by Alex Stone
I know it’s a long shot, but Grandma was about as paranoid as I’ve been lately. She never visited the bank often, but when she did, she was always weird about it. Something tells me I’ll find answers there.
I make the thirty-minute drive to Hoffman and Dell’s Bank. Grandma always went local. It’s nearly ten when I pull up, but they’re not very busy. There’s only one teller at the counter. She’s blonde and middle-aged with short-cropped hair and a black suit. Once she finishes with the only other customer, she greets me with a professional smile. “Hello, how can I help you today?”
I smile back, starting to feel unsure of myself. “I have a key that I think belongs to one of your safe deposit boxes.” I pull the key from my pocket and present it to the teller, Sandra, according to her name plate and tag.
Her mouth opens slightly before she responds. “Y-yes, that’s one of ours. You said you think it belongs to one of our boxes? Are you returning it?”
“No, it was left for me by my grandmother. She died in a fire two days ago.”
Sandra’s face softens. “I am terribly sorry for your loss. Unfortunately, if you are not the lessee, having the key does not give you legal access to the box, unless you are a co-tenant or deputy. But if it was your grandmother’s safe deposit box, and she is no longer with us, the Executor of her probate must take inventory of its contents. Do you happen to be a co-tenant or deputy for her account?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not really. If I am being completely honest, this is all very overwhelming.”
Sandra gives me a sympathetic smile before looking behind me. It seems there is another customer. “Why don’t I get Colleen to help you? That way you can sit down while you sort out this matter.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Sandra picks up the phone at her desk and dials four numbers. “Hi, Colleen? Yes, there is a young woman here inquiring about accessing her grandmother’s safe deposit box.” Sandra pauses. “Mmm-hmm. Deceased,” she says in a lower voice before pausing again. “Yes. M’kay. Thank you. M’ bye-bye.” She smiles brightly at me before indicating with her hand to one of the blue armchairs in the center of the bank. “If you would like to have seat, Colleen with be with you momentarily.”
“Thank you,” I answer, then make my way over to the chair.
Before my butt touches the seat, a stout woman in a pin-striped skirt and jacket greets me with her hand out. “Hello, I’m Colleen.” I take her hand, and she gives mine a nice, firm shake. “And what might your name be?”
“Tala.”
“Tala, please come into my office, and we’ll see what we can do about your grandmother’s box.”
I follow Colleen a few short steps into her office. It’s small, but so is the bank. I didn’t realize banks this small even had safe deposit boxes. Maybe they all do? Rather than risk sounding even more ignorant, I don’t voice any of my questions.
Colleen sits at her desk and quickly gets to work typing. “Tala, what were the numbers on your key.”
“217-86,” I say, as she types.
“Okay, and what was your grandmother’s name?
“Raina Ward. R-A-I-N-A W-A-R-D.”
“Thank you for that.” She looks back up at me. “Is your last name ward, as well?”
“Yes.”
“She has you listed as co-tenant, but I am not seeing any records with your signature.” I shrug. “No matter. You’re here. As the co-tenant, you have legal access to the box, but the contents of the box must still be inventoried by the executor of your grandmother’s probate in the presence of authorized personnel, such as a clerk of court. Do you know who your grandmother’s executor is?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. Besides, often those documents that we’re looking for are in the safe deposit boxes. If you will excuse me for a few minutes, I can make a few phone calls and see what we can do.” She stands, shakes my hand, then indicates for me to step out.
I return to the blue chair and sit for nearly half an hour, occasionally looking back at Colleen’s office. Her blinds are still open, and she’s still on the phone. I watch her hang up before turning around. A few seconds later, she comes out.
“Phew! I apologize for the long wait. I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that the contents of the box must still be recorded in the presence of a court clerk or deputy clerk with the executor, and nothing can be removed from the box until then. The good news is that I have a deputy clerk on the way, so you may view the contents when he arrives.”
“Th-Oh my goodness! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome. He should be here shortly.”
