by Kristy Tate
“You seem awfully young to be the head of a winery.” Maria’s grandmother squinted at him.
“My grandfather owned the business. When he passed he left me...” The blank expressions on the others’ faces told him that Maria had already explained this. He started over. “Mr. Eldridge, the manager, recently died, taking with him the only recipe. Maria told me you also had a recipe for blackberry wine. She was, in fact, bragging about it.”
Mawmaw’s lips tilted into a smile. “And so she should. You probably didn’t know that I knew your Mr. Eldridge, a terrible little toad of a man. It is, of course, sad he died at such a young age, but I doubt very many will mourn him.”
Declan rocked back on his heels, surprised at her open hostility.
“Eldridge was a tribe member but many considered him a traitor when he went to work for Igasho winery.”
“Why?” Declan asked. “Being the manager of a winery is honest work.”
“Ah, but you do not understand.” Humor glinted in her eyes, and she lifted up both of her pointer fingers. “I must show you.” She waved at the empty chairs on the porch. “Please make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.”
“Where’s she going?” Baxter whispered after Mawmaw headed into the house.
“If you’re lucky, to get some wine,” Maria whispered back.
“I don’t think this is going very well,” Declan said under his breath. He took a seat in a rocker and tapped his toes.
“You won’t say that after you try the wine,” Maria said.
“What do you mean?” Declan asked.
“Just wait until you taste it,” Maria said.
Mawmaw pushed through the door, carrying a tray laden with a croft of wine and three goblets. She smiled, exposing her crooked, yellowing teeth, but the glint in her eye wasn’t friendly. In her gaze, Declan read a challenge. He took the offered cup.
The one who tells the stories rules the world. – Hopi
CHAPTER 14
Silence has its own music. Amplify it and a void appears, sucking in all the sounds that should have been: chattering squirrels, calling birds, the buzz of insects. Still. Dark. Silence as heavy as water.
Hunger burns the back of my throat and tightens my gut. I pad across the forest floor. A carpeting of pine needles and soft soil muffles my footfalls. Above the trees’ canopy, a smattering of stars glisten, pale against a cloud-filled night. Mist shrouds the moon, but even so, I know it’s full—full to the point of overflowing.
I see things differently in this strange dark forest. My perspective shifts as her touch brushes my shoulder. Her scent fills my head. Fear prickles the back of my neck. But I do not fear for myself. Not exactly. I worry for her. For me. I fear my hungry passion will destroy us both.
Declan slammed the goblet back onto the tray as his vision cleared. “What the hell was that?”
Maria beamed at him. “It worked for you, didn’t it? What did you see?”
Declan touched his forehead as if checking for a fever.
“What?” Baxter looked confused. He took a long drink of his wine.
Declan waited for his expression to gloss over the way he was sure his had, but Baxter’s amiable features didn’t shift or change. Declan turned to Maria. “What is that?” he repeated. “It’s alcoholic?”
Mawmaw shook her head.
“Some sort of hallucinogen?”
Again Mawmaw shook her head.
Baxter frowned at his drink. “Obviously, I’ve been ripped off.”
“It’s wild,” Maria said.
“The wine at Igasho...” Declan began.
“Is a sad imitation,” Mawmaw finished.
“I want that,” Declan said, nodding at the croft.
“Do you really?” Mawmaw murmured. “Ask yourself, is this wise?”
“What is it?” Declan blinked. “Some sort of drug?”
“You’re asking if it’s illegal. No.”
“Why didn’t it work for me?” Baxter asked again.
“It’s selective,” Mawmaw told Declan.
“Obviously,” Declan murmured. “So it worked for me, but not Baxter?”
“This time,” Maria said. “Next time it might work for Baxter and not you.”
Declan itched to try it again, but he didn’t dare. He was afraid of getting drunk or high and losing his ability to negotiate. “This wine—”
“Is not for sale,” Mawmaw said.
“But—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Do not ask again.”
“What did you see?” Maria repeated.
“I was in the woods. It was dark, but the moon was full.”
“Nothing happened?” Maria asked.
He shrugged, considering whether to tell them about the girl who’d been beside him. Had it been Lizbet? He had assumed so, but he couldn’t be sure. “There was someone there.”
“And?” Maria pressed.
“The vision wasn’t very long,” Declan told her.
“It’s nice to have something more to go on—something concrete to remember,” Maria said. “Oh well, it doesn’t always come true.”
Baxter sat up. “Are you telling me that the wine can make you see into the future?”
“Not always,” Mawmaw said.
Not ever, Declan thought. But then, he wasn’t so sure.
“It tells you what you need to know.”
“So I guess it thinks I don’t need to know anything?” Baxter twirled his glass and frowned at the frothing bubbles.
Maria nudged him with her foot. “Maybe you already know everything.”
“Well, of course that’s what I thought, but I didn’t want to say,” Baxter joked, but his expression read disappointment.
MATIAS SLOWED THE MOTORCYCLE as they approached Baxter Dresden’s property. He used his feet to roll the bike past the wide stretch of lawn. The windows looked blank and dark and the driveway was empty. Of course, cars could be in the garage and people could be inside the house. But Lizbet wasn’t interested in people.
