Lone Wolfe Protector (7 page)

“First the sons, then the town.”

Koda nodded. “We can’t really understand the level of resentment toward Bastien Wolfe back then. He took over this area. Married a Tututni woman. Had half-breed children.”

“Did they have sons right away?”

“Right out of the chute. The baby got sick and died when he was a toddler. They never knew exactly why, but the doctor guessed it had something to do with his heart.”

“Oh no.”

“His second son died of lupus when he was seventeen.”

He must have recognized the troubled look on her face, because he paused, frowning. “Are you sure you want to hear the rest of this? It’s just stupid folklore.”

“It’s not stupid. Go on.”

He took a visible breath before continuing. “I don’t know if you know anything about lupus, but it’s a terrible disease. Attacks your organs. Very painful.”

“My aunt had lupus,” Maggie said. Her mother’s sister, Shannon, who’d lived in Belfast during Maggie’s childhood, had recently passed away. Maggie had only met her once when she was eight, and all she remembered was that Shannon had been a small woman with a drawn face. But she clearly remembered her mother telling her how awful the disease was. “It’s horrible.”

“Yes, it is.”

Maggie waited, but he didn’t go on. “What?”

“Do you know what lupus means in Latin?”

She felt her toes curl.

“It means wolf,” he said.

And just like that, she wanted to squirm out of her skin. As if on cue, a coyote yipped from somewhere up the mountain.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “Are you saying the chief’s curse turned out to be an honest-to-God disease?”

He tipped his face toward the pale, frigid moon that hung suspended above. “It’s a little worse than that.”

“What could be worse than your family being cursed with lupus?”

He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing, his lips curving slightly, and a small breeze rustled through the bushes behind them.

“Being cursed as a werewolf,” he said.

Chapter Ten

Maggie stared at him, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She forced a laugh. The temperature seemed to have dropped in the last ten seconds, and she quivered from the chill. “That’s the Wolfe Creek legend? Werewolves?”

“Yup.”

It was something out of a child’s fairy tale.
I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll…

Shrugging, he turned and crossed the street toward the Inn. “I told you it was ridiculous.”

“Wait.” She said, rushing after him. “Wait a minute. You can’t just leave it at that. You skipped over a whole century. What happened after the second son died from lupus?”

“Ahh, I see I’ve drawn you in, young lassie,” he said in an accent almost as good as her mother’s. “Tomorrow you’ll get to hear all about Big Foot and the Loch Ness
Monster
.”

She grinned. “I want you to finish. Please?”

Surprising her, he took her hand and brushed his thumb over the backs of her fingers. “You’re cold.”

His hand warmed hers, and heat crept up her arm. A curl of desire took her by surprise.

“Okay, I’ll finish,” he said, his voice low and suggestive. “But I might get you home after curfew. Aunt A might notice.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He let go of her hand, and she immediately missed the connection, the intimacy of his gesture.

“Where was I?”

“The second son.”

“Ah. Well, he wasn’t the only one who’s died from lupus.”

“Oh, no. How many?”

“A fair amount. And it’s not very common for men. It mostly affects women. But the cases in my family have all been men, and they seem to have gotten worse over the years.”

“How does that tie in to
werewolves
?”

“Who knows? Maybe the chief and his buddy thought they’d come up with a disease that would allow us Wolfe’s to experience the ultimate in pain and suffering. That’s how the legend goes, anyway. That we get sick and go through some kind of transformation.”

She nibbled a fingernail. “Why is it called lupus? Why wolf?”

“Sometimes people with lupus get a rash on their face. It’s like a mask. It looks like a wolf, or so they say.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Back in the day, the pain medication was practically nil and it wasn’t uncommon to hear people cry out and moan from inside their houses. Or even howl.”

“Good Lord.”

“So what do you think, lassie?” Koda asked, the new nickname gentle and teasing, and stroking something inside her. But there was an underlying tone in his voice, too. “Still gonna stick around?”

“Of course,” she answered a little too quickly. As if trying to convince herself, as much as him. “You’re not saying people actually believe that stuff, are you?”

“Oh, they believe it, all right. They might not admit it right away, but get a few beers down someone and you’ll hear all kinds of interesting things.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yes, ma’am. I haven’t always been with the department. I was young once, too. There’s not a whole lot to do in a town this size when you’re twenty-two, except drink. I’ve spent my fair share of time in a bar.”

They considered each other for a long, quiet moment. Koda Wolfe’s eyes were as dark as the shadows that stretched out behind him, and just as deep.

