A new team. Noah, Heath, and Finn. Zach had been the last link to the old gang, and now he was gone too. There weren’t that many wolf shapeshifters who were available to join the pack to choose from. He had been vetting a few but hadn’t been satisfied. The Wild Keepers only took the best. It was why they had been around so long. The oldest wolf pack in Covenester, sworn to battle the ever-present Vilgath, the demons that overran the city like a curse.
He had been just about to tuck into a sandwich for lunch when the call had come. He had glanced at his phone, wondering why Shay was getting in contact. He hadn’t heard from him for a few months since he had settled back in the city after an epic cross-country motorbike trip with Tess, his new wife. Now, Shay was busy at law school and didn’t have much time for his former pack. He understood, even though it was always hard to let go.
“Hey buddy,” he had said distractedly into the phone, staring at his sandwich. “What’s up?”
There had been a pause on the end of the line. A ragged breath. “You need to look at the news,” Shay had said eventually. “Now. The warehouse has burnt to the ground.”
He had dropped the phone onto the table where it had bounced off with a clatter. His eyes had been sickeningly drawn to the television playing on mute in the corner of the dive where he had been working.
And he had seen it. The vision from hell that would never leave him. The sight of it would be imprinted on his retinas forever.
The warehouse. Their home. His home for the last seven years. The place where he had lived alongside his brothers. It was on fire. He watched the flames licking into the air, seeming to claw the sky like fingers. The scene cut to firefighters battling the blaze. And then the final scene of the burnt charred ruins of it.
His mind froze completely as he watched the footage of paramedics grimly walking out of the ruins with stretchers. Three stretchers carrying bodies, wrapped in white sheets. For a moment he had simply been unable to comprehend it. What was happening? What the hell was happening?
He had upended the table in his haste, rushing to get out of there. To get back to them. To save his brothers, even as he knew that it was too late.
Three stretchers. One for each of the Wild Keepers. Except him. For some reason, he had been spared. Luck or fate?
Outside the dive he had spontaneously transformed into his wolf. He knew now that it was the shock of it. Sometimes it could happen if they were overcome with emotion. He had learned to control it well over the years, and he had always schooled his brothers to tame it. Turning into the wolf on public city streets just wasn’t the done thing. The Wild Keepers relied on their secrecy.
But control had been beyond him then. He had obviously sprinted through those streets to get back there. His next memory had been of turning back into himself at a distance. He had opened his eyes as a man and seen the blackened mess of his whole life still smoking. Shivering and sick.
Noah. Heath. Finn. All gone. All burnt to death in it.
He had stayed with Caleb and his girlfriend Allie for a while afterwards, then drifted from friend to friend, unable to settle anywhere in the city.
The former Wild Keepers had been as shocked and sickened by it as him, of course. Unable to believe it was real. For a time, they had let him grieve, without talking about it too much. But one day he had seen Zach, who had stared at him ashen faced.
“It’s my fault,” the former Wild Keeper had said. “I always thought that one of the demons I battled in the desert when they took me there escaped.” He had taken a deep, shuddering breath. “They knew where the Wild Keepers lived. Julia told them.”
He had known the truth of it as soon as Zach had spoken. He had been worried about it at the time. Julia, his former high school friend, had followed him back to the warehouse one day, begging for help to find her friend. He had let her into the warehouse, against all the rules. It turned out that Julia had been untrustworthy, speaking of them and their location to the demons. Zach had killed them all though—except one.
And that one had exacted its revenge upon them. It had set fire to the warehouse while it thought they all slept within it. Effectively destroying the Wild Keepers once and for all. The Keepers of the city. The Keepers that had kept the Vilgath at bay since Covenester had been founded.
But he knew it wasn’t Zach’s fault. The fault was his alone. He had let Julia trail him without realising, and then let her into the warehouse. He had broken all the rules of the pack. The one inviolate rule to never let any outsider into their sacred space.
He had been their leader, and he had failed them. The Wild Keepers were gone. He had allowed them to be destroyed. They had served the city faithfully for over a hundred and fifty years until it had all gone up in flames in one short morning. The whole pack and the proud history of the pack wiped out in an instant.
It was all his fault. There was no one else to blame.
He had walked the streets of the city, haunting it like a ghost. Every street of that mean old city that he had sworn to protect. It seemed that every corner he turned there was fresh pain awaiting him. Memories of places the pack had frequented. Places that they had worked on cases when they had been battling the demons. They were everywhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting to spring at him.
He had to get out of there. The offer of the cabin in the mountains came from Evan at just the right time. And he had been hiding here licking his wounds ever since. Completely adrift, not knowing where his life was headed, if it was indeed headed anywhere.
But he knew one thing with certainty. He would never, ever go back to Covenester again. The ruins of his life there were still smouldering in his mind, and he doubted now that they could ever be put out.
***
He stood up, reeling in his line. He had been sitting here for hours ruminating on it all as usual, and he was weary. Perhaps he would fix himself something to eat then have a nap. There was little else to do out here, and he didn’t feel like taking a hike through the mountain trails today.