It doesn’t take him long. Richard Nielson, a tall, thin man in his sixties with “thinning” hair, enters a few minutes later in a gray suit. Colleen has me sign some release form, before taking us to a large vault. Inside are rectangles, each labeled with a separate number, lining the walls. She walks until we get to the box labeled 21786. Using the guard key and my key, she opens the box slot. We then follow her to a separate room for viewing its contents, which is where she leaves me and Richard. I open the box, and Richard pulls out a clipboard, quickly scrawling as I remove each item. There’re two sealed envelopes, one with my name on it and one with Uncle Carl’s, along with an unsealed manila folder. I pull out the forms in the unsealed folder first. It’s some official-looking documentation, which Grandma has signed, along with some man named Charles Goodwin, a notary.
“What’s that?” asks Richard. I hand him the document, figuring he would have a better idea of what it is than I would.
“It’s the last will and testament of Raina Ward, dated and notarized two weeks ago. You’re Tala?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s named you her executor, so you may take home whatever items you wish. I’ve finished taking inventory— just sign here,” he says, holding out a pen and his clipboard.
I sign and hand it back to him saying, “Thank you.”
He nods, “Good luck to you,” before leaving me.
I skim through the pages of the will. She details various items that go to her children and my cousins, though, I am sure most of the things she’s listed were destroyed in the fire. She’s left the house and her property to me... Damn. I’ve always loved her house and her yard, and even with the house burned, the property is still valuable, but I can’t bring myself to be even slightly happy about this. I’d rather have my grandmother.
I open the envelope with my name on it. I have to tear it because it’s sealed. I pull the contents out, a letter and a necklace. The pendent on the string is a circle with a quadruped carved onto it. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s supposed to be a wolf, as the carving is so dilapidated. I open the letter:
Tala,
If you are reading this, I am dead. My past has caught up with me, or I really have lived to be 90 and died peacefully in my sleep with a bottle of tequila. We both know that last part is unlikely. I have tried to run most of my life, but one can only run for so long. I settled down decades ago because I thought I was finally free. Lately, I’ve been seeing signs, and a bastard as old as I am has probably found me. That’s life, but I’ve kept secrets and too many of them. Because of that, I’ve brought danger here. I am sorry for leaving all of my work and responsibility to you, but when we find ourselves at the end of a road, we count on those we can trust. Even in this letter, I cannot give you the answers that I am sure you seek. Who knows who will find a way to my box? Hopefully, you read this decades from now and it doesn’t make sense. But if it does, or if the danger is real, wear the talisman, and never take it off. It will protect you, mija, and make you a stronger leader.
With love,
Grandma
I put the necklace on and collect the other documents, signing them out and closing the account before I leave. The necklace, or talisman as Grandma called it, brings some comfort. I fe
el closer to her, consoled of some of my grief. Yet, all of this has only created more questions. I need to get Uncle Carl’s letter to him and find out who the hell was coming after my grandmother.
Chapter 11
After leaving the bank, I make a pit stop at home. I have been up all night, ran through the woods, fought for my life, and searched a burned down building. I need a shower. Yesterday. I plan on washing quickly, but upon finding a twig in my hair, I decide to take it slowly. The water is hot, not so hot as to scald me, but hot enough that I feel clean. I never feel fully washed in a cold shower. The warmth seems to burn away all filth, purging my body of dirt and darkness like a baptism.
Once out of the shower, I dress myself, putting on a pair of jeans and— why not?— a flowery, chiffon blouse. Nothing like torture, death, mayhem, and a few family secrets to make a girl feel extra feminine. I tuck the necklace Grandma left me into my shirt.
The real question at the forefront of my mind is what is up with Ricky? I decide I need to walk the line between trusting my gut and trusting my family by confronting him directly. I’ll lay out all of the evidence and give him the opportunity to explain himself. I already know where he is supposed to be: Mel’s. Despite his being misleading about when he will show up, I know he will have to make an appearance eventually, if he hasn’t already.
Feeling like a real lady for the first time in…well, I don’t know how long, I get into my Honda and drive over to Mel’s.