“Are you sure about this?” Matias asked.
“No! But it’s worth a try, right?”
Lizbet could only see the back of Matias’s helmet, so she could only guess he was rolling his eyes. “She’s your grandmother!”
“But—werewolves?” He twisted to gaze at her.
“Technically, this would be a were-Schnauzer.”
“It’s craziness.”
Lizbet nodded. “Yep.”
“But you still want to do it?”
“How many sheep did you lose?”
Matias’s face paled. “Five.”
She touched his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Yeah, me too.”
“According to the internet, the full moon only lasts for three days and since last night was the first one, we only have today and tomorrow.”
“We could just wait...”
“And risk losing more sheep?”
Matias shook his head. “But dognapping...?”
“We won’t be dognapping. That can only happen if the dog doesn’t want to come.” She paused, trying to think of the right words without actually telling him of her ability. “Tickles won’t mind. He likes me.”
“He’s a Schnauzer. He probably likes everyone.”
“All we have to do is have the ritual prepped and spend the night with him. If he turns, than we preform the ritual.”
“As I said, craziness.”
“Will you help me or not?”
Matias cast a worried glance at the house. “Do you think there’s an alarm system?”
“Probably. Let’s look for a sign. You go around the front and I’ll go to the back.”
Matias huffed, twisted his lips, and looked as if he wanted to argue.
She touched his hand. “Your family can’t lose any more sheep.”
He dipped his head in agreement or defeat—she wasn’t sure which. They climbed off the bike, and Matias rolle
d it out of sight behind the boughs of a cedar tree.
Lizbet waited for Matias to jog around to the front of the property before running to the back. She scanned the yard. A bunny nibbled on the grass near the woods. A chipmunk scampered up a maple tree. Lizbet let out a soft, high whistle.
Tickles poked his head out from under the bench where he’d been resting.
Lizbet patted her leg. “Come here,” she urged.
“I can’t,” he whimpered. “Electric invisible fence.”
“Can you meet me behind the shed?”
He nodded.
Lizbet glanced around before darting out of the woods and taking shelter behind a storage shed. Tickles wiggled his whole body by way of a greeting.
“Lizbet?” Matias called from the other side of the house.
“Quick,” Lizbet whispered as she dropped to squat in front of the dog, “tell me where you were last night.”
“Why?”
She petted his ears and ruffled his fur. “You would never hurt anyone, right?”
“Bad guys.” The Schnauzer rolled onto his back so she could rub his belly. “Hurting bad guys is my job.”
Lizbet scratched his belly until he moaned with pleasure. “But have you ever actually done that?” she asked.
“I didn’t say I was good at my job.” He kicked all four legs in the air and squirmed.
She paused. “No one would call a sheep a bad guy.”
Tickles froze. “What are you implying?”
“Lizbet?” Matias called again, sounding closer.
“You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?” Lizbet whispered. “You’re a good dog.”
Tickles whimpered and rolled onto his belly. “I’ve been having these nightmares.”
She stroked the top of his head. “Come and stay with me tonight. I want to try and stop your nightmares.”
The dog whined. “I can’t. I can’t leave. The fence will shock me.”
“Is it new?”
Tickles nodded. “My masters just put it up this morning. It hurts if I try to leave! It feels like my fur is going catch on fire.”
“If you promise not to run away, I can keep the fence from hurting you.”
“Lizbet?” Matias rounded the corner. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Look who I found.” Lizbet sat in the dirt and pulled Tickles onto her lap so she could remove his electronic collar.
“I don’t feel good about this,” Matias said.
“We’ll be fine,” Lizbet said as she tossed Tickles’ collar into a fern. It crackled and sparked as they walked away.
THEY TRAMPED THROUGH the woods until they reached a tree with ascending pieces of wood hammered into its trunk.
Matias gazed upward. “What’s this?”
“My mom and her dad built a treehouse when she was little.”
“Is it safe?”
“Sure. She brought me here shortly after she regained consciousness and tried to tell me all about her life before the island.” Lizbet gazed up at the wooden structure about fifteen feet above the ground. It seemed like the perfect place for what they needed to do.
“And how are we going to get the dog up there?” Matias asked.
“Yes, that’s the tricky part, but I do have a plan.”
“I’m glad you have a plan, but...that’s the tricky part? How about when we’re trapped in a tiny space with a werewolf?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in werewolves.”
“I don’t, but still it doesn’t hurt to be open minded.” He paused. “Unless you’re bitten by a were-Schnauzer. I bet that would hurt.”
“We aren’t going to stay with him.” She pointed at a neighboring fir tree. “We’re going to watch from there.”
“This is nuts!” Matias said.
“I know.” Lizbet sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “But it’s worth a shot, right?”
Matias made a noise that sounded a lot like a snort.
“How do we get him up there?” he repeated.
“You can carry him in a backpack, but I have to get it and the other things.”
“Other things?”
“You know, for the ritual.”
“Ritual...right...”
She patted his arm. “You stay here with Tickles and I’ll be right back.”
