Wolf Fire

by Christine DePetrillo

  Tato, I’m failing you here. Big time.

  And that was the worst part. If Maple Ridge Trading Post closed, the world wouldn’t end, but the last thread that tied Nika to her father would be cut. Sure, she had her memories and she’d never forget his love for her, but she needed this physical reminder of him. Something concrete she could look at say, This was his and a part of him is still here with me.

  If the post was gone, Tato would be too.

  True, her father was already gone, but she felt him at the post, more than anywhere else. She wasn’t ready or willing to be rid of that feeling yet.

  “There’s got to be someone willing to do the job.” She straightened the beeswax candle display to her left.

  “Not for the pay you’re offering, Boss,” Carrie said, coming up to the register area toting two bags from Rosie’s Diner. “Lunchtime.”

  On Thursdays in the summer, Carrie, Zavier, and Nika had a weekly lunch-staff meeting together. They rotated who brought lunch. Nika usually made some Polish food Carrie and Zavier had never tried before. Zavier always got his grandmother to make something for them, and Carrie’s aunt, Rosie, owned Rosie’s Diner in town.

  “I can’t afford to pay any more than I’m offering.” Nika accepted the eggplant sandwich Carrie handed her. “But I guess Jared couldn’t live off that pay, hence the need for the meth business.”

  On Tuesday, Sheriff Olsen, two detectives, and a drug-sniffing dog served her a warrant to search the trading post for any indications that Jared was operating any part of his business from there.

  “Go for it,” she’d said. “All you’ll find here are bills. Ones I can’t pay.”

  Sheriff Olsen had given her a suspicious look, and she’d quickly realized a booming meth business would pay those bills.

  “Do you think my tato raised me to be a drug dealer, Sheriff?” She’d offered him what she hoped was an innocent-looking smile, because though she was innocent, she felt as if anything she said or did could be used against her in a court of law.

  “No. Your father was an upstanding citizen of Canville. Too bad you’re selling to Senclair.” Olsen had signaled to the detectives to start their search.

  “Who said I’m selling to Senclair?”

  “Senclair. Just about announced it at Rosie’s last night.” Sheriff Olsen had leaned against the counter by the register and squinted at her. “You marrying him too?”

  Nika had let out a rumble through clenched teeth. “Absolutely not.”

  Olsen had put up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Thought I’d heard him say that.”

  Which he probably had. That’d made Nika want to scream, but she’d bit back her anger and stepped out of the way as the police searched the post. Finding nothing suspicious—or any customers to question—they’d left.

  “Maybe I should cancel the show,” Nika said around a bite of her sandwich now. “Red and Hunty have been hinting around at trying their luck in Hollywood. I only think they stay on because they’re both sweethearts and feel bad for me.”

  “Like us,” Carrie said, lightly punching Nika’s arm. “Just kidding.”

  “Yeah.” Zavier wiped marinara sauce off his mouth with the back of his hand. “We stay because we love you, Nika.”

  She reached across the little table in the middle of the post where they ate and squeezed each of their hands. “I love you guys too.” Her throat was too tight to finish her sandwich so she wrapped up the other half, deeming it tonight’s dinner.

  “Let’s finish out the week with the show,” Zavier said. “I know I suck as Wolfman, but it’ll give you a chance to break the news to Red and Hunty.”

  Nika nodded. “Then I guess I’ll meet with Robert and give him what he wants.”

  “Ick.” Carrie wrinkled up her nose while Zavier coughed on his sandwich.

  “Not that!” A whole-body shudder wracked her body. “Never that. I’ll just let him buy the post. I’ll make sure he offers you two jobs at Mr. Sprinkles.”

  “I wouldn’t work for anything Robert Senclair owned,” Carrie said. “Besides, after next year, Zavier and I will be off to college. He’ll no doubt go to Harvard and I’ll find a nice bargain community college for people who have no idea what they want to be when they grow up.”

  “Carrie…” Zavier started, but she held up a hand to silence him.

  “I’m not smart like you, Zavier. I’m not creative. I’m not athletic. Come to think of it, I can’t name something I’m truly good at.”

