by Lisa Emme
No it wasn’t. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. I lay in his arms wondering just who or what I was becoming.
Chapter Seven
I slept fitfully. My sleep ravaged by dreams. Surprisingly, my nightmares weren’t filled with vampires. Instead, they were the same wolf dreams I had the night before. Each time I found myself whimpering and thrashing about from the dream, strong arms would pull me close, calming words murmuring in my hair. Sometime in the night, Nash had lost most of his clothes and was down to just his boxer briefs. The towel that had once been wrapped around me was somewhere in a ball at the bottom of the bed. For two people that kept denying that they wanted to have sex, we sure spent a lot of time naked or close to it, together in bed.
“Why do you smell like a wolf?” Nash’s voice was rough with sleep.
“Uh, duh, there’s a wolf in my bed.” I rolled over to face Nash, pulling the covers around me like a shroud.
“No, you smell like a different wolf. A strange wolf.” Nash propped his head up with his hand and looked down at me. He took a deep breath and a low growl rumbled in his throat.
I sat up, pulling the covers with me and gave him a swat on the arm. “Would you knock it off? The only wolf here is…” I stopped in surprise. There was a wolf sitting in the corner of my room. It looked at me, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, as if it was panting. “Uh, there’s a wolf in my room.”
“Very funny.”
“No, I mean there really is another wolf in my room.” I pointed to the corner of the room where the wolf had risen to its feet. “It’s right there.”
“There’s nothing there Harry.”
“What? You can’t see it? Then that means…” I had never encountered an animal ghost before. I tracked the wolf as it began to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. Unlike most human ghosts I had seen, this one was solid. There was no translucency to it at all. It looked alive; I never would have guessed it was a ghost.
“You really see something there? A wolf?” Nash had sat up again and he was watching me curiously.
“Yes, there’s a wolf. A ghost wolf. Why would I be seeing a ghost wolf? Ghosts are people, I don’t see animal ghosts.” I was babbling now.
“What does it look like? Tell me.” Nash grabbed my arm and then pulled his hand away as if burnt. “What the..!” He stared at the foot of the bed in surprise. He grabbed my arm again. “Unbelievable.”
“What? Do you see it too?”
Nash let go of my arm and then grabbed it again. “Whoa! That’s amazing. I can see the wolf sitting at the end of the bed. It only works when I’m touching you though.”
Well, that was a new one. Now I was like a ghost projector. Oh joy. I looked over at the ghost wolf. I was pretty sure it was the same one that I had seen the other day outside the shop. It was definitely the wolf that had been in my dreams. I mean it was the wolf I became in my dreams. There had been other wolves there as well, but it was this wolf’s memories I seemed to be reliving. The wolf stood, turning to stare at Nash. It tipped its head back and howled, then blinked out of existence.
***
I filled Nash in about the dreams I had been having over breakfast. We seemed to be getting past the ‘morning-after-we-didn’t-have-sex-but-slept-together’ awkwardness. In fact, it felt rather comfortable. Practice makes perfect, I guess.
Breakfast was nothing fancy, just cereal and some freshly baked cinnamon buns, courtesy of some late night baking by Isaac no doubt.
My katana had been thoroughly cleaned and was hanging back on its hook by the door. I wasn’t sure who to thank for that, but I suspected Tess was responsible.
“So I was thinking I should go to this Jonathan Turner’s funeral. Maybe I could learn something that could help you out. Do you think the wolf disappearances and the mysterious deaths are connected?”
Nash grunted as he tipped his cereal bowl to his lips and slurped the last of the milk from the bowl. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he admitted grudgingly. He still didn’t want me poking my nose into police business, despite the fact that I could possibly help him. Trying to get information out of him was like getting water from a stone. I had managed to learn that besides Matt and Tank, at least five other werewolves had disappeared. “There’s no need for you to go to that funeral today. You should just stay out of it Harry.”
“Look, I have a job to do too, you know. If I go to that funeral it’s really none of your concern.” I grabbed his empty bowl and put it in the sink. “Besides, I think I can help. The missing werewolves, the dead men, my dreams, they all have to be connected somehow. I’m supposed to help. Why else would I suddenly be haunted by a ghost wolf? It’s too much to be a coincidence.”
“We don’t know that there is a connection yet. You should just butt out Harry. It could be dangerous.”
“Like the rest of my life isn’t,” I muttered, earning a scowl from Nash.
“I mean it Harry, you could get hurt.”
“Why Nash, I would almost think you cared.”
“Leave it be, Harry,” Nash grumbled. He grabbed his coat from the back of the couch. “I have to get to the office. I guess since I can’t stop you, I’ll see you at the funeral later today.” He stopped in the doorway and looked back at me. “Try and stay out of trouble,” he said and then he shook his head, as if he knew he was asking too much.
***
My day improved immensely when I went downstairs to the shop. Mrs. P had everything well in hand and all the deliveries and the funeral flowers were finished. Or, I should say, that Mrs. P and her niece, Tiffy, had everything well in hand.