“This is you,” he said.

Without Maggie realizing it, they’d ended up back at the Inn. Yellow lights glowed in the old, frosted windows.

Turning, she smiled. “Thank you for the walk, Deputy Wolfe.”

“Koda,” he said.

“Koda.”

They stood looking at each other for a long moment, before he leaned so close that she could make out his eyelashes in the dim light.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight,” he added in a dramatic whisper.

She could still feel the heat of his breath on her cheek as he climbed into his SUV and started the motor. When he pulled away from the curb she waved, watching the taillights gradually fade until they were just a tiny memory of warmth in the clear, cold night.

Trembling, she dipped her chin into her collar. She wasn’t sure how she’d sleep tonight.

But wasn’t anxious to find out.

“I have to pee.” Aimee laughed, but it sounded hollow and far away. It was foggy outside the car, but warm inside, and Maggie had a sudden urge not to stop. If felt safe in there.

Aimee pointed to a sign. The words were big and distorted, and the fog was so thick that Maggie had to slow down to see where she was going.

“There,” Aimee said. “Pull over.” She laughed again, and the sound broke something deep inside of Maggie. She turned to her friend, but couldn’t talk. She could hardly breathe.

The car veered to the right as if it wasn’t being driven at all. It seemed to be moving on its own. And Maggie was suddenly angry. So angry that she gripped the steering wheel and shook her head back and forth. But Aimee didn’t notice. She kept talking and laughing, asking if Maggie was hungry, maybe they should stop and eat something.

The woods here were the darkest Maggie had ever seen. The trees towered over them, and it seemed like they were alive, watching the car pass beneath.

Even though she didn’t see any other cars, no other people through the fog, she knew they weren’t alone. The smell of smoke and pine filled her nose, making her gag.

“He bites,” Aimee said.

She turned to her friend, who was staring at her. She wasn’t laughing anymore. She looked scared. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open. There was drool coming out the side.

“What?” Maggie asked. Aimee didn’t look like herself. Her eyes were vacant. She wasn’t making any sense.

“He bites,” Aimee said again. She was now staring past her, out the window. Maggie turned to look. Nothing but fog. Beyond that, darkness.

“You’re scaring me,” Maggie said. “Stop it.”

Then her eyes settled on Maggie. They weren’t blue anymore. They were black.

“He’s going to get you,” she said.

“Who?” Maggie asked, and started to cry. She felt like she might wet herself. “Who’s going to get me?”

Aimee smiled. Her teeth were crooked and yellow. She was an old woman now, her hair hanging in stringy white tendrils past her bony shoulders. She lifted a gnarled hand and pointed a finger at Maggie’s heart.

“The boogeyman,” she whispered.

Maggie woke with a gasp and sat up in bed. The room was dark and cold, the clock on the dresser reading 3:05 a.m.

Her hair stuck to her neck in a floppy, sweaty mess.

The boogeyman.

She shook her head, desperate to clear it. Aimee had been trying to warn her.

He bites.

Maggie swung her legs out of bed. She needed a drink of water.

Not bothering with her robe, she opened the creaky door and peered down the hallway.
Empty
. Of course it was empty. It was three o’ clock in the morning. But the dream was still fresh and she felt the need to look just the same.

She walked down the hall toward the bathroom, her bare feet padding along on the worn, flower print carpet. An elderly couple had checked in yesterday and were staying a few rooms down. Maggie glanced at their door as she passed. As far as she knew, they were the only ones staying at the Inn besides her and Zane. Ara, of course slept downstairs in the quarters off the kitchen. Jim, the caretaker had an apartment above the carriage house out back. Still, the place seemed deserted. Strangely silent.

Stepping onto the chilly bathroom tiles, Maggie closed the door. She turned on the faucet and leaned down to scoop some water into her mouth, then splashed a little on her face. She grabbed a paper towel and straightened to look at her reflection in the mirror.

The dark circles underneath her eyes made her look five years older. So did the way her mouth was drawn into a grave frown. Her typically pale skin was even more so, making the scattered freckles across her nose stand out like brown confetti.

She wadded up the paper towel, tossed it in the garbage, and leaned against the sink. Her heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm after the nightmare, but she still felt jumpy. She closed her eyes and forced a deep breath, then another. If she didn’t get a grip fairly soon, she’d have to take one of the crazy pills the doctor prescribed after Aimee had disappeared.

She’d spent too many weeks in a haze because of those pills and didn’t really want to rely on them now just when she needed to be at her sharpest. Still, the thought of taking one and being able to sleep soundly until morning sounded pretty good.

