LRR Hood

by Cassandra Johnson

  “So, what did your father say about your brother? Did he hear from him?” Elle asked. While she was curious, she was actually only forcing herself to talk, so she didn’t fall asleep as a blast of warm air hit her in the chest making all of her muscles feel like jelly beneath the delicious heat.

  “No, not exactly. My father is reluctant to believe my brother would commit a crime so terrible and…he thinks that someone might be setting him up.”

  “Is that possible?” Elle asked turning to look at him as he backed out of the drive way.

  Her brain running slow and foggy from the cold medicine, Elle wasn’t really sure what she remembered from last night’s conversations. It all blended together like a funny dream sequence.

  “Right now, I don’t really know for sure,” Marik said honestly. “But if it is true…I couldn’t be more grateful.”

  He meant what he said, in the last few years he had lost sight of how much he loved his brother, and yet he was ready to bring him to the Council like leading a lamb to the slaughter and just laying him down on the chopping block. What kind of a brother actually did that sort of thing? Things between the twins weren’t perfect, but it shouldn’t have been something that couldn’t be fixed, and that was how he had been going about this whole thing. Why was he so angry with his brother? A stolen girlfriend, a lost secretary? Those were all things that could be replaced. If he was seeing a girl who slept with his brother, then she obviously hadn’t loved him very much to begin with. JoAnn now was doing better than ever. He’d heard she had bought a house and was seeing an accountant, and her son was going to a private school. Getting fired was actually a good thing for her because in her new job she was able to climb the ladder, something she never would have been able to do in her previous position. JoAnn was a secretary, a damn good one, but that’s all she ever would have been. Jamal? It was a long time before he could look him in the eyes after that, which he still denied but look at the man Jamal had become? He was born to be a werewolf. Everything that Gaerik had done years ago, that Marik considered a crime when he looked at the situation with new eyes now every party involved was better for it. It was Marik who was still angry.

  Yawning in her seat Elle tried to keep track of the streets they drove and the turns made, but her eyelids were heavy as she leaned back against the head rest, promising herself that she was only closing her eyes for a few minutes.

  From beside him Marik heard a soft snore which made him glance in Elle’s direction, frowning slowly he shouldn’t have brought her, but wasn’t this something that she deserved to know? Marik certainly thought so, whether she chose to believe it or not. She was a part of their pack, she had been since she was born, while she didn’t know it she belonged with them, fate had brought her back here. Even the guardian who sat in the back of his car knew it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered finding her - which Marik still wasn’t entirely sure what she meant when she’d said she had just gotten him back. Maybe he was lost for a little while, but a guardian always knew his way to his master or mistress.

  ~

  A warm hand eclipsed her shoulder and gently shook. Elle’s eye lids peeled open slowly and looked around, at first all she saw were the trunks of trees, pines, and snow. Sniffing she sat up in her seat unaware of how long she had been sleeping but she knew that it couldn’t have been for very long.

  “We’re here,” Marik said next to her as he opened his door.

  The gravel drive way was rutted in places where they had tried to shovel some of the snow away. His childhood home looked for all intents and purposes like a winter wonder land as he marched around the side of the vehicle and opened the back door letting the guardian out before he opened Elle’s door for her and offered her his hand.

  “Careful, it’s slick, and there are a lot of holes from shoveling.”

  Unbuckling herself she was still drowsy, she’d only been asleep perhaps ten minutes in the drive over, but the rate of her pulse quickened as she climbed out of the Range Rover and looked around. Beyond the pine trees, she could see a massive house sitting on a slight inclined slope. Staring wide eyed it reminded her of something she saw in a fairy tale when she was little like the Beast’s castle but only on a slightly, and I mean a very slightly, smaller scale.

  Gregory ran from tree to tree, sniffing and marking his presence on them as he bounced through the unmarred snow that outlines an outside sitting area for visitors that looked out over a small body of water which was now more suitable for ice skating than the famous rink in New York City. Holding Elle’s hand, he took her elbow in the other guiding her over the icy surface of the drive way and out of the line of trees that blocked the house from full view. The house itself had been featured in magazines and architectural books for its craftsmanship, it truly was beautiful as they walked up to the front door. It was red with a large old fashioned gold doorknocker. Looking at it Elle thought that gold was an odd contrast to the red stain on the door and wondered why they hadn’t chosen silver for the knocker but before her thought could be finished Marik opened the door for her and ushered her inside the warm, expansive foyer.

  Inhaling, it smelled like evergreen inside, the smell reminded her of Christmas though it hadn’t reached Thanksgiving just yet. Did the house always smell this good? Elle always wondered how people with large homes like this always made it smell so delightful as there never seemed to be a mysterious stink to these houses like the damp smell of muddy boots, cigarette smoke or an icky dog fart lingering in the air. Perhaps she would need to consider that. Maybe her next project would be about a serial killer Martha Stewart type.

  Marik closed the door behind them as he removed her coat from her shoulders and hung it up inside of a closet near the door. It was perfect, like the type of house little girls imagined living in when they were married. Looking down at her snow covered boots she suddenly felt self-conscious as she stood on the Oriental rug in the entrance way.

