Living (Un)dead

Living With It, part II

With my da's old baseball cap pulled low, I scooted into class between a few big football players.

Pausing at the top of the auditorium stairs, I searched for my two best friends. I would have called Christy and Alice before coming to class, but my phone had run away with my keys.

I clipped my spares to my jean's belt loop as I finally spotted Alice's red hair next to Christy's blond ringlets. Targets

acquired, I trotted down to their seats, near the front.

Alicehad her back to me as Christy leaned in.

Christy's blue eyes were pinched, her button nose wrinkled at whatever Alice

was saying. Alice leaned back, shaking her head and I saw a flash of her hazel eyes; they looked oddly wet.

The way I looked at the moment, I couldn't imagine this would be an easy conversation. I paused, grimacing. Not wanting to spring even more on them, I slipped into a seat in the row behind them.

"....still not answering her phone," Alice whispered unhappily. "It goes straight to voicemail."

"I'll check on the dogs on my way

home again today. Have the police called back?" Christy sighed.

"No, and they're getting irritated when I call, but I mean? Two weeks! And those other girls in the news. How can she just disappear?"

I could feel my brow wrinkle in confusion and I rolled my eyes. Alas! The plight of the eavesdropper; always playing catch up.

Two weeks? Disappear?

I couldn't remember any news stories of note in the past two weeks; I really needed to pay better attention.

And no wonder they were upset, it sounded like something had happened to one of their friends!

Did it make me a bad person that I hoped it was someone I didn't know?

"People disappear all the time, but I never thought she'd be one of them," Christy sounded like she had a head cold, her words muffled and nasal.

"What have you told Professor

Keenan?"

"I haven't been able to get ahold of her, thank gawd. Hopefully, Juniper will turn up before we actually have to talk to her."

Record scratch. Ah, what? My mom was Professor Keenan, formerly Monroe.

And as far as I knew I was the only Juniper in their lives, Juniper

being a slightly uncommon name. That two weeks comment suddenly became much more important to me.

"What day is it?" I whispered to

the person who had just taken the seat next to me.

I reeled when he told me. Two

weeks to the day since the party. Two weeks since I'd been home, spoken to my friends,

emailed my mother. Two weeks since I fed the dogs!

Except, I guess Christy

had been feeding them.

My gawd, I was lucky there actually was a class today!

I experienced a tiny moment of dissassosiation, appalled by my dependence on my phone for even the most simple of tasks.

I really couldn't keep track of days without it?!

And then it hit me again: how in the hell would I have?

Someone had killed

me....and then brought me back.

But why?

A door slammed, startling

me and signaling Professor Cane's arrival.

He was a tall, swarthy, dark haired man in his late forties, with looks that invited visions of salacious daliences. There was a grace to him, a magnetism and passion that made for intriguing lectures. Though, I'd be hard pressed to say the majority could tell you what the subject matter had been.

Deseevedly, most of the class had a crush on him.

He looked out over the class

and did a double take when he saw me.

He looked confused momentarily but took the "new" student in stride and continued on to his desk.

I really hoped he would be

available after class, regardless of office hours. I needed to pick his brains. Pun definitely intended.

Struggling with a stunned kind of numbness mixed with sparks of manic anxiety, I locked my fingers over the arm rests, eager for class to be over.

"Alright!" Professor Cane called class to order. "I have some exciting guest speakers today. We'll becontinuing on Lycanthropy and the erroneous preconceptions about the moon and it's role. I want everyone to give them your full attention and remember; you are perfectly safe."

There was some worried

murmuring at that.

What the heck? the murmurs said, What did he mean,

remember we were safe?

His implication was immediately

clear as his pack of guest speakers walked out. Gasps echoed around the auditorium, and more than one scream.

These werewolves put the Wolfman to shame; bristling and fierce, and ferocious looking. They wore clothes but

no shoes; their canid feet could

not accommodate them. Their claws and fangs were frighteningly large; their intelligent eyes flickering around

the room, assessing potential prey.

Contrastingly, their fur looked decidedly pet-able and I wondered what it would feel like under my hands.

This class was predominately

human, but the few Supes that were there scoffed at the human's reaction and sneered at the wolves.

Supernaturals try to keep their business, and more specifically,

species rivalries out of the press, but there were stories still. Not even magic could stop whispers in the wind.

Weres and shape-shifters were always petrayed as animals. Brutish and aggressive, they were the most feared. Any attacks you hear about in the news usually involved them.

Every now and then you got the odd vampire or troll mauling, but those incidents were dwarfed in comparison. (Ha-ha)

The werewolves themselves

sneered at the human's reaction. They saw fear as weakness and consequently the vast majority of violence perpetrated after the Outing involved them.

Weres would not, or could not, lay down when gun-toting radicals spewed hate and malice, and spread the message that to be anything other than human was a sin.

Truthfully, I always sided with the Weres. Why should they heel, when those pro-human monsters did everything they accused Supes of, and worse?

