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temples, I leaned my head down on my hand and shut my eyes.
    Philip’s hand touched my shoulder. “You okay?”
    I didn’t immediately answer. When I did, I only said, “I’m all right.”
    “Sure?” he asked, leaving his hand on me.
    I decided I had no reason to lie. Michael told him enough about what he knew concerning what was happening with my head. “Just a headache,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
    “Want anything?”
    “A nice glass of whiskey,” I said, using my best joking tone. Alcohol actually sounded pretty good at that moment in time though.
    Philip laughed lightly. “Try and get some sleep. A few more hours and we’ll be in California. Then it’s quite a drive to the Commune.”
    “What’s that?”
    “It’s what we call our home.”
    I only nodded and tried to drift off. No matter how long I kept my eyes closed and tried to focus on something other than my head, my head only continued to pound like a timpani. Philip said nothing more to me during the rest of the plane ride, but his hand drifted away from my shoulder and rested lightly on my forearm for the rest of the flight.

Chapter Seven
    When we landed, I was still nursing my aching head, but the pain had diminished enough for me to be sociable. Philip and I both brought only carry-ons, so we were able to head right for the car. To my great relief, Philip had not left a dirty red Honda in the lot. Instead, he led me to an old, light blue Volkswagen Beetle. He opened the passenger side door for me, I got in then he joined me in the car.
    “We have a long way to go,” he said. “Landing here in Burbank was just a detour. And the cheapest flight I could get. Not that I’m stingy, but I like to save a buck or two where I can.”
    I smiled at him as he started the car. “Where are we going?”
    “The desert,” he said simply.
    “Okay,” I said.
    “How’s the head?”
    “Better,” I told him. I leaned back against the seat.
    “Might want to put your window down,” Philip said. “This thing has no air conditioning.”
    I did as I was told, rolling down my window with the old crank system. The air in the city, one of which I was familiar with, was ripe with exhaust fumes but I didn’t care. As we drove along multiple freeways, I admired the scenery and spoke on occasion about places I’d been in Los Angeles. (Just to clarify, in case anyone was wondering, yes I was born in Los Angeles; my mother moved up to LA from SD when she found out she was pregnant.) When we hit the 134 freeway, I could see the LA city skyline in the distance jutting up to the sky like pillars of light as the sun reflected off glass, and my heart jumped up into my throat. Memories filled my head and I kept my mouth shut on those matters. Philip though had more to say. Though he didn’t speak until we passed Fontana and hit the open road of the 15 heading into the desert.
    His first words to me at this point were, “I promised the others I’d tell you a bit about each of them.” He glanced at me quickly. “Just so you wouldn’t be surprised.”
    “I doubt much could surprise me,” I said, putting my window up a bit so better to hear him over the wind.
    “We’ll see,” Philip said. “Well, I guess I’ll go alphabetically.” He paused, running names through his mind. I decided not to pry and attempt to get ahead of him, so I just let him speak. “We’ll start with Alendra. Fitting I guess since she’s just about the oddest of all of us. I found her in the desert, a hundred miles from any real civilization. She was naked, sunburned, and suffering from amnesia. She still has no idea where she came from or how she got there. I couldn’t just leave her out there in the desert, so I took her back to the Commune with me.
    “She did know one thing about herself,” Philip continued. “Alendra is what you call a lycanthrope. She’s been with us for six months now.”
    The word lycanthrope hit a cord with me but I said nothing.
    “She can turn