Defying Destiny (3 page)

flop of the carpet as it was thrown over

the trapdoor and the scrape of a

decorative table above them. They were

safe here, but it was dark beneath the

house. Trembling, Maralee reached for

her big brother’s hand, but he was

already climbing the wooden stairs.

“You can stay here like a little mouse

hiding in the crawl space,” Leland said,

“but I’m going to help the Hunters.”

“Leland! Mother told us to stay

here.”

“I’m tired of her babying me. I can

use a sword almost as good as father

can.”

“Cannot,”

Maralee

whispered.

Father trained both of them to use a

sword on a daily basis, but neither was

ready to fight a Wolf. “If you go, I’ll tell

on you.”

Leland huffed. “You’re such a

coward.”

Leland pushed against the trapdoor,

putting his shoulder into the motion, and

the table above crashed to the floor. A

flash of light illuminated the crawl

space. Leland grunted as he dragged his

body through the narrow space beneath

the carpet. The door dropped shut and

Maralee was alone. The darkness moved

closer. The house moved further away.

She shrank. So small. A frightened, timid

mouse.

Maralee sat amongst the cobwebs

against a pillar of support stones and

stared into the blackness towards her

home. A long, low howl pierced the air

and Maralee shuddered. The crash of

breaking glass came from everywhere at

once.

Growling. Snarling.

A woman screamed.
Mother?

Leland’s footsteps thudded across the

floor above as he sought his first real

battle.

Unable to blink, Maralee listened to

the chaos above her. The cries of the

people she loved were silenced as the

Wolves tore every human in the house

apart—all but her, hiding like a coward

in the crawlspace.

Once the sounds stopped, it couldn’t

have been less than ten lifetimes later,

Maralee gathered enough courage to

climb out of the trapdoor. The floor was

scattered with fragments of glass. Cold

air blew through the jagged-edged holes

of the broken windows. Concentrating on

the damage to her lovely home, Maralee

stumbled over her brother’s mauled body

just inside the parlor door. She looked

down and blank, blue eyes stared up at

her. The condition of his body was

horrific—incomprehensible. Pieces of

him were... missing.

Leland...
Maralee closed her eyes and

shook her head. No. No. No! If she

denied it, it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true.

Heart thudding, Maralee covered her

mouth and fled to the front of the house.

Mama and Father would be able to help

him. Fix him. Fix Leland. They never

failed their children.

Maralee found other members of the

Decatur family scattered around the

foyer. Her grandfather, two uncles, an

aunt, several cousins, all of them had

their throats torn out and the same blank

look on their faces. The floor was

decorated with a discordant pattern of

macabre, bloody paw prints. Near the

front door lay her mother. Her radiance

extinguished. Her beautiful blond hair

saturated with blood.

“Mama!” Maralee turned away.

Shapes blurred behind her tears. She was

shrinking again.

I’m so small. I can’t help her. I can’t

help anyone.

Her brother’s voice echoed around

h e r .
Coward. Coward! Coward!
She

covered her ears, but it didn’t drown out

his words.

Too late. It’s too late.

Maralee stumbled out of open the

front door, fleeing the ghosts in the

house, and tripped over another body

lying across the porch. She pitched

forward, tumbled down the steps and

landed in the graveled drive on her

knees. She sucked in a sob of pain and

then froze. An enormous, black Wolf lay

sprawled beside her.

She shrieked, but it didn’t move.

It was dead.

Several others scattered across the

drive and yard—dead.

She struggled to her feet. No place

was safe haven. The horror of death

engulfed her.

A metallic scrape behind her gave

her heart pause. She turned her head

slowly, eyes reluctantly seeking the

source of the sound. The body she’d

tripped over on the porch was her father.

His sword, still clutched in his right

hand, scraped across the marble

doorstep as he attempted to lift it.

“Father!”

She spun on her heel and raced up

the steps to kneel beside him. Her

salvation. Father would protect her. He

would

make

things

better.

Fix

everything. Fix Leland. Fix Mama. Take

the fear. The pain. The terror. Her faith

in Father was as infallible as his sword

wrought in solid silver.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Like

the other members of her family, his

throat had been ripped out. His silvery

eyes locked with hers and he handed her

his bloodied sword. Maralee took the

weapon and cradled it against her

narrow chest. It was heavy. The weight

of her world rested upon its blade. But

her father’s strength radiated from the

sword and gave her hope.

“What should I do, Father?” she

asked, afraid to touch him.

There was so much blood. None of it

in his vessels.

Father never answered her. His face

went lax and he flew with the angels.

