by R M Connor
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
Everything was fan-freakin-tastic. What could possibly be wrong this Christmas? Bean was still missing and wolves were in Wildewood. Sasha had been murdered by the very thing she seemed to have been researching or growing. Eugene was missing and Wolfsbane was in the hardware store. He and Sheriff Vargas had been in a more or less public argument over Peaceful Acres.
Ah—maybe that’s what I needed to focus on—the issue with Peaceful Acres.
Grabbing my coat and the last blueberry scone, I made my way to the large office building where Wildewood Realty resided. Ethan wouldn’t be picking us up to take us to Peaceful Acres until late afternoon. That gave me a few hours to talk to Natalie Remington, get home, and get ready.
I pushed the door open to the office building and walked to the directory sign in the middle of the lobby. The last time I was here I had been searching for answers about the murder of the Mayor’s almost-son-in-law. Here I was again, searching for answers. Thankfully, this time, I didn’t have to walk up four flights of stairs. Wildewood Realty was located on the main floor.
I walked through the lobby, past the elevators, and around a corner to the right. I heard a door open and Sophia King, Vargas’ niece, walked into the hallway. She was staring at her phone, grumbling under her breath. I looked around for any place to hide but unfortunately, there wasn’t a nook or cranny for me to shove into until she passed.
She turned her back to me, an arm crossed over her stomach, the other held a phone to her ear. “Hey. We have a problem.” She turned around. Her eyes widened, and she quickly hung up her call. “Good morning.” She nodded and strolled down the hallway. I watched her until she turned the corner.
I continued toward the office door Sophia had just come out of and pulled it open to step into a sepia-toned room. The waiting area felt more like an outdated doctor’s office. Brown chairs lined one wall, and above them were dozens of pictures of happy, smiling faces holding keys and shaking hands with various realtors who work here. I tapped the little bell on the empty receptionist desk then walked over to inspect the pictures closer when the door into the waiting room opened.
“Can I help you?” Natalie looked at her watch. The tie holding back her wiry brown hair was losing the battle as strands hung loosely around her face. “We are about to close for lunch.”
I extended my hand to shake hers and held out the to-go box with the scone inside. “I just had a quick question.”
The exasperated look on her face disappeared as she looked inside the box. “Well, I only have a minute. Follow me to my office while I grab my things.”
I walked behind her down a brightly lit hallway, the walls the same sepia tone as the waiting room. A large picture of a mansion hung on the wall between her office and the bathroom. I stopped to look at it. The mansion looked familiar but I couldn’t place it. I don’t think I had ever seen it in Wildewood.
“What’s your question?” She patted me on the arm, and I jumped. She had her purse on her shoulder and a scone in her hand.
“Oh.” I shook my head to refocus. “I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Peaceful Acres.”
She snorted. “Goodness. Peaceful Acres sure is popular these days.”
I followed her back down the hallway and out of the office. “Do you know who owns it?”
“Of course I do.” She locked the door and placed a sticky note on the outside that read “Out to lunch.”
Turning her attention to me, the sticky note floated to the ground behind her. As we started to walk toward the lobby, I folded my arm behind my back and faked a sneeze, reciting “Surgere,” and flicked my pointer finger upward. I glanced over my shoulder. The note was back on the door where she had placed it.
“It is my job to know everything about every real estate opportunity in Wildewood.” She took a bite of her scone. “Oh, wow. I’m going to have to stop in and get one of these on my way to work now. What were we talking about?” she asked.
“I’ll make sure to set one aside for you.” I jogged to catch up with her. “Peaceful Acres?”
“Right. Peaceful Acres. I hope you aren’t looking to buy. The owner is very set on not selling.” She opened the door and I walked outside.
“Who is the owner?” I tightened my coat.
Natalie finally stopped moving. I wondered if this was how she always was—nonstop. “Eugene Fletcher. Though, if he isn’t found, the property will revert to his son.”
What? The words went in one ear and out the other. Feeling speechless, I scooped my jaw off the floor and chased after her.
