by Mac Flynn
"Well, lead on to the next trouble waiting for us," I commanded him. Adam smelled the scent twenty yards from the forest, and his nose led him swiftly to the edge of the trees. The snow was shallower than in the field, but the brush was thick and the trees blocked out the clear night sky. I recognized a path popular with my family. "Please tell me we get to follow the trail," I pleaded.
"Yes, it does follow the path," he told me. We walked thirty yards in silence and the trail bent southeast. "Where does this path lead?" he asked me.
"To town just behind some of the houses, but you have to get through a few farms to get that far" I told him.
"Is it used often by anyone outside of your family?"
"Not that I know of, but hunters could use it, and maybe some of Old Greg's family," I guessed.
"And who owns the land?"
"Old Greg owns this plot, but the rest of it is a patchwork of small logging companies, peoples' personal woodlots, and the occasional crazy-guy squatter," I told him.
"So it is difficult to pinpoint who may have been on the trail?"
"Without your nose confirming somebody's scent I'd say it's impossible," I agreed.
"I see."
We walked further in silence, but my curiosity about something was killing me. "So, um, how are you liking my parents so far? I mean, I know you said they're amusing, but what do you think of them?" I wondered.
"They are a pair of very nice people who have a close attachment to each other, and their daughter," he replied.
"So, say if we decided to maybe-possibly get married, you wouldn't mind them being your parents-in-law?" I persisted.
He chuckled. "I would not mind in the least. I see your parents as less of an obstacle to overcome than my-well, my affliction."
"And that's only because you won't change me," I reminded him. "I'd be a lot more useful right now if I could smell what you're smelling, and actually see where we're going."
"Perhaps, but I am not prepared to take that step," he argued.
I frowned at his back. "You're going to have to give in some time, Adam. Resistance is futile."
He chuckled. "We will see. First we must solve the mystery that exists in your hometown."
"Then lead on, Sherlock," I teased.
He led us a dozen feet further down the trail when a scent caught the attention of my nose and wrinkled it. "Um, I don't know what you're following, but I smell skunk."
"Not to worry. The scent is several hours old. What I am concerned about is the scent atop that one. It smells like-"
There came a rustling noise in the brush ahead of us. I dove behind Adam and he hunkered down, ready to jump at whatever was hidden. We waited with baited breath, and soon a dark shadow emerged from brush. It waddled like a short penguin and had a fluffy tail. I flashed my light on the creature and felt the color drain from my face.
"Skunk!" I yelped.
Apparently it didn't like my announcing its arrival because the skunk turned tail and escaped back from where it came, but not before it let off a projectile of stench. I was protected behind Adam, but he wasn't so fortunate. The path was narrow, my hands gripped his back, and the brush was three feet tall. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and that skunk had both great aim and a great shot because the stinky muck flew ten feet and hit Adam square in the chest.
I clapped my hand over my mouth and stumbled away from him. "Good god!" I yelped.
Adam slowly turned to me and his face was blanched white. He moved in a stiff fashion and his teeth grated together. "I do not believe he has anything to do with those animals and their sulfuric scent," he growled.
I had a hard time deciding whether to laugh or run away from him, and decided on neither. Adam had saved my clothes from a fate worse than death, and I couldn't leave him out here to fend for himself. I inched over to him and took his hand. It reeked of skunk. "Come on, let's get you home. My mom knows what to do with skunk smell since this won't be the first time she's had to get it off someone."
"You have experienced such a fate?" he wondered.
I snorted. "No, our old dog got into it with a skunk. He came out about as well as you did."
He managed a strained smile. "The comparison is apt."
I tugged on his hand and guided him back over our trail. "Yeah, and you smell about as bad as he did, too, but let's go. It's going to be a long walk back."
It was a long trudge back with Adam smelling like he'd made love to a garbage dump. When we hit the porch I heard voices inside the house. "My god, Annie, did you eat beans today?" I heard my dad ask my mom.
"Why ever would you think it was me?" my mom countered.
"Because yours are always silent and deadly," Dad quipped.