He was almost to the cabin when he heard a car coming up the winding dirt track towards the cabin. He frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He had hardly had any visitors since he had come here, and that suited him just fine.
He placed the rod and tackle box down, waiting to see who it was. Perhaps he might get lucky and it was someone who had taken a wrong turn and needed directions back to town. Perhaps.
It was visible now. A little red hatchback, tearing up the driveway, sending pebbles scuttling beneath its wheels. His frown deepened. Obviously, no one from this area; they would know how to drive these tracks.
The car stopped, and the driver turned off the engine. He leaned on one side, waiting. A woman stepped out. A petite woman wearing a smart black pantsuit and heels. Her dark blonde hair was scraped off her face into a high ponytail, and she took off dark sunglasses, smiling at him as if they had just been introduced at a party.
He held his breath as she walked slowly towards him, holding out her hand. He stared down at her, not saying a word.
“Thaddeus Morgan?” she asked. She had a high, breathless voice. “My name’s Keeley Walters. Can I talk to you?”
Chapter Two
Keeley stared openly at the man standing outside the little log cabin. She had been told that Thaddeus Morgan had been living here for a while now and wasn’t seeing many people. But still, she hadn’t been expecting this. He reminded her a little of a character in an old television show her grandfather had once watched. What was the name? That’s right. Grizzly Adams. A wild mountain man.
She tried to close her mouth. Her mother had always told her it was rude to stare, and usually it wasn’t a problem for her. But this man had presence, as her grandmother Iris would say. He was big, for starters; at least six foot four, and solidly built. She could see the muscles of his biceps rippling slightly through the fabric of his old checked shirt.
He was also very hairy. A long brown beard, flecked with gold. Hair the same colour,
which was tied back haphazardly. For some reason all the hair just emphasised his eyes, which were a strange colour: kind of a murky green that almost became gold as he tilted his head, looking at her. Keeley felt herself wondering what he would look like without all that hair. She had a sneaking suspicion that there might just be a very handsome guy lurking underneath.
Still. He hadn’t taken her hand to shake, even though she had already introduced herself and had been holding it out for over a minute now. Flustered, she dropped the hand quickly. They had told her he was quiet, bordering on taciturn. But she had believed that if she smiled enough and turned on her charm she could bring him around. Now, she wasn’t quite so sure.
“Thaddeus Morgan?” she hesitantly repeated.
He eventually nodded, still staring at her. “No one calls me Thaddeus,” he said. “It’s Thad.”
“Thad,” she said, her smile broadening. This was better. At least he had decided to start speaking. Her eyes flickered over the fishing rod and tackle box, leaning against the porch. He had obviously just been fishing, but she couldn’t see any evidence that he had caught anything.
“No luck?” she smiled, inclining her head towards the rod. “My daddy used to say that these waters were so full of fish they practically jumped into your lap.” Her smile wavered at the memory. “All you had to do was reach out and catch them.”
He didn’t reply. He just kept staring at her with that level, goldish-green gaze.
Keeley couldn’t remember the last time that she had blushed. But she felt herself blushing now, to the roots of her hair. Why did he keep staring at her in that disconcerting way? Was he a little touched in the head, as well as extraordinarily hairy?
“What did you say your name was?” he asked abruptly.
Her face still burned. “Keeley Walters,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry to disturb you. But I was told you were the man to see if I needed something translated, and I haven’t had any luck elsewhere.”
He tilted his head. “Who are you?”
She laughed, a bit unsettled. “I should have said,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy. I’m a reporter in town, at the Coyote River Magnet. One year out from my cadetship.”
“A reporter,” he repeated, his lips tightening. “I should have known.”
He turned and walked abruptly away, taking two steps at a time up onto the rickety wooden porch. His eyes flashed as he looked back at her. “You should leave. I don’t have any comment to make about any of it.”
Keeley frowned, taking a step forward. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” she said. “I’m not here about any of…. that. That’s old news.” She reddened again, backtracking. “Not to be disrespectful, but I’m not here about that.”
His hand was on the old door knob. “You really want help translating a book?”
She nodded quickly. “I know it’s an odd request, but the language isn’t anything that I can identify,” she said. “My mom knows your friend Evan’s mom, and to cut a long story short, I ended up with your name.” She blinked rapidly. “I’ve got it right, haven’t I? You are Thaddeus Morgan, who can translate obscure stuff? Something that Google translate doesn’t recognise?”
He paused, hesitating. “I used to be able to do it,” he said slowly, his hand still on the knob. “But I haven’t in a long time.” He gazed at her for a moment, considering. Then he seemed to make up his mind. “Come in. I might be able to find some coffee to brew, and we can talk about it.”
Keeley felt a small stab of excitement. At last. At long last, she might be finally getting somewhere.
***
She followed him into the cabin, blinking to accustom her eyes to the dark. It was small, and it smelt musty. She could see layers of dust over every surface. Thad Morgan was obviously not a man given to housekeeping.