“He has a great opportunity to make quite a fortune if he sells. There’s a willing buyer too. But”—she shrugged, dusting crumbs from her hands—“you just can’t force it.”
“Who wants to buy it?” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from her mouth.
“Manuel Vargas. But, hey, I gotta get going. I have about half an hour to wolf down lunch before my next client shows up. Remember my name if you’re ever in the market to sell or buy.” She gave me a large, toothy smile, and I had a feeling that was the smile reserved for clients only.
I stood under the overhang of the building, trying to digest the information Natalie had given me. The two men weren’t in business with each other. The sheriff wanted Eugene’s land. Ethan had been the one to tell me that. My jaw tensed, thinking about Ethan keeping things from me. Why hadn’t he just said that?
Everything had to do with this land. There was something about Peaceful Acres that was worth killing over. At this point, I was starting to believe Eugene was dead. I just didn’t understand what was so important about Peaceful Acres.
I felt a headache coming on. Maisie had been right; I should’ve just left this to the fine police of Wildewood to figure out. Except . . . would the sheriff interfere? What if it got back to him and he put a stop to the investigation? Could he even do that?
Of course he could.
I started to walk toward home, a chill rushing over me. If Eugene wasn’t already dead, were they torturing him until he finally agreed to give up his land? Oh, God. That’s why Michael ran. If Eugene died, they would go after him.
My stomach sank and my heart began to hurt. I needed to get to Peaceful Acres as soon as possible. Maybe then I would understand the importance because right now, I had just added a ton more to my list of I don’t knows.
I heard Ethan’s truck purr as it pulled into the driveway. I rubbed my head against Bean’s, thankful he was home and safe. He had shown up right when we got off work. Maisie pulled her jacket on, her hair waterfalling over her shoulders. Setting Bean down, I stood from my perch on the steps and slid my thicker, black jacket on over my sweater. Bean rubbed against Maisie’s leg until she scooped him up, nuzzling his soft fur.
Ethan nudged the door open, poking his head inside. His lips twitched into a smile. “Ready to go?” He glanced at Maisie. “Hey! He finally showed back up.”
He reached out to pet him but decided against it and tucked his arm back to his side. Ethan liked Bean, but he had learned his lesson when trying to pet him. Bean had made it very clear, numerous times, that he did not reciprocate the same feelings.
I locked the door behind us. Maisie, still holding Bean, rushed ahead and climbed into the back seat of the truck.
“Are you sure you guys want a real tree?” Ethan wrapped his hand around mine as we walked to the driveway.
I gave him a side glance. “I’m sure.” I knew he didn’t want us going, but I wanted to see Peaceful Acres for myself. I wanted to see what was so special about it, if anything. There had to be a reason why people were being killed over it—not that there was ever a good excuse for murder.
He opened my door, closing it after I slid onto the seat, then jogged to the other side. The truck was still warm as he backed out of the driveway. I could hear Bean purring behind me and Maisie whispering in a baby voice. I couldn’t help but smile. We were finally getting one thi
ng done for Christmas, even if I had ulterior motives.
We drove through Wildewood, past all the little shops decorated for Christmas, and headed toward the bridge separating our town from the rest of the world. The roads were slick with snow turning into slush. The trees looked crystallized as the temperature dropped.
Before we reached the bridge, Ethan turned onto a gravel road and we drove under a wooden arch with a metal sign, letting us know we had arrived. The half-mile drive to the tree farm was the only cleared land before we reached a small, red barn.
Ethan parked the truck in front of it. I climbed out, opening the door for Maisie. Newly planted firs were in neat little rows just behind the barn. The further back, the larger the trees, until the forest took over.
“Let me grab a saw.” Ethan pointed to the barn. Half a dozen saws hung from the sidewall with a sign that said “Cut your own tree.”
I walked to the shed and poked my head inside to see if anyone was home. There was a handwritten note on the counter that said “Be back soon,” and signed with only an S. I guess we were on our own for the moment.