  “You’re good at being you,” Zavier said softly.

  Nika held back the awww threatening to slip from her mouth. God, had a guy ever said anything that sweet to her? Umm, nope. Never.

  “You’re good at slinging bullshit,” Carrie said, but the blush on her cheeks let everyone know she’d been affected by Zavier’s words. “You’ll make an excellent lawyer someday.”

  Zavier shrugged. “For now, however…” He held up his can of Mountain Dew. “To Wolfman.”

  Nika and Carrie held up theirs as well and all three of them toasted Wolfman. After the final show, Nika would lay him to rest.

  Ugh. She felt terrible. About everything.

  “Come watch the show.” Zavier stood and cleared away everyone’s trash.

  “Sure.” It wasn’t as if any customers were inside the post. There would be some on the log bleachers out back in the theater area though. That might improve her mood. Maybe she could hold an impromptu fifty percent off sale and entice those guests to come into the post.

  Zavier left to get into costume while Carrie went to the theater to fire up the popcorn machine. Nika took a few quiet moments to look around the trading post. If she closed her eyes, she could remember what it sounded like on a hot July day with tourists milling about, buying items, laughing with their families, munching on snacks, trading stories with Tato as he wrung them up at the register.

  Before she could stop them, tears trailed down her cheeks. Her father’s beloved trading post would be a Mr. Sprinkles Donut Shop. Tato hadn’t even liked donuts.

  After wiping her eyes, Nika smoothed her rust-colored tank top and shook out the folds of her long skirt. One of her favorites, this skirt sported a geometric Native American design with alternating rows of turquoise, black, brown, and rust-colored shapes. She wore it with a wide brown belt with a silver buckle and a long silver necklace she’d made with a turquoise leaf hanging from it. She’d also made matching earrings, but that was when Tato had been alive and she had some time for arts and crafts. She hadn’t made any jewelry in ages. She missed it.

  She wiggled her toes in her brown sandals that laced up her ankles. This was as spiffy as Nika Skarvinski got. After the post closed for good, maybe she’d become a naked, homeless person. She’d have to move south though. Vermont weather was rarely good for outdoor nudity.

  Straightening her spine—no need for the few customers at the show to see her dead spirit—Nika went out back and slid onto the first log bench in the theater’s bleachers. A handful of customers made up the audience. Nothing at all like the crowd Jared’s Wolfman used to attract, but she was thankful for Zavier’s attempt to help. Such a sweet boy.

  Red Riding Hood appeared on the little stage and welcomed the audience. She caught Nika’s eye and Nika instantly knew Zavier had told her about the show ending. Hunty came out too and blew Nika a kiss. With blurry eyes, she waited for Zavier to come bounding out of the trees in the Wolfman costume.

  Before he did, Carrie slid into the seat beside her and put her arm around Nika’s shoulders. “You’re doing the right thing,” she whispered. “Your father would understand.” She leaned her head on Nika’s shoulder.

  Too choked up for words, Nika put her arm around Carrie’s waist and held the girl. Because she needed something to hold onto. Her heart was breaking. Into a million jagged pieces. She had no hope of putting it back together. No hope at all.

  A scream from the row behind her made Nika jump then turn around. A woman pointed to the st
age, where in the trees to the right, Wolfman stood.

  “Glad we can still get a jolt out of someone,” Nika mumbled to Carrie.

  Instead of replying, Carrie stared straight ahead, her mouth slightly agape.

  Nika followed her line of view and instantly saw what had garnered Carrie’s complete attention. Another Wolfman was inching onto the stage.

  “Two Wolfmen!” someone yelled from the audience.

  Nika could tell the second Wolfman was Zavier by the height and way he moved and the costume which she’d know anywhere. So who in the hell was the first Wolfman?

  And where had he gotten his costume because it was phenomenal.