Opening her eyes, she concentrated on the ancient lilac print wallpaper over the tub. She wondered how long it had been there. As long as the tub itself? It was possible. This place had seen more than its share of guests. More than its share of seasons. Gloomy autumns, which would transform themselves year after year into winters that were thick with snow and silence. And then spring would come again, and she imagined it would be beautiful here.

She’d only been back in Wolfe Creek for a little over a week, but was already starting to feel some kind of connection to this place. To the people, whom she was surprised to find that she not only liked, but liked to spend time with. History, that was messy and sad, but also laced with passion and love. Those things were starting to pull her in. To affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. She felt confused and overwhelmed. Exhausted.

Opening the bathroom door, she squinted into the hallway. The events of the last few days kept playing over and over in her head. Coffee with Candi, hitting the dog, the stalker at the bathroom door, dinner at the Inn, the walk with Koda. They all swirled around and around and around, until she was having trouble keeping them all straight.

She hurried back to her room and locked the door with both hands. Plucking her makeup bag from the dresser, she rooted inside until she came up with a small plastic baggie. Inside were a few tiny pills, an insurance policy she was now grateful she’d thought of.

She placed one on her tongue and swallowed it dry, feeling its sharp little edges scratch the back of her throat as it went down.

Licking her lips, she walked to the window, drawing the curtains to look up at the moon, which cast an eerie luminescence over the yard below. The ax that Jim used every morning was stuck in the stump as if suspended midblow. The rickety gate hung open, sagging away from the fence on rusty hinges. And beyond that, the forest. The ever-present forest, with its secrets and fine gray mist.

Maggie felt a chill at the same moment she noticed her brain begin to go slightly fuzzy. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but her stomach was empty and the pill would probably work fast. She blinked, her eyelids heavy. Good, she was getting sleepy. She needed at least one night’s sleep without waking in a sweaty panic. Tomorrow she’d do without. But tonight she needed rest.

She began to turn away but froze when something caught her eye. She wiped a quick circle into the foggy glass and looked down at the yard.

It was empty. Completely still. With her pulse fluttering in her neck, she squeezed the curtain in her fist.

After a long minute, she began to turn again. And again, there it was.
There.
Right by the gate.

Something big and dark crouched on the other side of the fence. She could see it now and her scalp prickled.

What in God’s name is that?

An animal of some sort. She was sure of that much. Two bright eyes looked out from a giant, black mass of a head. But the shape of it, the curve of its body was harder to make out.

Maggie stood there, dazed. The pill was definitely taking effect. She put a hand on the sill to steady herself. Whatever it was saw the movement in the window and looked up. The silence in the room was deafening.

She took an involuntary step back. It seemed to be looking right through her. A memory from her childhood came rushing back then. Maggie licked her lips, seeing it unfold, vivid and clear as if it’d happened just yesterday. Her parents had taken her to the zoo when she’d been a toddler. They’d been standing in front of the big-cat enclosure and her mother had taken her hand, leading her up to the smudged glass.
Cougars
. She could still see the eyes, the whiskers, the twitching ears, soft and deceptive. She remembered wanting to touch them.
Isn’t he pretty?
Her mother had said.
Look at his tail.
Maggie had turned to see another one, a bigger one, crouching just a few feet beyond the glass. Her jewel eyes had been fixed on Maggie in such a way that even in her babyhood, she’d been instinctually afraid. The cougar had wiggled her bottom, just like a housecat that was stalking something small and weak. The muscles and bones of her powerful haunches rippled beneath an iridescent hide. And then she’d pounced. Hitting the glass with such force that it shook. Maggie could still hear the
thud,
her mother’s sharp intake of breath, feel her arms scooping her up and holding her close. And Maggie had cried then. Big, hiccupping sobs. She’d been inconsolable and had hated the zoo ever since.

She blinked now, unable to look away from whatever it was in the yard, and was suddenly very glad she was on the second floor. She couldn’t shake the image of the cougar. Or that unmistakable feeling it had wanted to eat her for lunch.

Maggie took a breath. Watching, waiting. And then, just like that, the dark shape whipped around, fast as a lightning bolt in a stormy sky. There was a rustle of leaves, and it was gone.

Trembling, she gripped the windowsill and stared at the empty yard below.

She felt strange all of a sudden. Almost detached, like she was standing outside her own body. Watching herself at the window, a thin ghost of a girl in a T-shirt and sweats, with dark circles underneath haunted green eyes.

And wondered if she’d really seen anything at all.