The injustice, the audacity, the sheer hypocrisy!

It burned like bile in my throat and it wasn't even aimed at me. I couldn't imagine what it must be like to feel it, to live it every second of every day.

I don't think I would be able to handle it with even a fraction of their grace, poise, and restraint.

“Quiet, please. That is not how we treat our guests," Professor Cane admonished the class. "They have graciously consented to enlighten us.

They deserve our respect and undivided attention!" He turned to the pack, "Please, if you would, introduce yourselves?"

The lead Were stepped forward

and cleared his throat.

"I'm Mark and I'm the alpha of this pack. Um...," he looked to the professor questioningly, at a loss for what to say.

"Does anyone have a question for Mark?" Professor Cane asked the class at large.

Silence greeted his question.

Everyone looked at their neighbors to see who would be brave enough to attract the Were's attention.

Though I truly did not want to

draw attention to myself, I sighed and raised my hand.

"Obviously, the moon doesn't

affect you, but do you have a time limit between changes?"

My classmates murmured to each other, looking excitedly from me to the pack on stage. There was true interest here. We had all grown up watching the movies, reading the stories. Wishing they were true.

Completely unaware that they existed beside us, all the while.

It made for a quite surreal situation.

Here, we could actually interact with the creatures we fantasized about, had wanted to be.

Until they were real. And fear overroad our better selves.

Christy and Alice eyed

me speculatively.

They recognized my voice, just not my face.

I didn't blame them, I didn't recognize my face.

"We can change whenever we

want," Mark informed us.

"Does it hurt?" asked a shy mousy girl in the third row. I was pretty sure she was some kind of elemental witch.

"A little, yeah, but not like how

you see in the movies."

"Did the movies get anything

right?" Christy asked, with a sardonic edge.

"Uh...not really," Mark said with a laugh.

He had a nice laugh.

The questions and Mark's easy

answers went a long way towards settling everyone; the rest of the pack even joined in. The atmosphere eased from tense to cautiously excited.

The repartee was flowing and everyone was really starting

to enjoy themselves until one jock, who thought he was funny, interrupted.

"Can you show us?" he asked,

elbowing his neighbor like it was some great joke.

"Show you what?" Mark's voice

was flat.

"You said you could change

whenever. So, do it. Show us," The jock challenged. "Unless you can't."

"That is not a question," Cane

interceded. "Moving on." He looked around for someone else to ask a question.

"Nah, it's ok. I can do it." Mark

growled. Like, actually growled. Oh boy, pretty scary.

It sounded like Mark didn't like

being challenged. Maybe it was an alpha thing. Maybe it was a Mark thing.

His muzzle crinkled in

concentration and he closed his eyes.

At first, nothing seemed to happen and then a shiver went through him. He rolled his head back like he was trying to pop his neck, but the sounds it made

were way louder than any popping joints. His limbs jerked like they were connected to live wires, and his fur started to fall out, revealing nicely tanned skin.

The shivering in the air around him got more violent until, with the loudest (and most sickening) c***k yet, Mark fell to his knees.

He climbed back to his feet and looked out at the class.

That Mark was a beautiful boy. Shaggy black hair combined

winningly with piercing green eyes in a face that was pleasantly masculine without being too cave-man. And his

body was nothing to sneeze at.

The boy had muscles for days.

I guess being a Were really kept you in shape.

Alice, Christy, and I started

clapping and soon everyone but the jock and his friends joined in. I think I actually heard every girl in the room swoon. Look out Professor Cane, there was a new crush in town.

"Well," Cane said a tad smugly,

smiling. "That was impressive. Does anyone have any more questions for our gracious guests?"

"Yeah!" the jock yelled. "Were all those murdered girls in the news your work, or some other freak's?"

The auditorium exploded with

sound. The Weres were all snarling, the other Supes in the room were yelling, and the humans were all exchanging

worried whispers. As Professor Cane was tried to restore order I turned to my neighbor again.

"What murdered girls?"

"Don't you watch the news?" he

asked. "Four girls from town went missing in the last two weeks. One of them was actually in this class, those are her friends," he added, nodding his

chin toward Christy and Alice.

"And they think Weres are

responsible?"

"Oh, hell, no. Dude's just bein' an ass. It was magic crap, the news said, like some voodoo s**t, except all the girls were just people, you know? Like regular people. My friend, Bud, said that some witch probably ate their souls to keep herself young forever, you know?" He said it with a nod, like he was imparting some sage wisdom.

"ENOUGH," Cane barked.

He had been struggling to calm the Weres and the other Supes in the room, while me and my neighbor had our pow-wow. At

his shout, the humans in the room fell silent. The Supes gradually followed suit.

"Mr. Reeves. I will have to ask you to leave my class and I will be contacting the Dean and your parents about your atrocious behavior. Your coach, too, I should think."

The jock in question got up, with

much grumbling, and stormed from the room.

