The Abused Werewolf Rescue Group by Catherine Jinks Read Free Book Online Page A

happened. On the contrary, we discussed it at length. We laughed. We made plans. We tried to imitate the various kinds of epileptic seizures. Looking back, I guess it sounds pretty gross, but we did have a lot of fun. And by the time Fergus went home, I wasn’t worried anymore. I was in a terrific mood. The world seemed to be full of exciting possibilities.
    It didn’t last, though. When Father Ramon Alvarez turned up, everything went pear-shaped.

T he doorbell rang after dinner. It was about seven o’clock, and the light was only just beginning to fade. Mum and I were in the kitchen, cleaning up.
    ‘I bet that’s the Mormons,’ Mum said with a sigh. ‘I saw a couple in Blacktown the other day.’
    ‘What if they’re looking for donations?’ I asked, as I headed out of the room.
    ‘Tell them we donate online,’ Mum called after me. I was still in a pretty good mood, thanks to Fergus. In fact I was in such a good mood that I practised my dance moves all the way to the front door – which I yanked open without checking through the peephole.
    Imagine my surprise when I found myself staring at a Catholic priest.
    I knew he was a priest because I’d recently watched The Exorcist. There are Catholic priests in that movie, and they all wear black robes and clerical collars like the guy who was standing on our welcome mat. I figured that he must be collecting for charity, so I was about to tell him that we always donate online when he murmured, ‘Are you Toby Vandevelde?’
    My heart seemed to do a backflip.
    ‘I’m Father Ramon Alvarez,’ he continued, before gesturing at the man just behind him. ‘This is my friend Reuben Schneider. We were wondering if we could have a word with your mum?’
    I raised my voice. ‘ Mum! ’
    ‘It’s very important or we wouldn’t have come here like this. We don’t want to annoy or frighten you.’ The priest certainly didn’t look frightening, with his soft brown eyes and worried expression. He had one of those creased, pouchy, unthreatening faces, topped by a dense thatch of silver-grey hair. He smelled faintly of flowers.
    Reuben Schneider, on the other hand, had trouble written all over him. It wasn’t just his age (early twenties, by the look of it), or the fact that he was dressed in clothes that must have been borrowed from someone else (like his grey tweed jacket, for instance, which was too tight across the shoulders). No; what freaked me out was the way he stood with every muscle tensed, as if he wanted to lunge forward. There were other disturbing things about him too: the jagged scars on his neck and hands; his split lip and bandaged fingers; the fact that he’d smoothed back all his thick, wild, curly brown hair to make his appearance less alarming.
    It didn’t work, though. I was alarmed.
    ‘ Mum! ’ I yelled again, retreating a step or two.
    ‘We’re really sorry to bother you at such a late hour,’ the priest murmured. He was already gazing over my shoulder at Mum, who was hurrying down the hallway towards us.
    ‘It’s that priest,’ I said, turning to address her. ‘The one from the hospital.’
    ‘Oh, I’m not from the hospital—’ Father Ramon began. Mum, however, wouldn’t let him finish.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ she shrilled. ‘How did you find us?’
    ‘Mrs Vandevelde.’ The priest spread his hands, as if to show her that he was unarmed. ‘Forgive me for intruding. I realise how irregular this must seem. But I didn’t know what else to do.’
    ‘ How did you find us? ’ she repeated.
    After a moment’s hesitation, the priest replied, ‘To be honest, you’re the only Vandevelde in the phone book who lives anywhere near Featherdale Wildlife Park.’ He spoke so quietly and humbly that I almost felt sorry for him. ‘And when I called to ask about your son, you said ‘no comment’. Which made me think that you’d been dealing with the media at some point—’
    ‘That was you ?’ Mum interrupted. ‘ You made that