I opened the door and dragged Adam in. "We're home!" I called out.
My parents came from the living room with bright smiles on their faces. "You're back so-" My mom's greeting was interrupted by a heavy whiff of Adam. Her face fell and she looked between us. "Oh dear. Problems?"
"Yeah, they ate your beans," Dad spoke up.
"We ran into a skunk and Adam protected me," I told them.
My mom smiled and took Adam's hand. She pulled him toward the stairs in the direction of the bathroom. "Well, we'll see what we can do for him. Ralph, could you grab all the tomato quarts you can find in the cupboard? You, too, Chrissy," she ordered us.
I tugged on his other hand so he stayed beside me. "I think I'll just help Adam. You can go get the tomato and pass it through the door," I suggested.
My mom released her hold on him. "Well, if you insist, but don't forget to give me his clothes. Oh, and did you need me to clean your underwear, too?" she wondered.
I choked on my spittle. "Mom, he's not your son!" I reminded her.
"Well, he might be in the future," she countered.
My cheeks blushed and I noticed the corner of Adam's lips twitch upward. "Mom!" I hissed at her.
She waved off my concerns. "It's fine, honey, I know what I'm doing."
"On second thought, I will clean all my clothes, Mrs. Monet. They aren't very pleasant to smell," Adam told her.
"Please, call me Annie, and I'm sure I can manage to clean dirty underwear. I've been married to Chris' father for several years," she argued.
"Annie!" Dad choked out.
My mom sighed and took hold of my father's shoulders. She turned him towards the kitchen. "My goodness, but was fusses you are! Very well, Adam will clean his own clothes, but whatever we do let's do it quickly before the scent soaks into the furniture."
Chapter 6
After much scrubbing Adam was cleansed of his skunkness, but there was no saving his clothes. They were tossed in the outside garbage. His salvation was thanks to the power of my mom's canned tomatoes. When the ordeal was done the hour was past nine and it was decided to hit the hay early.
I slept like a log as I always did on my mattress that was worn to perfectly fit my body. The next morning a hard rap on my door awoke me from my slumber.
"What?" I called from beneath the covers.
"Your mother wishes me to tell you breakfast is nearly ready," Adam called through the door.
I sighed, flung aside the bed sheets, and walked over to open my door for him. "She really doesn't mind if you call her Annie. When she said everybody does it, she wasn't kidding. Even the bartender calls her Annie, and she doesn't even go to the bar," I told him.
Adam smiled. "I will try to call your mother by her name."
I turned away to my dresser and tossed some clothes over my shoulder and onto the bed. "So what mortal danger is on the agenda today?"
"I thought perhaps you might show me the town," he suggested.
I looked to him with a raised eyebrow. "Just show you the town?" I wondered.
He shrugged. "It is where you grew up," he pointed out.
"Uh-huh, but I can't imagine you just doing anything when we've got a mystery afoot, Holmes," I quipped.
"We may stumble on important inform
ation or scents, but that won't be our primary intention in going to town," he admitted.
I snorted and proceeded to undress myself. Adam quickly shut the door behind himself and his eyes zeroed in on me. "So what was that scent you smelled last night, anyway?"
Adam's eyes, and attention were on my breasts as I clothed myself. "You are most evil for asking me questions at this difficult moment," he scolded me.
A mischievous grin slipped onto my lips. "Am I making things hard for you?"
His golden eyes told me how much he wanted me almost as well as the growl in his voice. "Very."
I slipped on the last bits of my clothing and walked up to him to slide my hands against his chest. "Well, the faster we get this done the sooner-"
Before I knew it Adam had wrapped his arms around me and taken me in a passionate kiss. Heat pooled between my legs. Our hands groped one another in a blind, lustful need. I longed to be like this forever. Unfortunately, forever lasted about ten seconds when the necessity to breathe and a rap on the door interrupted our lover's kiss.
"Adam, Chrissy, you in there?" came my dad's voice.
I sighed and reluctantly pulled myself from Adam's grasp. "Yeah, just coming down," I called back.