There were two single seats in the room, positioned around a log fire. Her eyes swept over the room as he moved to the kitchen to make the coffee. He had stacked wood in a corner, along with several twigs for kindling. Enough for a week, at least.
“Sit down,” he said quickly, staring at her. “Sorry. I haven’t had company in a long time, and I’m not used to it anymore.”
“I understand,” she said, smiling. She sat on the first seat, moving herself gingerly back. It looked and felt like it might just collapse under the strain of a normal person’s weight. But it appeared to be holding up, and she relaxed, leaning back into it.
Thad was obviously not given to creature comforts. She couldn’t even spy an old television set or stereo in the place. It must get so lonely up here, with no distractions. She had been told by her mother that he was here by himself. He didn’t have a girlfriend or wife to keep him company, and he hadn’t made friends with any of the locals. They only spied him in town occasionally, once a month at the most, when he would stock up on cans of baked beans and spam at the general store.
She glanced at him as he moved around the kitchen making the coffee. She had heard about the circumstances of why he was here, of course. A man who had retreated to the mountains after a tragedy in Covenester. Three of his friends had burnt to death in a warehouse where he lived with them. It was why he had been prickly with her when she had mentioned that she was a reporter. Although why he would have thought that she wanted information about a fire in the city six months after the fact was a little beyond her. As she had said to him, it was old news. Very old news.
He poured the coffee into mugs and brought them over, sweeping old papers off a coffee table to place them down. He picked his own up, sipping it quietly.
Keeley took a deep breath, picking up her own coffee. It was good; brewed strong, just the way she liked it.
“So.” Thad’s voice broke the silence. “Tell me about this book of yours. Do you have any idea what language it might be?”
Keeley shook her head. “It’s obviously ancient,” she began. “No one recognises it. A forgotten dialect of some country? I’ve had no luck, which is why I’ve come to you.”
Thad nodded, but he didn’t smile. He stared at her suddenly, his golden green eyes flashing in the darkness.
“Why do you want it translated?” He kept staring at her, almost pinning her with those unusual eyes. “What is it to you?”
Keeley took a deep breath. “It’s personal,” she said quickly. “An old book that’s been in my family for years.” She tried to smile. “I guess it’s just the reporter in me. I’m curious about it, and I’ve made it my mission to find out what it is about.”
Thad nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. “You don’t have to tell me anything about your motivation,” he said. “I guess I was just curious myself. It seems a strange thing for a girl of your age to be interested in.”
Keeley’s eyes flashed. “I’m not a girl,” she said. “I’m a full-fledged reporter with the Coyote River Magnet.”
Thad looked like he was trying to suppress a smile. “So you’ve said,” he replied. “They have a lot to report on at the Magnet? I couldn’t imagine there would be a huge amount of news in Coyote River.”
Keeley pursed her lips. “We have a fine news tradition in Coyote River,” she said. “The newspaper won the award for best regional rag two years running. My great-great-grandfather founded the paper when my family moved here back in the eighteen hundreds.” She took a deep breath. “Breaking news is in my blood.”
“Good for you,” said Thad, putting his cup down. “It’s great to have a passion in life.” He paused. “And great that you’ve discovered yours at such a young age.”
Keeley’s face burned slightly. “I look younger than I am,” she said, tilting her head higher. “I’m twenty-two, you know.”
Thad smiled slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, or imply I wasn’t taking you seriously.” He looked down at his hands. “Maybe you’d better show me this book of yours, so I can tell you whether I can help you or not.”
Keeley nodded. She reached int
o her black handbag, extracting an old book. She stared down at it for a minute, hesitating. Now that she was here, she didn’t know whether it was a good idea to hand it over. It was her only copy. Maybe she should have used the old photocopier at the Magnet and made a facsimile? She could have hole punched it and put it in a binder or something.
She gripped the book a little tighter for a moment, then handed it over to him. She tried not to flinch when his hand touched hers. A shiver ran through her, and she stared down at the book, suddenly confused. If she didn’t think it completely impossible, she would have sworn that a strange electricity had just passed between them.
She raised her eyes with difficulty, staring at his face. It was almost impossible to see him in the darkness of the cabin and through the goldish-brown beard. This was odd, indeed. She was usually not attracted to bearded men in the slightest, even though she knew that all the hipsters in Covenester wore them with pride.
But those hipsters maintained their beards at speciality barbers and with expensive hair products. They were immaculately maintained and groomed. This man’s facial hair was another story entirely. His beard was wild. She knew instinctively that it wasn’t a fashion statement. He just didn’t care enough to shave was her bet.
He was a mess, she thought, her heart softening as she gazed at him. Still grieving the death of his friends, obviously. She really shouldn’t be gazing at him with softly shining eyes. Men like this were complicated, as her mother always said. Stay away from men with complicated pasts—they were broken in ways that couldn’t be mended. And Thad Morgan was too old for her. He had to be nearing thirty at least.
She was so lost in contemplation of him that it took her a while to notice that he had grown very still as he clutched the book in his hand. And he was clutching it so tightly that his knuckles were almost white.
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