Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  “Welcome back, Curtis,” the silver-haired man said.

  “Thomas,” Curtis replied, nodding.

  Thomas had a deep voice, powerful, but very quiet. When he turned to Izzy she had to look away from him and her cheeks got hot. He made her feel like a little girl. A little girl up to no good and, for some reason, she could not bring herself to face him as she had Gerome. Curtis made the introductions. There was an odd formality to their interaction that was somewhat parental, like Curtis presented her as his date to the prom.

  “Thomas, this is Isabelle.”

  “So I gather.”

  Thinking it bizarre to stare at the ground during the conversation like a misbehaving student, Izzy adjusted her sightline to Thomas’s chin. She could raise her eyes no further. One side of his mouth curled up.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Isabelle.” Thomas raised his volume as though he addressed the entire group. He held out his right hand for Izzy’s and she cringed. She couldn’t be rude. She let him take her prosthetic and watched his mouth quirk. “And what are the two of you up to today?”

  The question was aimed at Curtis but Izzy answered, slipping her stiff limb from Thomas’s grasp.

  “I think I’d like to hike one of the old trails I used to love when I came up here with my family. After Curtis shows me his place, that is.”

  The rebellious little snot in her inwardly piped up, We’ll be back before ten P.M., safe and sound and tucked in bed, but she squashed that inner voice. She wasn’t a child and she already had a father. This man had no control over her. None.

  She locked eyes with Thomas, who seemed surprised. The flicker of that something she could never make out, shadowed at times in Curtis’s stare, went unguarded in his eyes and she recoiled. Whatever that something was, it was alien and threatening and it peered through the older man and into her, cowing her usually feisty spirit. Thomas was a window, a slight, fleshy membrane separating her from a vast and horrifically dark gulf teeming with chaos. Far away, thunder rumbled. Curtis pinched her hip.

  “Ow!” Izzy pushed at him, but Curtis held her in steady. When she turned back to Thomas, he looked toward the woods. She saw his eyes in profile. Imagination had got the best of her. There were no alien presences invading herself or Thomas. Dr. Turner no doubt would have attributed the delusion to Izzy’s indignation at bowing to a perceived authority figure. Arrogance told her nothing natural could have affected her that way, so her mind had given her a supernatural reason. God, she could be so nutty and neurotic.

  “Sounds like plan,” Thomas said to Izzy and then to Curtis, “Come see me before you hit the trail.”

  “Not a problem,” Curtis said.

  • • •

  They didn’t leave Nook in the pen and he was a handful. All the strangers and Izzy’s distress must have spooked him. He growled at Curtis and resisted her when she tried hooking him to the leash. After lots of cooing and kissy noises, he relented to the tether and they packed him in the car. Curtis shouted goodbyes to Melinda and Gerome as they backed from the parking lot and then they traveled a winding road to Curtis’s cabin.

  The house sat away from the road, partially surrounded by the woods that grew thicker at the cabin’s rear. Weathered gray slats and posts comprised the front porch and siding. A shingled roof sloped over the porch and sagged into the supporting beams so the whole structure slouched forward. If it hadn’t been for the copse of evergreens framing the dreary scene with a deep green luster, Izzy felt she would have stepped into an old black-and-white frontier film.

  They parked under a covered carport attached to the cabin’s right side. There wasn’t a driveway. Curtis simply went off the road and drove over his lawn.

  “I’ll lay a slab of concrete one day,” he said to her raised brows.

  Izzy took charge of Nook, wrangling him from the Jeep to the cabin. Curtis threw her duffel over his shoulder and met her at the front door, hand shoved in his pocket for his keys.

  “Do you own Keene Lodge?” Izzy asked as he unlocked the door.

  “They don’t call me Curtis Keene for nothing.” Kicking the door wide, he waved her in.

  Inside, the light was murky. Thin, blue curtains faded by time and sunshine covered the windows, filtering the already meager light fighting through dense cloud cover. Nook padded inside and snuffled around the floor and furniture.

  “Then why do I get the feeling Thomas runs the show around here?”