"All right, breakfast is ready," he told us. In a moment the sound of his footsteps retreated down the hall.
"This was the kind of privacy I had as a teenager, too," I told Adam.
He grinned. "You mean when you invited Stinky Peterson over?" he teased.
I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. "Let's just go see what's for breakfast."
The answer to my suggestion was everything, or just about everything. My mom had made every pan known to man, and waffles on the side. All styles of eggs lay on plates, and there was homemade syrup, jams, and jellies to smother the breaded stuff under until it drowned. My dad sat at the head sipping some coffee and staring at the food with a slight frown on his face.
"Did you really have to make so much, Annie?" he called to her as she worked in the kitchen.
She swept into the room with a large plate of sliced ham in her hands. "Well, I wasn't sure how much to cook, and it's better to cook too much than not enough."
"This is enough to feed us the rest of the week," he quipped.
Mom set the plate on the table and scowled at him. "Nonsense, Ralph, now everybody dig in. The plates of bacon won't fit anywhere until we make room." Without his asking my mom slipped a stack of pancakes onto Adam's plate. "You need a little food on your bones, Adam. You're far too skinny."
I rolled my eyes. "Mom, you're doing it again," I scolded her.
"Doing what, honey?" she replied.
"He's not a kid, Mom, he knows how much he-"
"Would you like a waffle, Adam?" she asked him.
"I'd love one," Adam agreed.
"Adam, you're not helping!" I growled.
He shrugged as my mom slid a waffle onto his plate of stacked pancakes. "They're very good," he argued.
"Too good," Dad commented as he set down his coffee mug. He patted his widening waistline. "I was a skinny man when I met Anna, and now look at me. Wasting away fat and miserable."
"Would you like a slice of berry pie, dear?" Mom spoke up.
"Yes, please," he replied.
I snorted. "Yeah, real miserable, Dad."
We four did justice to the meal, or tried to. The plates were half eaten mostly thanks to Adam's prodigious werewolf appetite. It was a good thing he was worth a fortune because his yearly grocery bill was a kingly sum. After an hour of gluttonous activity I leaned back and patted my swollen stomach.
"Mom, you really need to learn how to cook wrong or I'm going to gain ten pounds here," I told her.
She smiled and stood to remove the plates. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Did you want any more berry pie, Adam?"
Adam scooted his chair back and wiped his lips with his napkin. "No, I couldn't eat another bite Mrs.-Annie."
I snorted, but Mom's smile widened. "Good. You, Ralph dear?"
"Is that where I stand in this pecking order? Asked last?" he teased.
"Guests first, dear," Mom scolded him. "But did you want anything else?"
"Nothing on the table. I might need some antacid," he quipped.
She gathered more plates and absently nodded her head. "That's nice, dear. Now what did you two plan on doing today?"
"I was going to take Adam for a drive through town," I replied.
"Well, you'll find a lot of businesses open today," my dad spoke up. "They like to get all the weekend tourists before they leave town."
"There's nothing wrong with making an honest dollar," Mom scolded him.
"It is if they change their day of rest to Monday so that a man can't find a good place to get lunch after he's poured over a half dozen articles," Dad countered.
"I keep offering to pack you a lunch every day. It wouldn't be any trouble," Mom argued.
"It's the only way I lose any weight," he quipped.
I stood and tossed down my napkin. "Well, I guess we'll see you two later. Don't eat all the leftovers while we're gone," I teased.
"We'll try not to," my mom replied.
"We'd die before we finished them," my dad muttered.
Adam and I grabbed our coats and walked outside. The weather was gray, but there was no new snow on the ground. A cool breeze blew by and I bundled myself in my jacket. "I hope we can still fit into the car seats," I muttered.
"Perhaps if we slid them back," Adam suggested.
I snorted as we walked down the steps to the car. "Yeah, but I don't think my feet are that long."