  Shaggy silver fur surrounded the head. Huge, golden brown eyes—dammit, glowing eyes—stalked Red and Hunty on the stage. This Wolfman was bare-chested and corded with muscle, a light coat of silver fur on its back. Gnarled hands ended with dagger-like claws and long canine teeth protruded out of a massive jaw. One with the lips curled back in aggression with saliva dripping in hunger.

  Slowly Zavier backpedaled off the stage while the new Wolfman advanced on Red and Hunty. Nika moved to the edge of her seat as did Carrie.

  “Where did he come from?” Carrie asked. “He’s amazing!”

  Amazing. Yeah. Completely.

  The small crowd behind them went wild with applause and shouting. They were eating this up even more than when Jared had played Wolfman.

  The show unfolded a little off script, but Nika didn’t care. The audience was more than satisfied, and she wanted that Wolfman. As soon as Red and Hunty took a bow, Nika was on her feet and racing to the edge of the theater where the new Wolfman had run off.

  “Wait!” she called. “Hey, wait!”

  The dude stopped, but didn’t turn around right away, his shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath.

  Nika jogged to catch up to him and being up close stole her breath away. He was… big. Well over six feet tall with wide, slightly furry shoulders. “Holy shit. Your costume is marvelous. Did you make it?”

  He didn’t say anything. Just panted in front of her. His glowing golden brown eyes were perfectly wild and untamed and… intense. She couldn’t move under the power of them.

  “So I guess we’ll consider that show your interview, yeah?” She smiled, hoping to break the magnitude of his stare, but no. This guy was really into the role. Like completely in character. And was he actually growling a little? Cool. “Okay, umm, why don’t you change and come to the trading post? We’ll fill out the paperwork because, baby, you’re hired.”

  She reached out a tentative hand and patted his forearm—his ripped-with-muscle forearm. How did one get that effect in a costume? Genius.

  Nika headed back toward the trading post, but Mr. Wolfman stood there, breathing heavily, saliva still dripping from his jaw. The details he’d included far surpassed anything Jared had done. She imagined what this guy could do with a larger audience and felt downright giddy. She’d get Carrie to make a video advertisement. Yeah. Something edgy and hip and you’ve-got-to-come-on-out-to-see-this. The ring of the cash register filled Nika’s head and she got drunk on it.

  I don’t have to sell to Robert Senclair.

  She clapped as she walked away. God, she hoped she could afford this new guy. He appeared to be a professional. Was he used to a big paycheck? What made him crash her show then? He must have been willing to take a pay cut. Maybe he’d been to Hollywood and had become disheartened by it all. Maybe a small town trading post show was just what he was looking for to restore his faith in his craft.

  Maybe Nika Skarvinski had received her first miracle.

  Chapter Four

  Jaemus watched the woman walk away then sniffed the air she’d occupied. He’d never smelled anything so… so enchanting. An intoxicating blend of mint and sunshine. He hadn’t planned on interacting with any people when he’d left the sanctuary to go for a run in the woods. The confines of Brandy’s log home were no longer tolerable. Between his brother trying to convince him that life as a werewolf could be wonderful, Brandy encouraging him to forgive Reardon, Dylan looking at him as if he wanted to ask more questions but was afraid to, and Meredith offering food every time she crossed his path, he’d had to get out of there. Just for a little while.

  Or forever.

  It was hard work to be mad at Reardon, especially when he was being so hospitable. His brother had let him sleep for two days without interruption or judgment. Jaemus couldn’t remember a time when Reardon had let him be so inactive. When they’d been warriors, Reardon had always insisted on early rising. Conquering was often best achieved first thing in the morning. The fact that Reardon hadn’t disturbed him while he slept emphasized the changes that had happened in his brother since being banished.

  Reardon was less selfish. Brandy and her son had helped him reinvent himself, and now they were all trying to do the same to Jaemus.

  Who wouldn’t have needed reinvention if it weren’t for Reardon in the first place.

  Standing in the woods now, caught between man and wolf form—in wolfman form— Jaemus considered his options. He could run back to the sanctuary and continue to let his brother and his new family coerce him into forgiveness. He could let them suffocate him. Or… he could follow this woman—this beautiful woman—to her… trading post? Had that been what she’d called it? He had no idea what she was trading at this post, but she’d also used the word hired, and that was a word he definitely knew. He’d spent most of his life being hired to fight battles. If she had battles that needed fighting, he certainly could do that.