  “Don’t worry, it’s been shampooed more times than I can remember,” Marik said sensing her thoughts and answering them before she had a chance to speak.

  Removing his coat, he gently led her into his father’s study where a large couch and two arm chairs were positioned around a roaring fire. Gallen’s desk sat before a window so he could turn from his musings and look out at the serenity of nature anytime he liked.

  “Have a seat and make yourself at home. I’ll go find my father. Would you like something to warm you up? I believe I can smell coffee in the kitchen.”

  In his own home or the home of his father, Marik seemed to be more respectful and cordial to guests which Elle took note of as she quietly sat down in one of the arm chairs nearest to the fire, her eyes slowly closing as she took in a soothing breath. The heat from the fire helping all the aches in her muscles disappear from the harsh cold outside of the walls of the house.

  “Some coffee would be nice, thank you.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Yes please.”

  Nodding gently Marik backed away and turned from the room following the familiar path into the kitchen where he found his father standing, staring out of the kitchen window into the open expanse of the snow-covered backyard. “We need to discuss something before you meet the woman I brought,” Marik warned him as he removed a serving tray from beneath the island and began to prepare the coffee, cream, and sugar.

  “What do you need to tell me, son?” Gallen looked at him slowly unsure as to what he was going to say, if in fact, his stranger thoughts were true he didn’t know if he could handle a shot gun wedding right now.

  “The girl that grandpa saved. She’s here. Elle Marshal. She’s a writer and to my great shock…I think Gaerik already knew who she was because he had a whole file on her back at his apartment. I went there looking for him last night.” Marik hadn’t even told him the most coincidental parts of meeting the woman either nor the fact that he’d been attacked by a guardian whose inflicted wounds were still slowly on the mend.

&
nbsp; “He...” Gallen paused shaking his head in wonderment. “And you brought her here?”

  “Yes, and that isn’t even the whole story. Apparently, her grandmother used to tell her stories when she was a girl about werewolves. Those stories she uses for her novels. I think Gaerik was onto something looking into her. She isn’t a danger to us, but I think her family’s history with ours may have put her in danger, again.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No. She thinks it’s all fiction. Just the stories her grandmother made up.”

  Gallen was silent for a moment as he turned back to the window, his eyes carefully narrowing at the black collie bouncing through the yard.

  “She also has a guardian.” He surmised assuming that was where the beast came from, he was following his mistress.

  “Found that out the hard way,” Marik said flexing his wounded hand slowly before picking up the tray.

  “Wait…” Gallen said halting his son in his tracks as he turned to look back at him speculatively. “She needs to know.”

  Inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee Marik nodded somewhat as he set the tray back down. “Do you think she would honestly believe us?” he asked considering the many ways that the night’s events might play out. She might have written about werewolves, but she didn’t believe in them, at least not to his knowledge.

  “Of course not, but she will,” Gallen said softly motion his son forward with his task as he opened the back door, waving the guardian inside.

  Returning to the living room Elle was no longer in the chair as he had left her, but she’d moved to the French doors opposite a large built in book shelf. Her arms folded over her chest as she looked out at the sugar plum forest that stretched out before her.

  “You must have loved growing up here.” Elle smiled somewhat as she turned to look at Marik hearing his feet on the rug as he came in.

  “It was interesting,” he noted sitting the tray down on the coffee table. “My father will be out in just a few minutes,” Marik added taking a seat on the sofa

  Sniffing she smelled the coffee, moving over to the chair again and sitting down as she took her cup and sampled the taste. It was incredible, the flavor, it must have been a gourmet coffee because she’d never tasted anything as good before even from the fancy coffee chains.

  “You must be Elle.” Gallen smiled walking into the room, a brisk stride in his step as he entered the intimate circle near the fire place.

  “Yes, I am.” She set her cup down, springing to her feet as she ran her tongue over her lips to remove them of any remaining coffee only to find that she had the beginnings of a fever blister working its way to the surface. There goes my first impression. She thought as she held her hand out. “I’m sorry though Marik hasn’t told me your name.” Elle turned slightly scolding Marik as he sat on the couch, watching the two interacting together and worrying about how he was going to get through this day without pulling every single hair out of his head.

  “Gallen Chaliceman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Marshal.” Gallen said receiving her hand for a firm but gently shake.

  Within seconds the air shimmered around him with an explosion of activity. Marik jumped to his feet, his eyes wide in shock and horror as his father practically detonate from within his clothing. “Shit!”

  Elle screamed as a wolf stood before her. Thick sandy colored hair standing on end as it slowly laid down, the animal shaking somewhat to adjust the layers upon layers of fur. He was no ordinary wolf of course. There had been a man there, Gallen, Marik’s father, had been standing there shaking her hand, introducing himself. Her heart was pounding before her stomach seemed to flip and burn from the core spreading into her limbs. This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t real. Werewolves, they weren’t real. They are fictional characters.