Walking through the trees, my nerves began to vibrate—except, I wasn’t nervous, not really. The sensation started in my feet, running up my legs, and I wondered if it was the land that caused it. A frigid gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I pulled my hood on. I glanced at Ethan, noting how gold his eyes looked. His thick, fleece-lined jacket was unzipped and I wasn’t sure how he could stand the cold.
Bean padded in front of us, leaving small paw prints in the snow, his little bell jingling louder in the silence as we walked toward the back rows of fir trees. Maisie pointed to a tree that had to be at least seven feet tall.
“Looks good.” I smiled at her, pulling my hood tighter around my face. It was getting colder, and I didn’t want to be in the woods when it got dark. Feeling a little disappointed that there hadn’t been a big ah-ha moment, and the secrets of Peaceful Acres revealed as I had hoped, I was ready to go.
We stood back as Ethan got to work sawing the base of the trunk. Snow flittered off the branches as the tree swayed. Bean started to walk further into the denser trees. I jogged to catch him, not wanting to lose him. He finally stopped ahead of me when his paw stepped into a print much larger than his own. Bean turned his head to look up at me as if he was trying to tell me something. Now would be a good time to talk. I’ve heard him before, I knew he could, but he stayed silent.
Scooping him up, I crouched, placing my hand in the pawprint. The tips of my fingers just barely hung over the indention. Leaves rustled close by. I spun around, ready to run back to Maisie and Ethan, but a growl came from behind a tree. Bean clawed my arm, forcing me to drop him. His back arched, his fur sticking straight up as he hissed. I looked around to see what had him spooked and sucked in a breath as a large, dark-red wolf stepped into view.
Our eyes locked. Its lips pulled back to expose long, powerful teeth as a deep snarl wrapped around me, saliva hanging from its mouth. I took a step back, and it growled again. I couldn’t think. I was a damn witch, but I froze. I was scared to move, or do anything to anger it further.
It was double the size of any wolf I had ever seen—except the one that had raced past me near Ethan’s. I swallowed, realizing this wasn’t an ordinary wolf. This was a real-life werewolf. Bean raced past it and I screamed, taking a step forward, but the wolf reared back on its haunches. Its powerful legs pushed its body forward into the air. It crashed into me, forcing me to the ground.
My head hit something hard, my vision blackening around the edges and a loud ringing vibrated between my ears. I felt something rip through my jeans and pierce my thigh. I was stuck, unable to move without hot pain tearing through my leg. My scream was trapped in my throat, bile rose, and hot tears streamed down my cheeks. The wolf had its powerful jaw wrapped around my leg and there was nothing I could do.
Another growl came from somewhere else and the wolf pulled its teeth from my thigh with a wet sound that made me want to vomit. Blood seeped from holes in my jeans, the white snow turning crimson under me. With its attention diverted, I sucked in a breath, and using only my arms, I dragged myself away. I gasped from the pain as it turned searing and sharp.
The wolf turned around, and I glanced past its large body; its attention was on Ethan. He stood between two trees, the saw falling from his hand. I opened my mouth to tell him to run when he dropped to his knees. He fell forward onto his hands, his back arched, and a piercing cry tore through him.
His body morphed, his limbs growing longer, more muscular, as he transformed into something otherworldly. He threw his head back, a pained howl bellowed from him, and his jaw stretched as it turned into a snout. I would never be able to unsee this, it was forever seared into my brain.
His long body, covered in dark-gray fur, rushed toward the wolf in front of me.
The black edges of my vision grew. Another wolf jumped over me and then all I heard was the wet tearing of flesh and the snapping of jaws. I fell back onto the hardened snow, desperately trying to not throw up. Rolling my head to the side, Maisie knelt beside me. Her mouth moved, a deep line between her brows, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Tears were running down her cheek. I looked back up to the darkening sky, blinking slowly. The ringing in my ears became deafening as my vision went black.