  Curtis brushed passed her. His boots thunked on the wood floor as he crossed the room and switched on a standing lamp Izzy hadn’t perceived in the gloom. Yellow light exposed a cozy, very masculine, living area. A massive flat screen and hand-me-down black leather couch crowded the east side of the room. Over the back of the couch hung a thick, patterned blanket. Two standing lamps and a pair of surround sound speakers book-ended the couch. Curtis stood next to the lamp he’d switched on, flicking the bowl shaped sconce at its top when the light guttered. The flicking, which made a tinny ping-ping sound, stabilized the bulb.

  “Thomas manages the business end of the lodge so, in a way, he’s my boss.” He glanced at Nook. “Let him wander around.”

  Izzy removed the leash and the husky explored, disappearing down the dark hallway in the center of the back wall. A knotted rag carpet runner stretched from the front door to the shadowed entrance and split the living area from the kitchen. Curtis shouldered her duffel on the flimsy card table serving as the centerpiece of his dining set.

  “You don’t want to run the business yourself?” Izzy rubbed her arms. Gray ash piled in the fireplace to her left, but the room held none of the warmth from the spent fire.

  “Keenes have owned this land for generations. It was my grandfather that really made it what it is today. My dad inherited the business and the land, but he made Thomas his partner when he decided to expand. After Dad passed I became the official owner and kept Thomas involved because he’s the better manager.” He looked askance and folded his arms. “Or so he tells me.”

  “Sorry about your dad.”

  Curtis smiled. “Don’t be. He was ready to go when he did.”

  “What about your mom?” Izzy hadn’t realized how little she knew about Curtis’s past until he’d mentioned his father.

  “Never knew my biological mom. My dad’s second wife, Aggie, went to live with her sister out in Carmel after Dad died. She has her own wine blog thing and I get about ten emails from her a day.”

  “She sounds nice.”

  “She is.”

  Izzy pressed her lips together and they made a soft, popping noise when they parted. “Melinda seems nice, too. I didn’t mean to screw anything up with them out there if I did.”

  “Our stress levels are all set to eleven because of the construction. Don’t worry about that group. Especially not Lin.”

  “What did she do that pissed you off?”

  Drumming his fingers on the card table, Curtis said, “Who, Lin?” His eyes lowered. “Yeah, I guess I snapped at her, didn’t I?”

  The outburst had been completely out of character from what Izzy knew, or thought she knew, about Curtis. He was nothing if not patient and kind.

  “It’s hard to explain,” he said. “I’ve known her since she was thirteen and we have that brother-sister way of getting under each other’s skin with just a look, you know?” Curtis’s eyes clouded for a moment when Izzy said she did know, then he said, “What trail did you want to hike?” and cut off further discussion about Melinda, Thomas, or who was top dog at Keene Lodge.

  “The one to Rock Spout Falls.”

  Curtis’s brow creased. “You sure?”

  Hugging herself, Izzy nodded.

  “All right, then we’ll take the dogs for a stretch and when we come back I’ll get a fire going and,” he hooked his foot around the fridge door and poppe
d it open. Bottles clinked. He peeked inside. “I suppose we’ll feast on grilled cheese and beer.”

  Izzy laughed.

  “A grocery run might be in the cards.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Curtis met Thomas in the main building as he’d promised. Spinning like a miniature comet in his chest, Clear-Skies paced. Convincing Izzy that no tension strained the ties between his pack mates didn’t make it so and the hard set of the Alpha’s jaw as he stared out of the lodge’s north facing window reinforced the feeling. At the window, Curtis watched what his Alpha watched: Izzy and Melinda. At the sight of the redhead, Curtis folded his arms and widened his stance.

  Brother-sister silent communication, my ass, he thought. What Lin had done to him out there had nothing to do with any emotional connection they shared.