It turned out my mom's food hadn't affected us too much, and we drove into town. The tourists my mom mentioned were avid cross-country skiers and those who passed through to get to the northern ski slopes. Main Street was hopping with traffic and people strolling along the sidewalk going in and out of the small shops. I parked the car in front of the ice cream parlor. It wasn't the best food to be eating-heck, after that meal I didn't feel like eating much-but I noticed an old, beat-up Buick in front of the building.
"I hate to say this, but if we want to find out anything about the rumors then the person we're looking for is probably in the ice cream parlor," I told Adam.
"Is their information reliable?" he wondered.
"As reliable as anyone else."
"Then lead on."
Chapter 7
We left the car and stepped into the ice cream parlor. The shining floor was almost homicidal in its quantity of wax and the walls were a glistening white. To our right was the long freezer counter, and below the top was heaven on earth, or as close to it as one could get. There were over fifty flavors, and all of them were delicious. Unfortunately, I didn't have much appetite, but I led the way to the stools that sat in a neat row in front of the far end of the counter. Booths with red cushions and tables sat against the left wall.
One of the stools was occupied by a woman twenty years older than my mom but who tried to look younger with dyed hair and makeup. She wore a heavy coat and a large, shiny leather purse sat on the stool beside her. Her name was Mrs. Ben Simmons, the local busybody. Opposite her and over the counter stood the thin owner of the ice cream parlor himself, Ben Simmons, her husband. He had a balding head he didn't try to hide, and a smile on his face that complimented the twinkle in his eyes. His calm, gentle demeanor was opposite to his wife's blunt manner.
A little bell rang above us as we entered and Ben glanced at the door. His smile widened and he met us halfway with open arms. "Why, if it isn't the big-city girl, Miss Monet herself! When did you come in?"
"Last night. It was a last-minute decision to visit my folks," I told him.
He leaned over the counter and his twinkling eyes fell on Adam. "Last minute for some future plans?" he teased.
Mrs. Simmons gasped. "You're to be married?"
"No no, nothing like that," I argued. I didn't want any rumors flying about us. "We just wanted to get away from the snow at o
ur place."
Ben chuckled. "So out of the frying pan and into the fire?"
"Something like that. So how's business been?" I wondered. We four were the only ones in the store.
His merry eyes flickered to the frosty outdoors. "Good, but it does get slow around this time of year. Can't imagine why."
I laughed. "Neither can I."
"So what can I get for you two trouble-making city-slickers? Your favorite's still here," he told me.
Suddenly I had more room in my stomach. "Death-By-Chocolate?"
He nodded. "Yep."
"I'll take a bowl, and a gallon to take home," I told him.
"You know, your dad's taken a liking to it, too," he warned me.
"On second thought I'll take two gallons," I added.
"Good." Ben's attention turned to Adam. "And what will you have, kind sir?"
"Do you have lemon?" Adam wondered.
"Yep. It's not often called for, but we keep some around just for folks with a special flavor," he replied with a wink. Ben went into the rear of the store to fetch the ice cream, and that gave his wife a chance to pounce.
"So what have you been up to, Chrissy?" Mrs. Simmons asked me.
We walked over to her and took seats on nearby stools. "Oh, just typing on my columns and buying my first house."
"Yes, your mother told me you'd bought a quaint little thing in the hills. It's quite a distance from here, isn't it?" she mused.
"Yeah, a good four hours with all this snow," I agreed.
Her hawk-like eyes scrutinized our faces and a smile was on her lips. "I heard you say you were here on a surprise trip. It didn't happen to be about that wolf running around, would it?"
I shrugged to try to hide my stiff shoulders. "Well, it might. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I heard one of your columnists was around talking with people." She looked straight ahead and turned her nose up at the wall as though it was my fellow employee. "He spoke with me, but he didn't quote me."
"I'm sure it's because he didn't have enough room. We're allowed only so much," I told her.
"Well, be that as it may he certainly had time to quote Eb for all he was worth," she argued.
I raised an eyebrow. "Eb? What does he have to do with this?"
"Why, my dear, he's the one who first saw the creature."
I choked on my spittle and a coughing fit nearly overtook me. "Eb's the one who first told the story?" I asked her.