When I pull up, there are already two vehicles in the driveway, Ricky’s rust bucket and a Chevrolet. As I park, the blue curtains in the front window move. They know I’m here. Good. I place Uncle Carl’s letter from Grandma in my glove compartment before I get out and jog casually up the front steps, trying to remain positive about the conversation I am about to have. Who knows, maybe I can kill two birds with one stone and size up Mel’s boyfriend while I’m at it.
Mel opens the door as my hand is raised to knock. “Tala?” she says. “What are you doing here?”
“Figured I’d join in, maybe meet your—” I stop as I hear laughter in the living room.
“Well, come on in,” she says, seeming a little annoyed at the intrusion. She steps aside to let me through the doorway. “I’ve got queso blanco and tortilla chips on the coffee table, along with a block of cheddar and crackers. You’ll have to cut the cheddar yourself or wait, though. I haven’t quite finished.”
I step forward, seeing the back of Ricky’s head next to another man’s— Aaron’s, I assume— just over the back of the couch. They’re watching the basketball game. One of the teams scores and both Aaron and Ricky jump up and start shouting. “Did you see that?” Ricky yells at full volume while looking at Aaron. “Did you see that? It’s done! It’s over. I’m telling you; they might as well just call it now!”
“Daaaaamn!” Aaron says in response, beer in hand. I can’t help but think they seem awfully in sync for two men who supposedly just met.
The hype is strong, but Mel clears her throat as we walk around the couch, quickly refocusing the room. Aaron and Ricky turn their attention to me as I take in the strong scent of sweaty male wolves. It seems Aaron and Ricky have even more in common than I had initially thought. I’m being paranoid. I know I am. Aaron is just Mel’s douchey boyfriend…who happens to be a wolf and disappeared right when all hell broke loose. Right. I scan what I can see of the house, searching for more wolves, but it’s just me, Ricky, and Aaron. Paranoid.
As I am assessing the room, Mel says, “Tala’s here,” before adding politely, despite the fact that I am obviously crashing, “Thought it’d be nice to have her join the party. Tala is the cousin I was telling you about,” she says to Aaron with a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Aaron greets me with a smile and puts his hand out for me to shake. He presents himself nice enough. Dark hair, a farmer’s tan covering what I assume would be milky skin, and a crooked smile, but something about him…it seems familiar and off.
“Yeah, nice to—” As I reach forward to meet his outreached hand, all the information I’ve gathered clicks together in a fraction of a second. I’ve encountered his scent all too recently, and in a place no friend of Mel’s or ally of ours would ever have been. I take Aaron’s hand, but instead of shaking it in greeting, I yank him forward before slamming him against the wall and putting my hand to his neck. So much for feeling like a lady. “You murderous bastard!” I say through greeted teeth.
At the same time, Ricky sets his beer down and rushes over while Mel’s jaw drops. “What the hell, Tala?” she screeches.
“Just calm down,” Ricky says. “Aaron’s cool, Tala. He’d never hurt M—”
“Shut your fucking lip!’ I snap at him. “I’ll tell you when you get to explain yourself, fucking traitor!”
Aaron doesn’t fight back much, though. I know he could. Still trying to pretend to be Mr. fucking nice guy. I tighten my grip around his neck.
“I knew you weren’t doing well, Tala, but this is it! You can’t just come to my house and attack my boyfriend.”
I ignore Mel and dig my nails into Aaron’s Adam’s apple. He squirms about as much as a human would. Mel clearly has no clue what he is. I address Ricky. “Mel’s human, so she wouldn’t know what he is, but I could smell him the second I walked in here. So, tell me, Ricky, why are you pretending Aaron is human?”
“What…?” Mel says. I briefly look over my shoulder to watch the color drain from her face.
Ricky begins stuttering like a bumbling idiot, “I—I,” But I have no interest in whatever bullshit is about to erupt from his mouth.