Tiffy was not what I had expected at all, although I really couldn’t tell you what I had expected. She was tall and slender to the point of being skeletal. She almost had a bird-like quality about her, from her somewhat beaky nose to her long, stork-like legs and gangly arms. Her head was crowned with a long mane of curly, red hair that unfortunately seemed to have frizzed out everywhere. She was shy and awkward and prone to freeze like a deer in headlights any time I spoke to her. Several times, she disappeared into the back room with a squeak when someone passed by outside on the street. She also had a disconcerting habit of changing the shape of her ears. I think she was still getting the knack of making her ears look more human - less pointy and more rounded - because they kept reverting back to her pointy Fae ears every few minutes.
“Ears, dear,” Mrs. P gently reminded Tiffy for the umpteenth time.
“Eep!” That was mostly what Tiffy said any time anyone spoke to her. Mrs. P wasn’t exaggerating when she said Tiffy was shy.
Despite having zero people skills, Tiffy was an industrious worker. She watched, fascinated, as I showed her how to use the cash register and the credit card machine, and she had polished and shined every surface in the store several times. Even if she never got the hang of waiting on customers, she had more than made up for it with all her hard work, especially next door in the soon to be coffee shop. I was totally amazed. Yesterday it had been a jumbled mess of leftover store fixtures and the detritus of two previous failed businesses, both before my time. Today it was spotless. The junk was gone, I don’t know where. The walls and floors positively sparkled they were so clean. With the space now empty, I had a much easier time imagining its potential. I was so amazed at the transformation, I almost blundered and thanked Mrs. P and Tiffy.
“Wow! I can’t believe how great it looks. It’s amazing. Than...uh...I mean that’s incredible.” I held out the plate of cinnamon buns I had brought down for Mrs. P. “Isaac made cinnamon buns.”
Mrs. P snatched the plate from me with a smile. “Why these look delicious. Tiffy, try a cinnamon bun.”
Tiffy sniffed at the plate and looked down at Mrs. P who nodded encouragingly. She took a bun in her twig-like fingers and tore off a little piece to stick in her mouth. “Eep!�
� she said, tearing more off the bun and shoving it in her mouth. She grabbed another bun and scuttled into the back room.
“I guess she liked them,” I said with a laugh.
Mrs. P shook her head. “I’m sorry Harry. She’s been very sheltered. She’s my brother’s youngest child, the baby of the family.” She leaned over and whispered behind her hand, “He married a Bogle, don’t you know.” She straightened up, pulling at the hem of her top and cleared her throat. “Ahem, well, at any rate, Tiffy has been indulged too long.”
A Bogle? I guess that explained Tiffy’s skeletal like appearance. Bogles are often depicted as scarecrows. “It’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m happy we can help with her, uh, education.”
***
I cut it close getting my deliveries to the funeral on time. I was late because I had a bit of a wardrobe dilemma. Normally I would have just worn what I called my funeral suit, but I had worn it the other day and Nash had already seen it. I know, I know, it shouldn’t have mattered what Nash thought. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed, he is a guy after all, but I guess I’m just vain enough that it mattered to me. You can read into that whatever you want. I fully admit to lusting after Nash, but just because the man made me all hot and bothered, didn’t mean that it was a good idea. Of course, that didn’t stop me from picking out a snug fitting, black dress that hugged my curves and had a cut-out detail across the shoulders that looked rather sexy. Its full length sleeves and just-above-the-knee length gave it just the right amount of modesty making it suitable for a funeral.
Despite my tardiness, I had the floral arrangements set up at the front of the church well before the first mourners arrived. There wouldn’t be a casket, since Jonathan had been cremated, so I wasn’t sure where I might find his ghost, that is, if it was even anywhere to be found. There was no guarantee that it hadn’t already left this plane for another.
If Jonathan did appear, he’d most likely be haunting his family or closest friends. I figured a seat at the back of the church would give me the best vantage point, so I found myself a discreet yet well positioned spot in the last pew.
Jonathan Turner had been a popular guy judging from the turnout at his funeral. It looked like half the college student population was in attendance, with the representation skewed to the female half.
When a ghost finally showed up, it wasn’t the one I had been expecting. Instead, the large, grey ghost wolf padded up the church aisle. Before I could ponder what his presence might mean, Nash arrived.
Nash’s appearance sent the female college contingent into a tizzy. Across the entire congregation, small pockets of girls sitting together in two’s and three’s erupted into frantic whispers and hushed giggles as they craned their necks to catch glimpses of him as he stalked up and down the aisle. I can’t say as I blame them; Nash did cut a damn fine figure in his charcoal suit. His aquiline nose and distinctive cheekbones, combined with his perpetual five o’clock shadow, gave him that handsome rogue look. I’m sure if he had turned his attention to one of the college girls and smiled at them, they would have fainted on the spot. Instead, his eyes met mine, and the look he gave me was less smile, more mild annoyance. Needless to say, I didn’t feel faint.
He crossed the church and sat beside me, forcing me to scoot over to make room for him on the bench seat. I’m pretty sure he took perverse pleasure in making me uncomfortable, sitting so close that I found myself squished up against the side of the pew trying to keep our thighs from touching.
“So,” he leaned in close and whispered, “is he here?”
“No, I don’t see him. I don’t think he’s here,” I replied.