  Intellectually, Curtis knew Clear-Skies was an entity of some intelligence and, if he wished, he could “speak” with the spirit. There was no need. Curtis could count on one hand the number of times his wolf communicated anything other than “danger” or “hungry” or “tired.” Otherwise, he received impressions of feelings or instinctive responses and little else. Even when the spirit swallowed Curtis’s entire being, this did not change. The beast had more control and containing him required dedicated resolve, but they were never one. Barriers existed between them that Curtis would not bring down for his own mental and spiritual well being. Melinda suffered no such compunctions.

  Lin and her wolf, Nettled-Clover, swam in each other like spectral fish in an aetheric tide (her words). Where one ended and the other began, Curtis didn’t know and that disturbed him. At times, she — his adopted little sis — scared the hell out of him.

  “Try it,” she’d said to them all on more than one occasion. “It’s like this ultra deep meditation, and then I understand her and she shows me things. They remember all their hosts, you know. All those memories, all those feelings? It’s freaking amazing.”

  Curtis never entertained the suggestion. Dipping too far into the spirit had one sure result: madness. When Lin spent too long inside herself, he saw it in her. It manifested as a strange gleam in her eye, her mood rapid firing from elation to snappish moodiness. Sometimes she’d stare at a fork or phone like she had no idea what they were or what purpose they served when she had her fangs and a wolf call deep in her throat. During those times, Curtis watched her, waited for her mood to level out, and planned for the worst. If she lost herself to the wolf … he rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t think about it. As it was, her plumbing of Nettled-Clover produced curious side effects.

  Lin not only conversed freely with her wolf, but could also communicate with others’ wolves. Curtis had felt Nettle-Clover’s spring green essence brush at his heart when the pack had confronted Izzy. He didn’t know what Lin had searched for, but she’d crossed the line and he’d snapped. Seeing her chat up Izzy made him fidgety. Could she read a human soul as she did a wolf spirit? Would she dare?

  “Have you scented him?” Thomas’s question pulled Curtis back into himself.

  “Not yet. That could change once we take to the trail. She wants to head to the falls. Might be too much for Rapid to resist.”

  “If history’s any indication he’ll be cautious. Her scent might not be enough to provoke him. Blood would be better.”

  Enemy, Clear-Skies’s proverbial hackles raised and he became a sharp angled, blue line.

  “No,” Curtis said both to his Alpha and to his wolf. “He’ll come when he catches her scent. He’ll wait for night cover. We’ll set up a wide perimeter around my cabin. When he comes, I’ll smell it and I’ll call the pack. We’ll box him in and take him down.” And there’d be no way to keep their secret if Izzy got in the way. He’d have to tire her out, make sure she slept deep tonight. Besides a hike, he had an idea or two that made his lips and his dick quirk. Sex, even solitary style, worked wonders when he suffered insomnia.

  Thomas didn’t argue with him. His dark eyes tracked Izzy’s movements, the flinging gesture of her left hand when she spoke to Melinda. The women looked happy, but Curtis wanted Izzy out of Thomas’s sight.

  Enemy, Clear-Skies sent to him. The spirit hadn’t compressed into his normal ball of blue flame. Maybe Curtis should practice communicating with his wolf as Lin suggested. He’d wing it for now.

  Not our enemy, Curtis thought at Clear-Skies, our Alpha.

  When the wolf didn’t respond, Curtis shrugged and set off out the door. Just as his hand alighted on the knob, a feral voice whispered to him.

  We should be Alpha.

  The condemnation lodged in Curtis’s brain like a bone shard stuck in his throat and he pounded his fist to his chest as though clearing it. No, they couldn’t be Alpha. Thomas would never back down and he couldn’t kill the man. Unless …

  Curtis stared at Izzy. All the protective instincts he struggled to keep at relative bay reared up within him. The surge of wild emotion fed his wolf. Clear-Skies swelled larger and larger beneath his breastbone. Curtis massaged his sternum. The spirit felt like a wad of bread and peanut butter he had swallowed too fast. If Thomas threatened Izzy, there was no telling what Curtis would do.