From behind, a vicious growl alerted her

to danger.

Maralee sat up abruptly, instantly

awake. She took a deep, shuddering,

breath and collapsed back on the lumpy,

inn pillow. Every night for the past fifteen

years, the same dream of her past

interrupted her sleep. At times, she was

grateful for it. It never let her forget why

she hunted Wolves. Why they must all die.

She would not rest until every one of them

was extinguished.

She had failed so utterly in her duty the

night before. She’d only slain a solitary

Wolf. Only one. That ignorant man, Nash,

had shut her in a shed. How dare he

interfere with her destiny? Then he

seemed to mourn that horrible Wolf.

Strange fellow. Definitely strange. She

hoped she saw him again, just so she

could tell what she thought of him and his

damned meddling. Now she’d have to

wait an entire month before she could

destroy the rest of that pack of soulless

monsters.

The sun had barely risen, but Maralee

knew she would be unable to go back to

sleep. She tossed the covers aside and

rose from bed. She rummaged through her

knapsack and gathered clothes and

toiletries for a bath, then journeyed to the

end of the hall and filled the tub with cold

water from the hand pump. Several

steaming kettles sat upon the radiator. She

added the hot water to her bath before

refilling the kettles and returning them to

the heater.

Her bath was cool, but it was better

than washing up in a partially frozen

stream as she had while traveling by hired

sleigh. She thought she’d never arrive at

this secluded village. She really needed to

get herself another horse. Wolves had

killed her last mount two months ago and

she just couldn’t bring herself to get

another yet. It seemed disloyal to replace

Sully so soon after she had failed to

protect him.

Maralee washed with soap and

fragrant shampoo, and then added more

hot water to the tub from the kettles. It

wasn’t like her to lounge in a tub of warm

water, but she found it soothing. She had

almost drifted to sleep when someone

rattled the doorknob.

She sat up hastily with an awkward

splash. “Someone’s in here!”

“Apologies, miss,” the gravelly voice

of the innkeeper called through the door.

“I was wanting to tell you that breakfast is

being served down in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, sir,” Maralee called. “I

shall be down directly.”

Footsteps faded away from the door

and Maralee rose from the tub. It took her

a while to figure out how to drain the tub

with the siphoning hose, which ran

outside. It was nearly a half an hour

before she was dressed in black woolen

breeches and white blouse, and on her

way

downstairs

for

breakfast

in

stockinged feet.

She found the dining hall was more

like a dining closet. Two square tables

were squeezed into the tiny room with

eight, unoccupied chairs. The dark wood

paneling on the walls and lack of

windows made the room even more

confining. Maralee glanced around. She

could

smell

food—bacon

and

griddlecakes if she wasn’t mistaken—but

didn’t see any signs of it.

“Ah, there you be, miss,” the

innkeeper said. “I was about to come after

you again.”

“I’m sorry I’m so late. I couldn’t

figure out how to drain the bathtub.”

“Don’t worry about that none. The

maid will tend to it. Have a seat, the wife

will bring your breakfast.”

Maralee smiled and sat down in one of

the worn, wooden chairs. “Thank you.”

True to the innkeeper’s word, his wife

bustled out of a swinging door at the far

end of the dining closet, carrying a pitcher

of milk and plates overflowing with food.

She was a woman of ample hips and

ample cheer. She squeezed between the

pair of tables and set the food down

before Maralee. The woman brushed stray

strands of graying hair from her flushed

cheeks and gazed down at Maralee with a

warm and inviting smile.

“It’s nice to have a guest for a

change,” she said, blue eyes twinkling.

“Ever since those rumors about the

Wolves spread, we haven’t had many

travelers through these parts. Doesn’t

seem to matter to folks that we’ve never

had a death from a Wolf attack in these

parts.”

“And I’m here to make sure that’s

always the case,” Maralee said, her

stomach growling now that food was

within reach.

“We are happy you agreed to come,”

she said. “There be a Wolf out there

howling right now. Been carrying on all

morning.”

“Wolves howling during the day?” In

her experience, the Wolves disappeared

between full moons. Perhaps the howling

wolf was a common variety, but those did

not typically howl in the morning hours

either.

“I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Thank you for the fine breakfast,”

Maralee said, hoping to dissuade the

woman from further conversation. Maybe

if the howling Wolf turned out to be one

she ceaselessly hunted, she could increase

her death tally to two, instead of wasting

four weeks waiting for the pack to return.

“If you be needing second helpin’s,

give a holler.” The innkeeper’s wife

bustled back into the kitchen.

Like a starving beggar, Maralee

polished off a plate of griddlecakes and