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because there is an unexpected visitor.”
“What are you talking about?” The service was about to begin and Nash frowned, impatient for an answer.
Not wanting to disturb anyone around us, I grabbed his hand and looked over to where the ghost wolf was pacing at the front of the church. Nash followed my gaze.
“What’s…” he started to say, then grimaced looking around in apology. “What’s he doing here?” he continued in a whisper.
I shrugged and pulled my hand from Nash’s. Holding his hand was making me feel all warm and tingly, which in turn was just making me feel uncomfortable.
The service, being Protestant this time instead of Catholic, was mercifully shorter. I spent the majority of the service just watching the wolf. He had paced about at the front of the church for some time, before taking to roaming up and down the aisles. Twice he stopped at a particular pew and stared down the row of people who were all oblivious to him.
“What is he doing? Nash hissed at me and grabbed for my hand where I had it folded in my lap.
I pulled my hands away with a scowl. “Nothing. You don’t need to see,” I hissed back.
Nash arched an eyebrow at me as if to say ‘I’ll be the judge of that’ and put his hand on my bare thigh. I knew I should have worn tights. The warmth of his hand on my skin sent a little jolt through me and he paused taking a deep breath. I scowled at him and tried to push his hand away, but he held fast. He shot me a grin and then looked around the church, searching for the wolf, finding him at the front near the altar where he had started pacing again.
When the service ended and the congregation rose to its feet, I pushed Nash’s hand away, earning another cheeky grin from him. I stood up and moved to the side aisle of the church trying to spot where the wolf had disappeared. The crowd had begun to thin, although I noticed there seemed to be a lot of young women still lingering about on Nash’s side of the aisle, when I spotted a flash of grey. The wolf was stalking across the altar of the church to the side door leading down to the refectory in the basement.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing Nash by the sleeve. “I need some coffee.”
“Here? You want to stay here? We can’t just…”
“Why not? You’re the cop investigating Jonathan’s mysterious death and I’m just a respectful mourner. Besides, we sat through that whole boring service; they owe us at least a cookie.”
***
It appeared that the majority of mourners had felt the same way I did and the church’s basement was packed. The Nash groupies tittered in excitement when we entered the room and I could feel their critical eyes glaring at me.
I looped my arm through his, leaning into him and smiled. “I don’t see the wolf yet.”
Nash arched his eyebrow at me in surprise at my sudden desire to be near him. “Take my hand,” he replied. “I’ll help you look.”
I put my hand in his and together we scanned the crowd. Nash was the first one to spot the wolf. He was sniffing at the heels of a middle-aged woman. She was dressed conservatively in a navy pant suit and was standing off to the side nervously drinking a cup of tea. The wolf suddenly stepped back and looked at the woman, his ears partially flicked back. He let out a low whine. His body looked tense and his tail drooped towards the floor. If I didn’t know better I would say that the woman made the wolf nervous.
I said as much to Nash and he looked at me surprised. “That’s exactly what the wolf is saying, he’s anxious.”
“He said that?”
“Not in words, but his body language.”
Nash let go of my hand and began making his way through the crowd to the woman.
At Nash’s approach, the wolf stepped back, his pose becoming more submissive, flattening his head down as he backed away. The crowd shifted and I lost sight of him.
Nash introduced himself to the woman, probably using his police status to find out who she was and her connection to Jonathan. I left him to it and looked for the wolf instead.
I found him pacing the perimeter of the room. He looked up at me when I approached and then disappeared into the crowd almost as if he had been waiting for me. I followed him as discretely
as I could, nodding and smiling at people as I passed. The wolf finally stopped halfway across the room. I didn’t need Nash to interpret his body language this time. He was pissed. His ears were forward, his eyes narrowed and his lips drawn back in a silent snarl. His tail stood straight out from his body which was tense, his shoulders and hackles raised making him appear bigger. He snapped at the man standing in front of him, his ghostly jaws gnashing together. He let out a loud bark, startling me. Of course no one else could hear it.
I looked across the room at Nash, but he had his back to me. The woman, however, looked nervous and I noticed that she glanced my way, or rather the mystery man’s way, several times. I wondered if they knew one another. I looked back to the man the wolf had led me to. He was amiably chatting with another man and a woman, oblivious to the fact that he had a wolf’s snarling ghost practically chewing on his leg. The wolf turned to look at me and with one last snap of his jaws, disappeared. I guess he had got his message across.
I turned my attention back to the man. He was tall and thin although not weak looking. In fact, he seemed to exude strength, like someone who took pride in his health and worked out. He had dark hair but with a considerable sprinkling of grey at his temples. I would have guessed him to be about fifty or so. The most distinguishing thing about him however, was the large signet ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand. The face was square, with rounded corners and was blood red with a white ‘X’ across it.
The man appeared to be wrapping up his conversation with the couple. Where was Nash? I had lost him in the crowd. The man said his goodbyes and turned to leave. Damn. I’d have to follow him.
I fell into step behind him and we both joined the small exodus to the stairs leading outside. It seemed like everyone had been given the same invisible cue to leave and so I was jostled a bit as people made their way out.