"Attitudes like that are what this class is meant to combat. We are here to get to know our neighbors, not demonize them," Cane extolled, his passions shining through as he struggled to remain composed.

Turning to the Supes, he continued, "I truly regret the consternation you have had to endure, here and after the

Outing. It was not my intention to bring you here to be ridiculed or accused."

"We're used to it," Mark said

shortly.

The pack and the rest of the

Supes in the room nodded. When I didn't, Mark eyed me curiously.

I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Theirs was a plight I was privileged enough never to have experienced. As much as I could emphasize, I could never really understand, because I had never experienced the prejudice, the pain, the systemic rot in the heart of the world that they couldn't fully participate in.

"I think we are done for the day.

Thank you for giving us your time," Cane said. "Class, you can go.'

The professor walked over to

shake the hands of the Weres as the class gathered their things and trickled out.

Alice and Christy packed their

bags and started to get up.

Since I didn't have a phone this was probably the best, and only, place to talk to them.

Leaning forward, I tapped Christy on the arm.

"Excuse me," I said quietly.

"Girl. You're new, so I'll forgive

this once, but you don't know me like that. Don't touch me."

"Jay-sus. How is that to talk? How did we ever get to be friends?" I asked, nonplussed.

I knew she could be

aggressive, but it hadn't ever been directed at me.

"Friends? b***h, we ain't friends.

Imma talk slow so you hear me: I. Do. Not. Know. You."

"Fat Christ..."

"Holy s**t," Alice interrupted, looking stunned.

Christy started forward forcefully. "Move out before I hit you."

Alice slapped her on the arm, then grabbed it and shook her.

"Juniper!" She squeaked, her voice tight with emotion.

"Juniper wouldn't like her, either.

Look at her."

"Yes! Look at her! It's Juniper!"

"I always knew you were the smart one," I said, shaking my head. "But honestly, it's enough to make me wonder if you're a little psychic."

The expression on her face was

priceless. Christy looked like she had just gotten hit by a frying pan that dropped from space: totally shocked,

mouth hanging open, hands dangling.

Alice squealed happily, and crashed into me. The noise seemed to galvanize Christy. She snatched me into a hug so

tight she nearly pulled me over the row of chairs.

"GURL. Where have you been? What happened to you? Why do you....? We were scared shitless!"

Grimacing, I detangled myself

gently.

"Just a tick, I need to speak to

Professor Cane. If you'll wait for me, I'll catch up and explain... as much as I can."

"Go ahead, we'll wait. I'd like to get to know that Mark a little better." Christy said unsteadily, trying to inject some levity, as she climbed the stage.

We all exchanged weak smiles, but I had no idea what I would say. How to explain something when you had no explanation?

"I'd like to, too!" Alice said, following her, the smile never leaving her face.

Shaking my head at my amazing

friends, I climbed after them.

I followed Cane back to his desk,

but I found that I didn't know how to broach the subject.

"Professor Cane?"

"Yes?" He looked up at me. "May I help you? Did you have questions about the lecture?"

"Yes, actually. I'm Juniper

Monroe, Professor Keenan's daughter. I don't think we've spoken face-to-face."

"I'm sorry," he said in polite disagreement. "I

know Juniper. She's in this class."

"I know," I said quietly. "I am in

this class."

"Ah," He said kindly, speculatively.

"I see some things have changed for you."

"I... yeah, actually. I... I wanted to ask you...," I trailed off again, unsure how to frame my questions.

He leaned forward on his steepled fingers speculatively.

"The poor girls in the news were

victims of a rogue Bokor, or more

commonly put: a voodoo sorcerer who specializes in the creation of...zombies. Not to be confused with a necromancer, though they also raise the dead. The

rites are quite different. A necromancer is born with their power. The vudan barrows power. The practice of raising

zombies was long believed to be utter nonsense, but after the Outing... Well, it

seems we have a great deal to learn, or rather, re-learn. The ritual sites where the victims were found were odd in that

they did not show completely

recognizable veves or forms, though Voodoo, in general, is a mostly spoken practice. It was as if the Bokor was attempting something new. A transfer of

some sort. Not the standard zombie creation ritual, though the creation of zombies is not confined to Voodoo practices only, there are many cultures.

who have their own zombie lore," he explained in lecture mode, ever the professor.

I could see that he was trying to give me what information he guessed I needed while creating an opening for me.

"I think...someone tried to do that to me, too. Turn me into a zombie," I explained. "But I didn't die."

I shrugged, lost again.

"You always seemed like a fighter to me, I'm glad I was right.... I was contacted by the police for my expertise," he said slowly, choosing his words with great care. "I could give you the number of the detective in charge. I'm sure what you could tell them would be invaluable."

"I don't remember anything. The

whole two weeks are gone. I wouldn't be much help."

"I think you will be more helpful

than you know. Let me get you that number," he rummaged around in the papers on his desk and handed me a sticky note.

I took the name and number of

the detective in charge and went to tell Christy and Alice what little I knew.