Slowly opening my eyes, I found myself staring up at dim fluorescent lights. A machine was beeping at a steady rhythm nearby. The room smelled sterile but there was a vanilla scent hovering around me. My eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep. The image of a gray wolf appeared, treading toward me. Its cold snout nudged me awake, the musky vanilla scent strengthened. The wolf’s baby-blue eyes blinked.
Ethan.
I gasped, my eyes popped open.
“She’s awake!” Maisie’s face came into view above me.
Trying to sit up, pain slammed into the back of my head and I fell back onto the soft pillow.
I licked my dry lips, my throat even drier. “Where am I?”
“Wildewood Memorial,” Ethan answered and wrapped his hand around mine. I looked at his hand, half expecting to see a paw. My gaze wandered to his eyes, and the memory of his face distorting into the wolf made me pull my hand away, causing him to wince.
Maisie wiped a tear from her cheek. “I am so glad you’re okay. We were so scared.”
She grabbed a remote lying next to my leg, leaning the bed up with a push of a button. Ethan poured water into a Styrofoam cup then handed it to me as he sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at him, feeling hesitant to take the cup.
“I am so sorry you had to find out this way.”
I didn’t know how to respond. His eyes were cast down, his shoulders sagged. I resisted the urge to pull away again as his hand gripped mine uncomfortably tight. Licking my dry lips, I realized that his secret was much scarier than mine. I understood why he didn’t want me to know. He was still Ethan, even if he turned furry occasionally. My fingers brushed his jawline, I didn’t like seeing him so distraught. He could’ve tried to tell me, but how would that have gone? I’m not sure I would’ve believed him.
“At least I know now.” I decided to say and tried to scoot closer to him but a sharp pain stopped me. I pushed the blanket off, exposing a thick, white bandage wrapped around the majority of my thigh. The memory of the red wolf sinking its teeth into me flashed before my eyes. Bile rose into my throat and I sucked in a breath.
“Who were the other two?”
The door to the room started to open and a nurse walked in.
Ethan and Maisie moved to stand in front of the window. The name tag clipped on the pocket of the nurse’s lavender scrubs read “Ashley.” She took the cup from me and placed it on a tray, swiveling it over the bed. “It’s good to see you awake. We were all worried there for a moment. You received your first rabies shot.” She touched a bruise on my upper arm. “We are going to keep you overnight, just in case. I’ll be back with some food.” She piddled around for a mom
ent, checking my vitals, and when she was satisfied with the numbers, turned the machine off and left the room.
I looked at Ethan. “The other two wolves?”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Michael.” He shook his head, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t know who the other one was. I know it was female, but for some reason, it had no scent.”
Something was masking its scent? “How is that possible?” When I looked at Ethan, he only shrugged. I had a feeling it had something to do with Wolfsbane. It was the only connection. But I was feeling a bit hesitant about asking any more questions. Whoever the other wolf was, they were not happy about me sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.
“I’m going to run home and pack an overnight bag for you.” Maisie brushed a strand of hair behind my ears. “Will you be okay?”
What could possibly happen to me in a crowded hospital?
“I’ll give you a ride.” Ethan pulled his keys out of his pocket and I realized he was wearing a different outfit. “Unless”—he looked at me—“you want me to stay.”
Before I could answer, Maisie held her hand out over the bed. Ethan dropped the keys into her palm. “I promise I’ll be as quick as possible.” She rushed out of the room, and I sighed, realizing I had lost two pairs of pants this week.
“Can I sit beside you?” Ethan asked.
It was a bizarre thing to ask for two people that were dating. But I could tell he was worried I was scared of him. And I was, a little. But he’s still Ethan, I reminded myself. Gritting my teeth, I moved closer to the side of the bed, so Ethan could sit. He climbed beside me, barely having enough room. Leaning against his shoulder, his arm wrapped behind my neck, I looked up at him, his eyes were locked on the bandage on my thigh. Guilt must be eating him up.
I placed my hand on his. “Ethan, even if you had told me, it wouldn’t have changed what happened.”