good," Sean said quickly. "Friends again?" He extended his hand and Ryan shook it vigorously.
"Friends."
The impromptu meeting finally broke up.
Nicholas got to his feet." I've got to go. I have to make a stop at the Paxton residence. There's a certain wolf cub who needs schooling. And we have to see what we can do for this idiot." He grabbed Sean by the collar and steered him toward the door.
Samantha followed them out. Through our open windows, I could hear her scolding Sean as they walked to Nicholas's car. He wasn't getting off easy on this one.
I kissed Ryan goodbye. After the house emptied out, I headed for bed, but I couldn't sleep. I wondered if the guys on the team would be okay or if the injections would have permanent side effects. I hoped that Wolfgang Paxton was thoroughly ashamed of himself. If he wasn't now, he would be by the time the Nightshade City Council was through with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nicholas gave us word later that the Nightshade City Council had things well in hand. The doctor had said that it would require a series of painful treatments, but the guys on the football team might eventually return to normal.
Now that the rogue werewolf pack mystery had been resolved, I was focused on DoppelDad again. I couldn't take the suspense anymore.
I was off from work the next day, so Ryan and I had decided to go looking for him.
When Ryan rang the doorbell that afternoon, I was ready, but barely. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and hadn't woken up before noon.
"I forgot to pack a picnic," I confessed to him after our hello kiss. I was supposed to be in charge of snacks.
"That's okay," he said. "We can swing by Slim's later, unless you're sick of it by now."
"I love Slim's potato salad, and we could grab a couple of panini sandwiches. He just added those to the menu."
"Sounds great," Ryan said. "Where should we look first?"
"Let's try places that sell sweets, like the concession stand at the beach or even the Donut Hole. Like the other doppelgangers, DoppelDad seems to have a thing for sweets."
He wasn't at any of the places I'd thought of, although we did stop at Slim's to look for him there—and to grab some food to eat "on stake-out," as Ryan jokingly called it.
"What about Mrs. Mason's?" Ryan suggested. "You said you'd followed him there."
"Well, the greenhouse where she created the doppelgangers went up in smoke, but it's worth a try," I said.
Ryan put the car in gear and we headed to Natalie's grandma's h
ouse.
The flower garden in the front was nearly black, the plants dead or dying. Even the roses, Mrs. Mason's pride and joy, were wilted.
The lawn looked like it hadn't been watered in weeks. "Natalie doesn't have her grandma's green thumb," I commented.
"Or the magic died with Mrs. Mason," Ryan replied.
I hadn't thought of that, but it supported the suspicions about Mrs. Mason's beating Mom out for prize ribbons for her plants at the county fair every year.
Ryan parked. "It doesn't look like anybody's home," he said.
I knew Natalie had been staying at Slim's, so I figured there was little chance of her returning to her grandma's house while we were there. "Let's check out back," I suggested.
"Ryan, there he is!" We ducked behind a large potted plant near the patio before DoppelDad could spot us. There was barely room for the both of us, so I ended up pressed against his chest. Not a bad place to be.
DoppelDad was dressed in khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and a blazer. Something about the outfit looked familiar. Suddenly I realized where I'd seen it before—he was wearing a replica of an outfit Dad wore in one of our family photos.
He looked around furtively and then crossed the garden to the path leading to the charred remains of the greenhouse.
Ryan and I crept after him. When we reached the blackened door, Ryan held it open for me. I moved as quietly as possible, but tripped over a sprinkler line and nearly fell. Ryan caught me and probably prevented me from breaking my leg or something.
Most of the glass that had made up the walls and ceiling of the greenhouse was broken or gone completely from the force of the explosion. What was left was covered in ash, obscuring the light and making it difficult to see across the long room.
There was no movement in the greenhouse. DoppelDad couldn't have just vanished. Ryan and I crept along the length of the room, checking under the sooty metal potting tables that remained. Then, at the far end of the greenhouse, we came to a large hole in the ground. It looked like it could be an entrance to a tunnel.
There were fresh footprints in the blackened soil leading into the opening. It must have been where DoppelDad had disappeared. "I wonder if this tunnel had something to do with her doppelganger-making operation," I said.
"Hold on a minute," Ryan told me.
He ran out to the car and came back with his cell phone, a large flashlight, and a large white paper bag, which I assumed contained our dinner. He also had a sweatshirt, which he handed me. "Put this on. It's cold underground."
"Thanks," I said. "But what about you?"
"I'll be okay. I'm leaving a message with Dad about what we're doing," he said. "This tunnel could lead anywhere." He opened his cell and left a brief message with his dad.
"Okay, let's go." He shone the light into the tunnel. It was narrow at first, but we could see that it gradually increased in size until it became large enough to stand up in, with smooth, slime-covered walls.
"I wonder if Natalie knew anything about this tunnel," Ryan said.
"I doubt it," I assured him. "She told me that her grandmother never let anyone in her greenhouse. Even her own granddaughter."
"It looks like it's been here a long time. What do you think it is?"
"I don't know. Maybe a sewage pipe or something?"
I flinched at the thought. "Gross."
"We don't have to go in," he said. "We could call Dad and he'll have his deputy check it out."
"No, I want to," I said. "I need to know exactly what my dad's double is up to."
Ryan led the way, but held my hand and helped me over any rough spots. We both had to walk stooped over because the tunnel wasn't big enough for us to stand completely upright.