Mel’s shaking her head, seemingly in denial. “Tala, Aaron…He’s, he’s not…”
At the same time, Aaron glares at me and tsks, shaking his head, before yanking against my arm at his full strength. Finally. There wouldn’t be any satisfaction in beating his ass if he didn’t really fight me.
A deep growl escapes me, and in response, a wave moves over Aaron’s body, which begins to contort. I take a step back to allow myself to shift as well. I relax my form while mentally preparing for the change, but the second I decide to shift, I am in wolf form. No contortions, no transitions, no tearing of my clothes, which are on the floor beneath me. I don’t allow myself longer to wonder why or how this has happened. Aaron is still midshift, so I use the opportunity to gain the advantage and lunge for him. He completes the shift a moment later, but it’s too late; I already have the advantage. His back leg bleeds from my bite, causing him to limp. We crash into the wooden coffee table. Queso and chips avalanche onto the floor as we nip, swat, and lunge.
Ricky curses, and from my peripheral vision, I see Mel backed against the wall. A sob escapes her. Feelings of guilt and sadness assault the part of me that notices this. This is a painful shock for her; I don’t have to guess that. She was falling for this guy, and even if she doesn’t yet understand the full extent of it, he’s lied to her, and her cousin is beating his ass in her living room. The human in me wants nothing more than to comfort her, but the wolf protects by eliminating the threat.
My prey attempts a feign before going for my neck, but anticipating his move, I switch it around on him, putting him on the defensive once more when my teeth sink into his muzzle. Aaron attempts to pull back, but I sink my teeth further into him. He sneezes into my mouth, and I release. He begins to shift back, so I follow suit. Once again, despite starting to change after he’s already started, I change fully before he’s half finished. Quickly scanning the room, I look for a weapon and pick up the cheese knife Mel had intended for the cheddar.
Aaron has almost fully shifted, and though only a couple seconds have passed, it’s an eternity for a fight. I jump on him, placing the knife firmly against his now human neck.
“Tala, please stop!” Ricky pleads. “Look what this is doing to Mel!” Mel ugly-cries with snot and tears streaming down her face.
“Shut up!” I roar. “Don’t pretend to give a fuck about her feelings now, Ricky. It’s t
ime to come clean.” I stare down into Aaron’s eyes, daring him to try anything while I put Ricky in his place. He breathes heavily, as do I. His face has several puncture marks, which will likely scar if I allow him to live. His leg isn’t in the best of shape either. He sighs back and looks at the ceiling in submission. Good.
“What the hell are you—”
“I said— come. clean. Did you have this prick kill our grandmother?” I ask directly.
“What?” Ricky’s voice cracks as he squeals like a pubescent boy. “How could you even think…” Ricky drifts off. He sounds sincere, but there have been too many questionable comments and incidents for me to take him at face value.
“Okay…” I say, nodding way more times than necessary. My heart is pounding; the adrenaline pumps through my veins, but I can’t beat Ricky’s ass, not yet. “You’re pretty friendly with this fucker,” I say. “Funny thing—” I laugh hard without humor and strain to keep my shaking form from giving Aaron an opening. I push the cheese knife down a little harder just to remind him to stay down. “You seem pretty friendly with this bastard, and he killed grandma.”
I glance over briefly to see Ricky, whose face quickly reddens, puff out his chest. “You’re fuckin’ nuts! Aaron didn’t—”
We both are startled by the sudden laughter that escapes a battered Aaron. “Yeah, I fucking killed her. I’m dead anyway!” he adds to himself, before continuing. “After I busted the door down and shifted, the old bat lit some shit and started chanting. I cut her up a few times before I tore her guts out. For an alpha, she didn’t put up a fight.”
It’s one thing to think or know something; it’s another to have it confirmed, to have it said out loud. I knew he did it. I smelled him at her house, but hearing him confess, I go cold. I catch my breath and force my face to remain calm. Ricky says nothing at first, then responds in a low, gruff voice, “Slit his fucking throat.” For now, I put the Ricky questions on the back burner. I’ll finish with him after I have handled the bitch below me.