  She began to open her mouth, her lungs shocked as she tried to take a breath as the whole room began to spin into blackness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Jesus Christ, dad!” Marik exclaimed, his body moving in a blur from where he stood as he caught Elle around the waist before her head hit the floor, lifting her like she were as light as a feather into his arms and onto the couch laying her down.

  “There was no way of talking her into believing us without proof, Marik,” Gallen said, standing erect and naked picking his pants up from the floor, beginning to redress himself. Once buttoned he moved around the couch and looked into the young woman’s face.

  “You could have at least warned me what you were going to do!” Mark scolded him standing up straight as he turned, his spine shivering as he placed both hands down on the marble mantel piece and held it until he stopped shaking.

  “It didn’t really come to me until her hand was in mine,” he admitted after a moment of consideration.

  “This is a mess,” Marik said turning from the fire place and looking at the blonde laying on the couch. What was she going to do when she woke up?

  “What’s that on her lip?” Gallen said peering over her for a moment as he brushed some of her hair away from her face.

  “It’s a fever blister, she has a cold.”

  “And you drug her out in this weather?” Gallen’s brows slowly arched up making his brow wrinkle, a testament to how often he’d used the facial expression over his life time.

  Marik rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as his hands claimed the narrow slope of his hips. Add another situation I handled wrong oh wise one. Clearing his throat gently he held his hands up, the gesture asking him what else he would have had him do given the circumstances.

  His eyes closed somewhat as he held up a hand. “I know,” Gallen said sighing as he turned his head somewhat hearing a snore come from the blonde. He hadn’t exactly thought out his own actions either.

  “She’s solid gone,” Marik said after a moment. He was probably lucky that he had woken her up long enough to get her out of the car. Moving around the coffee table he picked her up once more, moving through the study. “I’ll put her to bed in my room so I can keep an eye on her if she wakes up. The last thing we need is a woman screaming down the street that werewolves are among us.” ‘This is your fuck up, not mine.’ Carrying her up the stairs he took her to his old bedroom, he could have put her in his grandfather’s old bedroom, but Lucian had died in that bed. The thought was a little too morbid for him to handle right now given that death was flirting with them.

  Laying her down he pulled her boots off before pulling the covers up around her and backed away falling into his old desk chair preparing to watch her until she woke up. It left him fidgeting in his seat knowing that this was going to be the easy part explaining to her that werewolves were real, the fact that she was once part of their pack was going to be the difficult part. Elle wasn’t a werewolf, but she was a part of their history. Her parents died protecting their pack, they were part of the inner circle. They were a hidden part of the Connecticut packs history, and it was sad that their deaths until now had gone unremembered.

  ~

  The leather of gloves felt strange and foreign on his finger-tips as they picked up the papers laying on the coffee table in front of him. A slow smile curving his lips revealing the brilliant white of his fangs.

  “Elle Marshal.” he purred softly looking at the picture attached to the file and smirking. It was typical of Gaerik to target one beauty and go after her, but this time he would get to her first, and he would make absolutely sure that the images of what he did to her left him shattered to his very core. He just needed to hold Marik back from finding him long enough to have his fun with one more nail in the proverbial coffin. Maybe he would tape it so that he could play it back over and over. Eventually, the secret would come to the surface but by then would be too late and the Chaliceman clan would finally be out of his life for good. Programming the address into his phone he stood up leaving everything exactly as it was before leaving the apartment and made his way to the house of Little Red Riding Hood and just like the story went, she would
n’t find grandmother in her bed.

  ~

  Gaerik sat down on the foot of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam still bellowing from the bathroom door as he went through the contact list on the disposable flip phone. He wanted to call his father, but he didn’t know who was with him. If Marik was there, he could intercept the call. Wavering in his decision-making process, he laid the phone down on the dresser before he tossed the towel back into the bathroom and pulled the covers back on the bed. He had fresh clothes from Wal-Mart of all places but all he wanted at the moment was sleep. When he woke up, and his head was clear he would call his father from the road, even now stopping he felt like he was taking a big chance, but not stopping left him at an even bigger risk of never even reaching the safe house. Gaerik already felt like a walking zombie as his head hit the pillow, his eyes drifting shut while his ears picked up the sound of the owners still bickering with one another, their nicknames having stuck in his head. In retrospect, he couldn’t even remember if he had gotten their names.

  ~

  Marik felt like his ass was so numb he might never regain feeling in it as he left Elle to sleep in his bedroom and moved down the stairs feeling his stomach growling. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Will a tail ever grow out of my ass again? The thought caught him off guard and caused him to smile.

  Coming to the landing of the stairs he could see into his father’s study where Gallen’s head was bent over one of the journals. He didn’t know how to remain angry with him at this point because he had been right on all accounts. Marik no longer believed that his brother was behind the murders and he had his father to thank for that, he also had some apologizing to do for being so ready to think the worst Rapping his knuckles on the door facing he stepped inside slowly, his hands pressing into the pockets of his black jeans.

  “I’m going to make a sandwich do you want anything?”