I wondered if the smell bothered him. It bothered me and I didn't have the extremely sensitive nose of a werewolf.
The flashlight illuminated candy wrappers, a bunch of discarded donut boxes, and a particularly rude bit of graffiti, but nothing else. There was no sign of DoppelDad, but we hadn't found any possible exits, either, so obviously he was still somewhere ahead of us.
The tunnel widened and turned, and then there was finally plenty of room for Ryan and me to stand upright.
"We have to be getting close now," I said. It felt like we'd been walking for hours, but my watch said we'd only been in the tunnel about twenty minutes.
"Close to what?" Ryan replied. A few minutes later, he stopped and held a finger to his lips. Werewolves hear better than humans, too.
"Do you hear it?" His lips barely moved.
"Hear what?" I whispered back.
"Voices."
I didn't hear anything, but I took his word for it. We started walking again, this time more cautiously. After we went a few feet more, I could hear the voices, too, but I couldn't understand anything they were saying.
Ryan shone his flashlight on a small door built into the bricks directly in front of us. There was a thin trickle of light coming from behind it.
We waited for the sounds of the voices to recede, and eventually, there was silence on the other side of the wall.
"Do you think it's safe?" I asked, careful to keep my voice low.
"I haven't heard anything," Ryan said, which was reassuring. He'd pick something up before I would." Do you sense anything?"
Meaning, I guess, that I should try to use my psychic abilities to see if I could glean anything. I shrugged. I had been practicing, so maybe there was a chance I'd be able to hear someone else's thoughts. I was no Rose, though.
I put my ear to the wall and concentrated, but all I got was the distressing feeling that there was now something slimy in my hair. "Nothing," I finally said. "I'm not picking up any thoughts at all."
"That probably means the room's empty now," Ryan said. "Let's go."
I held my breath, unsure what we'd find.
He handed me the flashlight, which I trained on the door while he fumbled with the latch. The door creaked open.
As we stepped inside, I realized we were in a lab of some kind. It looked eerily similar to a place I'd been before.
The room was in shadow, but I could see the outlines of beakers, test tubes, and other lab equipment. The trash cans were piled high with pink bakery boxes.
In the corner was a desk with file folders covering most of its surface. I approached it while Ryan wandered off to explore another corner.
There were several certificates and diplomas on the wall above it. I checked the names on all of them. Interesting. "I know where we are," I said.
"Where?" Ryan asked.
I picked up a beaker stamped with the words PROPERTY OF UC NIGHTSHADE and showed it to Ryan, then gestured toward the diplomas. "We're in Dr. Franken's lab. I guess now we know who's behind the appearance of the doppelgangers."
There was a click and suddenly the room was flooded with light. Dr. Franken stood in the doorway, arms folded. "That's unfortunate," she said.
She moved into the room, followed by several doppelgangers. I knew they were doppelgangers because I spotted a Mrs. Mason look-alike. Since her death had been confirmed and I hadn't heard of any zombie outbreaks, I was pretty sure I was looking at a doppelganger. I also spotted a Mort double, a Mrs. Wilder double, and even a double of our high school principal, Mr. Amadour.
I was momentarily relieved that DoppelDad wasn't among the group. Maybe the man I'd been spending so much time with wasn't a phony?
That hope was stomped to bits when he walked into the lab and took his place at Dr. Franken's side. He moved jerkily, and I realized that it must have taken a huge effort to control his movements whenever he'd been with me.
"You're the one who has been creating doppelgangers," I said to Dr. Franken. "With Mrs. Mason's help. But I don't understand why."
"I am a scientist." She sniffed. "I do not usually associate with such creatures. But the witch was necessary. I needed an exact combination of magic and science."
"For what purpose?" I said. I surveyed the group of doppelga
ngers. "These doppelgangers are..."
"Paranormal creatures, yes."
I didn't look at DoppelDad, who was standing there with about as much of an expression as a wooden puppet. I didn't want her to see how disappointed I was that he wasn't the real deal.
"We'll probably never understand exactly how you did it," Ryan said. "But I'd love to know why."
"Yes," I said. "It doesn't make any sense."
"Doesn't it?" Dr. Franken lifted an eyebrow.
"Most of these are copies of people of the..." I trailed off, not sure of how much she knew and not wanting to out any paranormal friends to a norm.
"Paranormal persuasion?" She cackled at my look of surprise. "He tried to keep it secret, but your father's research is what clued us in to the nest of paranormals living in Nightshade."
Nest? She made them sound like some sort of vermin. I was catching on to something. The contemptuous note in her voice gave it away.
I decided to see if I could take a little dip into her mind. I hated doing that. Villains' minds were always so sludgy, so full of evil. It hurt my head to be in there too long.
"You're part of the Scourge," I accused her.
"Yes," she said. "With that witch's help," Dr. Franken continued, "I was able to replicate many involved with Nightshade's city council."
I flinched. Non-paranormals weren't supposed to know about that.
"Rose would never work for someone like you," I said. "At least not knowingly."
"True," she conceded. "But she had no idea of who I truly am. She was only interested in the science. I was careful to keep the legitimate scholarly research separate from the more creative experiments."
It was difficult to have a conversation and read a mind at the same time.
My inattention riled the good doctor and she grabbed my arm and twisted it back painfully. "Are you listening?"
"There is no need for violence," DoppelDad said.
Her head snapped around and she glared at him. "Are you challenging my authority? I say when violence is needed." She twisted my arm a little harder.