  And if she rewarded him for his services, he could be free of his brother, find his own place, do something worthy as Flidae had instructed them all to do and maybe, just maybe, he could get back to Ireland.

  Nodding his wolfish head, Jaemus ran back to where he’d stashed his borrowed clothes. He shifted back to human and pulled on the stiff pants Reardon had said were called jeans and a gray tunic, or T-shirt as Brandy had named it. He shoved his feet into black boots and raked his hands through his hair, hoping he looked civilized.

  Although maybe that didn’t matter. This woman hadn’t hesitated to talk to him in wolfman form. She’d even touched his forearm. Had she seen such a beast before? Was she familiar with his situation? Was she not afraid?

  Only one way to find out.

  He headed in the direction she’d gone and soon found himself at the door of a building with a sign out front that read Maple Ridge Trading Post. Another sign in the window said Little Red and the Wolfman Show, every afternoon at 1 p.m. Tickets available inside.

  Wolfman Show? Was that what that encounter with the woman in the red hooded cape and the man wielding the ax was about? A show? In the middle of the woods? He’d seen the people watching, screaming, and cheering, but the human part of his mind had retreated in order to let the wolfman run free. He’d chased the woman and man around the cleared area for the sport of it. They’d made good prey targets. If he were to accept these new wild parts of himself, he had to get in touch with this wolf side, didn’t he?

  But a show? This was the job the pretty woman wanted to offer him? To run around and scare villagers? He could do that. Gods, he’d scared villagers as a warrior. Fur, fangs, and claws would only make the job that much easier.

  Jaemus pushed the door open and surveyed the interior of the building. A few people wandered about, talking excitedly about The Wolfman Show—about him—as they picked up various items on display. He recognized candles, some furniture pieces, and quilts hanging on a wall, but many of the baubles were foreign to him. Items from the future he didn’t understand.

  A ringing to his left made him whip his head in that direction. Two people stood on one side of a counter while a boy stabbed his fingers on a frame of some kind. Every stab made that ringing sound and paper and coins exchanged hands. That paper and coins didn’t look like the treasures Jaemus was accustomed to, but he quickly understood the meaning was the same.
/>   Riches.

  Riches he could have if he agreed to be a wolfman in a public display.

  “Hello!”

  Jaemus shifted his gaze away from the people exchanging riches and focused on the woman in front of him—the one who’d offered to hire him.

  “Would you like to step into my office, Mister…” She raised dark eyebrows over pale green eyes. Eyes like spring grass in Ireland.

  “Jaemus McAlator.” He took the hand she offered him and kissed the back of it.

  Her cheeks instantly reddened and her other hand went to her throat. “Oh.” The word came out as a breathy whisper that sent a ripple through Jaemus’s body. “Nice accent.” Her brows furrowed. “McAlator. Are you related to Brandy’s fiancé, Reardon?”

  Even here my brother is legendary. Of course.

  “Aye. He’s my brother.”

  “And you’ve come to visit him?” She glanced down to her hand which Jaemus still held.

  He released it and cleared his throat. “Aye. For a time.” Until I can get back to Ireland.

  “So you won’t be staying in Canville permanently?” Her shoulders sank a little, her lovely mouth turning down at the corners.

  “That hasn’t been determined as of yet.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched as her gaze combed over his biceps. Taking in a deep breath, he nearly choked on the arousal coming off her. He’d smelled the desire between Brandy and Reardon, but he hadn’t been aware he’d be able to tell immediately if someone was attracted to him. He had to work hard to keep a grin off his lips.

  “I suppose we’ll take you for as long as we can have you. That crowd—small as it was—loved you out there.” She pointed to the few people in the trading post. “Every one of them came into the post after the show, talking about you, buying stuff. I didn’t even have to do the fifty percent off sale I was thinking about doing to get them to come in here.”