“What if he turns into a were-Schnauzer while you’re gone?”
Lizbet glanced up at the darkening sky. “We have time. I’ll be fast.” She turned and sprinted through the woods before Matias could argue with her.
She found the old backpack in the garage along with a host of her late grandfather’s camping supplies. With Elizabeth snoozing in her easy chair in front of the TV and Daugherty at John’s trying out new recipes in the kitchen, Lizbet was confident she wouldn’t be interrupted as she borrowed a pair of leather gardening gloves from the potting shed, a hammer from the workbench, a sprig of sage in the garden, a pound of raw hamburger from the fridge, and a silver spoon from the dining room sideboard. After stuffing all her stash into the backpack, she hurried out into the yard.
She froze when Declan’s mom’s Mercedes turned down the drive.
RUN! a voice in her head screamed. But it was too late, he’d already seen her. She had to get rid of him, but how could she do that without further alienating him? Glancing up at the sinking sun, she prayed it could give her answers. It glowed warm and pink and silent.
Declan cut the engine and climbed from the car. “Hey,” he said softly, “I want to talk. Is this a good time?”
“No, not really.” She tried to think of excuses that wouldn’t sound crazy... I have to go before the full moon rises and Tickles turns into a were-Schnauzer. Or, I’d love to chat, but if I don’t hurry and administer the curse ritual more sheep will die. Or...
“Are you going camping?” He pointed at the backpack in her hand.
“Yes!” It was not quite a lie.
“By yourself?”
“No...” If she told him she was going with Matias, how would he feel? Maybe he wouldn’t care. That thought hurt. And she didn’t want to hurt him, in case he did care, because looking at him in the fading purple twilight, she knew that she cared about him. A lot. On impulse, she dropped the backpack and wrapped her arms around him. “I hate that things are so weird between us.”
“Me too,” he said in a strangled voice.
She pulled away from him. “Can we talk tomorrow? There’s someone waiting for me right now.”
He gazed over the pasture. He knew that the Hernandez’s’ farm lay on the other side of the forest. His lips tightened and his shoulders slumped. “Okay, tomorrow. What time?”
“I don’t know... You pick.”
“Noon. We’ll go to lunch. Does that work?”
“Sure. As friends?”
“Sure. Friends.”
“’K, see you.” She turned and ran without looking back. Even though she really, really wanted to.
BACK AT THE TREEHOUSE, Lizbet emptied the backpack to make room for Tickles. When the collection lay at her feet, Matias held open the backpack while Lizbet attempted to wrestle the dog inside.
Tickles kicked and whined. “It smells of fish and bacon,” he complained. “And I was just groomed last week!”
“You like fish and bacon,” Lizbet said through clenched teeth.
Tickles yipped. “But I don’t want to smell like them! I could end up chewing my own fur!”
“Get in!” Lizbet growled. “You don’t want to be a were-Schnauzer, right?”
“Wow, it’s like you two are actually talking to each other,” Matias said.
Lizbet straightened and gave him a dirty look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous? You’re the one who thinks we can tame a were-Schnauzer!”
Tickles sniffed and relaxed into the backpack. Lizbet tightened the strings so he couldn’t climb out before she hefted it up and held it out so Matias could put it on.
“Schnauzers, everybod
y’s wearing them this season,” she said, adjusting the straps on Matias’s shoulders.
“Ready?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” she said.
Matias tugged at the wooden slats hammered into the tree. “I’m not sure these will hold me. You better wait until I’m up to follow. I don’t want to fall and take you down with me.”
“I don’t like this,” Tickles whimpered.
“Stop being such a puppy,” Lizbet grumbled.
Fading light flickered through the wooden slats of the treehouse. Lizbet set the hamburger package on the floor, pulled open the plastic, crumbled up the sage and sprinkled it on top, filling the air with its sweet, tangy scent.
The treehouse had three walls, a roof and a floor all made of scrap lumber. Tiny Lizbet could stand upright, but Matias had to stoop. It was tight quarters.
She handed the spoon and hammer to Matias. “Here, you’ll be better at this than me.”
He took them and quirked an eyebrow.
“We need silver dust.”
“You expect me to pulverize this?”
She patted his shoulder. “You can do it.”
“This will be easier against a rock,” he groused. “You should have told me to do this before I climbed up here.”
She gave him an apologetic smile.
As soon as he hit the ground, Lizbet squatted beside Tickles and began petting him.
Within minutes, she heard the ringing sound of a hammer on stone.
“Now remember,” she said to Tickles, “do not eat this unless you’re a werewolf.” She nodded at the hamburger mixture.
“Why? Is it poisonous?”
“Possibly. But according to the internet it cures wolfism. It shouldn’t kill you, but I wouldn’t try it.”
“But I can’t remember anything about being a wolf. Those nights are a total blank. I’m not sure I have any control...”
Lizbet stroked his head. “It must be terrifying.”
Tickles waggled his head.
“You’re a good dog,” she murmured.
The hammering stopped. Lizbet looked over the edge of the treehouse floor. Matias climbed hand over hand, one fist curled. “How much of this do you need?”