  • • •

  Outside the main building, Izzy hung back on the screened front porch while Curtis spoke to Thomas inside. She wasn’t eager to be back in the property manager’s presence. Curtis assured her he wouldn’t be long and promised to help corral Petey. From the Jeep’s backseat window, Nook gave her sad eyes. When the front door clicked open behind her, she spun, her smile wilting when she found Melinda and not Curtis holding the retractable leash. The girl had removed her cap and an astounding mass of red curls surrounded her head in a fluffy nimbus.

  “Hi.” Melinda took a careful step forward, seeming to read Izzy’s wariness. “Curtis mentioned you guys were taking the dogs out. Thought I’d give you a hand with the fuzzy Tasmanian devil in there. Petey’s kinda overwhelming.” She went to the screen door and held it open. “You coming?”

  Hesitancy around Melinda was ridiculous. If she were the infamous texter, then hanging out a bit might smooth any ruffled fur. Izzy followed along as Melinda skipped down the steps. Dark wash jeans hugged the redhead’s curvy hips and thighs and tucked into work boots that had seen better days.

  “Listen,” Melinda said, enticing Petey to the gate with a crumbly Milk-Bone she produced from her pocket, “I wanted to apologize for Gerome. He was a huge dick to you earlier.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Izzy couldn’t keep the bile from her voice. She didn’t think any amount of hanging out could change her feelings about Gerome.

  “Not really. I just want to make sure that impression doesn’t rub off on me.” Melinda attached Petey’s leash to his collar while he crunched his treat. Tan crumbs sprayed the packed dirt. Realizing his predicament, the Samoyed thrashed in Melinda’s double-handed hold. “Ugh, this effing dog. Unless you’re Curtis he’s only calm for five minutes at a time and only when he’s bribed.” She shouted threats that did nothing to subdue the animal, so she forked over two more Milk-Bones. Petey went for the treats and settled down.

  “You work here?” Izzy asked. Melinda seemed young for a full-time employee.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I work the main desk a lot. Look pretty,” she gave her hair a dramatic fluff and batted her lashes, “answer phones. I do nature hikes and mounted trail passes, too. Sometimes I help Curtis with maintenance stuff when Thomas and Gerome are tied up.”

  They leaned on the gate and Petey’s crunching tided over the fizzled conversation. Fixated on the dog, Melinda didn’t seem to notice Izzy’s eyes traveling in her direction every few seconds. She bit back all the questions bubbling behind her lips. Making her inquiries benign wouldn’t disguise the third degree when the subject was another woman.

  Moistening her lips, Izzy said, “Curtis says he’s known you since you were t
hirteen.”

  Melinda dipped her head in an attempt to hide her knowing grin and patted the top of the gate. Petey jumped up and she kept him occupied with lots of pats and scratches. “S’right.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Six years.” Izzy sighed and quietly added, “You must be close.”

  “I could put together a slide show if you’d like. ‘Curtis and Lin’s Precious Moments.’” Melinda elbowed Izzy’s side, giggled. “Would you prefer a PowerPoint presentation?”

  Nerves tweaked Izzy’s laughter. Time for a subject change.

  “Working here doesn’t interfere with college?”

  Melinda shrugged. “Higher education isn’t really for me. I might take courses at the community college next year, but Pops and I need the money I make here since he went on disability.” She toed the scuffed top of her brown boot. “You like Curtis?”

  Steeling herself for the reciprocal interrogation, Izzy said, “Of course.”

  “How much?” Melinda’s chin jutted.

  “Plenty for a little over a week of knowing each other. You want a pie chart?” Izzy smirked and Melinda blushed and rapid clicked the button on the retractable leash.

  “Just asking since me and my Pops pretty much adopted him.” The mischievous glint in Melinda’s eye dulled and her smile flickered. “I’m the baby around here and he’s the closest thing to a big brother I’ve ever had. If you make it through the weekend, you should come up more often. It’s crap being the only girl here twenty-four-seven.”

  If you make it through the weekend struck Izzy as an odd way to couch the request, but Melinda already waved Curtis over to the pen before she had time to say anything about it and all she could do was nod absently.